The Man Who Walked 3500 Miles to Kill Me: Reminiscences from Vietnam and Afghanistan

By William Zoesch MD

I carried a rifle in VietNam and a stethoscope in Afghanistan as an Army Reservist. I kept diaries from both conflicts and have factually reported all that I saw and experienced from the mundane to the absurd. With a thirty three year pause in between combat tours, I nonetheless noticed many similarities and opportunities lost in the two conflicts which discredits the current arguments that Afghanistan is not VietNam. In both conflicts the United States military fought to preserve the lives and countries of our allies yet despised them. Operations went on in both conflicts without heed for the expected results and in the process effectively isolated the vast bulk of soldiers from the populations that they were trying to defend. Both conflicts were severely underestimated by our leaders, both civilian and military. The VietNam veteran suffered the price of his unpopular war and now the Afghanistan and Iraq veteran is coming home to a growing public indifference to their sacrifices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483428727

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The Man Who Walked 3500 Miles to Kill Me

REMINISCENCES FROM VIETNAM AND AFGHANISTAN

WILLIAM ZOESCH MD

Copyright © 2015 William Zoesch MD.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2873-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2872-7 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 04/14/2015

Dedicated to Christl, Chris, Rich, and to

Viet Nam Veterans Everywhere

in memory of

John Cash COL USA INF

Contents

FORWARD

PROLOGUE

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

GLOSSARY

FORWARD

This book was written from diaries that I made from two combat tours over thirty years apart. A diary format is used and daily to weekly entries reflect that. On any given day or week, you will always start in Afghanistan followed by Viet Nam. The dates will give you the time and place. The events described really happened. I wrote the entries as factually as possible. With few exceptions, the first initial of the last name has always been altered. People should always realize that somebody may be recording their actions. I had no axe to grind and if some people appeared distant from the norm, that was not my alteration. Conversations were recorded as factually as possible.

Serving in two different conflicts left many impressions and changes. I guess it all had to do with my karma…

Most importantly, this book is dedicated to Viet Nam veterans everywhere. It appears to me that nobody, least of all the US Military of today, has learned from our experience. We went there, sent by our duly elected Presidents and Representatives, and ended up fighting for each other’s safety and survival. National survival was never at risk.

PROLOGUE

I went back into the US Army Reserves after 9/11. I felt patriotic about it and also felt that it would be a good adjunct to my position as a civilian physician working for the US Army in Europe. What was it that Robert the Bruce said, The best laid plans of mice and men oft gang aglay…?

In early spring of 2004, I was able to pick an assignment in Afghanistan as I did not believe that Iraq had ever been a threat to the USA. The last week prior to leaving for the mobilization site at FT Benning, Georgia finally brought home the coming impact of my deployment. The coming departure from my wife of thirty one years and from our sons and grandson began to overwhelm everything else. Occasionally bad news on television or remarks from others or memories of our lives together brought out the tears in floods. Our love and faith would support us in the six months plus to come.

I went to Viet Nam after volunteering for the Vietnamese Advisors’ School and Vietnamese language school in the first half of 1971. I was hot to leave the 82ND Airborne Division and get my tour out of the way. Just about every young officer in the US Army then knew that he was going sooner or later. There were few exceptions. I thought it would be unique to experience the war from the Vietnamese side and to be able to converse in their language.

24 September 2004

I awakened at three AM and could not sleep anymore. I lay in bed next to my wife and thought about many, many things and finally got up to avoid waking her. I watched the early morning financial news without hearing it and read the morning paper without seeing it. My wife eventually awakened and when we saw each other the tears just flowed. Between these episodes, my functional bowel syndrome gave me time to collect myself. Our son, Richie, got the car ready and with a long glance through the house and garden and then our neighbourhood, I was off to the unknown in a combat zone. The drive to the airport went well with considerable laughter and puns and no traffic problems.

And then the moment… we halted before the departure terminal, my son helped me get my bags together and then we all said goodbye. I held on to my wife like a life vest in a storm. I hugged my son one last time and then motioned for him to drive away. My wife and I embraced one last time and then I watched her arm waving from the car as it rounded the bend away from departures. I wiped my face and eyes, gathered up my luggage and went to the Delta/Air France desk to sign in. Told to report two hours earlier than my departure time, it was unsettling to note that the desk was closed. The French were late opening up. I would have liked to have had that forty minutes with my wife.

