Purple Heart? Nah, Purple ASS...

There are various reasons in entering a canal. It's the PATROL OFFICER's prerogative to do so. I can honestly say that the Boat Commanders FROWN on the idea, however, we go whenever and WHEREVER the other boat goes. If it is HELL, then it's into HELL I go.


"Together we FIGHT, together we DIE!" This is the unwritten code of the River Rats. Casualties and DEATH are the given factors of WAR, nontheless, this code helped most of us to stay alive.


A "visit" to one of the local villages within the patrol area was one of the reasons for the PBR's to enter a canal. This was not SCHEDULED, but rather, RANDOMLY done. But the FACT that most villages are situated WITHIN canals unquestionably leaves us no option. "CHARLIE or NO CHARLIE, into the canal we go."


The Patrol Officers often take the role of "diplomat". In River Section 532, one Patrol Officer was REALLY up to this role. Speaking fluent VIETNAMESE highly contributed to this diplomatic role. He was RHODERICK DAVIS, SM1 USN. To differentiate him from the Boat Captain of PBR-139 EN2 Roy K. Davis , the SM1 was called "MOT Davis". "Mot" is Vietnamese for NUMBER ONE.


It was the latter part of November 1967, and the Vietcong's activities were on the rise. It was a DULL afternoon when my radio sounded with a coded message saying "Village Visit at Lower Cu Dai". My reply was a simple "Roger out."


My boat (PBR-142) was the first to approach the pier. I kept the engines on IDLE as PBR-139 made her approach on my STARBOARD side. When PBR-139 was close enough the Patrol Officer "MOT" Davis HOPPED to my boat, PBR-142. On this attempt, a SHOT rang out. In an instant, both PBR's were OFF the pier with PBR-139 opening fire at individuals running off into the rice fields. "Mot" Davis was left on my boat, PBR-142, with an ASHENED look on his face and the back of his pants wet with BLOOD.


I radioed PBR-139 and informed the Boat Captian, EN2 Davis, that we had a CASUALTY. We met in the middle of the river, placed our boats alongside each other and checked if there were any other casualties. Besides "Mot" Davis, there were none.


EN2 Davis soon radioed My Tho HQ and reported the incident and the casualty. When asked for MORE details, EN2 Davis turned to me and said "Huk, I can't find a CODE for this TYPE of casualty." My reply was " Tell it like it IS." With that, EN2 Davis radioed back and said "He was SHOT in the ASS."


There was a moment odd SILENCE, then a LOUD "Whaaaaaaat?" echoed back. EN2 Davis again replied and said "Yes, but it's NOT SERIOUS. He was wounded in the ASS."


This message was heard on EVERY PBR's radio on patrol that day. With this, one of the JOKERS struck again and said "The "MOT" has a Purple Ass!!!"


I performed the initial "first aid" by cleaning and placing a cotton gauze PATCH on his butt. Soon, we were homeward bound for My Tho HQ for more APPROPRIATE treatment. The wound was a SUPERFICIAL graze on the skin of his butt. Analyzing what had happened, THEORETICALLY, "Mot" Davis shot HIMSELF in the ASS. The fact the "Mot" Davis keeps his side-arm (.45 cal) "half-cocked" with a BULLET IN THE CHAMBER most of the time, the gun's HAMMER accidentally hit one of my boat's stanchions and MISFIRED when "Mot" Davis hopped to PBR-142. I don't have any idea HOW this incident was written on the records.


Nevertheless, a WOUND is a WOUND. A purple ASS could mean a purple HEART.


For the village? Well, I'm sure that there was one less water BUFFALO that would graze on those green fields of the lower Cua Dai.


That was the LAST of our "goodwill visits". In retrospect, I can say that those visits were fun and exciting as well as educating. I t gave me a much wider spectrum of the Vietnamese people and that WAR. I knew that some of those INNOCENT and SMILING faces could instantly turn GRIM and DEADLY when the opportunity strikes. Nevertheless, that last visit gave me a moment of fun and a LESSON as well.


That is: "Never leave your GUN 'half-cocked'. Sooner or later, you might have a PURPLE ASS."


NEXT: Vietcong's BRUTALITY...

CANALS - Harbingers of DEATH...

When the word "canal" enters an average layman's mind, a feeling of ROMANCE would likely fill the air. He or she would most likely think of Venice with her colorful GONDOLAS with men in striped shirts rowing to the tune of "That's Amore".


How I wish that this was the same ambiance in the MEKONG DELTA. All the canals of Venice can be placed here and there would STILL be room for a THOUSAND more. These are un-charted canals with tributaries going in all directions. Besides the congested river traffic of sampans, passenger and cargo vessels, there are more UN-COUNTABLE contraptions floating or permanently stoked in the water.


These were FISHING NETS, fish traps made of bamboos aligned at the middle and at times postioned ACROSS the canal.


Ocassionally, CARCASSES of dead animals AND HUMANS were in there, too. Worst yet are the fallen or wrecked bridges, results of BOMBINGS or simply deteriorated because of antiquity.


