Few of my peers left the 101st Airborne unscathed. Some left there with varying degrees of internalized anger, some as certifiable alcoholics, a few with drug problems and others with symptoms which would later in life be diagnosed as PTSD.
Barnett was a fellow radio repairman and drinking buddy. Almost nightly, we often shared a warm case of beer atop our bunker next to our hooch. I was in charge of our company's Reactionary Force. During any mortar, rocket or ground attack, our Reactionary Force would assemble in an assigned bunker and just sit there. If the enemy was sighted entering any part of our assigned perimeter, it was our job to rush that sector and unleash a massive volume of machine gun and individual weapon fire, prepositioned claymore mines, M-79 grenade launcher fire and foo-gas. Barnett was on my team.
I always told myself I was not an alcoholic because I could limit my drinking to after hours, and I could function quite well assembling and directing my Reactionary Force members. Even if I exceeded my controlled drinking, incoming rocket or mortar fire is the best method to instantly sober up any drunken man.
Barnett was from Boston and had never graduated from college though he had way more semester hours for his degree than needed. He was already twenty-five and still a student.
I believe Barnett had something like one hundred sixty semester hours when one hundred twenty to one hundred thirty semester hours are needed for a Bachelors. He had become a professional student to avoid the draft. Had he graduated, he would have been quickly drafted.
After his twenty-fifth birthday, Barnett was drafted. He was allowed to finish the semester and was then sent to Radio Repair Tech School at Fort Gordon, Georgia. It was there that I first met him when the Army Security Agency retrained me into communications electronics. About a month after I arrived at Camp Eagle, Vietnam, Barnett joined me with the 101st Airborne to serve the last eleven months of his draft commitment.
The closer he got to completing his Army tour, the heavier Barnett drank. I noticed this and suggested he start limiting his drinking and begin acclimating himself to civilian life. I was only three months from completing my tour, so I stopped the drinking binges and started weaning myself off pot. Barnett and our two other drinking buddies still insisted I join them in their drinking, yet I was able to hold fast even despite the "You think you're too good to drink with us now?" charges.
Barnett did not speak to me much anymore after that, and his drinking increased. The morning of Barnett's departure from 101st Airborne, he was still drunk and had not even packed his bags. I walked over to his sleeping area and suggested we go have breakfast. He agreed. After breakfast I helped him pack his bags. He asked me to drive him to Phu Bai to process out. I got a jeep, we loaded his bags and joined a convoy traveling to Phu Bai.
On the road Barnett confided to me that he was leaving Vietnam with not even a single dollar in his pocket. He was concerned he would not get any pay until he processed out of the Army at Oakland Army Base two days later. He never asked for money. I gave him twenty dollars suggesting he not go and spend it on beer.
We unloaded his bags, shook hands, and I left to join a return convoy to Camp Eagle. There was a brief goodbye. I was never one to make a big thing out of a farewell. There had already been so many farewells over the past many years of my service. This one was just another one of those non-events. I never heard from Barnett after that day.
Copyright texan@atudemi.com - January 2022