When my flight landed at Charles de Gaulle in Paris, I made it to my departure gate and looked out into the bright afternoon sunlight pouring in through the windows. A blur to my right visual field led me to check my glasses – there was a small smudge of makeup there, the last physical presence of my wife. I debated just leaving it there for a while longer but eventually wiped it off and sadly at that.

The flight was very long, endless in many respects. I was glad that I sat alone and that it was dark inside. Towards the end, the Delta pilot came by and chatted with a large number of us in coach about the flight, the financial troubles of his airline, and where we were all going. He asked me my destination and when I told him, he looked away sadly. We chatted about it briefly and then we wished each other luck and off he went to prepare for the last hour of the flight.

We were an hour late into Atlanta because of headwinds but customs was a breeze. The greater news was that my oldest friend and Army buddy, Frank, met me at the airport. He had driven 10 hours altogether so that we could have a reunion after not having seen each other for nine years. I’m sure each of us thought about how much older we looked but our friendship of thirty two years was still fresh as ever.

We had dinner together, laughed about life’s absurdities, discussed the parallels between Afghanistan and Viet Nam (a lot in our opinion), and discussed our families. After more than a few beers, we went to our rooms. We were both exhausted and I had been up about 24 hours. I crashed into bed at ten PM and awakened at three AM, unable to sleep anymore. I called home to my wife to let her know that all was OK. That call was damn near as sad as leaving home the previous day.

Frank and I had breakfast together early in the AM. We discussed the vagaries of age, hypertension, and mixed hyperlipidemia. It was great to see him and I was sad to see him go.

25 September 2004

Today is our sons’ 26th birthday. Richi was already home from Graduate School in Frankfurt and Chris had made it home from his Luftwaffe base with his new girlfriend in tow. My wife told me in the following day that it was a swell party minus the big absence – me!

I packed again, checked out of the hotel, and made it over to Atlanta Hartsfeld to fly down to Columbus, Georgia, home of FT Benning and my mobilization site where I would be transformed in only 5-7 days from Reservist to Active. Take off and landing were about thirty minutes apart. There was delay in obtaining a rental car as their computer had problems with a foreign address but eventually that was rectified. I had the weekend off so I checked into a hotel and made a grand tour of Columbus and FT Benning. I had earned my paratrooper wings at FT Benning in October 1969 and hadn’t been there since. I spent one whole day buying too much crap to take with me to Afghanistan as I figured the number of stores would be limited to zero once I got there. The Court Yard was nice hotel, had a great pool and hot tub, but desperately needed a bar! I hit the sack before 10 PM and was wide awake at 2 AM, 8 AM German time. I read some things, wrote these notes, and startled the desk clerk by asking for a cup of coffee at 4 AM.

June 1971

On June 28th, 1971, my parents still lived in Des Moines, Iowa. I had come home from my six months of Vietnamese training, spent about three painfully slow weeks at home, and then my travel day arrived. I would leave about 10 AM for the airport. I awakened early and showered down in the basement so as not to awaken my parents. My German shepherd, Lisa, followed me everywhere and began a constant whining. While showering, I cried just once. I was 24 years old, a First Lieutenant fresh from the 82nd Airborne Division, and on my way to the war. I thought about my brand new private pilot’s license that I had just earned while learning Vietnamese at FT Bliss, Texas, just outside of El Paso. After 56 hours of flying and multiple FAA tests, my family was reluctant to fly with me. I was still irritated. At that time, it was good that I was young, dumb, a geek, and completely inexperienced in the world in just about everything but jumping out of airplanes, the 4.2" heavy mortar, the M551 tank, flying small single engine planes, and pissing people off.

My mother got breakfast ready but no one, including my father and my brother, ate much. Then about 20 minutes later, my mother came in the house crying hysterically and screaming because Crazy Clara, our neighbour, had just told my mother that if I got killed, she could hang a Gold Star in our front window. My dad tried to soothe her, Lisa whined up a veritable storm, and then after a few awkward moments, I asked my brother to drive me to the airport earlier than planned as the best male strategy in moments such as this was to leave and avoid the consequences. With that I picked up my lone bag and literally had to drag my mother along to the front door where I hugged and kissed once. Then I shook my father’s hand and he seemed to be very uncomfortable and sparse with words but he asked me to be good and to be careful.

