Thoughts on Iowa

by: john Harrison

Former President Trump is getting a lot of great press about his recent victory in the Iowa Caucus. However, all is not what it seems. Fifty years ago, on March 31, 1968, President Lyndon B. Johnson appeared on national television and announced that he was partially halting the U.S. bombing of Vietnam, and that he had decided not to seek his party’s nomination for president. LBJ had barely survived a surprisingly strong primary challenge from antiwar Sen. Eugene McCarthy in New Hampshire, who took 42 percent of the vote to LBJ’s 48 percent on March 12. So, while former President Trump won in Iowa by 51% and thereby bettered former President Johnson, it still means that in 2024, this year, this election, that at least 49% of Republicans, would prefer a different candidate, and it is only a little more than half of the well over 90% support that former President Trump received in the 2020 Iowa Caucus. It really ought not to have been taken as such good news for the former President’s current candidacy, but it has been.

I predict that Nikki Haley will “win” in New Hampshire. For a current, or former president to not to receive at least 75% of the vote in a party primary is disastrous. If a candidate cannot dominate his own party, while they may “win” the primary, they will lose the election. Simply stated, a candidate needs to have at least almost all of their Party’s vote to win. While former President Trump has an incredibly strong base in the Republican Party, it is also clear that even in probably the most conservative Republican Party primary state that he also has a growing part of the Republican Party that prefers another candidate, almost any candidate.

The truth is that the Iowa Caucus has not predicted a winning Republican Party candidate since at least 2000. There is a “fact checker” that says that this is not correct even for Republican candidates, but it is wrong. They seem to think that the Iowa Caucus predicted a winning Republican candidate because it predicted Trump in 2020, when he lost, even though it predicted Cruz in 2016, when Cruz lost. In the most accurate words I can think of, this is a profoundly stupid conclusion, incredibly stupid, just stupid. I think you get the idea.

I hope Nikki Haley wins in New Hampshire. I hope President Biden withdraws from the election. I am 77 years old, I want to vote “for” someone for President while I am alive, rather than voting against the other candidate. Can we make it happen?   

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My book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive  is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. It is a Five Star book with lots of reviews, many by others that were there as well. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive:

“John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend, show it to your family. It tells your story. To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir.Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.”

 

Harvey Rothstein, a Eulogy

by: john Harrison

Hello. My name is john harrison. I’m Harvey’s friend. We met over a busted real estate deal well over 30 years ago. First though, I want to tell you a little bit about myself. I learned to read in the 4th grade. I was slow at first but since then I have read between 2 and 300 books a year, year in, year out. I’ve been a soldier, a realtor, a lawyer, and a high school history teacher. I am now 75 years old. In all that time, in all those books, in all those jobs, I never met, I never heard of, anyone remotely like Harvey Rothstein. He was sui generas, an original in every respect.

He was a Jew, and proud of it. He was a born again Christian, and proud of that as well. He was the Godfather of several of my children. A godparent’s job is to see to the religious education of the child. We are Episcopalian. He was Harvey Rothstein, our children’s Jewish, non-denominational, born again Christian, godfather. It worked. It always worked with Harvey.

As most of you already know, Harvey liked to tell stories, as he got older he told the same ones over and over. I am sure that at least some of them are true because the ones he told about the things we did together were all true. If anything, in these stories about us, he minimized his contributions, and maximized mine.

Harvey was a truly brilliant man, but he worked very hard to hide it. If Harvey had a good idea, he would try most times to give it to someone else to raise. It was not that he wanted to test the idea, he already knew it was a good one, but he did not need the credit, and he rarely sought it for himself. 

Harvey was not an athlete, but he beat me repeatedly at ping pong. The $2 dollar paddle he gave me to use, and the $350 dollar, hand made, professional, ping pong paddle he used during our games may have had something to do with it. He could also sink a basketball in a net on the other side of the pool at his old house. I never did figure out how he did that. I could hit the backboard, sometimes. The net, on the other hand, always eluded me.

Harvey loved harassing the people he loved the most. The more he loved them, the greater the harassment. He once sent my daughter Johnna a MAGA hat when she lived in California knowing that she despised then President Trump, and even though he knew full well that she was otherwise immune to what he thought of as the West Coast’s favorite lunacies. 

In this, and in many other ways Harvey often behaved more like an immature six year old boy than anything else. But that was part of his beauty. He was still six years old most of the time. Like a child he enjoyed every minute of every day; each day was a miraculous gift that he wanted to use to make the most mischief in. His curiosity was as legendary as his pranks. He always wanted to find out something, and he always wanted you to help him, and we did because being with Harvey was a movable feast of adventure and fun.

Before they put in the Osprey perch at their old house, Harvey decided that he wanted to set off some fire works on the 4th of July; but not just any fire works, Harvey wanted the real thing. So, he ordered about Five Thousand Dollars worth of professional grade fireworks delivered to my law office in Virginia. Do you have any idea how much fireworks Five Thousand Dollars would buy, 25 or so years ago? It filled the lobby and then the library of my law office for about a month waiting for the 4th of July. Harvey said he had them send it to me, because these fireworks were illegal to deliver in Maryland. He figured as his lawyer I could not tell anyone that I had them because of attorney client privilege. That is also why he never told me when he was picking them up, or what he was going to do with them. As long as they were in Virginia, the fireworks were legal to have, but profoundly stupid. Moving them to Maryland was, on the other hand, a crime. 

Now, safely ensconced with his fireworks in Maryland, Harvey wanted my help in setting them off. I guess he thought that my experience in the Vietnam War had made me an expert in making things go boom. Everything was fine until there was one errant rocket that headed for his and Maria’s house. It landed on the small porch that was just off of his and Maria’s bedroom, the one where where Maria was sitting, watching the fire works. That was the first and last year for fire works at Harveyland. That’s what my kids called his house. 

Harveyland was a place you went to, to have fun. To swim in his pool. To use the slide into the pool over and over. To fish off the dock. To play with the various pinball machines and other toys. To shoot his guns in the yard, silenced guns, fully automatic sub-machine guns, both properly tax stamped and legal. To watch the dogs play. If it was not there when you came, almost anything you wanted would be there the next time you visited Harveyland. 

Now you may think that the fireworks story cannot be topped. However, during one case Harvey and I were at a deposition at Sherman and Stirling, a huge, white shoe law firm in New York City. They told Harvey that there was no smoking in the building. He said “Fine. Then, I’ll need a smoke break at least every 10 minutes for ten minutes or so.” They came up with an ashtray with a large, gold embossed, Sherman and Stirling logo on it and and air filter. As he sat there during the deposition in this huge conference room, and between smoking unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes, Harvey started putting things in the empty briefcase he had brought with him. First, there was a large stack of legal pads, again with the Sherman and Stirling logo, that disappeared into his briefcase. He did not hide what he was doing and he kept answering the questions as they came. Then, all of the S&S logoed pencils and ball point pens in the room were the next to go. 

