Double Eagle (part #3)

Posted on May 29, 2011 by The Scarlet Worm

Just then we hit a sand bar and my train of thought was broken. Another sand bar, and another.  I thought we must be fifty feet up the beach by now.  I could hear machine gun fire, rifle and mortar fire.  It sounded like these boys were playing for keeps.

Just then the gate went down and we started filing off as fast as we could in water three to four feet deep, great! I didn’t think we would ever get on the beach.  Once we were on dry ground we ran and ran and ran.  How long is this stinking beach, I thought.  I was soaking wet, sinking in sand up to my ankles.  Finally I came to a tree and fell down behind it and felt safe, right!  I looked behind me for my men who were still scrambling up the beach.

“Move Up!”  The Lt. ordered, “Into the tree line.” And we ran, and ran some more.  The resistance was heavy but not as heavy as we had expected.  We later found out that the majority of them had moved out leaving behind land mines, booby traps, snipers, and machine guns to welcome us.  Some of the machine guns were chained to a man and a tree so he couldn’t escape.

All I could think of was my D.I. saying, “A rocket man’s life expectancy on the beach is three to five seconds.”  That helped me to run faster, and finally we were in the tree line and we collapsed.

“Corpsman! Corpsman!”  Someone was hit off to my left, another off to my right.  Many were dead, way too many and many more were wounded.  We took a terrible beating and they knew we were coming.

So this was war!  Well, I didn’t like it one bit, I just wish I had that crumb that sold us out for a few bucks and a cold beer right now, sitting on this stinking beach with me.

After the beach was secure the Lt. ordered a head count and it was then that I received the news, “Cpl. Williams had stepped on a mine and lost both of his legs.  They didn’t think he was going to make it, but he was still living,” reported the Pvt.

Oh No! Oh No! Not the rebel, not Williams, he can’t die, he’s to tough. It was then that I lost my senses for a moment and yelled, “Don’t die rebel, don’t die!”  I turned and grabbed the Pvt. by the shoulders and shook him, “Miller, how’s Miller?”  I shouted at him!

“He’s O.K.” said the Pvt., “But he was really shook up when I told him about Williams.”  He said something like, “I’m next, I’m next, I’m second, what did he mean by that Cpl.?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all! Just forget it.” I said.

“Move Out!” Ordered the Lt.  “We have to make a sweep of this village and secure it for a base of operations before night fall.”

It was an easy village to take, not much resistance, only a few shots were fired, some women and children but no men, strange!  Now we can rest for the night.  and as I was checking my men a Corpsman came by and said, “Did you hear about Miller? He took one in the head, he’s in pretty bad shape, I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

A cold chill ran through my body, a deep fear gripped my soul and I broke out in a cold sweat.  My hand slipped down to my side and I patted the ’45’ strapped there.  I slammed a full magazine into my M-14 and said, “If they get me, I’m not going down alone!”

“What do you mean?” replied the corpsman.  Are you alright?  “Forget it!” I said, “I have a score to settle now and it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it!”

I could still picture both their faces and their cold steel eyes looking right through me on the deck of that ship just a few hours ago and hear their chilling sadistic voices still ringing in my ears and their prophetic statement, “And you ‘Bo’ will be the third!”

As soon as we swept the village and set up a perimeter outside the village and got a head count, the sun was going down.  The Lt. came by and said, “We’re sending out three patrols to check for V.C. movement and try to make contact, funny there were no men in that village.”  Our platoon Sgt. said, “I want a scout,  two rifle teams, an M-60 team and a Rocket team.” (next, ‘The Night Patrol’)     ‘Between The Lines’

Posted in Autobiography, Family, Friendship, Memoir, Politics, Uncategorized, Vietnam | 2 Comments

Double Eagle (part #2)

Posted on May 26, 2011 by The Scarlet Worm

A cold chill ran all through my body and I felt as if my blood jelled.  My hands started to sweat and I responded, “You’re both crazy, the three of us are going home alive and in one piece.”  Laughter broke out among us but deep down inside, we all trembled and I knew they weren’t kidding.

