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Into Cambodia - Keith Nolan [221]

By Root 1003 0
infantry, but there was also something about his manner that suggested he knew he was on a stage and relished the part he had. When he once choppered into the company laager, Private Ross of Alpha Company watched him dismount from the helicopter in a single purposeful movement, chest out, sunglasses on, fatigues crisp. The whole Patton bit. Lieutenant Yarashas decided after he returned to his platoon from the hospital that the colonel was definitely on an ego trip–always posturing–but since the orders from above usually made good sense, Yarashas was content to just smile to himself as Vail played the tough guy on his visits. They were infantrymen, Vail told them, the ones living in the mud and eating garbage like powdered eggs and C rations while the jerks in the rear lived like kings. Actually, Yarashas's men ate well– considering–thanks to the platoon cook and his field stove. The cook was a real nice guy and a real hippie, complete with the granny glasses, love beads, and peace medallions, who wanted everyone to know that he was against the war but that he could hold his own. He proved that by hitching rides to the rear on resupply choppers, then returning on the next with as much fresh food as he had been able to steal or scrounge. So, one morning when Vail helicoptered into their laager for a tactical meeting, the company first sergeant and the cook served him two fried eggs with sly smiles.

The first time Vail had seen this cook dripping with his unauthorized accoutrements, he had shouted to get the man out of his sight, but now being served two fresh eggs in the bush, the colonel let it go with a you-got-me-now look.

Whatever Vail was, though, he was nothing if not involved, always visible, always pushing his officers to maintain the standards as the combat situation in Cambodia and War Zone C–where the battalion retired before the deadline to facilitate the withdrawal of the last units– petered out. The enemy tactics changed from bleeding them to avoiding them, which presented all types of morale problems in terms of wasted effort and lethargic attention to security and which Vail, the tenth and last commander of the Triple Deuce in Vietnam, had to deal with up until the time they stood down and withdrew five months out of Cambodia.

They became a bored unit with no real enemy to fight and no meaningful mission to accomplish. The grunts considered themselves abandoned. Vail thought of them as victims, not only of the politics but also of their own officers, generally intelligent, energetic, capable, but inexperienced men, few of whom had the moral courage to enforce the by-the-book procedures that made life rougher on their GIs, but which kept them alive. So it was, only four days after the final shoot-out on Ambush Alley, that Lieutenant Giasson of the Battalion Communications Platoon could write in his diary, “It was hot and crowded in our tent, but when the rain came, nothing mattered. We are all getting lax …men sleep with their rifles put away …their steel pots and flak jackets lost in the night …and their boots off. We are a prime target for the enemy.”

Colonel Vail sensed a subtle corruption of the officer corps. Bravo Company made contact with an NVA squad near Krek, and Vail, on dismounted patrol with another platoon, allowed the contact to unfold and the captain to exercise control before he humped over. He arrived at the Bravo command post APC and talked with the captain while a few final shots cracked in the far trees. Soon thereafter, Vail was reviewing recommendations for awards and found his own name among all too many others: Bronze Star with “v” for valor. In a private conversation with the CO of Bravo, he asked why he had made such a recommendation for such a small contact, and the answer was, “Well, you were in a danger zone. You didn't have to be.”

“That's the purpose we serve. We're talking about a valorous award. That's something above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Yes, but you were exposed, Colonel.”

“I don't think you're hearing me very well. The word 'valor' has lost its definition.

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