Under Fire, Vietnam 1969, by Richard Shand
From MemoryArchive
Who: Richard Shand What: Under Fire in Vietnam When: 1969 Where: Vietnam
Now to the right, then to the left! I pump hard, stamping the pedal on the floor of the turret, gripping and turning the handles as I traverse and fire. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The recoiling gun pounds and shakes the turret. Rounds explode in the wire and just beyond. Acrid smoke stings the nostrils.
We are under fire. Three 107mm rockets have just gone over our heads - SWOOSH, seemingly just above our radio antenna, and hit the guard tower at the opposite end of the compound. Now the radar dome beside us to our right is under attack. RPG rounds fall short in bright popping explosions, like flash bulbs going off, right in front of our positions. This was not my first time in action, but it was the first time I ever had to aim and fire the guns. Old Mike behind me is loading away. I can hear him dropping the four-round clips into the loader as Fedor hands new clips to him. They work together like a well-greased piece of machinery.
In front of me is a tide of darkness. RPG launchers in the distance spark like matches being struck. My predecessor has neglected to put on the ring site necessary for aiming so our shooting is wild. The assistant gunner to the right of me calls off one target and I another. The guns traverse back and forth, spraying the countryside with flaring tracers and the percussive WUMPHS of explosions.
"Damn! Where's Fox?" Our section chief, Sgt. Fox was unfortunately afflicted of loose bowels when under fire and is behind the bunker taking a crap into an ammo can. (These cans were shipped back to the States for reloading and I used to try to visualize the scenario when their contents were discovered.) We fire perhaps five clips - twenty rounds, really far fewer than we should have, but we stop when the VC barrage in front of us halts abruptly. Echoes fade, the smoke clears and the ringing in my ears subsides. Purple afterimages of the bright tracer flashes remain burnt into my retina.
The following morning the infantry swept the area in front of our position. They reported that the VC had run away so fast that they had left unfired weapons and sandals behind. If I had encountered the same situation a few months later I would have had the sight installed and probably would placed at least another fifty rounds on target. But the past is past and those who fought lived to fight another day.