I got into the car and as my brother backed out into the street, I noticed that the neighbourhood was deserted. Everyone knew that I was leaving today but even crazy Clara had gone back inside. I waved goodbye and wiped the tears away. I left Des Moines as a ‘home of record’ forever. At the airport, my brother shook my hand, said, … don’t get too much over there…, and then drove off.

I got to San Francisco late in the afternoon and took a military shuttle bus out to Travis AFB east of the city. That was my first time in Frisco and I felt it ironic that I was driving through in less than 30 minutes. I remembered a story that my father told me about when he left San Francisco in 1943 aboard a big troopship that was sailing off into the South Pacific during World War II. As many of the troops on board as possible lined the decks and stern to watch the Golden Gate bridge recede into the distance until nothing remained of the shoreline of California. Then, he said, without a word or a sound, all of the men turned away and went below decks.

Arriving at the Travis passenger terminal, I sighted right away a bunch of the guys from my Vietnamese language class who were saying their last goodbyes to their wives, a few of whom I knew also. Some of the guys, not less than 36 hours later, would be screwing Vietnamese prostitutes.

We were under guard thereafter and were ordered away from all public areas and underwent innumerable roll calls, ID card checks, collection of orders, and then endless hours of Air Force manifest checks. We were then herded out to our Boeing stretch 707 where we endured more control checks. While waiting not far from our plane in the warm sunlight, another Boeing 707 taxied up, cut her engines, and shortly out came 300 vets of the war; they were boisterous, laughing, yelling, and screaming as they passed us. One guy yelled out, You fucking new guys (FNG’s)…you’re all going to die, you shit heads…, flipped us the bird and walked off into the arrival hall prior to entering the land of the Great PX and freedom.

When a discrepancy in the headcount or manifest arose, we were marched under the wing of our plane towards the rear of the aircraft for more roll calls, manifest checks, and looks at our dog tags. While that was going on, an USAF C-130 turboprop taxied to the other side of aircraft, dropped its rear ramp, and soon a detail of sharp looking soldiers marched up and off loaded 26 flag covered coffins. A chaplain yelled out …at ease…, and then having everyone’s attention, said, Let us bow our heads and pray for our lost brothers. Someone in the crowd yelled, Fuck you, Padre! Let’s get on this effing airplane!. Whereupon, a senior USAF Sergeant yelled at us to board but to leave the entire two front rows for full Colonels free. Inside there was one more head count, then the doors were closed. The pilot warmed her up, taxied to the main, and flew us out of Travis. I was able to watch the Golden Gate bridge disappear under the left wing. Four hours later, the lights of Honolulu showed up in the distance and we landed for refuelling.

We got a chit for breakfast which only paid one third of the bill. We were under armed guard again as all public areas were sealed off by MP’s (military police). I spent the entire time at the Koi pond waiting for the flight announcement. We boarded and flew off towards Okinawa. Along the way, we had to fly around a huge typhoon making the flight very rough. I awakened after several hours of sleep as we made the approach into Okinawa. We were able to get out and stretch our legs for an hour. it was 100° F/38°C with 100% humidity. I nearly missed the flight since I decided to get a haircut. The pilot took every inch of the two mile runway to get her off the ground and we flew out very low over the ocean until he gained speed and started to climb out.

We arrived in the Saigon area in several hours and approached the end of the runway very high, perhaps 10,000 feet, and then after a verbal warning, the pilot put out full flaps, dropped the landing gear, cut the throttles, and let the bird sink like a stone onto the north end of the runway with a loud bang. The pilot explained that that style of landing was necessary since we were flying around close to active artillery fire and that he didn’t want to get any ground fire coming in on a normal approach. As we taxied up to the arrival hanger, I thought about a friend of mine who landed in Bien Hoa AFB at dusk and enemy mortar fire followed the plane all the way to the ramp wherein everyone had to run for the bunkers. The pilot taxied around for a while probably under instructions to avoid the incoming. Behind me, a First Lieutenant in the Adjutant Generals Corp (the paper pushers) began to have a panic attack and kept asking what to do if we had a ground attack. A senior Sergeant next to him, covered with medals and a CIB (combat infantry badge), said to the 1LT, Sir, remember the AG motto, retreat, hell…backspace!!! Everyone laughed but the 1LT.

