Pointman

Foreword

The Pointman
by
Alto Griffin, Jr.
An Autobiography

Man is constantly looking for ways to control, abuse, and kill those who seem to be different. For in all the wars this nation has participated, being entwined in the mechanization of its human resources is a noble art. Armies seek to right the wrongs of those willing to secure for themselves someone else's eminent domain. War is a means by which a threat nation might assume godlike qualities among its own inhabitants while at the same time assume malevolent properties in its propagation in the business of war, whether limited or total.

Vietnam was a war of expansionism and exploitation with many different people combining to form a sinister rainbow. It was a rainbow pointing not towards untold riches but to a caldron of death that produced innumerable broken dreams and hearts as well as spent lives and bruised egos. That's what Nam meant to me.

I am a Vietnam veteran who once believed in duty, honor, country, family, and the Star Spangled Banner that makes one tremor with patriotic ecstacy at a football game. In the 1960's many young and gifted men departed the land of unlimited opportunity to return in just one year's absence feeling old, tired, and, confused about life itself. You see, in these men's eyes are forever etched bereavement for perhaps a friend or war buddy more closer than many close family members or more aligned than the lovely woman left behind. There they all lie, supine and forever still. There they all now lie in military splendor in the cold soil of death that came all too soon. There they lie, the football player and the class loner, ever so quiet and still in eternal peace. They were not too young to die, but they were too young to drink alcohol even in Vietnam. This truly was a time when—to be an adult—one had to be twenty- one and older. Therefore, who were these young warriors too young to drink but willing and able to commit themselves to sudden death in a caldron thousands of miles away? Yes, many were young energetic lads too young to shave anything more than peach fuzz or to vote but not too young to embrace death or the prolonged nightmare of being handicapped. Whomever they might have been before, they were covered with that same darn poncho in death that protected them from the tropical rain in life. In Nam, that Olive drab or O.D. green and funky poncho also protected the living from seeing a familiar human body in the abodes of eternal death.

"I am the Infantry, Queen of battle; follow me!" That phrase beyond any other exemplify the attitude, determination, moral- code, and self-confidence needed to be not just any combatant but the time proven warrior called an infantryman. That mighty fighting instrument of battle is second only to the Artillery, the ultimate King of all battle. The Infantry demands courage and is preoccupied in maintaining its rich customs and traditions of service. It fights best when given a rich diet of warrior history. Above all else, it prides itself in the accomplishments of brave individuals.

It has been said that the "I" in the word Infantry stands symbolically for the individual warrior or soldier or ranger or marine. It also stands ahead at the very beginning of a deadly bayonet in which we called the tip or the point. In all, the "I" stands for nothing else but the individual soldier's or warrior's belief in himself when confronted by an enemy every bit as determined to win like himself. These selfless fighters have time and again proven to one and all that a nation's might is not fully determined alone on how much advanced weaponry she has. It is the history of its grunts in squads or teams that must take and hold ground that is forever questioned. "Can they or will they fight?" It is the question of any hour in our day. Yes, a nation's strength lies in its fighting grunts too. The warrior is more superior than the machines that can't tell the difference between a truly honest to god military target and a kindergarten taught by Catholic Nuns. Only the Infantry's warrior or grunt equipped with a hand held weapon "can take and hold terrain."

This autobiography concentrates on the leading "I" in the hallowed word Infantry. It also dots that "I" with a ubiquitous presence willing to listen. In our recent history in the later half of the twentieth century, those dog faced individuals who moved units to and from one area to another have been ignored far too long. During the bloody Vietnamese War elements found it very difficult to maneuver field forces in complex, controllable formations due in part to a so-called triple canopy jungle.

A triple canopy jungle may be defend as a highly vegetated area or topography with trees of three different elevations densely concentrated. Some trees could be ninety or more feet in height. The next level of trees were about half their heights. These were common size trees like in the broad leaf family. Some of these trees have been the source of monkey ammo in its natural form called a coconut or fecal matter. The monkeys in the tropics have ways to show their displeasure with fellow bipeds invading their terrain. The third is a canopy of pain. By saying pain, I mean a pain in the ass as well as in the arms, legs, or any other part of the body or equipment that might and will get entangled in vines or impaled by sharp thorns known to G.I.'s as "wait-a-minute vines." All low to the jungle floor vegetation or grasses had the power to catch what little light that got through the two other canopies above them

In all, movement in Vietnam in the I Corps or other areas of rearranging almost everything we see, feel, and touch. Moreover, fear of the unknown nervously compiles us all to stand firm to our unwavering human quest for communion with the Gods of War, thus unleashing menacing dogs of war to consume the good with the bad.

The Vietnamese people were refreshing to behold. They had a sense of tenacity about them. Their oriental status made patients a premium. We, as America's gallant foot soldiers, would come to know what a premium price would be for a people determined to set themselves free. The pointman is a dedication to that end.