I stopped him when Harvey started toward a particularly handsome, signed, framed, photograph of Winston Churchill by the famed Canadien photographer Karsh that was hanging on one wall of the conference room. I had tried to buy an unsigned copy of that photo for my office a few weeks before. The $10,000 price tag for the unsigned photo however had cooled my desire immediately. I knew that would not slow Harvey down though, nor would a felony theft charge. He thought that he should be compensated for being made to come to New York City to be bored by these people. Harvey also thought that these pompous, stuffed shirt, lawyers at Sherman and Stirling should do the compensating. I could see that he was determined to steal that photo as well as the other stuff already in his briefcase. It looked like there was just enough room left in his briefcase for the photo and frame. While I managed to talk him out of stealing that photo; when we left Sherman and Stirling that evening, the ashtray and all the other stuff left with us, cigarette butts and all.

When he and Maria learned that I was having trouble getting a 30 foot cigarette boat I used to own repaired in DC where I had it docked on Maine Avenue, Harvey came to the rescue as he did for so many of us. He built a boat lift on his dock and told me that he really needed an impressive boat on it and could he please borrow mine for a while to put it on his new lift? Then he told me there was another friend of his just across the river from his home that did boat work exactly like my boat needed. Harvey could give me his number. Soon, that boat never ran better. We even got Maria out in it a couple of times. He would not let me pay him for the storage and his place was a half an hour closer to us than any other place on the Bay.

Later I learned that it was Maria that had found the boat mechanic, but it was Harvey that put everything together. He was always fixing other people’s problems, sometimes even before they knew they had them. Almost everyone that knows Harvey has a story like that, a story of Harvey doing something really important for someone else for no reason other than he could. That was the Harvey that I remember. That is the Harvey that I will miss every day. He loved making people smile. Harvey Rothstein, husband of Maria, and my friend. 

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My book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive  is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. It is a Five Star book with lots of reviews, many by others that were there with me as well. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive:

“John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend, show it to your family. It tells your story. To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir.Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.”

If You Asked Me,

If You Asked Me,

by Sergeant Ron Ford

If you asked me, “Are you a hero or a coward?” I would say, “I’m a
coward that’s done a couple of brave things, under duress.”
Ron Ford, 2020.

On the 2nd of February 1968, I remember approaching a large, nice, really an upper class home for a Vietnam hamlet. It had a nice wide porch with pillars, potted plants, and tile. As the 2nd platoon approached the house, the platoon was mingling around in different directions.

Lt. Harrison told Sgt. Raynor check out the house. Raynor took Daniel and Pitts up the steps to the front door as I faced the house. I looked to my left and saw that there was a fruit tree there with shade and ripe fruit.

“OK Adams, let’s set up security over by that tree.” I said.

Trant stayed on the opposite side with Adams and I. Adams and I went to the tree. I pulled a piece of fruit off of the tree. It was some sort of citrus fruit. Then, we were looking for a nice spot in the shade to plop our asses down for a well deserved break. We were both loaded down with full gear, 40 mags of M16 ammo, two frag grenades, 100 rounds M60 ammo, canteens, food etc., etc., my point; not a light load.

My knees were about half bent to sit down when the shit hit the fan, a wall of fucking lead. What we didn’t know at the time was that there was over twenty well camouflaged bunkers in the ground, and Adams and I were in the middle of their killing zone. We probably looked like a couple of well trained race horses coming out of the gate. I never ran that hard, that fast, in my life, and Adams was close by.

We hit the front of the house at the same time Daniel, Raynor, and Pitts all hit the doorway coming out. Daniel went down, all alone on the porch. At that point Adams and I were separated. I went with Trant, but Adams went to my right towards where the Patterson fire team was I think. Adams and I were separated for most of the day. I think Raynor and Pitts were on my side of the house with Trant and I.

I have no idea now what they were doing, but my mission then was to try and get my friend Daniel off of that porch. The incoming fire power was very heavy at that time.

Worse, Trant was having problems with his weapon. It was jammed; I took it and cleared it for him; it jammed again. Fuck, I get it back. I’m working on it again. Trant says it only works on automatic. I throw it back at him.

“Then shoot the fucking thing on automatic.” I was not having a good day.

OK, let’s go get Daniel was all I could think.

Raynor and Pitts were in the ditch with Harrison by then I think. I’m not sure though. I crawled up to the porch where Daniel was with Trant close beside me. The closer we got the more we became targets of opportunity. It’s hard to explain what it means when you’re literally in the cone of death.

As we moved up we watched as Daniel crawls around on the porch; he takes his fucking canteen out like he’s on his porch in New York City, starts drinking water, blood running out of him all over, in total shock, doesn’t respond to our yells, doesn’t even look our way.

At that point I gave up. If we went up on that porch, we were dead for sure. There were bullets going everywhere. Trant and I doubled timed it thru that wall of lead and jumped into the ditch with Harrison. There was a fair amount of the platoon in the ditch with the L-T. Up to this point I was running on pure adrenaline. I was scared and little did I know my fear would be a lot more as the day went on, and for some of us all thru the night as well. In the ditch there’s no time line for me. I couldn’t say how long we were in there, a minute, a hour, ten-seconds, no idea.

Lt. Harrison says we are going to take that house and get Daniel. He wanted Daniel back as bad as me.

“If you give the order L-T, I’ll obey.” I thought, but then my little buddy screams out that there’s a barbed wire fence. We will all be killed.

He’s right. Lt. Harrison thinks for a minute, tells Sgt. Bunn to take four or five men, go thru the back door and kill those fuckers in that house. At least we could travel down the ditch to where there wasn’t a barbed wire fence between us and the big house. Bunn, Raynor, Trant, Styles, Stephenson, and I got to the mud hooch that was close behind the big house.

We were staging in the hooch to take the house thru the rear door. I was fucking ready. I was wired like I was on a drug or something.

“I’m first, Raynor goes behind me, Ford behind Raynor, Trant behind him. OK, let’s go.” Bunn said.

Bunn goes, Raynor waits for Bunn to get ahead, so we don’t bunched up. Then, Bunn goes down. I think Raynor turns around to get back into the hooch. I’m still going. I take off. Trant grabs my collar, yells “No!” and pulls me back. I’m struggling. I see Bunn laying there and you can see his body moving as they put more bullets into him as he lay there.

I guess you could say that was probably the second time that day that my little buddy Trant saved my life. First time when he yelled at Harrison which gave Harrison pause, second time pulling me back into that hooch. We remained in that hooch most of the day. Styles was Bunn’s RTO so at least we had a radio. Stephenson was hanging out the window of that hooch shootings gooks. I got one. He got another and then another. He was doing good.