About 100 of the men on our flight were deboarded first in order to catch a flight up north to Da Nang to their replacement center (repple depple). The Chaplain was with them. That night, the repple depple was rocketed killing over 100 soldiers and wounding just as many. I wondered how many of the guys on our bird went home on another bird in a couple of days with a flag covering their coffin.

26 September 2004

Got up early in the hotel and was the second person there for breakfast at 7AM. I then went back to my room to pack prior to going to the CRC, the CONUS Replacement Center, out at FT Benning. I had a new laptop and a desert camo rucksack to carry it in plus my grips. I drove over to the airport and dropped off my rental car, then boarded the shuttle to the CRC. It reminded me of a penal colony stuck out in the jack pines of Georgia, far away from the main post. The driver of the bus, an unofficial historian of the base, said that in World War II they had an infantry division out here in training all the time, That was 15,000 soldiers running around out here plus their ‘temporary buildings’. He also reminded us to watch out for rattlesnakes and wild pigs if we decided to walk around out there.

The reception was full of HUAH’s, the new politically correct Army expression for a myriad of answers – yes/no/OK/etc., etc., Things soon were clear that this forlorn camp was well organized. We would spend a week in briefing, then there was tear gas training (what a gas!), pistol and rifle ranges, plus…don’t forget immunizations!!! Next was linen pickup, find your room, for me number 22 in building 4706B. It was a delightful rundown concrete block building of indeterminate age (were those markings on the walls hieroglyphics?) and my suite was 10'x10' to include a bunk bed, two wall lockers, and one broken footlocker to sit on. No curtains. It smelled very musty. The latrine was at the other end of the building and contained five sinks, three urinals, four toilets with very small seats, two washers and driers (often broken), and a three spigot shower with one broken. The hygienic standards left a lot to be desired as the toilets had a great tendency to overflow without warning, often flooding the place with feces.

One bright spot was the mess hall which was open 12 hours a day with unlimited food and drink. It was B+ most of the time and occasionally excellent; there was a nice salad bar plus 12 different things to drink plus fresh desserts everyday – very good! The mess hall became our little social center also as the staff left plenty of munchies and coffee around. There were roughly 600 people at any time going through either in or out and they came from all over the world or went out all over the world. There were many civilians, either contractors or various government agencies. We also had all services represented here including the US Coast Guard. The vast majority of us were going to Iraq or Afghanistan, with a few going to Africa. Some were making their fourth or fifth trips. Others had been wounded, evacuated from the theatre to recuperate stateside, and now were going back to finish the tour. The overall attitude was positive, surprisingly! Over the days from 4AM until 7PM, you met a lot of nice people, shared the sadness of leaving home, the excitement of the impending duty, and the vagaries of living like sardines.

June 1971

Before the 100 soldiers deboarded at Tan Son Nhut AFB in Saigon, I forgot to mention that a South Vietnamese woman came on board and sprayed the length of the aircraft with a heavy concentration of insecticide which we got to breathe for about five minutes. We walked out into 110°F/43°C heat with 100% humidity. The stink of rotting vegetation came to your nose plus other unidentified odors but no fecal smells. Also, the smell of burning charcoal came slowly out and last but not least, hot macadam and JP4, jet fuel. We were led into the terminal, cross checked against multiple lists, divided up into MACV and USARV (US Army Viet Nam), and then trucked to our billets. We received our TA50 (full field gear for a year) and brought that up into a 20 man room open bay with ceiling fans for ventilation. So, it was probably only 90°F in our new transiting quarters. Most of us headed for the showers and soon adapted by wearing only underwear or skivvies only. I hit the sack for a while until dinner rolled around. That night outside my cozy 20 man bay, I spoke with a Vietnamese man who was probably the gardener. He seemed pleased and happy that a ‘round eye’ (westerner) had learned his language. Whether he was watching the gardens, waiting for night or plotting the next rocket or mortar attack, I’ll never know. In the background, besides the noise of the city about 100 meters away, you could hear faint artillery fire. As it grew darker, the first flares lit up the sky.