At that instant Lt. James appeared on deck and said, “Get the men up, we have our orders.”  Williams looked straight into the Lt.’s eyes and said, “Does it have anything to do with a ‘Double Eagle’ Lieutenant?”

“Where did you hear that?” retorted the Lt.  “That’s top secret classified information.”  We all turned and stared at each other blankly for a moment and fear just welled up inside each one of us once again.

Miller broke the silence, “Hanoi Hanna, just told us on the radio, who we were, where we are going to land, who our commanders are and she played us a song entitled, “Under the Double Eagle” for all you American boys on those ships off Chu Lai.

“It can’t be,” said the Lt. “It can’t be, this is the biggest amphibious operation since Inchon Korea.  There are literally thousands of men and hundreds units involved. We are going to hit an ‘R & R’ camp of hard core North Vietnamese troops. How could they find all this out?”

I answered, “Some crumb sold us out for a few bucks and a cold beer!”

“Maybe it’s all just a coincidence,” said Miller.

“Coincidence! Coincidence!” said the Lt., “The name of the operation is, “Double Eagle!”

At that moment my heart stopped beating.  It was no coincidence, we had been sold out, and they knew we were coming, they knew, and they would be armed, ready and waiting for us!

We briefed the men, made last minute checks of all our equipment and strapped on our gear.  Within the next two hours we were slipping over the side of the ship in silence and total darkness into waiting Papa boats.  We shoved off from the ship and kept going in circles waiting to head for the beach. It seemed like an eternity before we would hit the beach.

As I stood in the boat my mind wandered back to all the training, all the maneuvers we had been through on Okinawa and the Philippines, especially the ‘Raider Training’  but this was the real thing.  I wondered what it would be like to actually kill a man.  Could I do it?  That was the one thing I never bragged about.  Although many men did, but talk is cheap.  I had shot at a lot of targets but they never shot back, never!  I was afraid I would know the answer to my question within a few minutes.

Naval gun fire started pounding the beach really heavy.  The Air Force was strafing the beach with rockets and napalm.  The Papa boat suddenly straightened out and took off with its full power straight for the beach.  “This is it!” Shouted the boat commander!

The Lt. said, “Hold on, we’re going in!” My heart was pounding in my ears, I had a lump in my throat and my stomach was in knots.  I was scared but I couldn’t show my fear because I was a leader and the men looked to me for guidance.  One of the men next to me threw up in his helmet and another Marine asked, “Now what are you going to do with that?”  That kind of broke the tension.  I kept thinking of Cpl. Williams’ statement, “I’m gonna be the first one to git it.” I could still see those cold steel eyes and hear that deep southern drawl of his, “And you ‘Bo’ will be the…..”                    ‘Between The Lines’

Posted in Autobiography, Devotional, Family, Memoir, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Meeting Ozzie

Posted on May 23, 2011 by The Scarlet Worm

At Moody Bible Institute all the professors had years of experience in the field and taught more from their hearts than their books. Mr. Wise my Greek Professor took over for Kenneth Wuest and went out to his car and wept after accepting the position because he didn’t want to leave his pastorate. Miss Turner spent over 10 years in India on the mission field and over six years in Team’s office before coming to Moody to teach missions.

As married students we were not interested in dating or flirting but learning so we sat in the front row and I preferred to sit in front of the lectern. So, if the teacher spit, you got hit and you could smell their perspiration or as the Talmud says, “We might be covered in the dust of our Rabbi” indicating we were following their example. 50% of a teacher’s lecture is learned from their facial expressions and gestures and if you sit three rows back you fail to see it or catch it and learn from it.