The shit got real intense when they focused in on that hooch. They were pounding the piss out off it with automatic fire, bullets bouncing all over in that hooch. It was totally amazing that no one was hit in there.

Later in the day Harrison called in an air strike almost on top of ourselves. At this point I was ready to surrender, but there was no one to surrender to. We wanted to make sure we didn’t eat a bomb so we stayed in touch with the spotter plane and kept popping smoke grenades.

Trant and I were laying inside the hooch in this dugout that was about 5 inches deep we were laying nose to nose. I said it was nice knowing you. At this point I thought we were done. Trant said I can’t wait till we’re on Rush Street in Chicago having a beer and laughing about this day. I just nodded. I didn’t see anyway out of this. I was so scared but almost felt a peace come over me, and then I was ok with getting killed.

The jets came, dropped their bombs, rocks, big fucking  rocks, went thru that hooch and fell thru the roof. The ground was shaking. It was something else. It seemed like it went on forever. When that ended we still were getting lots of bullets thru that hooch. Somewhere at this point we exited the hooch to the ditch and Harrison met up with us. It was late in the afternoon and the platoon pulled back to the rest of the battalion a few clicks away, leaving three bodies behind.

As it got towards evening Harrison got the order to pull further back and set up a perimeter a few clicks away. I’m not sure if it was the whole battalion but I know it was at least A Co. and B Co. When we got there everyone was relieved. There’s strength in numbers, and we had been outnumbered all day.

Lt. Harrison is not perfect, but the day could have been a lot worse without his leadership. It was a long hard battle; he did good. Every one was exhausted by the time we set up, but it wasn’t long before Harrison asked for volunteers to go back into the Hell hole we had just left. I don’t blame anyone if they didn’t volunteer. The only reason I did was to get Andy. It was a must-do for me. I had failed to get him when he was still alive. The least I could do was to bring him back so his family had closure. There was a good possibility we would fail, and that none of us would make it back alive. I had always wondered why we had all that hard ass physical training in the states; it was for times like these.

No one knows exactly how many of us went back that night, it’s everyone’s guess that it was around 17. Lt. Harrison was the patrol leader I was the assistant patrol leader. If I’m being honest, I was scared more that something would happen to Harrison than myself. The idea of me having to take over what I considered to be a suicide mission scared the fuck out of me. Especially since we were traveling light and wouldn’t have enough ammo to really engage and protect ourselves.

It was late night, I don’t know the exact time when we left the perimeter. There was some moonlight but not much, about a half moon is my guess. Traveling light, it didn’t take us too long to reach the house, and then we were all back in the ditch again where we had been earlier that day. Harrison sent Adams out on our flank about 50 yards away maybe less, or more, who knows, all by himself as a security post. Joe Klempton, Ray Mayfield and a black trooper that no one can remember who he was went to get one of our men. I wish to Christ I could remember his name.

All of us volunteered to check the bodies for booby traps and to bring them back to the ditch. So far things have went well. We weren’t detected on the way to the house. I’m starting to feel like, maybe I will make it out alive. I can’t tell you how long it took, or which body came back first. It seemed like a long time. The gooks were in the house talking while our guys were retrieving Daniel from the front porch, not a easy task. Finally, we are all back in the ditch with the three bodies. Chris is back from our flank and we’re ready to get the fuck out of Dodge.

Carrying a body is no easy task especially when your in the middle of hostile enemy that want to kill your ass. We proceeded back at a much slower pace than our arrival pace. It wasn’t too long before we started receiving small arms fire but we kept going forward.

Paul Clement and I were carrying Daniel. He had been a big, tall, guy, built like a pro basketball player. Even after all these years I can still smell the coagulated blood that was all over his jungle fatigues.

About half way back we were in a ravine with a high embankment on out right side as we traveled down the ravine. Somehow, we had been spotted and they sent mortars our way which were right on target, except that they were hitting at the top of the embankment on the right. I could see silhouettes of banana trees. We were safe as long as a round didn’t fall short. That wouldn’t be good. You could hear the chunks of steel from the mortars flying thru the air above us. We double timed it, carrying the bodies for a short distance in case they adjusted the mortar fire. As we ran Daniel’s head was bouncing along the ground. I was thinking, I’m so sorry brother.

It was several hours later when we approached our perimeter, my guess is it was about 5:30 am, still dark, but almost day break. I was more than a little nervous that our own guys would light us up as we came in the perimeter. Harrison was on the radio with Captain Gaffney. “Puff” had been flying around and shooting down all around the perimeter while we were gone. They shut Puff down before we came in. We came in on the B Co, side of the perimeter.

At the time I didn’t know who he was, but Platoon Sergeant Joe Jervis (call sign “Pineapple”) from B Company, came out to greet us. He wanted to help carry Daniel in. They had played basketball together at Fort Campbell. I told him, “Don’t fucking touch him.” He knew I meant it, and backed away. I feel bad about it. Now, he is a friend, and a great guy.

Once we got into the perimeter and made it over to A Co I don’t remember anything until later that morning when the choppers came in to pick up the bodies. I helped load Daniel in the chopper and he was gone and the war went on.

Daniel had a large impact on my life, even till this day. I’ve shed many a tear thinking about it. I’m shedding one now.

R I P brother,
SGT Ron Ford

© Ron G. Ford, May 3, 2020

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There’s much more, to this story and there are twenty-six more stories like it that can be found in my book,Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive which is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive:

“John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point or another since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer even in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend. It tells your story. To, “L-T” John Harrison- thank you Sir. Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″
“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.”

Vietnam Veteran to High School History Teacher

Vietnam Veteran to High School History Teacher

republished from the Purple Heart Foundation
February 8, 2019/0 Comments/in Blog, Veterans and Veteran Services /by akakar

We all wonder where life will take us, he never wondered, he knew. John Harrison, then a sophomore student at North Carolina University, wanted to fly helicopters but the only way he was able to, was by joining the Army. Not many would jump at the idea of joining the military in the middle of a war, but he did… just to fly helicopters. Growing up he had a great childhood, a loving family and no regrets. With a clear vision in mind and the love for helicopters in heart, he pressed on with the hopes of making a difference.

It didn’t take long for John to get through Basic Combat Training, pass all qualifications and tests at Ft. Polk, L.A. and confidently begin his service in the United States Army, something he had aspired to do for so long. The transition from civilian to soldier was not an easy one though; it was divided into three parts…

“The RED phase” is the beginning of your training, to prepare you for what’s to come.
“The WHITE phase” is where he got most of the physical and psychological strength.
“The BLUE phase” taught him how to handle weapons.

During the first several months in the military, John really enjoyed his time with fellow soldiers and instructors who only had “Tough love” for him. Since he had prepared well for the Army he was in great shape to withstand just about anything, even though he recalls the weather being really hot. It was so unbearably hot in Vietnam that they would drink 4 to 5 gallons of water, every day when they first arrived.

