Sad Memories - Vietnam Era

US Army Vietnam Signal Directorate

Where's the Ammo

Tan Son Nhut was a pretty solid assignment as far as security.  I can recall only some two or three ground attacks during my twelve months there, but some of these attacks appeared designed more as harassment and scare tactics rather than tactical or strategic attacks.  They were over before we even mobilized.  Two or three times, however, Tan Son Nhut Airbase received either rocket or mortar attacks. 

Once, a particular sector of the airbase perimeter was attacked,¹ and Moreno and I along with some forty other administrative personnel were deployed to secure a sector of the airbase perimeter.  We were deployed in the small hours of the morning to defend our assigned sector of the perimeter.

We never had assigned individual weapons.  When called up we would line up in the unit arms room and sign for an M-14 and gas mask.  You never knew which M-14 you would draw, and there were never enough gas masks available.  I always insured I was in the first few soldiers in line for weapons.  I recall going without a gas mask only once or twice.  Since weapons were not permanently assigned, those using their weapon would not put much effort in the care and cleaning of it.  In time I, too, fell into that practice.

During an earlier deployment, I had been issued an M1918 Browning Assault Rifle² (BAR), a weapon I had never previously fired, handled or wanted. The arms room sergeant informed me that I seemed big enough to handle a BAR. “Specialist,” he said. “We’re running short of M-14’s, so you’re the lucky man today,” as he handed me a powerful weapon to do great harm. “You’re getting every man’s dream – a BAR.”

“I’ve never fired a BAR,” I said in protest.

“Don’t you worry none. You’ll get the hang of it pretty damn quick. It’s just an oversize M-14 but with a hell lot more firepower. Now, it doesn’t use the same ammo as the M-14, but there’ll be plenty of ammo waiting for you on-site.”

M1918 Browning Assault Rifle - BAR ² 

Distraught and wanting a weapon I was familiar with, I walked away and joined the departing soldiers loading onto the trucks, but I learned a valuable lesson here. On all future deployments, I was always in the first few standing in line at the Arms Room to draw weapons just so I would not be settled with a BAR.

Some five two-and-a-half-ton troop carrier trucks pulled right in front of our formation as our first sergeant was hastily checking roll.  Our first sergeant did not inspire confidence that night standing there in front of his company of administrative troops.  His shirt was much too small for his robust midsection, boots laced only halfway, kept readjusting his M-14 falling off his shoulder and bloodshot eyes caused not from a lack of sleep but by a night of hard drinking.  This was evident since he kept slurring his words and another sergeant beside him was there only to again call out the names the first sergeant kept slurring.

"Platoon sergeants, check your men and make sure they have everything before they load on to the trucks!" commanded the first sergeant.  As our platoon sergeant checked each one of us, he would direct us to load up onto the assigned truck.  When he got to me, he asked "Ojeda, you got everything?"

"Sergeant, I have no gas mask." I replied. 

"There are not enough to go around, Ojeda! Now, load up!"

"Wait, sergeant, I don't have any ammo either!  Where's the ammo?" I asked.

"Ammo's waiting for you there.  Now load up!" he commanded.

We arrived at our assigned sector of the Tan Son Nhut Airbase perimeter with our M-14 weapons and no ammunition whatsoever.  After some thirty minutes at my post and no ammunition, I walked up to a heavily overweight staff sergeant who was in charge of our group asking, "Sarge, we still don't have ammo.  Where's the ammo?" 

"It's coming," the sergeant said.  Pouring black coffee from a themo canister on the back of a two and half-ton truck, he added, "Just go on back to your position, and stay alert."  I filled my canteen cup with warm black coffee and returned to my position.

Some thirty more minutes had passed and still no ammo.  I could hear machine gun and small arms fire in the distance and was getting increasingly concerned.  I walked back to the sergeant and again inquired about the ammo. 

"We're not getting any ammo, Ojeda" he said.  "We have a truck at Camp Alpha already loaded down with the ammo ready to deploy. Once we see any sign of a ground attack, the ammo will be here in just ten to fifteen minutes. Just go on back to your position and tell the others to let me know if they see any sign of a ground attack in our sector."

"You're the only one with a radio, sergeant. None of us on the line have any radios or other means of communication," I replied. "Are we just going to yell out that the enemy is coming?"

"Don't be a smart ass, Ojeda!" the overweight sergeant replied. "Just get the hell back to your post where you're supposed to be and stay there!"

For my first time in Vietnam, I was truly frightened at the prospect of being attacked and not being able to respond. I had no control over the situation but resorted to fixing bayonet³ just in case, a somewhat futile and flawed plan, but it gave me a measure of security I would not otherwise have.  It was already daylight and a few canteens of coffee later when the trucks came to take us back to our hooches.  If the enemy had only known there was a whole sector being defended with no ammunition whatsoever!!!!

I didn't let the ammunition issue end there.  I addressed my concern to the Sergeant Major of our Signal Directorate who had served as an infantryman in both Korea and Vietnam.  SGM Verser thought it incredulous that we were assigned to defend our sector of the Tan Son Nhut Airbase perimeter without ammunition.  "Now, Ojeda, don't fucking lie to me!  Are you sure no one in our sector had any ammunition?  Is it possible they just bypassed you and everyone else got issued ammunition?"

I assured SGM Verser that no one in our sector had any ammunition and that the sergeant of the guard had the ammunition loaded onto a truck at Camp Alpha to arrive within ten or fifteen minutes of an initial attack.  I went back to my desk in an adjoining cubicle. A few minutes later I overheard SGM Verser on the phone screaming at our First Sergeant for deploying us without ammunition.  "What the fuck you mean someone could get hurt?" shouted SGM Verser.  "This is a goddamn combat zone, you asshole!  And both Americans and VC were killed in the attack! You don't go and fucking defend a whole goddamn sector without ammunition, you dumbass!  You have failed me, your company of men and General Terry, first sergeant, so you'd do well to get your shit together.  If General Terry gets wind of this, your ass AND mine will be on the line! I'm sure you haven't heard the end of this, sergeant!!!!" With force, he slammed the phone down hard at his frustration with the dumbass then calmly walked into Brigadier General Terry's office to make him aware of the past night's events.

That same day I was delivering some classified documents to Brigadier General Terry who was our Signal Officer and dually commanded the 1st Signal Brigade. He asked about our deployment that previous night.  I shared my grievance with him.

We were again deployed two or three times after that one miserable night, but we never again left the company area without each and every soldier carrying his share of C-rations and all the ammunition he cared to carry with him.  Additional ammo and a steaming canister of strong black coffee were always available on-site.  That nasty, miserable coffee was still the nastiest coffee ever, but it was hot, available and appreciated.