As a member of the 377th Combat Security Police at Tan
Son Nhut, Vietnam, I was assigned a sandbag bunker while
we were constantly on alert. We were on post 22 hours
a day, the remaining 2 hours we returned to base for
a shower, clean clothes, and food (at least two of the
basic three-S's). All posts were doubled or tripled up
on manpower. Because we were on post so long, we could
only sleep while on duty, and that took some getting
used to.
If I remember the rules
correctly: "NO RADIOS, NO READING MATERIAL, AND NO SLEEPING
ON DUTY." Offenders would be hung by the neck until dead!!!
But after 24 hours the body starts to retaliate by playing
tricks. First there are daydreams of round eyes. Then
you see things that aren't there (round eyes again).
Your mouth becomes dysfunctional, and disconnected from
your brain: "HEY MIKE, YOU'RE THE DUMBEST UGLIEST DAM
THING I EVER SAW IN MY LIFE! YO! AND YOUR MAMA...." Your brain no longer understands the term logic.
Finally, you instantaneously
nod-off in mid-sentence, totally asleep, and immediately
wake up scared too death that you just fell asleep on
duty! You realize that's what happened and accounts for
your neck being whiplashed as your head fell off your
shoulders and hit the middle of your back---while your
mouth played bug-trap.
The first night I just
couldn't convince myself to close my eyes on duty. Sleeping
on post is... a... a... SIN... immoral
... God is watching... and sarge said the world
as I knew it, for me, would---end! and he would
personally choke me'til I did the chicken! But
... I'm... so... sleep... eeee, I'd give anything
to be sleeping in my bunk---despite the choppers taking
off over my barracks.
The second night I fought
the urge as long as I could. And when I thought of giving
in---the boot camp training prohibited sleeping on
post! And just when Mike, and I begin working out
a scheme to sleep on our post, which was positioned close
to the 057 Gate, sporadic sniper fire would cut loose
on the Gate---and did so every few hours.
The Sandman was working
overtime and my body was decomposing into a zombie-state: I needed sleep desperately. Finally, I convinced Mike
to sleep---first (if his world didn't end, I would
try it), as he was as anxious as I about not breaking
the golden rule instilled in our DNA by every NCO in
the Air Force. I assured him that it would be Okay---what
could go wrong? I'll keep half an eye open on the fence
line."
Trying to stay alert,
for a zombie, I found my C-rats and absentmindedly set
an open can of pears on the sandbag. The next mouth full
of pears seemed to be alive. It was alive---with an entire
population of ANTS attempting to drag the can (or my
bunker?) toward the V.C. line. Figures. My disconnected
Id began to think that was hilariously funny. Hey
... anyone seen my bunker? But I couldn't laugh
without waking dead-Mike, and drawing fire. So I decided
to let the horde of ants work hard dragging the can for
a yard or two before reclaiming it! Heh-heh... and I'll recapture my can of pears and I'll WIN!
Oh my God---I need sleep.
About 1 AM, I woke Mike
and I crawled in my make-shift bed (rat-infested bunker)
for some needed shut eye. I told Mike to wake me at the
first sign of any activity. Mike thanked me for letting
him sleep and reassured me that I would have a wakeup
call if he detected anything. "What could
go wrong?" he reminded me.
I remember dreaming about
how good it felt to sleep in the sunshine. The sun was
so bright, not a cloud in the sky. As I lay slumbering
in the sunlight I heard a faint whistling sound and the
snapping of a bed sheet. It got louder by the second
until I heard a loud BOOOOOONG. I jumped to my
feet, waking with a start, and sure enough it was
a bright and sunny day---at 1:30 AM---but strangely,
only at my position was in the sunlight. The rest of
the base was dark. Why am I lit up like on-stage?
As I came to my senses
I realized that Snoopy dropped a flare directly over
my position. The canister, whistling through the air,
just missed crashing into my bunker. Worse yet, Snoopy
lit my bunker up with a billion candles power---Uncle
Ho could see me from Hanoi! As I stood there,
basking in the glow of the midnight-sun-flare, I slowly
come to my senses. My eyes focused on the jeep sitting
3 feet from me with the Duty Officer glaring from the
passenger seat. I braced myself for the stream of profanities
and other unrecognizable BS that would stream from the
Lt.'s lips. Man, I've done it now, LBJ---here I come.
I wonder if they have rats and cockroaches in Leavenworth?---do
they like pears? All I wanted was a little shut eye
... and what happened to that sell-out MIKE?
He, what, fell asleep again??? Oh well, I didn't like
this job anyway.
The Sargent is giggling---my
ass is grass---I don't wanna do the chicken! He couldn't
wait to get me back since I trounced him in a
game of hearts. Of course my head was bare (helmets made
for hard pillows but what works, works). Then I heard
the D-O scream, "COOK, I SEE YOU LOST YOUR HELMET, AGAIN!"
OH, NO... not that D-O again. I thought he
forgot about our last little encounter when I lost my
Helmet throwing it defending government property (me)
from King Rats. Then
the mod squad broke out in a roar, laughing till the
M60 mounted on the jeep about fell off.
The bottom-line of this
story is: 1) Don't get caught without your helmet
while in the light of a flare, 2) Don't open peaches
or pears until you're ready to eat them, and 3)
Sleeping was tolerated, but not wearing your helmet wasn't!
My sentence was 10 more months of a 12 months tour in-country.