Miss turner began every class by reading from a small, worn, tattered book held together with a large red rubber band. She would read ever so slowly and with thought, punctuation, feeling and expression and if you were not sitting in the first row next to the lectern you would not see the tiny little tears well up in the corners of her eyes as she read.  Then she would lead the class to the throne of grace in prayer and you would have to peek to see if angels were standing near by and as I was peeking, every once in awhile one of those tears that welled up in the corner of her eyes would fall and splash all over that worn out little book she had been reading to the class.  Then she would turn, put the rubber band around that worn out book, wipe away her tear, put the book back on her desk and begin teaching on missions all in one slick movement and if you were not sitting in the front row, right under the lectern, looking up, watching carefully, from ‘the worm’s eye point of view’ you would have missed it all. We waited every day with bated breath not just for the lecture but for her devotional and prayer.

One day I stayed behind after class and asked her what it was that she read every day, and she picked up an old worn out copy of ‘My Utmost For His Highest’ and handed it to me. As I removed that red rubber band and opened that little book I began to tremble inside, it was worn, and stained with tears, underlined, written in, highlighted, and difficult to read. You could tell it had been read many, many times. Miss Turner said she bought it in England on her way to India, to serve as a missionary and it had become her best friend next to her Bible. I asked, “If they were still available” and she said, “They were for sale in our book store.” I don’t know what was racing faster down the hallway that day, my heart or my feet as I made my way to the book store and there was a whole shelf of them in hardback orange for $3.95. I must have stood there for an hour reading page after page like a thirsty man, lost in a desert for days who happened upon a well of cool water, but I had absolutely no money, none, not one red cent! I rushed home to my wife and and told her the exciting news but she didn’t have any money either, and $3.95 to a Bible School student in 1976 was a lot of money, that’s milk, bread, eggs, hamburger and gas. I went back to the book store the next day and read some more and it was even better than the day before, but still no money!

However, in Conn. in my home church a woman named Lorraine Ferrier went to the grocery store and they forgot to charge her for some chicken. So she went back to the store to pay the clerk who refused to take the money because she already closed out her drawer, so she went to the manager who also refused to take the money because it would throw the book-keeping for the day off. Lorraine felt guilty because the chicken didn’t belong to the clerk or the manager so she put $3.76 in an envelope and mailed it to me. Well, all I needed was a quarter which I borrowed and went right to the book store and bought my first orange copy of, “My Utmost For His Highest.” Now it is glued, duct taped, tear stained, highlighted, under lined, written in, and falling apart with a rubber band around it. I am on my fourth copy after 35 years and my fourth Bible and all my notes have been transferred, so when I leave this earth, if not by Rapture they will be laying on a table near by for my four children so as they do their devotions they can do them with me. Inside of the first copy it says, “Donated by Dave & Lorraine Ferrier, September 1976, with Chicken Money! MBI”       (Thank You, Miss Rosemary Turner, for introducing me to a life long friend. I am still covered in your dust and Ozzie’s)                                       “Between The Lines”

Posted in Autobiography, Christianity, Devotional, Friendship, Memoir, Oswald Chambers, Uncategorized | 7 Comments

Double Eagle (part #1)

Posted on May 19, 2011 by The Scarlet Worm

It was a sweltering January afternoon on the island of Okinawa when the order came, “We’re moving out!” The Lt. didn’t tell us where but we knew, we knew.  It was what we had trained for, what we had waited for but secretly hoped would never come, Vietnam!  There was an outward sense of excitement among the men, but an inward sense of fear they couldn’t hide, you could see it in their eyes.

Within a few hours we were aboard a ship heading out to sea.  The morale was high but so was the sense of fear.  I was a squad leader for 3.5 Rockets better known as Super Bazookas.  As I looked at my men I wondered, how many would I bring back and who would break under the strain.  I could only hope the training we had received would pay off.

As the ship maneuvered through the water for several days it was evident that we were not in a hurry to arrive at our destination.  The sun was on both sides of the ship several times during the day indicating we were zig-zaging.  Why?  Why the zig-zaging?  Why the secrecy?  Why the hasty order to move out, not allowing us to write letters home?  Something big was happening and we were right in the middle of it!

