The Fall of Night

by BobA. Troutt

  *****

  The Fall of Night

  The Valley of a Bitter Day

  At the breaking of dawn in 1968 we were out in the jungle on assignment. We had been out there for at least a month. It seemed like it had rained twenty-one days out of the thirty we were out there. It made our assignment even more miserable. Being in the rain soaked and muddy jungle was horrible. The days it was raining, it was even more miserable. It was extremely hot in all that overgrowth. The jungle was grown up with plants, vines, trees and weeds of all kinds. We had a two man patrol that went ahead of us with machetes to chop and clear the way for us.

  As the heavy rain fell hard upon the jungle, it drowned out all the other sounds of the jungle. In fact, we wouldn’t have been able to hear the enemy even if they were nearby; it was a haunting feeling. The muddy ground made it difficult for us to walk. Our legs felt like lead and to top it off the insects were having a feast on us. High above the trees lightning shot across the sky which made our surroundings even more haunting.

  Our order was to filtrate in to the communist North Vietnam stronghold along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. We were to penetrate the perimeter, gather information and report back. The trail was complex, like a spider web. There were roads and paths in every direction. They wound in and out of the neighboring countries of Laos and Cambodia.

  That morning, the rain continued to fall as a steady drizzle and it seemed like it was never going to let up. Sergeant Rusaw had sent a small troop ahead of us to scout the area. The rest of the platoon waited behind for them to return with their report. As I sat there, all I could think about was getting back to Charlie Company to put on some dry clothes and relax for a change. Sometimes, living on the edge is more than anyone can bear. When the scouts returned, they informed Sergeant Rusaw that a small patrol of Viet Cong had a camp a short distance up ahead. The sergeant gave us our plan of action and told us to move out. We pushed forward until we came upon their camp. The sergeant quietly motioned for some of us to go to the right and some to the left. There were about ten or twelve Viet Cong. But, it would only take one to kill us. The jungle lay quiet with only a few birds whistling and the voices of the Viet Cong. They knew we were there. We opened fire first and they returned fire with a vengeance. After a few minutes of fighting, most of them were dead. A few of them were able to escape through an underground tunnel. There were all kinds of underground tunnels used by the Viet Cong to get around from place to place without having to move through the open jungle. The jungle was also rigged with booby traps and snipers. The sergeant told us to stay alert. He warned us to keep our eyes and ears open because they knew we were there and coming for them.

  When we crossed over in to Cambodia, the jungle was so heavy and thick we could hardly breathe. There was one good thing, the rain had finally stopped. We checked our coordinate and we were somewhere along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. We headed south toward the MeKong Delta. In a few days, we crossed over Mekong River to the southern part of Laos where we engaged in some heavy fire fighting.

  After we moved on, about a mile up the trail, we heard someone singing. We cautiously moved closer; it was a village. Outside of one of the hootches (grass huts) was a little Vietnamese girl holding a doll and singing. Except for the little girl, the village appeared to be abandoned. The sergeant motioned for us to spread out and move in with caution. There were several hootches scattered about, but there seemed to be no one occupying them. As we got closer to the village, the little girl suddenly jumped up and ran inside the hootch. We knew immediately something was up. We spread out and searched the huts. Inside one of the huts I found a family of Vietnamese huddled in a corner; I motioned for the sergeant. A flock of birds startled me when they took flight in the air. At that exact moment, Viet Cong soldiers came out from everywhere. I had never seen so many. We quickly took cover and started firing; all hell broke out. We had been ambushed. The village was swarming with Viet Cong on all sides. They had us penned in on both sides. We were suffering casualties quickly. Hurriedly, the radio man radioed Charlie Company and gave them our coordinates. He requested choppers to aid us with air strikes. We started shelling the village to keep our casualties from adding up. In the distance we could hear the choppers. We continued to fight for our lives, bombing the village with heavy artillery. But, the Viet Cong kept coming. The casualties were piling up on both sides. It seemed so hopeless. Finally, the first chopper landed in a little clearing behind the village. We didn’t have a choice but to make a run for it. Shortly, a second chopper landed near the first. The shelling continued; it gave us a little lead way from the Viet Cong to the choppers. There were only eight of us that made it to the first chopper. Because of the fire fight, the second chopper had to take flight, circle back around and land in the clearing again.

  Most of the Viet Cong were dead or wounded. The ones who survived retreated back to the jungle. Most of the villagers went back to the jungle as soon as the shooting started. However, some of them didn’t make it. The little girl who was singing lay face down in the mud with her doll lying only a few feet away from her.

  I had been hit and lay motionless in the mud. I could hear voices, the sound of the choppers and a single gunshot every now and then. I could see a Viet Cong soldier checking the lifeless bodies to see if they were still alive. If they were, he would shoot them with a single gunshot to the head. The last thing I remember hearing was the little girl singing as my life flashed before my eyes.

  I looked back to when I worked as a local reporter for the Knoxville Times. I started there as a club reporter working on adds, layouts and a little sports writing. I remembered the day I came home from work and checked the mail. That day I received my draft notice and so did a couple of my friends. At first, I was reluctant to go; I was supposed to be getting married in a couple of months. However, I had no other choice but to go. We postponed the wedding; we decided to get married when I returned from my tour of duty. My two buddies dodged the draft by fleeing to Canada. I went for my physical and passed. Within a few weeks, I left for boot camp at Fort Campbell. After boot camp, I was lucky. I landed a job at the Call of Duty as a military reporter to cover the war.