27 September 2004

CRC schedule

0500-0550: wake up/personal hygiene/breakfast

0550-0600: formation

0600-1100: movement to and medical screening

1100-1300: lunch

1300-1345: administration

1345-1600: weapons familiarization

1600-1615: formation

1615-1645: TRICARE enrolment

1700-1900: dinner

The first morning was medical screening, vaccinations (eight for some people. I was excused from smallpox second to age and potential cardiac complications (death from an acute cardiac muscle inflammation)), physician interview with a Physicians Assistant, and then off to Martin Army Hospital to the long suffering but very nice ladies who worked in medical credentials. I ended up privileged so that I could see patients at the 325th Field Hospital in Bagram, Afghanistan. Met outside my door, LTC Bill M, a fellow Viet Nam veteran, who was in Xuan Loc, Viet Nam, when I was there later in my tour. What a coincidence!!! We must have met each other then but couldn’t remember each other after 32 years of aging. I had a great time with him as we swapped some older war stories. I remembered later in the day, my induction into the Army in 1968 at FT Riley, Kansas. At optometry, the Sergeant declared me legally blind without my glasses (something I already knew). I asked him what that meant and he replied compassionately, That means, kid, don’t lose your fucking glasses in Viet Nam!!!

28 September 2004

CRC schedule

0400-0520: wake up/personal hygiene/breakfast

0520: formation

0530-0600: movement to gasmask class

0600-0700: gasmask confidence class

0700-1100: theatre specific briefs

1200: formation

1200-1215: issue weapons

1215-1230: movement to range

1230-1700: weapons qualification

1700-1900: dinner

The classes today were top rate especially the information over SW Asia. Had a lot of fun shooting the 9mm Baretta but prefer a .45cal Colt. I missed expert by two points, so settled for Sharpshooter. I went out with Bill M. for dinner as we already needed a change of pace. We had a lot of laughs telling war stories. I had a few Kilkennys. I then slept very well for a change but was nonetheless still wide awake at three o’clock.

29 September 2005

CRC schedule

0500-0730: wake up/personal hygiene/breakfast

0730: formation

0730-0740: movement to Soldier Readiness Processing (SRP)

0740-1200: SRP

1200-1300: lunch

1300-1700: central issue facility (all equipment for your war)

Very long day processing re personnel/finance/legal/religious/Reserve&Natl Guard rights (I would learn soon enough that we were second class citizens)/final processing/go-no go point (if you were still breathing at this point, you were going!!!).

It was all very intense. My records were essentially nonexistent in the computer; that’s why I had them in my hands, Finance declares my pay is in order (I’ll respect you in the morning, too!!!). I chatted with several other Viet Nam vets today. We laughed together a lot about terrible times.

The central issue facility: I received three duffle bags full. They had four uniforms, two hats, two pairs of boots, field jacket with liner, gasmask, load bearing equipment, Kevlar vest without ceramic plates, canteens, mosquito nets, galoshes, cold weather boots plus a myriad of other items. All of that was close to 120lbs. Later in the day, I received my personal 9mm Beretta; I was unable to obtain an M4 Carbine because apparently Colonels are not shot at. The average range of engagement is 200 meters so my popgun is useless after 35 meters. The issue facility was NOT air conditioned. Everyone was exhausted. I hit the sack at 8PM and had a terrible night of sleep. I was awake at 3:30 AM.

June 1971

The first full day in Saigon, we were allowed to rest, relax, acclimate (HOT!!!), and did only minor paperwork. That night there was lots of action out there in the dark – flares, whumps, occasionally tracers (red –us! and green –them!) coursing through the sky

30 September 2004

CRC schedule

0500-0620: wake up/personal hygiene/breakfast

0620: formation

0630-0700: movement to Bldg. 4

0700-0800: react to UXO’s (unexploded ordnance – bombs!)

0800-0900: improvised explosive devices

0900-1000: biological/chemical warfare

1000-1050: security briefing

1050-1300: lunch+travel

1300-1800: permethrin uniform application

1800: travel info

There were lots of ugly pictures of people being blown up either from bad luck or just being stupid. There were also films of lunatics blowing themselves and innocent people or military targets up. Several of their VCR recordings always had just before the blast, Allahu Akbar, i.e., God is Great!!! I need to review abnormal psychology again. Maybe they should say, Nobel Akbar. Alfred Nobel invented dynamite plus a slew of other explosives. Went to bed early again that night and slept until 4AM.

