1 March
Dear Dad,

I got two more Courier’s today. Read all about the FCA rally and how Jamie Dobbs had a poem of hers read on TV.

They don’t have any flowering trees. At least none that are flowering now. They do have a lot of flowers in out-of-the-way places. There are banana trees with real bananas here. The bananas are only about 3 or four inches long. There’s a kind of tree with fruit that looks like green footballs of various sizes. I don’t know what it is.

We had contact again last night. Called 105mm’s in on some V.C. trying to slide through our AO.

We got sniper fire later on, but nothing else.

The little boy I told you about is Dum-Dum. His mother is dead and his old man is a drunk. He’s practically an orphan. The Marines buy clothes for him and give him C-rations. Some of the villagers also feed him and let him sleep in their houses.

He’ll probably never live to see ten (he’s about six now) he keeps bringing in dud grenades to trade for chow. We blow up the duds and his old man sells the chow on the black market.

Our interpreter, Monkey, is just about in the same boat. He’s eleven, an orphan, and not yet recovered from shrapnel wounds he got when the V.C. attacked CAP 2 a month ago. He stays with us all the time, night and day because the V.C. will kill him if he doesn’t. He’s not big enough to carry a rifle or .45. He couldn’t pull the trigger. He’s very puny for eleven years. Our other interpreter is nineteen, his name is Yankee. We pay him $60 per month out of our own pockets.

The blankety-blank RF’s sell the food and cigarettes we give them and have to bum or steal stuff from us to eat. They won’t steal anything that isn’t left lying around.

My diet is lousy. We live on C-rations. I eat mostly fruit, some crackers, beans, and meat.

We haven’t had any water in two days. We’ve been drinking juice drained from the cans of fruit in C-rations. We hope to get some water today.

We don’t have a damned thing to do in the daytime but sleep and write letters so I’ll keep writing until I get bored. From the amount of letters I write people must think I don’t do anything else. If they do, they couldn’t be more completely wrong. Nighttime is a bitch. This little war is fought almost completely after dark.

I’m bored, will quit.

Love

Roch

30 March
Dear Dad,

I’m glad you asked those questions. I have a hard time trying to explain things when I don’t know what you want to know.

1. There are 13 Marines and 18 Regional Forces Vietnamese in my CAP now. One Marine is on R&R. They are going to give us about six more Marines since we’re so badly outnumbered.

2. There are no officers in my CAP. My CAP leader is Sgt. Burd. The rest are all Lance Corporals or P.F.C.’s. There is one officer in 7th Co., a captain. I see him once a month when he comes around to have us sign the pay roster.

3. I live out in the bush seven days a week and will probably do so for the rest of my year.

4. I got split up from my buddies when I left CAP school. I haven’t made any close friends here but I get along all right.

5. I’ve gotten the paper four times now, the latest was dated March 30.

6. I’ll be eligible for in-country R&R after 90 days in country. I’ll be eligible for out-of-country R&R after 150 days in country (I think).

7. I carry the pistol in my right waist pocket of my jungle jacket.

8. I got the balance of the ammo today. You sure did take some extravagent (sp?) precautions on it.

9. I’m now located at a village named Dinh Banh, about 20 km south of Da Nang on Highway One.

(Again, Dien Ban was our district and our village was Thanh Quit)

The fastest any letter has gotten to me in the last three weeks was five days. Most take 7 to 10 days.

Will close.

Love

Roch

23 March
Dear Dad,

We found an old 8 inch Naval shell in a rice paddy today and blew it up with C-4. We also blew up one B-40 rocket, 2 grenades, 3 M-79 rounds and a 60mm mortar round. People are always turning in ordnance for us to blow up. I’ll have to admit I was nervous when we were messing with that 8″ shell. It looked huge to me.

The Courier isn’t getting here. I’ve gotten two copies. The last one I got was dated March 12. I got that on March 24. Maybe you’d better give my new address to the Courier.

The Seabees give me funny looks when I stroll down the road they’re building, with four pounds of C-4, 2 feet of safety fuse, and blasting caps, sticking out of my pockets. They must think I’m a mad bomber or something.

(At some point shortly after arriving, I volunteered to become the “demolition” man for CAP 2. That meant I carried our C-4, time fuse and blasting caps. I also got to make charges and blow things up. It was actually kind of fun, and broke the monotony.

Our company has had six medevacs in the last two days. One killed, five wounded.

Love,

Roch

23 March
Dear Mom,

Yep, the pistol got here. I didn’t even see any bread in the package but the Viet kids were eating the cookies so fast the bread probably went too.

Dad is mostly right about the pistol. It’s dangerous and not good for anything but extremely close range. I keep it under my pillow (flak jacket) when we sleep out in the bush. Sometimes when we are carrying supplies I have to sling my rifle on my back in an un-handly position. Then I carry the pistol in my waist pocket.

We’ve had some of our Regional Force Viets killed by the V.C. in broad daylight in our village but our day haven sites have never been attacked. (That changed) Our village is pretty safe in the daytime but at night it’s strictly Indian country.

My officers would probably blow a fuse if they knew I had your pistol. On the other hand I never see any officers anyway and most of them have unauthorized weapons too: shotguns, Swedish “K” submachine guns, .357 magnums, etc.

Sgt. Burd, my CAP leader, could care less. I’ll keep it until I’m issued a .45, which is unlikely, or until I leave the country. When I come home I think I’ll give it to our Vietnamese interpreter “Yankee” who would give his eye teeth for it.