Many would be surprised how John expresses his take on joining the army, but this experience changed his life, his points of view, and his whole being. In the military you can train and prepare as much as possible, but nothing is like experiencing the challenges and traumas of combat than real life. John went to Officer Candidate School later, where he became Airborne Rifle Platoon Leader and Company Executive Officer not a helicopter pilot.

Not long after, his unit was deployed to Vietnam on a USNS (United States Naval Ship). John joked, that although his accommodations on that ship weren’t great, the food was the best part. Since the ship was old, they had to stop at an island in the Philippines for repairs.  While on the island, many of them stayed late in a club and almost ended up in the Brig! Then, after leaving the island, they came across the end tag of a typhoon and many were having trouble keeping their food down.

Finally, they reached Vietnam. They were told they would be safe because they were being protected by South Korean paratroopers. One of the scariest and most unexpected moments in Vietnam was the first time he got shot at while walking in the mountains with his platoon. John thought to himself that he had been around shooting ranges so it wouldn’t be such a big deal… but as they kept taking on fire, he felt dumbfounded, he didn’t react, he didn’t really know what to do in that moment. The firefights in Vietnam were nothing like they had trained for, nor did he know he would be there for the bloodiest year of the entire war.

John stayed for almost three years in the Army, and said that it was nothing like he had expected. The military can only train you so much, even so you will never be completely ready to fight when it comes down to it. He was awarded the Purple Heart medal, because he was wounded during his service in Vietnam. He is thankful every day for not ever being captured as a prisoner of war (POW) and for being able to come home to his family. John left the military when his time was up and went back to school to study Law. He became a well-known attorney, businessman and realtor in the Washington-Metropolitan Area. Later he went on to teach at Bishop Denis J. O’Connell High School in Arlington Virginia  where he said he truly enjoyed his time with his students and  learned a lot from their differing opinions.

Now John enjoys his time traveling, being at home and just enjoying life. He has just published a book on Amazon.com, Steel Rain, the Tea Offensive in which he narrates his fascinating and sometimes hilarious as well as violent, experiences in Vietnam. From one’s first impression of John though, you wouldn’t think he was a veteran or picture him in the dangerous settings he described to me today. One thing is for sure though,  John Harrison is and always will be, “Army Strong”.

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My book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive  is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. It is a Five Star book with 32 American reviews and 4 foreign reviews so far. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Three Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive:

“John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend. It tells your story too.

To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir. Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.

Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.”

Tags: 1968, Airborne Rifle Platoon, army, blue, combat, DC, history, history teacher, john harrison, military, phan thiet, Phillippines, Prisoner of War, purple heart, purple heart medal, red, south korea, training, United States, veteran, vietnam, white, wounds

Book Club Questions

The Top 20 Questions at the recent book club devoted to “Steel Rain, the ’68 Tet Offensive”

1. What do you feel was the most emotional event in the book? Why did it affect you so deeply?

2. Why did the author include so many stories that were really funny?

3. Which character in the book would you most like to meet?

3. Why are the two stories so different, “The Day the Smith Died” and “Cone of Violence”?

4. What do you think motivated the author to share his story?

5. How did you respond to the author’s “voice”?

6. Do you think the author is trying to elicit a certain response from the reader, such as sympathy? How has this book changed or enhanced your view of the Vietnam War?

7. Discuss the book’s structure and the author’s use of language and writing style. How does the author draw the reader in and keep the reader engaged? Does the author convey his or her story with comedy, self-pity, or something else?

8. Compare this book to other memoirs your group has read. Is it similar to any of them? Did you like it more or less than other books you’ve read? What do you think will be your lasting impression of the book?

9. Were you glad you read this book? Would you recommend it to a friend? Do you want to read more works by this author?

10. Discuss the character’s relationship with the military. Do they enjoy being part of the military, or does their attitude toward the military change through the book?

11. How does the military training affect the character’s ability to survive or succeed in their mission?

12. How accurate do you think the book’s depictions of the military were. If there were mistakes or inaccuracies, what were they?

13. What surprised you the most when you read the book?

14. What motivated the main character to act the way he did? Why didn’t he identify Smith?

15. Does the book’s setting contribute to the book? Would you like to visit Vietnam?

16. Does the main character change throughout the book?

17. What is the turning point of this book? What was your reaction to that pivotal moment?

18. Whose point of view was the book told from? How did the narrator’s opinions affect the book?

19. What was your favorite or most memorable passage in the book? Why did it make an impression?

20. What type of writing style does this book use? How does that affect your interpretation or impression of the book?

I was surprised by how much fun the book club was. it was a great group, all women usually but several of their husbands elected to come to this meeting. Great discussion of the book’s emphasis on what the soldiers were doing rather than the usual political discussion of the Vietnam War. Steel Rain, the ’68 Tet Offensivel

Let me know if I can come by to your group to talk about Steel Rain

My new book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive  is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive:

“John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend. It tells that story. To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir.Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.”

Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive

My book “Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968” has received its 29th American review on Amazon. There are also reviews posted from Canada and Great Britain. All but two of the reviews are 5 star reviews, and the other two are 4 star reviews.

Fellow author, Harry Rothman (“Warriors and Fools”), has asked me to do a piece on what it was like to write and publish a book. This will be published on his blog and I have agreed. So, in looking back over the process I think that one of the things that helped me the most was several great early reviews on Amazon.

The best ones were those that said that the book “Steel Rain” had explained their Vietnam War experience in a way that these men, who had fought there, never could. These reviews were the best because right after they were posted, some people bought extra copies of “Steel Rain” for their children. I could literally see it in the hourly sales reports Amazon provides.

There are really not that many people that read any more even fewer that read about a 50 year old war that was at least very controversial in its day. So these good reviews are very important.

Almost equally important are the “Likes” the individual reviews generate. They are important because there are literally thousands of reviewers on Amazon that compete for getting the most “Likes” for their reviews. If they see a book generating a lot of “Likes” then they will buy a book and post a review in the hopes of getting some of those “Likes”. People follow these almost professional reviewers and they too may buy a book they have reviewed and recommended.

So, if you want to help a struggling author, me or anyone else. Look their book up on Amazon and if you see a review you like, then “Like” it, or write one of your own if you have read the book. You could start with “Steel Rain”, as a struggling author, I would certainly appreciate it.

How To Hide Behind a Pebble

How To Hide Behind a Pebble*

by john harrison

Every combat infantryman knows how to hide behind a pebble, but they also know it’s not much use to do so. It is not that you can’t conceal yourself behind one so much as it is that even though most pebbles are really hard, they still can’t stop bullets. However, because they are so hard, pebbles make excellent secondary shrapnel should an explosion go off nearby. If you are an infantryman seriously considering hiding behind a pebble, a nearby explosion is almost a certainty.

