WHAT, ME AFRAID?

Untitled Part 1

WHAT, ME AFRAID?

It was sometime in late 69 and I was nearing the end of my tour in Vietnam. I had achieved the rank of a Staff Sergeant which meant I was in the NCO's circle now.

That meant the First Sergeant and I could have a conversation, if not on the same level, at least with him showing some sign of interest in what I had to say since I was now a junior NCO and was his supply sergeant.

It was early in the morning and I and the First Sergeant were the only ones in the orderly room at the time talking. What we were talking about I have no recollection but what happened next is forever etched in my mind.

We were standing behind his desk that faced the tent opening where a makeshift screen door had been installed. This desk was an old gray metal one, the same kind that every office in the Army had at that time. This fact is important as the story goes on.

As we stood there talking a Marine F-4 Phantom was taking off from the Marine air base located across highway one from our base camp. Since this happened on a 24/7 basis we had all become so accustomed to their very loud takeoffs that it no longer registered in our minds. Hearing choppers 24/7 had the same effect.

And then we heard it. A very, very loud explosion. We both jumped and stood there for a split second looking at each other both knowing what the other was thinking; we were being hit with rockets.

What happened next was an automatic reaction, developed over many months in a combat zone. We both dropped to the wooden floor and headed for the leg well under the metal desk. We reached the entrance at the same time. I got my head and one shoulder in and he was able to do the same. We were stuck. Neither one could get further under the desk, though we both tried. After a short struggle, we both stopped and looked at each other. And then we started laughing. As we backed out and set on either side of the desk we continued to laugh. The fact we heard no more explosions for some reason made us laugh harder.

As we set there, the laughter subsiding, the First Sergeant said he needed to see what had happened. He departed the tent, leaving me still on the floor, not yet willing to move. About ten minutes later he returned and explained what had happened. The F-4 had dropped a five-hundred pound bomb on the runway during takeoff.

You ready for the punch line? I know I'm close to the word limit but it's worth it.

After he returned I could not help myself, I asked him if he had been afraid? This was his response: "Only the gook laundry will know for sure!" We laughed for another ten minutes. (Gook was slang for the Vietnamese)