Into Cambodia - Keith Nolan [221]
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.