This is pinned down, but given the need an infantryman could get even lower to the ground. If you look closely, you can see he is in a small depression. This was taken under heavy fire on February 2, 1968, near Phan Thiet by Jerry Berry, PIO 3/506th (ABN). Edward Clark was at work.

Since a pebble is too small to protect you, but is solid enough to hurt you when it is driven into your body by an explosion, a good infantryman avoids them if possible. This is just one of the little things that you learn as an infantryman that serve to keep you alive in that place called battle.

The question of hiding behind a pebble also points out the difference between what the Army called “cover” and what it called “concealment” when I was in the service. If you can find good “cover” then you are safe from enemy fire. They may know exactly where you are, in a bunker for example, but if you have good cover then you are protected from their fire.

On the other hand concealment is exactly that. The enemy cannot see you. In fact they may not even know you are there. It is their lack of knowledge of your position that protects you.

Since you can be killed just as dead by random as well as by aimed fire, most times cover is better than concealment; but there are some exceptions to this. A bunker is usually safe against the fire of an AK-47 for example, but a bunker is an absolute death trap if the enemy has a few RPG rockets. It is a much better idea in that case to simply hide.

If you can’t be seen by the enemy, then the enemy can’t find you, and better yet if they can’t find you, they probably can’t kill you. This is a simple rule that the VC, and the Viet Minh before them, used to fight armies far more powerful than they were for years. Therefore, if your cover can’t protect you, then hiding is a much better idea than staying where you are. Like most decisions, it all depends on the particular circumstances that you face.

So, if it is not useful, why then does every combat infantryman know how to hide behind a pebble? Simple, because something is always better than nothing, and if you are a combat infantrymen nothing is often all that you have in the world.

Pebbles

On the other hand, when you are talking about 2,000 pound, 16 inch naval gunfire, or a 750 pound Hi-drag bombs, there is no such thing as good cover. Only concealment and a little luck in being out of the blast range will work under those extremely challenging circumstances. Battle can be brutal.

I once told a civilian that I had often crawled into my helmet to hide while in combat. The civilian for some reason, doubted my story. He may have thought that he had a good reason for that doubt. I don’t really remember. I had been drinking for a while that night before we spoke, so it is entirely possible that I was not as clear as I should have been in my description of how that could happen. However, I have no doubt that I did indeed hide deep inside my steel pot repeatedly in combat.

If you have ever heard the sound, “thump, thump, thump” then you know exactly what I am talking about. “Thump, thump, thump” is the sound that three mortar rounds make when they are fired from their tube. You hear that sound, and you wait. Just that sound concentrates and focuses the mind wonderfully.

You wait and you listen for the explosions that you know are coming. You listen carefully because, you know that if you hear the three mortar rounds explode, that means you are still alive. You will never hear the one that kills you. On the other hand, hearing the one that maims you for life is probably at best small comfort.

As an American the good thing is, you will rarely hear more than three or four mortar rounds fired unless they are yours. One of the very real advantages of being born American is the amount of ammunition that we send to the battlefield, and that we have helicopter gunship pilots who think that it is great sport to track down and then fire up the firing positions of enemy mortar crews. These gunship pilots can do that because mortar shells are mostly visible in flight. So if you are up in the air over the battlefield you can see pretty quickly, where the mortar shells are coming from and then hone in on them.

The abundance of ammunition means that American artillery always loves to fire, and they have literally tons of ammunition available to do exactly that. I always found massive American artillery fire to be very helpful on the battlefield.

Having gunships overhead also means that if the enemy mortar crew is not of the shoot and quickly scoot school of mortar crews, then that gun ship overhead will flat kill them with its first pass. The latter passes serve mostly to bust up their equipment, although it is said that some gunship pilots continue to fire purely for esthetic reasons. Not being a pilot I would not know, but I have always enjoyed watching that process unfold.

Before any of that happens though, other things occur. First you hear that “thump, thump, thump” sound. Then, your sphincter muscle tightens tighter than it ever has before in your life. It continues to tighten, or contract with each thump. According to doctors during contraction of a sphincter, or circular muscle, the lumen (opening) associated with the sphincter constricts or closes. This constriction is caused by the progressive shortening of the sphincter muscle itself. If the thumps continue, that sphincter muscle continues to shorten with each thump.

Again according to doctors, voluntary sphincters like the one in the anus are controlled by the somatic nerves. That is your brain actually orders the voluntary sphincter muscles in your anus to contract, or open by a conscious command from your brain. However, I would love to see someone down range that hears that  “thump, thump, thump” sound try to order their sphincter muscle not to contract. It simply can’t be done.

Of course, some will say that they have known people, never themselves of course, that have reacted very differently when under mortar fire. They will say that these people, usually just acquaintances, not even friends, have experienced severe, multiple spasms rather than a single continuous, progressive contraction. Invariably these spasms would lead to unfortunate, dark brown, stains, some permanent, on their uniform trousers. However, this just proves the point that sphincter muscles are not always voluntary since no one would chose to spasm that way on purpose, or at least not on purpose when their pants are up, and their boots are bloused.

Therefore, no matter what the doctors say, sphincter muscles are not always completely voluntary, as anyone who has ever fully experienced explosive diarrhea can also attest. Sometimes even a good, otherwise reliable, sphincter muscle seems to just have a mind of its own.

It is the shortening of the sphincter muscle that allows one to fit into that helmet. As the firing continues, it continues to shorten. You can look this up in any medical textbook describing the operation of sphincter muscles. They will all say that the sphincter muscle constricts by “shortening“.

When you are short enough, you will fit entirely into your helmet. Case closed.

BTW Edward Clark made it home, safe and sound.

This was also taken February 2, 1968, near Phan Thiet , RVN, by Jerry Berry, PIO 3/506th (ABN).

There’s more, this story and twenty four more like it can be found in my new book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive which is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Use this book to tell your grandchildren what you did fifty or so years ago. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive: “John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend. It tells your story. To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir.Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.” Tom Croft

---

• Title created by the poet RonGFord. Used with permission. The rest is all my fault; don’t blame Ron. You can read Ron’s poem the Wall here:  The Wall.

SFC James Albert Bunn

SFC James Albert Bunn

by john harrison

On February 2, 1968 Sergeant First Class James Albert Bunn was killed while serving in the Republic of South Viet Nam. He was my platoon sergeant, 2nd Platoon, Company A, 3rd Battalion, 506th (Airborne) Infantry Regiment (aka the “Band of Brothers”), 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division. This is a rather long way of saying that he was also my friend.

I gave him the order that resulted in his death. It was Tet ’68.

We knew that we were moving to contact with the enemy that day. It was a question of where and when we hit the enemy, not if. Even as we moved early in the morning there were already very loud pitched battles going on all over the place, all around us. Based on excellent intelligence, we expected to hit a well entrenched, well prepared enemy, and we did.