1 October 2004

CRC schedule

0500-0800: wake up/personal hygiene/breakfast

0800-1000: formations for flight info

1100-1300: lunch

1300-1700: permethrin application

I finished my permethrin application to my battle dress. It repels insects hopefully and is particularly recommended to repel the SW Asian sandfly, Phlebotominae, which carries the Leshmaniasis parasite. This summer was supposed to have had a severe epidemic in Afghanistan. The disease in its cutaneous form causes ugly scarring lesions just about everywhere you get bitten by the sandfly. Symptoms can occur months to years after being bitten and the worst form is visceral leshmaniasis where your internal organs become infected and often cease function second to the infection. The most common nickname was the ‘Baghdad boil’ and I saw many soldiers with it and even more Agfhanis. At any rate the permethrin stank but an ounce of prevention wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t warm enough for the uniforms to dry and under constant alert for picking up our movement orders, most of us dried them in the driers. A large number of people were leaving today and Saturday. At a late afternoon formation, I got my orders and would fly out on Monday but we had to check in daily over the weekend in case flights were moved up. As one stupid Sergeant announced dramatically, Don’t you guys know, there’s a war goin’ on?

Bill M and I determined to explore very restaurant and donut shop available within a 30 mile radius. Since he didn’t drink, I decided on therapeutic doses of Kilkenny for the weekend as I slept better with it.

2-3 October 2004

Bill and I hit five restaurants, two donut shops, and most every automobile dealer in Columbus. Then we did the shopping malls, a gun store (where I stared at the M4 carbines longingly), and bookstores. This was all to soak up as much Americana as possible. I did feel a weird sense of poignancy between the beers, I must admit. The last act on Saturday before dinner (and Kilkenny) was that we visited the sleaziest car dealership that I have ever been to. It was introducing the new 2005 Corvette which was indeed beautiful. The salesmen gulped down pizza like Tyranosaurus rexes and completely ignored the customers. I had to ask permission just to sit in the car as it was locked up. At 57!!! It was a great step forward. Oh yes, an $8,000 dollar premium above the window price plus 9% interest on the car loan. Huah!!!! In 2004!!!

4-5-6 October 2004

I got up at 0530 and had actually slept through the night to my alarm without interruption. Had maybe my last breakfast at the mess hall and said goodbye to the staff and to some acquaintances there. I signed out of my room and denied damaging anything then turned in my linens, and then carried my bags up to the bus point. At 1000, we were issued our weapons and thereafter our luggage, duffel bags, etc., were under guard. We had our last roll call at 1045, were checked and checked again, then manifested to our flights. The bus ride to Atlanta’s airport was short and sweet. There was a Delta Airlines person at the disembark point and promptly seeing all of us in uniform, bluntly stated that we could not use the luggage carts; there were no others visible at this area. I would say again that each soldier had 3 dufflebags, a suitcase, one plus carry ons plus himself – perhaps altogether the average load was 200 pounds. We took the carts anyway.

The 9.5 hour flight to Frankfurt ended with a wave through German Customs and then we were bussed over to the Rhein Main USAF Airport for further flights. An attendant there asked us if we were armed and when receiving the positive answer said we could NOT! enter the terminal until he said so. After a delightful hour plus pause outside, I decided that we should all change into our uniforms as manifest was but an hour away. That done, in permethrin smelling desert dress, I found the attendant who said we couldn’t come in until he said so and he repeated his instructions. I found a Senior Master Sergeant and asked him to get me his commander here. A First Lieutenant showed up and I asked why this numb nuts was keeping us from our plane. Three minutes later we went through security and lined up to manifest and our flight was called. In good time after eating some breakfast and drinking some coffee, we boarded our flight to Incirclik AFB in Turkey. I watched the red roofs of Germany disappear into the clouds. Four hours later a very dry looking Turkey became visible as we descended for landing. There were several large mosques visible in the city as we made our final approach. We rested for two hours and reboarded for the five hour flight to Manas, Kyrgyzistan and deplaned into a cold, windy, and dark new world. We were going to have an eight hour layover and then on to Bagram in Afghanistan. I was ferried over to the VIP tent and was able to shower and shave before trying to go to sleep.

Two hours later an airman awakened me and said that we had to, what else, make another manifest in two hours. He’d pick me up in 30 minutes so that I could have breakfast outside the manifest point. We stayed outside and although sunny, it was pretty cold and windy. The manifest lasted three hours and once again, it was orders/ID cards/cross checks and hurry up and wait outside. I felt drugged as I had crossed 15.5 time zones in nine days and was astonished to find out that it was the 6th of October already.