No, I wasn’t there at Nickerson’s retirement which was a few days after I came out to the bush. He gave a really decent speech at graduation, though. I shook hands with him.

I think I’ve told you already that I have a good chance of leaving ‘Nam in July.

I’m sure John called on the MARS relay system. There is a MARS station in Da Nang but it only operates a few hours a day and it’s 20 lonely kilometers from here to Da Nang. I might make it some day but don’t plan on it. I smell so raunchy now from being dirty so long, that they probably wouldn’t even let me in the radio station.

Yes, I’m living in a ville now. The name of it is Dinh Banh. (Actually, Dien Ban was our district and our village was Thanh Quit) The main ville is right on Highway One with scattered hamlets three or four kilometers back from the road. Our area has a river on the south boundary, Highway One on the east, swamps on the west and more rice paddies, tobacco fields and villages on the north. It’s about 2 km by 4 km in a rectangle.

The back half of our area is so V.C. infested we never go back there. We estimate at least a company of V.C. back there. Beaucoup booby-traps too.

There are thirteen Marines and eighteen RF’s in my CAP. We have two machine guns, three radios, and 4 grenade launchers. Sgt. Burd commands the Marines and Lt. Phang commands the RF’s.

A typical day: at 8:00 P.M. we saddle up and move to a pre-planned ambush site. We set up our ambush. At 11:00 P.M. everyone but one Marine and one RF goes to sleep. The two on watch (1 hr 10 min watches) keep an eye out for movement. If they spot any they wake everyone up. If the people moving around come within range and we don’t care if we give away our position we open up. Sometimes we just watch where they go. We spot V.C. sympathizers and leaders that way.

At 6:00 AM we saddle up and move to our day haven site, which is just someone’s house that we take over for the day. We sleep, eat, clean weapons, sometimes wash at a well. Mostly we loaf. Once a day we go to the road to pick up mail, water, and supplies.

That’s about it, generally, we do other stuff sometimes but that’s our basic routine.

We usually eat C-rations, or long rations (dehydrated food). C-Rations can be eaten cold. For long rations you just add hot water which we boil in mama-san’s kitchen on a wood fire. We get black market cokes from the village but they cost 60 piastres (about 50 cents).

Our water is brought in with our supplies when we can get pure water. If you drink well water you get guaranteed shits for 3 days.

I don’t carry my camera. It’s too much weight to carry.

Righ now I need a haircut, bath, and a shave.

If you can locate a spray can of WD-40 (WD-40) lubricant and rust preventer, send it. It’s like gold around here, also send water purification tablets (not halazone, it’s dangerous). It’s supposed to cause some kind of cancer; liver or skin or something.

Gotta quit.

Love

Roch

P.S. My new address is on the envelope.

http://cap2-7-2.com/635-2/

20 March
Dear Mom,

No action for three nights now. The Sgt. is getting a little impatient. We let five gooks (Viet Cong) get away two nights ago because we didn’t want to give away our position.

Our relations with our Regional Force Platoon are going to hell on a sled. Every time we get some chow they steal it. One of our guys had $125 stolen. We got a crate of eggs from the mess hall at headquarters and the R.F.’s steal them and sell them in the market place.

I get along fine with the RF’s because I don’t have anything to steal.

An RF named Chin is teaching me some magic tricks with string and coins. They’re very simple but they have to be done just right. I’ve learned three already.

The RF’s gave me some of their rice as a gift today. I don’t know what I’ll do with it but I’ll think of something. I guess I’d make a good public relations man or something.

There’s really not much to report. I’m feeling pretty well, doing my job and trying to get along.

The old timers are a little reluctant to associate with me because they’ve had five new guys killed or wounded last month.

There’s a little boy we call Dum-Dum that hangs around our CAP. His mother was killed by the V.C. He’s about two feet high. Kind of a mascot.

There’s really very little that happens around here. This letter is getting hard to write.

Orchids grow wild around here. It blew my mind when a little kid walked up to me with a really gaudy one the other day. It’s outer petals were deep red, while the inner ones were canary yellow with red polka-dots. It probably would have cost a fortune in the “World.”

Our corpsman treated an old lady in our ville who was hit by a truck on highway one the other day. We called an Army chopper to take her to a hospital in Da Nang.

Your pistol is the cat’s meow with the RF’s, they think it’s really cool.

I’ve been sleeping on the ground every night with no ill effects so far. I get a bath at a well every couple of days.

I gashed my knee crossing a wall the other night and bled like a stuck pig. It was just a little cut but it soaked the whole leg of my trousers and my sock with blood. Doc Doggett fixed me up.

I haven’t gotten any mail in a couple of days but expect I’ll get some tomorrow.

Like I said nothing is happening. A year is getting to seem longer and longer.

Will write again soon if anything happens.

Love,

Roch

29 March
Dear Folks,

The mail must be really screwed up. Nobody in our CAP got anything today. The Courier has only gotten here twice. The best one was dated March 12.

We had contact again last night but no casualties. We called in 80mm mortars on some V.C.

Happy Easter, there’s not an egg in sight here.

We just blew up a dud grenade.

Angel (Washington) left yesterday for his R&R in Hong Kong. (Paul) Jungel rotated back to the States three days ago. We’ve got two new guys who seem to like being obnoxious. I hope they snap out of that fast.

I got to write Joel a birthday card and there’s nothing going on here so I’ll quit.

Love

Roch