I arrived in Vietnam in early December 1966 and found out the first day what a cluster fuck this place really was. I was sent to the wrong unit. I was given a chopper ride to a small base in the middle of nowhere with nothing but jungle and land mines around us. There were 200 yards of trees removed to help keep the gooks from sneaking up and overrunning our base at night. The day before I got there the outhouse was hit by a mortar round and destroyed. There were three guys in machine guns hiding in their foxhole, but they still ended up covered with this disgusting mess. The smell was so bad they had to move and dig another foxhole. They had to do this in a rather speedy manner as they were being shot at as they dug. Now that was the only funny thing about this place. Everything there was below ground, including the ammo dump, and you had to run down trenches to go anywhere. I figured I would be lucky to survive a month in this hell hole. The first day the gooks sent us a dozen mortar rounds for breakfast. The second day a chopper came to resupply our water and they did their best to shoot it down. The chopper boys just pushed the barrels off and got the hell out of there. More than one marine wanted to jump on and head for anywhere else. The water laid out there until it was dark and somewhat safe to retrieve. The third night they tried to keep us sleepless with mortar rounds, machine gun fire and yelling, “Marine, you die.” They sounded like they knew what they were talking about. About four o’clock in the morning we set off flares and caught 30 to 40 gooks trying to crawl in close. Their group was a lot smaller when they ran back to the jungle. This place is so bad that they didn’t even run ambushes or patrols out of it after dark.
Christmas came several weeks early this year. The captain who was in charge of the place notified me I was at the wrong base. He gave me the option of staying there or getting on the supply choppers that afternoon. He could have sent me to Hell with Jeffrey Dahmer as my partner and I would have still jumped on the supply chopper. This is when I joined Hotel Company and met Staff Sergeant Eli Sausau, a.k.a. the Pineapple. My first squad leader was Corporal Ken Rodgers, a kid from Malibu, California. I was taken under the wing of Lance Corporal Mike Dangelo, a redheaded Italian from upstate New York. My platoon sergeant was Ken Gaffney, a tough as nails Irishman from the Boston area. My platoon commander was Herman Little, a second lieutenant from Oklahoma. He was as green as me but a lot smarter and more careful. I had grown up hunting and fishing so I knew a woodsman when I saw one. He was an intelligent college graduate and realized right away that I didn’t give a damn and was extremely reckless. He would become the most respected officer in our company and one of the finest men I would ever meet. The Pineapple, who was 35 years old, was a living legend with a chest full of combat medals. Sgt. Gaffney was a Silver Star recipient for bravery under fire and a magnificent marine. Mike Dangelo became my friend for life. I was never a person who made a lot of friends and was humbled by having such incredible marines look upon me as a friend. They were the kind of men to sacrifice their own life to save yours. I only hope I can reciprocate when the time comes. Most marines would consider this base Hell on Earth, but after the last one I had escaped from, this wasn’t so bad. The worst part about this area were the snipers and the deadly booby traps. The gookers in this area had 30 years of experience fighting and building booby traps, obviously we had a lot of catching up to do. The trick was to catch up before one of the booby traps caught you. Thus starts the story of Cpl Nolan, the Pineapple, Lt. Little, SSgt Gaffney, Mikey and all the rest. This is a story of friendship and laughter more than anything. The experiences we shared in Vietnam brought us a bond none of us can forget. We are like brothers, even when things didn’t go as planned. To this day, we grieve for those that never came home from Vietnam. We also remember the lighter moments. The following stories are about them and the fellowship of our platoon.
