by Donald Z. Smith

Created on: July 27, 2011   Last Updated: January 01, 2012

It was June 1969.  I wiped the sweat off of my brow and flicked the sweat flies from the jungle rot sores on my face.  I entered the bunker on Dong Ha Mountain and threw my haversack on the floor.  It was dark and musty, but cooler inside the sand bagged bunker.  This was the spot I was staying for a few days with my platoon guarding an Army artillery base on top of a mountain in Vietnam.  Not as good a spot as when they took us to Cua Viet on the beach after an operation and we got drunk for three days.  Life as an infantryman, we get a three or four day break in the action after a month in the jungle.  I needed the break this time.  May was a bad month for us.  May was dubbed Virginia Ridge as an operation but we re-named it the Virginia Massacre.  We had trapped the NVA in a canyon and hell followed us each day that month.  I needed a break this time.  

I stood there mesmerized looking at my new temporary home.  As usual, infantry got a break from the action by guarding a base's perimeter for a few days in a semi-secure area.  Very secure to us, as we weren't fighting in the jungles and just trying to stay alive.  My thoughts were interrupted as two other Marines from my squad walked into the bunker behind me.  Jake Priode and Sanchez threw their packs on the floor and were looking around at our new accommodations. "Let's get a card game going", Jake said and I nodded to him in agreement.

We sat around for a short time playing acey ducey for match sticks, which represented dollar bills and smoked cigarettes.  I was only semi-conscious of the game as I thought to myself about the war.  I knew they gave us these breaks to keep us sane.  Finally,  I asked the two Marines if they thought we could get some whiskey from the village we passed before climbing Dong Ha  mountain.  Jake said he thought so and he would sneak out the perimeter and be back in awhile.  It was common in the rear areas like this to buy black market American whiskey from the Vietnamese villagers. You just had to check the bottom of the whiskey bottle to make sure it hadn't been breached and something else added to make you ill.

Later, Jake returned with several bottles of whiskey.  He gave me one as I sat on my bunk.  I started gulping it as we all chatted and continued playing more cards.   I started getting more

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