Welcome Sky Soldiers Letters Home from Vietnam

Mike Walker

• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9781662470752
• eBook ISBN: 9781662470769
• Topic: Historia
• Subtopic: Historia militar y marítima

The author decided over a forty-year period to write about his experiences in South Vietnam with the Fourth Battalion, 503rd Airborne Infantry. His parents had managed to save every letter he had sent home during that time. What Mike decided to do with the help of his oldest granddaughter, Sierra, was to reproduce the letters in chronological order, with all the grammatical errors, misspellings, and fractured sentences as is. The letters were often written in harsh jungle conditions, under duress with pencil and often wet paper. He felt it would help convey, somewhat, the terrible conditions he and his fellow members of the "herd" were constantly under. Under each reproduced letter, he then wrote of happenings during that time, a diary of sorts. He also concluded he would not spend much time with the blood and guts but devote the majority of the work to the everyday goings-on, both funny and serious! The book begins with time spent in West Germany before moving on to South Vietnam. During the height of the war, more and more paratroopers were needed to fill the ranks of the fallen and discharged, so the Army started a second jump school, the original being at Fort Benning, Georgia, at Weisbaden Airforce Base, West Germany. He was then sent halfway around the world to South Vietnam, and the rest is history!

Chapter 1

“Sir. I need out of here. Now.”

Mike knew he wasn’t going to argue with him; he had a gun in his hands, and the officer could tell through his eyes that Mike was driving himself mad with the idea of staying put in this dark, claustrophobic bunker. Mike hurriedly pushed past the major and let himself out.

Outside the large command bunker, he immediately felt more secure. The air was extremely hot, but it was definitely cooler out there than it was in the bunker. He took a breath to steady his nerves, and relief washed over him. There was no way he was going to stay in that bunker like a trapped animal, just waiting for enemy to clear him out with explosives. Tonight was pitch-black. At least they were not camped out in the jungles of Vietnam, which had thick canopies that blocked out all the light coming from the moon and stars. All he could hear was the murmur of voices, soldiers talking with each other, preparing for the attack that they knew was almost here.

Mike decided to take position behind the bunker, where he could get a pretty good view of the perimeter. Most likely, the enemy would make the same move they did during last night’s attack on the Fourth Infantry Division; they would send sappers in with explosive charges to overwhelm the defenders of the perimeter and to penetrate the FSB.

His platoon had received the distress call earlier this morning, around 1000 hours; the Fourth Infantry Division FSB was under attack and in desperate need of help. The night before, sappers had penetrated the outer perimeter, killing several GIs and destroying military equipment. They were just about eleven klicks from the FSB. Unable to secure helicopters to transport them and the only unit of any strength able to respond in time to help, they were forced to double-time through the jungle in order to reach the besieged FSB before dark. Upon arriving at the FSB, the Airborne began setting up trip flares, Claymore mines, and more defensive weapons, as well as digging shallow bunkers and reinforcing the side facing the enemy with small logs and any sandbags they could muster in the short time they had before dark.

Now here Mike was, lying in firefight position behind the bunker, waiting for the first signs of attack. Eventually, he could hear as the enemy began to probe at the defenses in the perimeter, looking for a weak spot. There was a lot of gunfire and shouting to his left, and he listened as the noise died down. Not too long after, he heard one of the soldiers calling out nearby. That was when all hell broke loose. The NVA had found the weak point in the perimeter, attacking in waves. Soon, they were inside the perimeter, and the fighting intensified to his left, getting closer by the second.

Suddenly, he spied an enemy soldier moving across his rear and took him out with a burst of gunfire from his M16. The whole base was in chaos, and he was almost lost in the fog of the battle as it ebbed and flowed throughout the next few hours. Finally, an eerie calm settled over the FSB as the enemy was pushed out of the perimeter, and the cries of the wounded and dying pierced the darkness. Lying on the ground, Mike began to think back to when he first signed up for this…

Chapter 2

It was March 23, 1967. The future trained killer was on a bus headed for Fort Leonard Wood, also known as Fort Lost In the Woods! Located in the center of Missouri in the Ozark Mountains, where he would receive eight weeks of basic training. Normally, those heading to Vietnam had to go through twelve weeks of training, but because of the height of the buildup of the war, the physical training lasted only eight weeks total. Overall, the training was very uneventful and boring. Whipped into shape by the constantly screaming drill instructors, Mike endured the intense physical training (PT) dished out at him, accepting it as something that had to be done. They wore boots and fatigue pants; the only thing that really bothered Mike was the cold, brittle air of March. They did their sit-ups and push-ups on rocky gravel, raced across obstacle courses with climbing towers, ran through tires, swung on ropes, crossed bodies of water, and so on. Usually, the training company would run four to five miles every day. There were times when the individual trainees had weapon training, in which they would work on caring for and shooting an M14 rifle. He did talk to the other guys there, made some friends, but none of them became very close, seeing as the camp only lasted two months. Now, he wouldn’t remember any of their names; they were just people to talk to while he waited and trained, preparing to travel overseas.

One thing he would never forget about the basic training was the way you were taught to respect and love your weapon; it was a soldier’s lifeline. One’s gun became the main reason he existed—to care for and learn to use your weapon to its fullest. During one of the difficult and stressful training days, one of the trainees became frustrated and threw his weapon on the ground. That is one thing that was never done in the military. Soldiers treated their weapon with the utmost respect and reverence. It incensed the captain, who was their company commander, so much that upon returning to the barracks area he had the company in formation, then ordered the company to “about face,” an individual maneuver where each soldier in the formation does a pivot in place and ends up turning 180 degrees to the rear while maintaining the formation after calling the offender up to the reviewing stand. He then proceeded to beat the crap out of the soldier. None of the noncoms or drill sergeants did a thing to interfere. After that incident, Mike couldn’t remember anyone treating their weapon with anything but the utmost respect from then on until the end of basic training.

