Loon - Jack McLean [62]
After receiving his orders, Negron headed back down the road to the Washout. He was excited, but also concerned.
Had his three weeks with Charlie Company been enough?
How would they do under fire?
The few who had been fired at with live ammo hadn’t seen any real action since the sixth of December. We were excited. We were nervous. I took a moment to write my last letter home from the Washout.
Vietnam
May 24, 1968
It’s now evening and the heat has become unbearable. It is difficult to write since my hand is soaking wet and drops of sweat are falling from my face onto the paper.
Captain Negron has proved to be superb. He doesn’t get kicks from harassing the troops, as a result, most of our time is our own to do as we wish. We are all on fifteen-minute standby, however, just in case.
I’ve just returned from a Platoon leader’s meeting. We are moving in a week to Camp Carroll over near Khe Sanh. The Washout and Con Thien will be abandoned. Camp Carroll is an artillery base providing support for the Con Thien and Khe Sanh areas. The count now is 64 days left in the field. The month of June should be a long and very hot one, but I am optimistic that everything will be all right.
Two days later, May 26, 1968, was my twenty-first birthday.
Packages and letters poured in from all quarters.
I got enough goodies to feed the entire company, and so I did. Three days later, we saddled up to head south to Camp Carroll, which was located along Route 9, the main east-west corridor.
As we waited to depart the Washout, we watched our sister companies convoy down from Con Thien. Charlie Company would be the last to leave. The air was immediately rilled with the sights and sounds of massive explosions to the north. We silently marveled as the smoke rose over what had once been Con Thien. One by one, the bunkers, trenches, motor pool, and old ammo dumps were blown by United States Army ordnance engineers. Three hours later, there was no Con Thien.
As we watched the trucks disappear to the south, we realized that, for this brief period of time, the one hundred eighty boys of Charlie Company were all that stood between North and South Vietnam.
Later in the day, we finally boarded our trucks and headed south. Departing the Washout, Bill Negron was again headed into combat.
Our first assignment, after arriving at Camp Carroll, was to handle road security along Route 9. The road was a scratch of a two-lane dirt road that would barely have made it to a map back home. The rolling hills that surrounded it were deep shades of green and yellow that changed to a greenish gray as the elevation increased. Despite its seeming inconsequence, this was the road that had been the subject of Bernard Fall’s book Street Without Joy, the main thoroughfare between Quang Tri and Khe Sanh. Scattered along both sides were the skeletons of trucks, jeeps, even helicopters—the detritus of past battles.
We were late arriving, and dusk was upon us. We were to relieve elements of the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines who were stretched out over six key terrain features that overlooked the road. Negron met briefly with his 9th Marine counterpart, Captain Mike Fuller. They briefed each other, studied maps, located artillery emplacements, and made detailed plans for Charlie Company’s relief of the six emplacements. As they parted, Negron asked which of Fuller’s companies was being replaced. Fuller’s response presented Negron with the one challenge that he could not possibly have anticipated.
“Charlie Company,” Fuller responded.
Charlie Company 1/4 was replacing Charlie Company 1/9. Two Charlie companies.
“This is going to be fun,” Fuller said, and laughed.
“It’s going to be a cluster fuck,” said Negron. “I hope the NVA aren’t watching.” The sun set shortly after the first position was relieved. Marines of Charlie Company 1/4 got off trucks, and marines of Charlie Company 1/9 got on trucks. Each marine knew that he was in Charlie Company and each knew that he was in the