Finally, buses appeared and took us out to a USAF C-130. The crew chief gave us his safety brief and concluded with the thought that during our four hour flight to Bagram, there would be no refreshments, no meals, no movies, and no stewardesses… and worse, NO TOILETS!!! They should have told us that earlier. There were 100 of us boarding this plane and we were soon packed on board like sardines alternating knees and rucks in very close quarters. Amazingly, I slept most of the flight down. The landing must have been on instruments as there was a dust storm with sixty mph winds going on. We were Indian walked into the arrival center and underwent more forms and Customs. Yes, I was armed although bulletless.

Several of us were picked up in a Bronco and taken over to the hospital which consisted of tents. We signed in, picked up linens, received our quarters, and were led to plywood huts and a delightful room with boarded over window and a cot!!!! About 9x7'. That was it!!! Oh, 25 meter walk to the latrines and shower facilities. You needed a flashlight at night second to rats and snakes (a large percentage of Afhani snakes are poisonous). Next we got a quick intro to the hospital which had wínd and dust blowing through the outpatient tents, a tour through the delightful grounds and facilities (minimal), and last but not least, shown an area containing three old MIG’s (the remains of the Taliban air force) which was surrounded by barbwire and the little red triangular mine warning signs. Stay away was the lesson as the mines and booby traps often went off when various critters climbed over them. WOW!!! as they were right outside the hospital, you could be cared for on the spot if you were so unlucky to be there if one blew up! We were then shown how to get to the dining hall (DFAC) which was large and had excellent food. Then, back to our quarters to unpack and relax in my first ever dust storm. I crashed into my cot and slept until 0330. I was awakened by alternate aircraft noise and howling winds. I went outside and pee’d off our veranda with the wind at my back. Damn cold and still dusty! I just couldn’t get up the motivation to march 25 meters to the latrines. Turned out it was forbidden NOT to use the latrines!

Three and a half days had passed by in a blur. I felt drugged. I need a vacation with sedation!

First impression was that this place is a dump. And quite dusty at that!

7 October 2004

The first day was orientation. At the staff meeting every one was friendly and welcoming. The Docs discussed their latest cases, all of whom were Afghans. Several of them had stepped on land mines and others were shot, by us or the bad guys, didn’t matter. Then we had a tour of Bagram base which was quite large with a two mile long runway, several squadrons of aircraft, helicopters, a base defense force, and multiple headquarters with a two star as the senior officer. We learned where the Post Office, PX, Burger king, dining facilities, and the Rec Center were. We were also shown, the outside only, of the Special Forces (SF) contingent and the No Such Folk (NSF) compound. The NSF were a polyglot of bearded and very muscular weapons festooned people who belonged to many intelligence agencies. They were very proud of their overtly anonymous status and were often quite pushy in certain situations. You could only ask them medical questions and they often brought their own docs with them who were often ignored by us as they weren’t credentialed. The base was split in half by a main road called Disney Drive, named for a soldier that was killed there in the earliest days of the war. There were also compounds belonging to the Egyptians, who had their own hospital, the Emirates, and other multinationals who had smaller compounds.

Then back in the hospital compound, a security alert was announced effective at 1700. I ate dinner and then crashed into bed. At 2200, a rocket sailed overhead and exploded 175 meters away, harming no one but we had to go to the bunkers, freezing, until the ALL CLEAR came. Hey, Welcome to Afghanistan!, was all I could think. My hooch by the way had no protection at all from shrapnel. Our bunkers were only good for a near miss. It was just as I learned in ‘the Nam’, if it had your name on it, it was ‘Xinh loi, manoi!". That was Vietnamese for ‘so sorry, darling’. I am not afraid to admit that it shook me up but on the other hand, it put me back into the ‘war mode’. Interesting that if you came home from here or Iraq in an aluminium box, President Bush forbade showing pictures of flag covered coffins. What a cowardly act! If you are at war, the Public needs to see this price that others are paying.

8 October 2004

I was completely screwed up time wise. The Army functions on ZULU time which is the local time minus 4.5 hours. I showed up for work today 45 minutes early. I felt as if I were lightly hung over and was lethargic. Time change is debilitating for older people and I made the snap decision that I, too, was now older. Since I was early and the ER staff were slightly cold to FNG’s, I went back to my quarters and read. Since the rocket, I thought about my family. I said some prayers and it was the first time that I had worn a weapon when doing so.