Thinking back on it, Mike could not say exactly why he joined the Army. It had been so long that he didn’t remember for certain what really motivated him. For one, it was something to do—somewhere to be. He had taken a few semesters of college, but mostly all he ever got were Fs and low grades. He knew he was wasting his time; Mike was not really ready for college, and he was far from being ready to settle down. Truthfully, he was bored with his life. Deciding to join the Army was an impulsive move, but he, as long as he could remember, had always been an impulsive guy.

After Mike was done at Fort Leonard Wood, he left for Fort Knox, Kentucky. This was where he was given AIT (Advanced Individual Training) to learn how to be a radio operator. In the military, each person had a job to do, or an MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) to fulfill, and radio operator—also called 05 Bravo or radio bravo—just happened to be his. He was rather indifferent; it was a job, and he would try to do it well. After eight weeks at Fort Knox, he graduated from the AIT and received orders for Parachute Jump School, which he had volunteered for, located in West Germany.

The reason Mike was sent to West Germany for jump school was a fairly simple one. With the buildup in South Vietnam at its zenith, the Army was having trouble keeping its quota of parachute-trained soldiers filled because of the tremendous number of paratroopers’ deaths occurring in Vietnam. The original and still existing Army Jump School is at Fort Benning, Georgia. To help keep a fresh supply of paratroopers available, the Army started the new jump school halfway around the world at an Air Force Base in Wiesbaden, West Germany. The Eighth Infantry Division, which the jump school was defined under, was a paratrooper-based, mechanized infantry division. The Second Battalion of the 509th Airborne Infantry, which was the unit Mike was a member of, was a distinguished and proud unit with a history dating back to World War II. It carried its standard proudly wherever it went. It was in Germany and was the first place to guard against an aggressive Russian threat as a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, an organization of several democratic nations formed following World War II to guard against an aggressive Soviet Union and their ambitions. What wasn’t so simple was the fact that Mike was sent halfway around the world for parachute training, then ended up sent back around the world in the other direction to fight in Vietnam. Such is the way of the military!

Chapter 3

After a thirty-day pass with his family, Mike left for his unforgettable trip to Germany, where he would truly start to experience being in the Army. It was an eleven-hour flight, and when he touched down on land, he began to realize that this was really happening. Mike went from there to the induction center in Frankfurt to give them all of his paperwork. From there, his orders were finalized, and he was assigned to the second of the 509th Airborne Infantry, Eighth Infantry Division, to await his assignment to jump school at Wiesbaden Air Force Base.

What lay in store for him was not going to be pleasant. Mike took a flight to Mainz/Wiesbaden where he would be stationed and trained for his eventual assignment to parachute jump school. Because of the large buildup of troops in Vietnam, a second jump school was started up in Germany because the original jump school at Fort Benning in the States was not turning out enough qualified elite fighting troops to fill the demand.

As he was to quickly find out, the barracks, named after Robert E. Lee, were infamous for the hard duty carried out there. It was nicknamed the “Animal Barracks” and for good reason. The barrack buildings were actually built prior to World War II by Hitler to house his elite SS Troops. The buildings were still in remarkable condition. Where it got its nickname, the Animal Barracks, was soon becoming apparent.

The unit was filled with testosterone-laced Airborne soldiers with too much time on their hands and not much to do outside of training on top of more training. They were usually locked in the barracks and base overnight to prevent some from leaving unauthorized to acquire booze or drugs to help, at least somewhat, alleviate the boredom and drudgery of everyday Army life. Fights were constant, and a riot squad was actually formed to deal with the occasional outbreaks, although the squad contributed as much to the occasional quarrelling and fighting, rather than quelling it. One incident, Mike recalled, was when the riot squad was called to quell a disturbance and arrived on the scene as intoxicated as the soldiers who they were meant to corral and contain the troops involved. He remembered one GI being stabbed in the buttocks with a bayonet wielded by a member of the riot squad.

Any leg soldier (a “leg” being the term used to describe any soldier who was not airborne qualified) who might happen to be staying on the base overnight was in peril and in danger from abuse from the airborne. It was rumored one was actually killed while staying overnight, by being put in a metal wall locker and pushed out headfirst from a second-story window. Although Mike and others who were awaiting jump school were technically still legs, they were given a pass since they were scheduled and waiting for training. The majority of their time was spent in intense physical training in order to assist them in passing the rigorous physical test any paratrooper must pass in order to even be accepted into the training class.

One of the more interesting occurrences at the base occurred most every morning at 4:30 a.m. On more than one occasion, Mike and the rest of the airborne ran in formation, led by the battalion commander, a lieutenant colonel, then stopped in front of a leg artillery outfit down the road whose lights were still off and everyone sleeping contently in their beds. At the colonel’s orders, they left-faced, then at parade rest shouted in unison a battalion strong: “Wake up, you f——ing legs!” The battalion then came to attention, right-faced, and continued their five-mile morning run.

While not doing a great deal of KP and guard duty while waiting for orders to jump school, Mike spent the majority of time in physical training for the grueling PT test, which was required to pass to be accepted into jump school. The test consisted of twenty-five sit-ups, twenty-five push-ups, six chin-ups, eighty deep knee bends, and running a mile and a half in eight minutes and thirty seconds. While it may not seem like much to a die-hard fitness fanatic, all this had to be accomplished in thirty minutes and not a minute more while wearing fatigue pants, a T-shirt, and combat boots. Most of the soldiers were able to finish under the requirements, but there were a few who did not qualify. Mike then moved immediately to jump school and began the three-week course. His training went off without a hit...

Table of contents

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Final Chapter