  After six weeks of training, I was sent to Da Nang, South Vietnam which served as a landing site for all soldiers. Da Nang was the second largest city in South Vietnam. It was located at the DMZ zone where I was deployed to Charlie Company, 2nd Platoon, 50th Infantry and 173rd Airborne Brigade. The base was about five miles north of the city of Saigon. It was pretty much like all the other bases. There were tents, out buildings, a hospital and a mess hall. It was the army; need I say more. I made some new friends by the names of Eddie, Boone and Bryan. We all shared the barracks together along with the other men. It was 1967 in Southeast Asia. When we weren’t in the jungle we were at Saigon partying or we’d drive over to the South China Sea for some beach time.

  As the days passed, there seemed to be no hope that the war was ever going to end. Day after day the casualties piled up. New soldiers arrived at Da Nang almost every day. The wounded and dead soldiers were sent home. We went out on patrol at least once a week. We tried to press toward Hanoi, the capital of North Vietnam, but it was hard for us to drive them back; there seemed to be millions of them. The battles and confrontations nearly drove us over the edge. High above in the treetops, the enemy snipers watched over the jungle. They were ready to shoot to kill at any given time. The jungle was full of snipers. Most of them stayed in the treetops for days at a time. Being on patrol in the jungle at night could easily take its toll on anyone. The piercing sounds of the night jungle were haunting with a heavy chill. It caused the mind to run rampant. We built fires for comfort and warmth. The small flickering light of the fires helped push back the darkness of night, comforted us and created a guiding light.

  I kept the interviews of the men of the war in a journal. I talked to a lot of men abou
t their experiences of the war, their families and children. They shared with me their pictures, memories, hopes and dreams.

  I remember when Eddie, Boone, Bryan and I went on a furlough to Bangkok, Thailand for a weekend. We went to party, pick up girls, drink beer and pick up more girls. When we arrived, we stopped at the Scarlet Lounge. We drank beer, whiskey, wine and sockie and engaged with prostitutes. After we hit some of the local bars, we played a few cards and tried our luck at shooting dice. We eventually ended up at a restaurant called the Owl’s Nest. We heard from some of the other soldiers that it was a place to see and plus the food was good. When we went inside, the waitress escorted us to a table with a hole in the center of it. We had no idea why the hole was there; it was out of the ordinary. Puzzled, we looked around at the other patrons eating and enjoying their food. Shortly, a man a woman came in; they were seated at a table directly across from us. We continued to look over the menu but I noticed the couple had already made up their minds and placed their order. We really didn’t pay them much attention until the waiter went over and pulled their table apart and told them he’d be right back. Within a few minutes, he returned carrying a live monkey. He slipped the monkey’s head up through the hole of the table. Then the couple pushed the table back together, trapping the monkey. The monkey squealed and wiggled about trying to get loose but it couldn’t. We couldn’t believe it; we were dumbfounded. Next, the waiter took a funny little hammer looking thing and tapped the monkey on the head. It killed the monkey instantly; the monkey’s body lay limp. The waiter took a little saw-like tool and cut the top of the monkey’s head off, removed its skull exposing his bloody brains. The couple picked up their chopsticks and started eating the brains. It made us sicker than dogs. We left and returned to the base. It was something I’ll never forget.

  The next day, we stayed around the barracks listening to the radio. We had already received word from the sergeant that we would be moving out the next morning. We would stay out on patrol for three days and then return to the base. The sergeant had us checking the perimeter for a sniper. Somewhere, somehow a lone sniper was hid out there taking pot shots at the base. Well, we took care of that problem. It felt so good for us to crawl into our bunks, straighten out and rest. After a good nap and we got cleaned up, we headed down to the Officer’s Club for a few beers and some entertainment. It wasn’t home but it was all we had. I talked to several of the guys about the war and how they felt. You have to do what you have to do was the most general statement I heard. In a way it summed it up for all of us.

  The most cherished thing during the war to us all was mail time. The soldiers were always elated to hear from their loved ones, family and friends. I often noticed at mail call, when the soldiers got their mail, they would slip away to read their letters in solitude. I, too, longed for mail day. I didn’t get as many letters as some of the soldiers and not as often as they did. However, I received a blessing when I looked at their faces as they read their letters. It had been a while since I heard from my girl. The day I received her letter, I also went away from the others to be alone. I slowly opened the letter; it was addressed to Dear John, not Dear Benjamin. I knew instantly she was breaking up with me.

  As darkness slowly eased in around me, I could hear the faint sound of a chopper. I slowly opened my eyes as I lay in the mud; a Viet Cong soldier was standing over me with the barrel of his gun pressed against my head. I knew within a matter of minutes it would all be over for me. I couldn’t move, I had lost too much blood and was too weak to fight back. I watched in a daze as he slowly squeezed the trigger. The hammer of the gun clicked but nothing happened; the gun had jammed. About that time, I heard a shot and the Viet Cong soldier’s lifeless body fell beside me. Next, I heard someone calling my name. It was Boone; he, Eddie and Bryan had come back for me. Boone and Eddie carried me to the chopper as Bryan stood watch for the enemy. I thanked God in Heaven for all of His blessings. For some reason or another he saw fit to spare me, praise the Lord. As they loaded me onto the chopper, I turned my head and looked back at what I was leaving behind. There were casualties on both sides plus civilian casualties. When I left there that day I knew I would never see that scene or Boone, Eddie and Bryan again. To this day, they call that clearing The Valley of a Bitter Day – Amen.

  *****

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  A Cry in the Wind

  Thistles and Thorns

  Dead Limbs and Leaves

  Troubled Waters

  When Autumn Falls

  When Time Was

  Bittersweet

  Sycamore Tales

  Stepping Out on a Limb

  Odds n Ends

  Turning Point