No Safe Ground
Terence R. Wilken
Editor in Chief RWWNL
I promised you more on my feelings about terrorism. I am going to start with the first part of what is to be a three part series. This first part is my feelings about a war that I fought in over 30 years ago. I have finally come to a point in my life where I can look back. There are still holes in my memory where I can not go. I have decided that I will continue to look back, and let the memories come back as they will. What you see here was written over 30 years ago. I can tell you that it is not in chronigical order. It was written in a very short period of time, and was my feelings at the time that it was written. I will expand further in future articles. Well here goes. Part I.
NO SAFE GROUND FATAL-ism
Thoughts from a survivor
Terence Wilken.In Country, Vietnam August 3, 1969 to August 4, 1970
Stepping off the plane in Vietnam was one of the scariest moments in my life. The plane ride had been very uneventful, and quiet. Everyone on the plane kept to themselves, and did not want to become emotionally involved with anyone else on board. The stewardess’s tried to maintain a jovial mood, but you could see in their eyes that it was only superficial. The only thoughts that I carried off the plane with me were the last words of my drill sergeant. “You will never come back from Vietnam alive. You are too tall an individual, and will make too good a target.” He told me this with tears in his eyes, so I knew it was coming from his heart, and he really felt it to be true. Since I was 6 feet 6 inches tall, and weighed close to 200 pounds at that time, and he was a “short” vietnam returnee, I felt that there could be some validly to his statement.
The first three months in Vietnam followed this same pattern of thought. Fear was the single largest emotion I carried with me. I was assigned duty in a 4.2 inch mortar platoon. This assignment was necessary because three of its members had been wounded, and had returned home.
In the first three months, the fear of dying was ever prevalent. The main latrine at the large firebase was hit several time in succession. Each time one or more soldiers died. One soldier hid under a jeep during a rocket attack. A rocket hit the jeep directly, and left no piece larger than a basketball. Several soldiers were in a bunker below ground. A rocket hit the bunker, and the soldiers were either killed or wounded. It became obvious during the first 3 months that there was “No Safe Ground.”
After approximately three months in Vietnam, I noticed my attitude changing about my future. I had survived for three months not because I was a good soldier, not because the enemy was so weak, not because the American military was so strong and had issued me the best survival tools; but because I just happened not to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn’t matter what I did or did not do. It did not matter what the Army did or did not do. Survival or death was not in my or the Armies power to control.
For the next six months the squad I was in lived under this belief. We had all been assigned duty within a month of each other. We didn’t wear flack jackets. We didn’t always run to a bunker when we had mortar or rocket attacks. It didn’t matter.
One incident validated our philosophy. I was ready to board a helicopter one afternoon. I was to be the last one on. A higher ranking soldier bumped me from the flight at the last minute. I was extremely disappointed, as I was in process of leaving Vietnam for R & R. Later I found out that the helicopter had been shot down by an RPG (Rocket propelled grenade). There were no survivors.
Without even thinking about why we felt this way, or how it was affecting us, or whether we had any options, we had all become fatalists. While on the border of Cambodia waiting to invade, our battalion was under constant and heavy mortar and rocket attack. One evening, after several weeks without a bath, our squad decided to search for some water to bathe. The water tanks were all the way on the other side of the base. Five of us with our shorts, thongs for our feet, and a towel draped around our neck took off in search of water. Mortar rounds came in, but not once did we detour from our goal. We finally located the tanks. They were empty. We walked back to our area in disgust. How dare the Army not furnish us with water to bathe. That night several solders were killed or wounded. Each day soldiers were killed that were in “secure areas”. There was “No Safe Ground.”
One evening our squad had been assigned duty at Fire support base Dees. We came under heavy shelling. It was the worst mortar attack that I had experienced in Vietnam. It went on for what seemed like hours, but I am sure today that it could not have lasted for no more than 15-20 minutes. We stayed huddled together all night, with very little sleep. The next morning we found out what had happened. The shrapnel was OD (Olive Drab). We identified the pieces as coming from our own 4.2 inch mortar shells. A South Vietnamese Company, utilizing weapons given to them by our military, had made a mistake in coordinates. They had fired aproximately 60-100 rounds on our position. We were not even spared the possibility of death from our own allies.
The final three months of duty in Vietnam returned our minds back to our original thoughts. Fear took over again. We now knew what we hadn’t known before. It appeared to us that by far the largest percentage of soldiers who were killed or wounded in Vietnam were either individuals who had been in Vietnam less than three months, or who had less than three months left on their tour. One Sergeant came into country with only 6 months to serve. His tour had been delayed. He was so happy for himself, because Army foul ups had kept him at home for a large part of his tour of service. He was hit on the left side of his face by shrapnel. He got to return home after less than two weeks in vietnam. It was learned that one of the young kids in our Company had made it to Vietnam by lying about his age. He had been in vietnam for about 8 months, but the Army decided that it must send him home. Three days before he was to return home, he was shot by one of our own soldiers. We knew that the most dangerous part of our tour was still to come. Most of the soldiers in our Company saved their R & R trips for the last part of their one year of service.
Fatalism helped us survive. Fatalism helped us maintain our sanity. Fatalism helped us to live one day at a time. Each day became a day closer to going home.
The soldiers in Vietnam learned that there was absolutely no guarantee of a chance of survival. The Army may not have always provided us with the best of food, clothes, or water; but there was no lack of weapons, and ammunition. We had the best available conventional weapons. Our ammo sacks, and ammo bunkers never seemed to run low. This didn’t matter. Our chance of survival did not depend on anything we or the Army could do for us. There was and is “NO SAFE GROUND.”
Unless EVERYONE dies, war is not winnable. There are no winners and losers in war. All participants turn out to be losers sooner or later. WWI was fought, and finally was stopped because of a lack of able bodied men to carry it on. It took 30 years for all sides to raise armies to be able to fight over the same “cause” again. The soldiers in battle inherently understand this “truth.”
Today, I know that in WWII my father held on to the same philosophy of fatalism that I had in Vietnam many years later. My father fought with the Americal Division on Guadacanal. One evening an American Company was returning from a days mission. One of my dads friends on a 50-caliber machine gun mistook them for Japanese, and opened fire. seventeen shells were fired before the gun jammed. Thirty five soldiers lay dead and wounded. Snipers were a constant threat to life. My dads thoughts and conversations about his experiences in war led me to realize than he felt his survival did not depend on anything that he or anyone else could do. He had the same fatalistic attitude that I carried through 6 months of Vietnam.
I have often tried to figure out why the obvious is so difficult for the Generals to see, why the obvious is so difficult for the Congress to see, why the obvious is so difficult for our President to see. They reside on “SAFE GROUND.” They reside in the most secure bunkers. They reside on Capital Hill. They reside aboard Air Force One. They don’t become fatalists. They feel that War is Winnable. They have no reason to look for any other solution. As long as this attitude prevails at the highest levels of military and civilian authority, there will be “NO SAFE GROUND.”
Stay tuned for Part II. You can read more of Terence R. Wilken’s thoughts at his RWWNL.