We were looking for the headquartes of the 482nd Viet Cong Mainforce Battalion, near Phan Thiet on the coast of the South China Sea. As the lead platoon we made contact with the enemy first. Early that morning we moved up to a small house. After searching the small house I sent a fire team into the larger blue house next door to the right to clear it as well.

The fire team ran into the VC inside the big blue house almost immediately. The last man in the fire team was shot as they ran out of the front door of that blue house. He fell on the front porch and laid there bleeding. He was hurt bad, but alive. Although not that far away, I could see that the porch would be a bitch to get to and then to get away from. I can’t tell you how frustrating that day was or of how many different ideas we tried to get our man off of that porch.

At one point I ordered Sergeant Bunn to take a squad and to see if he could get into the back of the big blue house since the front of the blue house was swept by constant rifle and machine-gun fire from several directions. At first we were literally being shot at from 360°, rifle fire, machine-gun fire, mortars, rockets. You name it; they shot it at us, and we returned the compliment.

The level of enemy fire coming in that day was absolutely incredible. It was literally chopping down six inch in diameter trees all around us, cutting up and collapsing buildings that were not made of concrete blocks. It was like being in a monsoon of bullets coming from every direction. We had found the 482nd Viet Cong Mainforce Battalion. In fact, we found almost all of them. While they were waiting for us, we arrived from a different direction than they had expected and that, and the United States Air Force made a huge difference as the bloody day wore on.

As Bunn tried to get in the back of the blue house I set about using air strikes, gun ships and artillery to clear out the enemy from our front and left flanks so that I could turn the platoon right and get our man off that damn porch.

Jerry Berry in his excellent book, My Gift to You, (available on Amazon) tells Jim Bunn’s story:

PSG Bunn and Sergeant Stacy Raynor’s squad made their way around the three barbed wire fences that separated the two houses and carefully approached the back of the house. Just before reaching the back of the house PSG Bunn set up the squad in a supporting position and then moved on to the corner of the blue house on his own.

The enemy fire was intense, with heavy fire coming from all directions. With bullets striking all around him, PSG Bunn ran to the back door, threw a hand grenade inside the house and followed it up with several bursts from his M-16 rifle. While standing in that doorway PSG Bunn was shot several times. He was killed instantly.

It took a while, but we finally got our man off that porch and we brought Jim Bunn back as well. The Airborne recovers its dead.

Jim Bunn left his wife Rachel and three young daughters. His name appears on Panel 36E at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. He is interred in Riverside Cemetery in Oklahoma.

I think about Jim Bunn just about every day. Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day are his days. He earned them both, full and complete on February 2, 1968.

Tet ‘68 was a long time ago. It was yesterday. I remembered him today, and everyday. Platoon Sergeant James Albert Bunn. My friend, a brave and good man. Airborne!

The rest of the story of our time in Vietnam, including during the Tet Offensive, can be found in my new book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive which is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. See; https://www.amazon.com/Steel-Rain-Tet-Offensive-1968/dp/1977045448/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1517494115&sr=1-1-catcorr

 Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive  is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive: “John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend. It tells that story. To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir.Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.” Read it and see if your war was the same.

On Going To War

On Going To War

by: john harrison

Several of my former students at Bishop O’Connell High School have asked me about serving in the military. In particular the ones that are soon to be commissioned, but also some now already in the service want to know more about my experience with  leading men in combat who in many cases are much older than they are, and are certainly much more experienced than they are. Understandably, the ones headed to Iraq or Afghanistan are always very concerned about how they will react to combat, to battle. This is what I have told them.

I was commissioned at 20 years old. My Platoon Sergeant, Jim Bunn, was 34 at the time. Not only did he have many years of experience in the Army, he had already been to Vietnam. How then do you become the “leader” of such men?

It gets worse, while I had completed a year and a half of college. One of the men in my platoon, a Specialist 4, had two masters degrees. While that is not as likely in today’s all volunteer Army, you will still constantly have people serving under you who are smarter than you are, and who know more about what they are doing than you do. How do you deal with that and remain the leader?

What I had was years of study of military history and even more important I had Officer Candidate School or OCS. I was also very lucky in the men around me, both above me and below, and in the Army’s system of command. One of the things that you will realize very quickly as a junior officer is that in spite of ignorance in some areas, there are still many things that you know that no one else in the platoon knows no matter what their experience or age. More important, you are their platoon leader, and this makes all the difference. 

While it is the real job of a platoon sergeant to train his platoon leader without the platoon leader knowing, that does not mean he knows everything. The platoon sergeant may never have actually called in an airstrike, or artillery, or dust-off. He may know a lot about how to make C-Rations (MRE’s ancestor) palatable in the field, or how to motivate young men, but he may never have had a chance to research a subject overnight sufficient to give a good class on it the next day and about lots of other things that a platoon leader must be able to do.

There are all sorts of parts to the job of being a good platoon leader. At first there are some you will be good at and some you will suck at. However, it is still without question, the all-time, best job I have ever had, 2nd Lieutenant, Infantry, Platoon Leader.

You are expected to make mistakes, but your men, and in particular your platoon sergeant want you to be good at your job. They want to laugh at the other guy’s lieutenant, not their lieutenant. In a good platoon they will help you, they will also try to hide your mistakes from those above, and you will make a lot of mistakes. If you listen, particularly to your platoon sergeant, they will help you to act correctly, but the decisions and the responsibility for those decisions will always be yours.

I was very lucky. My first battalion commander, Col. John P. Geraci, was good enough to be recently enshrined in the Ranger Hall of Fame, my first First Sergeant, MSg Theron “Bull” Gergen was already a celebrity in the world of Rangers when I met him and was one of the first enshrined there. Cap. Thomas Gaffney was my first CO, but it was his second war. I had competence and hard won experience all around me. As I said my Platoon Sergeant, Jim Bunn had only recently returned from Vietnam when he joined the platoon. You may have to search for it, but real experience is available if you look.

However, you still need to be careful because some people seem to feel feel that they are building themselves up when they are tearing others down.  While only a moron would believe that this is true, or useful, these people exist in every service. They are the beetles of doubt. Avoid them. 

Hazing for example does not prove you are tough, it proves that you are undisciplined.  Any officer or NCO that lets himself or the men under his command be hazed should be fired, plain and simple.  If I saw it. I would relieve the officer or NCO on the spot, and so would any competent officer.  Why, because hazing has nothing to do with making people better. It has everything to do with allowing some people to feel superior by abusing their authority.  Those kinds of people should not have authority.

Multiple tours proves nothing.  Assuming they are trained, the best soldiers in history were generally pretty good the first time they fought and got better thereafter.  But, everyone has a limit, too.  If you go to war often enough, you will be killed, and over time when men recognize this, it changes them. In any event what did they do during those tours? What happened during those tours? What did they experience, besides just being there?

