Zaltho Foundation

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"To Live For"
Claude AnShin Thomas

Somewhere in the Iron Triangle, or was it Tay Ninh Province, or was it the Delta. You know I just can't remember and it also doesn't really matter all that much, the details - trying to get the details just right is often a way to not remember. Because I can't remember exactly I say fuck to remembering. But I can hear the radios. I can hear the grunts talking back and forth. All the different units we were covering. I can hear the flight units and all their chatter. Most crews turned off the radios. They didn't want to know what was going on, what we were going to be flying into. But not me, I wanted to know what was happening, what we were going to be heading into, the shit.

Close fire support that's what we did - tree top stuff, 60 knots. I don't know what that translates into when talking in MPH (miles per hour). What I do know is that you could hit us with rocks.

The radios were quiet. The usual conversation, chatter, chatter, chatter and then combat. That abrupt and sudden change, so profound as to suck the peace our of the wind. A platoon had made contact, heavy contact, and the radio gave me this information. They sounded like they had just got off on an Amphetamine Rush.

"6 this is tiger over."

"This is 6 go ahead."

"We're fucked man, you gotta help us, we must-uv found all the fuckin dinks in South Vietnam. We got guys down all over the fuckin place, we need fuckin help now. Where's 3d platoon, where the fuck are they? There supposed to be on our flank. They're supposed to be our cover our support, where are they? Where are the gunships? Where are the fuckin gunships? Get 'em here now, fuckin now!! We need a Medvac now , where's the fuckin Medvacs, where's anybody?"

Listening to all this I was just there, immediately in Oz. Transported into that etheral space of combat time where spacial notions disappear and you are no longer where you were or thought you might be, you're just where you are, in combat land.

We got the co-ordinates and headed out not waiting for a formal invitation -- we were the gunships -- Have Guns Will Travel!!

"Tiger this is Stinger 6 we're on you, pop smoke and we'll light 'em up for ya - over!"

"Stinger 6 this is Tiger over - it's the Ville man it's the whole fuckin Ville."

"Tiger this is Stinger 6 - Roger that!"

We broke down on the ville, the lead ship, my ship took one side of the Ville. M-60's, rockets, 40 Mike Mikes (40 milimeter); the Hog took the other side; Rockets and Door Guns. The flex ship took it right down the middle; Rockets, Door Guns, and 4 M-60 machine guns smokin.

One pass and then another pass - break left, tracers, plexiglass, taking rounds. Sharp break left, tight, tight, so tight I thought that I was gonna fall outta the fuckin door.

"Stinger 6 this is Tiger over. Take it out, take it out, take out the whole fuckin Ville man -- take it out!!"

Another run - fire, dust, hooches burning, chickens running - hogs, pigs, kids, women running, V.C. - V.C., where are the fuckin V.C., where are they, where are they? Another run - more fire.

"6 this is 2 we're hit man, we're hit, we're going down man. Fuck, fuck man were going down!" (Silence, radio silence, no more 2. Explosion, smoke.).

Take that fuckin ville - take it!! At that moment we could see the guys crawling from the Hog and we had to cover - protect our own - we shot our way into the ville sitting on top of one hooch then another. The rotor wash blowing them over like clothes being blown off the line in the moment of strong wind before the rain and we sat there hovering killing everything that moved. Dogs, cows, children, women, men, boys - everything!

< Back | Short Stories & Essays | Next >

"To Live For"
Claude AnShin Thomas

Somewhere in the Iron Triangle, or was it Tay Ninh Province, or was it the Delta. You know I just can't remember and it also doesn't really matter all that much, the details - trying to get the details just right is often a way to not remember. Because I can't remember exactly I say fuck to remembering. But I can hear the radios. I can hear the grunts talking back and forth. All the different units we were covering. I can hear the flight units and all their chatter. Most crews turned off the radios. They didn't want to know what was going on, what we were going to be flying into. But not me, I wanted to know what was happening, what we were going to be heading into, the shit.

Close fire support that's what we did - tree top stuff, 60 knots. I don't know what that translates into when talking in MPH (miles per hour). What I do know is that you could hit us with rocks.

The radios were quiet. The usual conversation, chatter, chatter, chatter and then combat. That abrupt and sudden change, so profound as to suck the peace our of the wind. A platoon had made contact, heavy contact, and the radio gave me this information. They sounded like they had just got off on an Amphetamine Rush.

"6 this is tiger over."

"This is 6 go ahead."

"We're fucked man, you gotta help us, we must-uv found all the fuckin dinks in South Vietnam. We got guys down all over the fuckin place, we need fuckin help now. Where's 3d platoon, where the fuck are they? There supposed to be on our flank. They're supposed to be our cover our support, where are they? Where are the gunships? Where are the fuckin gunships? Get 'em here now, fuckin now!! We need a Medvac now , where's the fuckin Medvacs, where's anybody?"

Listening to all this I was just there, immediately in Oz. Transported into that etheral space of combat time where spacial notions disappear and you are no longer where you were or thought you might be, you're just where you are, in combat land.

We got the co-ordinates and headed out not waiting for a formal invitation -- we were the gunships -- Have Guns Will Travel!!

"Tiger this is Stinger 6 we're on you, pop smoke and we'll light 'em up for ya - over!"

"Stinger 6 this is Tiger over - it's the Ville man it's the whole fuckin Ville."

"Tiger this is Stinger 6 - Roger that!"

We broke down on the ville, the lead ship, my ship took one side of the Ville. M-60's, rockets, 40 Mike Mikes (40 milimeter); the Hog took the other side; Rockets and Door Guns. The flex ship took it right down the middle; Rockets, Door Guns, and 4 M-60 machine guns smokin.

One pass and then another pass - break left, tracers, plexiglass, taking rounds. Sharp break left, tight, tight, so tight I thought that I was gonna fall outta the fuckin door.

"Stinger 6 this is Tiger over. Take it out, take it out, take out the whole fuckin Ville man -- take it out!!"

Another run - fire, dust, hooches burning, chickens running - hogs, pigs, kids, women running, V.C. - V.C., where are the fuckin V.C., where are they, where are they? Another run - more fire.

"6 this is 2 we're hit man, we're hit, we're going down man. Fuck, fuck man were going down!" (Silence, radio silence, no more 2. Explosion, smoke.).

Take that fuckin ville - take it!! At that moment we could see the guys crawling from the Hog and we had to cover - protect our own - we shot our way into the ville sitting on top of one hooch then another. The rotor wash blowing them over like clothes being blown off the line in the moment of strong wind before the rain and we sat there hovering killing everything that moved. Dogs, cows, children, women, men, boys - everything!