The patients I was to see today were on sick call and they all turned out to be straight forward medicine. In the afternoon I was briefed about additional duties including an emergency house call in helicopters to save the Afghani President if he were injured. That could have ended up under fire! I was also assigned to a QRF (quick reaction force) that could involve air assaults with an infantry unit. I’ll be the oldest one on that type of mission for sure. Also, when you had ER duty, you were to take and triage all radio messages about patients that may need to be transferred to here for definitive care. You also could refuse them based on weather or other hindrances. There were other lesser duties but those were the big three. That night I slept about three hours second to aircraft noise, distant explosions, and pee breaks. Towards dawn, there was a lot of distant Apache gunship fire and the occasional bam whumph of a rocket launch from the Apaches when they were fairly close to the ground. The airfield really became active then and the alert jets were scrambled. More shooting but could not hear any small arms fire.

9 October 2004

Today I had AM sick call. There was lots of viral upper respiratory crud which actually could be caused by the clouds of gray dust here, I was told by a colleague that lots of people here became wheezers secondary to all the pulmonary inflammation. CPT L, our preventative medicine officer, cheerfully noted that the silica levels in the dust here are just below EPA levels of safety. That, in the same sentence that he introduced himself with. Surprisingly, this dust out here has almost nothing else in it that is supposed to be harmful or infectious. Not true for the air quality as the CPT digressed because the Army burned everything at night in Bagram, including batteries, fecal waste, and worst of all, plastics (promotes low cyanide levels in the air and also phosgene which destroys small airways…PLUS, makes a slew of carcinogens). Nothing is too good for our boys!

I had a happy talk with my wife later on the phone. One of her sisters has a compulsion about cleaning and this place would cure that! We had a great laugh over dusting and had a wonderful conversation with just an edge of sadness. Fortunately, her brothers and sisters are taking up her down time with plenty of invites for dinner and so forth. Our sons did what they could but Richi lived in Frankfurt and Chris in Kassel, each a four hour drive away. The weather, she said, was classic German fall with lots of bright colors. For three days I told her, we had variations of windy, dusty, and cold

July 1971

In the first three July days in Viet Nam, we processed the inevitable forms (the most important was, where does your $10,000 of life insurance go if you are waxed (killed)) and of course, on the first afternoon as mentioned, we all picked up our weapons – minus ammunition. I hefted a good ol’ .45cal Colt semiautomatic and the not so popular M16 (it jammed too easily). Then on the last morning in Saigon, we received our assignments and then we were sent dragging all of our equipment to different buses. I was going to an ARVN (Army of the Republic of Viet Nam) armoured cavalry unit. If I survived the year, I would be awarded the coveted Combat Infantry Badge (CIB) and the ARVN Armored CAV badge. Would I look cool, I thought! Still dreaming my fantasy, I boarded our bus for a six hour ride through the outback and none of us were armed. Maybe the bus driver had a machine gun under his seat. The windows were covered with anti-grenade screen. We drove out of the airbase gate and headed for Cholon, the China town of Saigon, negotiated the huge traffic circle there, and then over the Dong Nai River bridge, we turned north for Long Binh, home of the USARV III Corps Headquarters.

It turned out that a large number of the guys on the bus were headed for Xi An, affectionately nicknamed ‘Rocket City’, which was a large training base out in the woodwork NW of Saigon. We drove and drove with the roads narrowing and the jungle looming ever closer. Along the way we had seen rice paddies, water buffaloes, lots of Vietnamese, and many hooches built out of soda pop cans, the South Vietnamese National Cemetery (their Arlington) and the towering ARVN soldier statue at its entrance. As we kept driving the Vietnamese and their hooches thinned rapidly out. At last with a number of rocket craters, we drove into the fortified base. It had an approach road, numerous vehicle barriers, minefields, a three meter high berm of dirt around the periphery designed to keep out small arms fire, and regularly spaced guard towers about 20 feet high and about 150 feet apart. We dumped off our comrades and noticed how shabby the whole place looked. It was depressing.

Then we reversed back through the jungle, hit the main highway and turned north to Long Binh. We drove past their national cemetery again; when the North Vietnamese conquered the South in 1975, they bulldozed all the tombstones, caskets, and other traces off to the side. They blew up the soldier’s statue also and took it away. They then built a factory over the