Fort Nowhere, Vietnam
Based on actual people, places and events that occurred between September 1970 and March 1971, Fort Nowhere, Vietnam, is a hard-hitting, often heart breaking story of men in combat and the lives of the people they touched. It vividly depicts the way the horrors of war and the chaos of combat brings out the very best--and worst--of the men who endure it. A grim, realistic look at war. More
Based on actual people, places and events that occurred between September 1970 and March 1971, Fort Nowhere, Vietnam, is a hard-hitting, often heart breaking story of men in combat and the lives of the people they touched. It vividly depicts the way the horrors of war and the chaos of combat brings out the very best--and worst--of the men who endure it. A grim, realistic look at a little known part of war.
The LT knelt down and drew a map in the dirt with his finger.
“This is our camp. The river is directly behind us. We’ll cross here and follow this trail north and east until we come to the next river. This is Recon. Do not engage the enemy unless we have no other choice. Our mission is to locate any concentrations of VC or NVA and radio the coordinates to HQ.
It’s a two day trek to the river and two back. We’ll return along this alternate route to avoid detection,” he said.
The men nodded.
“Cruz—you got point. Watch out for booby traps and two-step and for each other. Everyone comes home. Got that?” he added.
“Hell yeah,” Simmons said.
“We’ll even make sure that Art here gets home,” Henry joked as he slapped him on the back.
“Thanks. I feel so much better now,” Art joked back.
“Okay. Lock and load. Let’s move out!” the LT ordered.
Art’s heart beat faster as they left the camp. This was his first military operation. He knew that if the shit hit the fan, the men expected him to hold his own. He was determined to do just that, too.
“While you’re out here in the bush, you gotta be careful where you step. Charlie likes to set up booby traps. You gotta watch out for trip wires and snares and pressure plates and punji pits. All sorts of crazy shit,” Gonzalez explained.
“If that ain’t bad enough, you gotta really watch out for old two-step. That viper’s more deadly than a hundred VC,” Henry added.
“What about land mines?” Art asked.
“If you step on a mine, it’s probably one of ours. We buried millions of those fuckers all over this country and we don’t know where most of them are,” Gonzalez said with a smirk. “The NVA likes to use Betty---as in Bouncing Betty. Now that’s a real fun piece of ordnance!”
The VC made mines and grenades from old soda and beer cans the GIs left lying around. They’d fill the cans with all sorts of shit, like metal scraps, nails and ball bearings. Even small rocks and broken glass—anything that could take out a person. They added an explosive charge and a pressure plate, and buried the things on narrow paths. Or they used them as hand grenades. Charlie could make weapons out of almost anything. That’s why the men never left shit lying around.
“We don’t want Charlie to use our trash against us,” Simmons said.
“You ever see the movie ‘The Green Beret’?” Henry asked.
“Sure did. It’s one of my favorite movies. That’s what made me want to come here,” Art said.
The guys laughed.
“Well, Charlie’s traps are a lot nastier than the ones in the movie,” Henry said.
Almost without warning, a heavy, almost blinding rain fell. The afternoon rains came each day like clockwork. These mini-monsoons lasted less than 20 minutes and inundated everything and everyone. When they stopped, the hot afternoon sun boiled the sitting pools of water and sent up curtains of wavy heat and the humidity soared to levels that Art never imagined possible.
If you got caught in the downpour, your uniform remained clammy and damp for hour
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