It was IMPERATIVE that the Boat Commander keep a keen eye out for all these contraptions PARTICULARLY those that were NOT quite noticable. Such as, the QUANTITY of HAY floating in the canal. Their PURPOSE? To CLOG up the PBR's "bridge pumps" which would invetably stall the boat's Jet Engine. There was no ambiance or romance nor tune of "That's Amore" there. If you pushed your luck any further and go DEEPER inside the canal, sooner or later, you'll be "HAULIN' ASS" to the tune of AK-47's, B-40's or hand-thrown GRENADES on your way out.


All PBR Boat Captains as well as the Patrol Officers knew the risks in doing so. However, for whatever reasons, ,we ALL took these risks. Could these reason's be AGGRESSIVENESS? Or riddance of BOREDOM that easily sets in during these long hours patrols? It could be both, nevertheless, by doing so. It could be BOTH, nevertheless, by doing so, I was sure that this CLEAR MESSAGE is sent to CHARLIE: " MESS around and you'll LAY AROUND...


NEXT: Purple HEART? Nah...Purple ASS...

The ICE-CUBE Blowjob...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

PISTOL PACKIN' MAMA!!!

This next story has been TOLD and RE-TOLD in our River Section and it's essence never loses it's taste for LAUGHTER. This is about my well-respected "CHIEF" in the U.S. Navy. I can't recall his first name, so I'll just call him CHIEF NICHOLSON. He is a BOATSWAIN MATE Chief (BMC) and he was in the twilight of his Naval Career during the Vietnam War. But this did not deter him from serving his country's WAR efforts. This story never chipped a single piece of ADMIRATION I have for him. I have so much respect for him that at times, I just called him "Uncle Nick". This is how the story goes...


The MEKONG RIVER was full of surprises. Besides the VIETCONGS, fish nets, fish traps, MINES, DEAD BODIES, etc...there was all kinds of JUNK floating in the river. Some of those could be detected by our PBR's radar, (Raytheon 5oo series) and can be AVOIDED. However, one of the surprises that EVERY Boat Captain DREADED most are the "SAND BARS". There were plenty of SAND BARS in the river, and most of them are UN-CHARTED and continually SHIFT position depending on the CURRENT and status of the tide.


Unavoided, these could become the Boat Captain's and Patrol Officer's NIGHTMARE. It is quite imaginable how a person FEELS if he's being used for TARGET PRACTICE by enemies on BOTH sides of the river. My "Uncle Nick" could surely tell you how it felt to be in that predicament.


BMC NICHOLSON was the Patrol Officer of a day patrol somewhere at the lower CUA TIEU. His patrol was just relieved on station by the incoming night patrol. BMC NICHOLSON's crew were now on their way to HOTEL MY THO. It was normal for the Boat Captain to "goose" the PBR's engines on "FULL SPEED" on their way home. Anyway, it was already DUSK and the river was almost clear from traffic at this time of day. It was a PERFECT time to test the SPEED of the "JACUZZI ENGINES". The pride of the boat's ENGINEMAN was now at stake. However, for some BIZARRE reason, the PBR in which BMC NICHOLSON was riding found itself SKIDDING to a SCREECHING HALT on sand instead of water.


The crew instantly jumped off the boatand tried to UN-STRAND the boat from the sand bar, while the other PBR stayed close, watching BOTH sides of the river. BMC NICHOLSON immediately radioed HQ at MY THO and reported the situation.


Out of nowhere..."BANG! BANG!" All of the crew dove on the sand bar, and only BMC NICHOLSON was left on the boat with the radio. The PBR on the water couldn't fire because they didn't know where the shots were coming from.


Again..."BANG! BANG! BANG!" echoed in the river. Thjis time the situation tuned really SCARY. A SNIPER or a group of SNIPERS had spotted the stranded PBR. It was getting dark and the chances of getting hit by a B-40 rocket or an RPG was just a matter of time. "BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!" The shots were now getting more FREQUENT, keeping the crew pinned down on the sand.


Suddenly, out of NOWHERE this voice came from the radio: "PISTOL PACKIN' MAMA, PISTOL PACKIN' MAMA! Send the MARINES! Send the ARMY!! Send the NAVY!!! GET US THE F!@# OUT OF HERE!!!"


This was CHIEF NICHOLSON's voice on the radio requesting help..Within moments, ARMY GUNSHIPS were hovering above the vicinity and soon other PBR's came to the rescue. Waiting for the TIDE to come in seemed like an ETERNITY.


Sighs of RELIEF came after HOURS of waiting. High tide started to set in and after INCH after agonizing INCH of water the PBR started to float, and with 12 inches of water the PBR finally floated free from the sand bar. The crew hopped in and homeward bound they went.


Without question, for BMC NICHOLSON and crew, THAT was a CLOSE CALL. For the rest of us, it was MIXED feelings of FEAR and JOY. Aside from the scraped bottom, their boat had NO casualties at all. To think that this could have happened to ANY of us gives me "goose pimples". And when it does, WHO was I going to call? PISTOL PACKIN' MAMA? Honestly speaking, I cannot remember of any UNIT with that "CALL SIGN", but whoever she was, I was very happy that it worked for my "Uncle Nick".


NEXT: Ice-Cube BLOWJOB...