Tennessee left, Joe Cummings background, Max Worthington right. Returning from an expected one day mission outfitted with our "basic load." That meant we didn't carry our ruck sack with sleeping and personal gear. Just our combat gear which consisted of our weapon, 23 magazines of ammo [3 bandoleers of 7 mags each, one mag in the weapon, and 1 "fast grab" mag in a pocket or...], helmet, gas mask, some grenades [smoke and fragmentation], water and maybe one meal. Our company was chosen for this mission which turned out be be an unusual duty in a different area. We flew some distance to a new area of operations to carry it out. After securing this hill [the vegetation on the top of which was freshly blown off], we were joined by a Huey with 4 or 5 men asserting to be from military intelligence [M.I.]. Our Company C.O. selected our squad to carry them down to a local village, while he and the company secured the hill. He was obviously more concerned with securing his position on the hill than with the safety of our new M.I. friends. That was good; we needed someplace to come back to... My squad pulled security for our "visitors" while they conducted their business with the villagers. We then carried this girl back to the firebase and the M.I. guys took her out with them on their helicopter... We were then picked up by hueys and returned to our normal area of operations around Dak To. If I ever knew why all this happened, I don't remember. [One person suggested possible Vietcong ties and another thought maybe it was providing medical help for the daughter of someone powerful in the area. But, I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if I had known either to be the case.] Other than very occasionally passing some of them on a trail (and I think that happened only during the couple of weeks we pulled security for the artillery at the bridge between 4th Div. Base Camp and Dak To), this mission was the most involvement I had with South Vietnamese civilians. This and some other assignments made me feel like our company and platoon got picked for a lot of dangerous or unusual jobs. It made me a bit paranoid at the time; thinking someone up the chain of command was trying to get me killed. Retrospectively, I like to think it was because our platoon and my squad was viewed as being willing to get the job done, and capable...
Joe Cummings left, then Chris Duar,* and Jim Spearman front and 2nd from right. Many of us who took pictures had our family make two copies and send one back so we could trade or give them to others to send home. Don't know who gave me this picture as it was a different format from my camera, but I sent it home as a "short timer" [most of my tour over] marked "39 days and a wakeup". Then, 40 days plus travel later, it was back home trying to return to the life I was so rudely yanked away from. Someone commented there was a lot of missing shirts for a military unit. We were in a combat unit that never saw anyone except NVA soldiers. It was hot!!! I never polished a boot and no one ever mentioned the dress code or worried about who was wearing a shirt. We did stay shaved and clean, however, and our weapons were oiled and spotless inside. One man told me his unit wore their underwear as shorts trying to beat the heat. We always had our loaded weapon in hand or at arms length and needed to be ready to fight. Missing shirt maybe, but short pants wouldn't have been practical for us.
My little daughter Amanda, born after my return from the Nam, constructed a collage (which included the above page) with some of my childhood and teenage pictures in a photo album she put together to describe the life of her daddy; "before Amanda Kay." (Where the dog came from, I don't remember, nor do I remember what became of it. It was obviously not practical for us to keep a puppy. The chopper crews sometimes took a break on the hill. Maybe the dog was with one of them. He seemed to like my freshly cleaned rifle.) I guess when little Amanda thought of her dad's Vietnam days, she liked thinking of him with a puppy. In harmony with the Bible proverb: The love of a little girl for her daddy is the fifth thing "too wonderful" for me!!! [Pro 30:18-19]