Even participation in a big battle prove nothing.  As far as the individual infantryman is concerned, a big battle is when they individually have to fight as hard as they can to stay alive.  A squad can undergo as much or more in a single squad action as they would in a big battle that perhaps makes the history books, or the evening news.  In any event, a squad in a big battle might be pulling the shit burning detail the whole time.  While they would know a lot about burning shit, their actual knowledge of battle would be limited. What did they do in that battle? How is it relevant now?

That said, everyone needs to be shot at the first time and they are different thereafter because then they are a veteran.  They know something about them self that others do not know about themselves. When I say shot at, I mean exactly that, not riding around in a truck when a bomb goes off, or sitting in a bunker at a base camp under attack, but out in the field in a combat infantry platoon, or tank squadron fighting an enemy that is trying to kill you, and that is pretty good at it. Then you are a real combat veteran. It is your reaction to the enemy fire that is important, not so much the fire itself. 

The stuff I have read about actions Iraq and Afghanistan, leads me to believe that very few of those who have served in these regions are actually what I would call “combat veterans”.  But, that was also true of Vietnam and every other American war.  There were less than 60,000 trigger pullers in Vietnam when there were over 550,000 troops there.  Probably about 90% of the jobs are still held by REMFs. 

We need the people in the rear, so while I have pulled their chain, I am not really deprecating them, but they are not infantry/tanker/artillery veterans no matter what their MOS.  No matter how many tours they served unless it was in a unit that actually fought the enemy they are not combat veterans. It is doing an infantryman’s job under fire, not just being under fire, that is important.

Anyone in the military who has not been in actual combat wonders how they will react when the bullets fly.  Unfortunately, there is only one way to find out.  Generally after the first jitters are over the problem is not a lack of courage, but actually an excess of bravery.  It needs to be tempered.  Green troops often take too many risks and thereby suffer too many casualties. 

One of the things I was always proud of was that while my platoon suffered a lot of casualties, they were spread over multiple actions over several months.  We did not do stupid, we killed the right people and in general did not allow them to kill us. 

In a sense combat is very much like basketball in that it is a team sport.  Anybody not working on building the team, making the team better has no place in the military.  Anybody who is putting down a fellow soldier, rather than sharing hard earned experience probably has little real experience to share and is not a real soldier however many tours they may have.

It is not how many doors did they kick down, but how many doors did they kick down that had an enemy inside with a machine gun pointed at the door. What did they do then? What did the man covering the entry do? Those are the real questions.

As far as how good is the Army of today, I do not know, but I would be very surprised if they are not better than in Vietnam and WW II if only because they are much better educated.   For example, less than half of the Marines in WW II had a high school degree now almost all do. Education does make a difference.

While being an “infantryman” is easy, being a good infantryman that can go upon today’s very lethal battlefields with a reasonable expectation of both accomplishing your mission and coming back is a rather more difficult proposition. It takes brains. It takes the ability to learn and apply skills that many times you do not even know you have. It takes courage, both the courage to act and the courage not to act even though you may know down deep in you soul that all you want in the world right then is to be able to do one thing, just one thing. However, you do not do that one thing, you do what you are supposed to do instead. When you have done that, you are a combat Infantryman.   

Being really good Infantry is a learned skill.  It is not easy. It is not simple.  It is not just issuing a guy a rifle and expecting them to know what they are doing.  There are a lot of little things that make the difference between living and dying. If you do not know those little things and do not do them almost as second nature then you are not very likely to survive. It is really that simple.

Audi Murphy, the most decorated soldier in World War II was a farm boy. As was Medal of Honor winning Sgt. Alvin York from World War I. In training, the Army only spends relatively a few hours on the rifle range and shoots relatively a few rounds. In the past America was famous for fielding armies of men that could shoot and shoot well. However, that was mostly because they brought that skill with them to the service.

My brother is a former Marine and an excellent pistol shot. He says that it takes about 5,000 rounds to make a really good pistol shot. It is not likely that you will have the opportunity to shoot that much in the military. In addition, today with the demonization of guns in America very few have had any experience with guns when they enter the service. You will not be getting a platoon full of Alvin Yorks and Audi Murphys. Most of them will not be able to shoot that well at first, and some may even be afraid of the weapon that they carry. That could get them, and you killed.

If you are going to teach other men how to shoot, you need to know yourself. Volunteer for range duty every chance you get. Hang out with people that know how to shoot. It may literally save your life and the lives of men in your platoon. Go to the range. Shoot. Listen. Learn. Practice. Shoot.

The next point is a little more difficult but no less important. While it is necessary to be able to hit a target, it is even more necessary to identify that target first. Both Murphy and York were boyhood hunters. You cannot buy that experience; you cannot even train it; you must experience it and that takes time. Make the time.

Whenever I walk outside to this day, I look for good machine-gun positions, good sniper positions. I look for places I would hide, or I would hide my platoon even though I have not led a platoon in 50 years. However, if you have ever been shot at in the military you will do it too, and you will do it for the rest of your life. Strangely, my wife Sandy, who has never hunted, sees far more than I do when we walk in the woods, so it is a talent as well as a craft that can be practiced. Either way, practice it. You will be surprised at what you see, at how much better you get.

I always felt that I was extraordinarily lucky in the Army.  My battalion trained together as a unit for 6 months before we deployed.  The battalion CO, Col. Geraci, was a Marine in World War II, an Army platoon leader in in Korea, and had already served two tours in Special Forces A teams in Vietnam before he was our commander.  My company commander, Cap. Gaffney, had earned a battlefield commission in Korea, was riffed back to sergeant, made Sergeant Major in Special Forces, served in “A” Teams in Vietnam, and then came back as a Captain to take us to Vietnam. I have already mentioned our First Sergeant, Bull Gergen and my Platoon Sergeant Jim Bunn. These were all men that you could learn from.

And when we were done training, I thought we could kick anybody’s ass which is probably why I once attacked a Mainforce VC battalion with my platoon. Kicked their asses too even though we could not destroy them. Too many to kill, although we and the United States Air Force did our level best all day one day trying to kill them all.

You are not really feeling inadequate if you feel doubt about your ability to fit in to this life.  You are feeling being untested, and you will feel that way until you are shot at doing your job.  It is an essential part of the job. And, while you are correct now that you are untested, after that you will be a veteran, a combat veteran.

I think that the most important thing that I could tell you is to be prepared to improvise. We spent almost all of our time training on how to patrol, on doing ambushes and counter ambush drills, and most of all on how to fight in the jungle. However, we spent almost all of our time actually fighting, doing it in the cities during Tet ‘68. The two have little in common.

