In an earlier Andy’s Corner post I mentioned that as part of my first teaching job I was being a high school swimming coach. In another post I told about being drafted into to army in 1967. What I haven’t yet mentioned is how these two parts of my life met head on in Vietnam.
It was on March 10,1969, that I found myself flying from Fort Lewis, Washington to Long Binh, Vietnam on a chartered flight with about 150 other military personnel. We were to be part of the peak of 549,000 troops who were on the ground in Vietnam that year.
Like most of the other military personnel on that plane I had no idea of what my assignment would be once I got there. Needless to say, my anxiety level was pretty high. I had graduated from OCS (Officer Candidate School) as an ordnance officer with an MOS (Military Occupation Code) of Ammunition Specialist. This meant that I very likely could be assigned to a unit dealing with objects that could blow up (big time), which clearly was not a very inviting career path. However, I knew that the army occasionally made exceptions and assigned personnel outside of their MOS. At least that’s what I was hoping for.
We arrived at the Long Binh airport in the evening and were directed to a large tent lined with bunks to spend the night. We were told to be ready to report the first thing in the morning for our in-country duty assignments.
The night was agonizingly long. The sound of machine guns rattling in the distance and the glare of parachute flares along the perimeter were unsettling to us newcomers trying desperately to sleep. Were we about to be overrun? Is that guy walking down the row of bunks returning from the latrine or is he a VC about to toss a grenade? I don’t think I got any sleep at all.
In the morning I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and got in the line for my turn to be assigned to a unit. When I finally got to the personnel officer sitting at a folding table, I saluted and said “Sir, Lieutenant Deseran reporting for duty.”
Ignoring my salute, he rummaged through the pile of folders on the table until he found mine and thumbed through it. Without looking up he said, “I see that you were a high school swimming coach. You would be a perfect match for the 184th Ordnance Battalion. They have a swimming pool and are looking for a swimming officer.”
With that he stamped some forms and told me that I would be catching the next flight from Long Binh to Qui Nhon and from there would to be driven to the 184th Ordinance Battalion near Phu Tai.
I couldn’t wait to write to Ann with the good news about my impending assignment. It looked like my MOS classification wasn’t going to send me to some hazardous ammunition depot out in a combat zone after all.
I was ushered onto an army cargo plane headed for Qui Nhon and upon arrival was driven by jeep on a 45 minute pot-hole-jarring ride to the 184th base camp near Phu Tai. When we finally got there I was taken to meet the executive officer, a major filling in for the commanding officer who was away on R&R.
After exchanging a few pleasantries about how my trip from Long Binh had gone, the Major told me that they didn’t have me assigned to a unit yet but that they would let me know in the morning.
I informed him that I understood that the 184th was looking for a swimming officer. Looking a bit bemused he told me that indeed there was a swimming pool but it had been filled in with dirt ever since he had been there and as far as he knew, there were no plans to change that.
At that moment I realized I had been the butt of a sadistic form of military humor – and I’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. I can’t remember if I was more embarrassed, disappointed, or angry – I think I must have felt all of them.
After getting that deflating news I was shown to the commanding officer’s quarters to spend the night (since he was away on R&R). As soon as I got settled on his bunk I began writing to Ann, explaining to her that my good fortune of becoming the swimming officer was not in the cards. But I assured her that it looked like the 184th would be a safe assignment and she shouldn’t worry about me.
I was half way through that letter when the first explosion of the night literally knocked me out of the bunk. It turned out that the 184th was a major ammunition depot that supplied everything from small-arms ammunition to 8 inch artillery rounds for the units operating in the Central Highlands. And not only that, it was situated in a valley surrounded by some rugged hills making it a popular target for VC attacks. So much for the “safe assignment.”
Some day I’ll fill you in about the rest of that night (and about other nights). But for now I just want to leave you with this cautionary piece of advice:
When someone tells you something that seems to be “too good to be true,”
it probably is!
Captain Renault:
What in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca?
Rick:
My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Captain Renault:
The waters? What waters? We’re in the desert.
Rick:
I was misinformed.
What an appropriate comparison! I’m still amazed at how you come up with your obscure and pertinent examples. Thanks.
Please fill us in about the rest of that night and ensuing nights. I was impacted by that first blast and subsequent explosions at nearby Location 40.
Hi Steve,
I would love to know more about your experience with this. Are you referring to ammunition pad 40 in the depot? The incident I was referring to occurred on March 13 (give or take a day) 1969. You can email me at adeseran@comcast.net. Looking forward to hearing from you.
Don’t know if this is still an active site but was doing a search for Agent Orange and stumbled into this site. I was at 184th base camp from probably Sept. 68 until Feb. 69. During that time we were attacked 3 times and several ammo pads were blown up and I remember the shrapnel following from the sky. We did several searches around the dump and found active Viet Cong locations that were set up to watch the dump. The swimming pool was built by a previous commander but nobody ever went near the pool for too long – there was sniper fire coming in occasionally. Agent Orange was used extensively around the compound. What I do remember – pallets of Budweiser sitting – they were steel cans then , I believe, and they were rusty – not sure why I remember that.
I’ll check back soon to see if this gets a reply.
Bill G
Thanks for the comment and yes, this is still an active site (at least we hope it’s active).
We didn’t overlap at the 184th but were close. I arrived in March, ’69 and left in March, ’70. Do you recall if Colonel Busk (sp?) was the battalion commander when you were there? If you were out around the perimeter you must have been in the prov guard unit. A company of ROKs provided our security outside the depot (dump).
In addition to the big blow we had on the night I arrived we had another large one 10 days later. I had left the depot about 15 minutes prior to the attack and was in the battalion area when the first explosion went off. Unfortunately, my driver and our CO were on the pad that went up while they were searching for satchel charges. We didn’t have any attacks that severe for the rest of my tour but had a number of smaller incursions.
It’s strange the memories that stick with us. I don’t recall any pallets of rusty beer cans. I do recall the planes spaying the hillsides with Agent Orange.
Again, thanks for the comment. l would be interested to learn more about your experiences should you wish to share them. Feel free to email me at adeseran@comcast.net.