Suddenly I was awakened by another squad leader, Cpl. Williams, a tough little rebel from Alabama.  He only stood five feet five inches tall but he was a Marine you didn’t want to lock horns with.  He said, “Wake up, ‘Bo’ all the brass have been called below to a special meeting, this is it, let’s go on deck.”

I jumped out of my bunk and followed him on deck and we were immediately met by Cpl. Miller.  “What’s up?”  I said.  “I don’t know,” answered Miller.  “All the brass were called below to an urgent meeting about an hour ago.”  We were about to find out what we were in the middle of.

The three of us stayed on deck and waited to see what was going to happen, we were all rocket squad leaders so we started to reminisce about the past.  Suddenly another Marine appeared out of the dark and said he was listening to the radio when Hanoi Hanna came on and said who we were, where we were going to land and even named some of our units and Battalion Commanders.  Then she played a song called, “Under The Double Eagle.”  We just stared at each other for a moment in cold, dead silence.

Miller spoke first, “It can’t be, how could she know all that, she’s lying, she’s just fishing!”

“Maybe so, maybe so,” said Williams, “But if, if, she does know and all this is true, we’re going to have a rough time.”

“She knows too many details to be guessing,” I said.  “Some crumb sold us out for a few bucks.”  There was a long delay as we stared at each other and wondered.  Could it be true?  Did they know we were coming.

Williams stared off into the darkness and with a sadistic tone said, “Y’all know we’re not coming back, none of us. I’m going to be the first one of the three of us to git it.”  He then turned and stared at Miller for a moment and said, “And you Miller, will be the second!”

Miller paused, then answered, “I have a feeling you’re right.”  At that moment they both turned and looked right through me and in unison said, “And you ‘Bo’ will be the third!”   (A true story)                                                                               “Between The Lines”

Posted in Autobiography, Memoir | 6 Comments

Ozzie

Posted on May 16, 2011 by The Scarlet Worm

This is about a man, a common man, who crossed my path a hundred times though we never met and lived a century apart.  We first met in 1976 in Chicago, Illinois in a class room and his book which is a classic, has changed my life forever, which he never wrote and he has become my best literary friend and his book has united me with friends all over the world.  To touch a life through a multitude is indeed incredible but to impact or change a multitude through the life of one is indeed miraculous and that is what this plain vanilla man did who died of a ruptured appendix at the age of 43 in Cairo, Egypt because he didn’t want to take a soldier’s bunk.

He was not a Mystic but he was mysterious at times, hard to explain, difficult to understand, and a bit beyond us but worth the effort of going after.  He is like the book just beyond you but worth the mastering, you might have to read it several times to understand it but its worth it in the end.  He gnaws at me like an aching tooth needing a root canal and I keep coming for more novocain.  I spent over 500 hours last year again reading ‘My Utmost For His Highest’ and I am reading it again.  I have been reading it over and over and over since September 1976.  What is it that draws you to that little ‘Orange Devo’ like a moth to a flame?  It’s not its deep theological genre, or its profound world views or even its life changing philosophy.  What is it that Ozzie has written in his 52 books 100 years ago, that draws the human psyche like bees to honey?  I have over 7,000 volumes in my personal library but why am I drawn to this man’s shelf and what draws me to that worn, tattered copy of his devo for 36 years?  Is it just blind, raw habit, or is there something deeper, something more, something calling like a zephyr, or a still small voice, is it what my Jewish Rabbinic friends call the ‘Kavanah’ the inner man?  He is more than an author, I have thousands of those, some good and some not so good.  He is a friend, a deep friend, and some days we don’t agree and some days he makes me angry but we stay friends and I am back in his book the next day.  Like he said, “Books are the blessed chloroform of the mind.”

Maybe next time I will tell you how and where I found my plain vanilla friend and just how our paths crossed.  My first copy was bought with chicken money and will be left to my daughter Rebekah when I die.  It’s held together with Elmer’s glue and duct tape and hard to read due to so many years of reading, highlighting and note taking.                                                   “Between The Lines”

Posted in Devotional, Oswald Chambers | 3 Comments