Nobody in the battalion had ever done what the Army called then, Fighting In a Built-up Area. Nobody in the battalion was an expert at it when we first did it. I actually used more ideas that I got from watching Victory At Sea and other WW II documentaries as a kid than I did from my Army training. The one thing I learned is that if it works, it is not a stupid idea. In Vietnam we used to take our helmets off, hold them up and move them around for the enemy to shoot at so we could find out where they were hiding. It worked, because unlike us, they had not watched hours of cowboy shows and war movies. If it works, do it, then do it again.

As I said, the best job I have ever had in my life was that of being a second lieutenant, infantry, platoon leader. Best job by far. In that I envy you.  Good luck.

 

The story of our time in Vietnam during Tet where I learned the above can be found in my new book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive which is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. See; https://www.amazon.com/Steel-Rain-Tet-Offensive-1968/dp/1977045448/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1517494115&sr=1-1-catcorr

Tom Gaffney

Tom Gaffney

by: john harrison

On a recent Saturday morning I was to be the referee at my son’s Montgomery County Swim League swim meet. One of the principal jobs of the referee is to blow his, or her, whistle at appropriate times during the meet to move things along. This happens regularly during these meets.

I keep my whistle and my badge of office as a certified official on a lanyard by the back door of our home. When I was ready to leave on that Saturday morning, the lanyard and the badge were right there where they were supposed to be, but the whistle was missing.

It is impossible to be a referee without a whistle and it soon became clear I was not going to find mine. However, because of Tom Gaffney I knew where I had a spare whistle. It was about 45 years before when he had given me an olive drab green, plastic whistle, with a black cord attached, and I still had it. Technically I guess I stole it when I left the Army years ago.

When I was 19 or 20 years old I had been commissioned as an Infantry second lieutenant in the United States Army and Tom Gaffney was my first company commander. When Tom was a teenager, he had been drafted into the Korean War. He did so well in Korea that he was given a battlefield commission as a second lieutenant. At the end of the Korean War, the Army, as usual after a war, went through a Reduction in Force or RIF. What that meant as far as Tom Gaffney was concerned, was that, if he wanted to stay in the military, his only choice was to revert from being a commissioned officer to the rank of buck sergeant. He could still be a commissioned officer in the reserves but not in active service.

Tom was the Alpha Company commander in the states and took the rifle company he had trained there to Vietnam. He remained as company commander throughout the Tet ’68 Offensive. After that he became S-3 Air on the battalion staff.

Tom chose to stay in the Army. He remained in the Army for 20 years and was about to retire at its highest enlisted rank, Command Sergeant Major, when the Army made him an offer he did not refuse. The Army offered to reinstate his commissioned officer rank and to promote him to captain if he would agree to stay in the Army for only one more year.

The catch was that he would have to go back to Viet Nam, a place he had already been as a Green Beret A-Team member twice before. At the time such an offer was much more attractive that it sounds today. Even a relatively junior officer could expect to spend at most 6 months in the field and the rest of his 12-month tour in a relatively secure rear area. In addition, Tom was only 38 years old and this one additional year in the Army would significantly increase his monthly retirement income.

On the debit side, the war was clearly heating up in 1966, but in the prior 8 years of warfare a total of less than 6,000 Americans had been killed in action. Tom did not know, could not know, that the 12 months we would spend together “in country” would be the bloodiest of the Vietnam War and that far more than double the number that had been killed in the prior eight years would be killed during the time we were there. In fact, of the 58,000 Americans that died in 8 years of a hot war in Viet Nam, almost 1/3 died during the 12 incredibly violent months that we were “in country” together.

This was taken somewhere in the Cambodian Highlands before Tet ’68 and gives you an idea of the terrain we operated in during our tour in Vietnam. That is Tom walking toward the camera.

Tom was always practical, so he accepted the Army’s offer. He has the face of a man who takes nothing for granted and he knew far better than most what he was getting himself into.

Tom had his own rules in addition to the Army’s for his platoon leaders. Some of the little rules were that: an officer should always have a pen and something to write on in case he had to write something. An officer should carry a whistle in case he needed to get someone’s attention in the middle of loud situation, like a firefight. An officer never ordered anyone to do something that he would not do himself and finally, that an officer never passed the buck. The orders were always his.

Tom also said that after the Korean War a number of officers had bragged that they had to “throw the book away” to fight that war. It was Tom’s view that these officers had never read the book, and that they had learned the art of war at the cost of the lives of their men. Tom thought that this price was too high. He insisted that an officer should know his job before he started giving orders.

Tom was never cautious about expressing his opinions. He was always demanding. However, he was also a realist and he taught that uncertainty would always be part of leadership, as would loss.

When the war he had volunteered to go back to turned ever more violently ugly, he did not complain. He just continued to do his job as well as he could, and we brought a lot of young men home alive because of that.

And so, for more than 48 years I have always carried a pad and a pen. When I needed a whistle, I knew where one was. I never hid behind my boss. If I had tough orders to give, I gave them in my name, no matter where they had originated.

This picture was taken in 2012 before Len Liebler passed away. From right to left: Jim Schalax, 1st Plt; John Harrison 2nd Plt. & XO; Tom Gaffney CO; Len Liebler 3rd Plt; Joe Alexander Weapons & 3rd Plts. Three out of four of the lieutenants were wounded, one, Joe Alexander was shot five times; three out of four of our platoon sergeant were killed during out tour. Tom Gaffney still points the way.

You do not forget someone like Tom Gaffney, or as he sometimes liked to phrase it, “Mrs. Gaffney’s little boy Tom.” He is an original, an American original and a good one. He and three of his four platoon leaders are still alive 48 years after we first went to war. Given what we saw and what we did, that is simply incredible and a fitting testament to his leadership.

Currahee, Tom Gaffney.

 

My new book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive  is available on Amazon both as a paperback and on Kindle. Please give it a look. See; Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive 1968

Recent Reviews of Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive:

“John Harrison does an eloquent job writing what it was like being in the infantry during the Vietnam war. I know, I was in the infantry in Vietnam. There is a statistic which states that only 1 out of 10 who served in Vietnam were in the infantry. All of us have been asked what that was like at one point since our return. It is an impossible question for most of us to answer in part much less in full. John Harrison manages to do this in his book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive. So, if you are inclined and wonder what it was like, or you want to tell someone else what you went through, buy this book. Show it to your friend. It tells that story. To, “LT” John Harrison- thank you Sir.Salute.”

“John Harrison’s book, Steel Rain, the Tet Offensive, is a series of short stories, told mostly in the first person, that weaves together the humor and violence that only a talented writer can accomplish. The result is a compelling book that is hard to put down. John’s words flow easily on the pages, making an easy read. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has been there and did that, or anyone wanting to know a personal record of one lucky Lieutenant in Vietnam and the people that made it possible for him to return home.
Dan Hertlein, helicopter mechanic with the 192nd AHC at LZ Betty 1968″

“John is the soldier speaking the truest story of Vietnam. I will confirm his action as I was in a different company same battalion, fighting the same battles.”