"Take two Sheep and call me in the morning!"
By
Ron 'Doc' Ferrell (FMF)
Republic of Vietnam 5/66 - 7/67
1st Batt./5th Mar. & H&S III M.A.F.
(Chu-Lai - T.A.O.R.)
© 1975-2001
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He sat in the back room of a Chinese merchant's shop
and pulled his pistol and drew a bead: “Mr. Rat! This is an
official order. It is a ‘Writ’, written for a rat; a rat
‘Writ’. You are hereby ordered to stop eating Mr. Chen
Lee's Corn forthwith! What will it be?”
Actor John Wayne
Veterans Center
"At night we could view our mini - T.A.O.R.’ with ‘Star-Light’ optics. The terrain was transformed by the optical magic into a Lime Green color accented with shades of Grays and white. Despite the Green hue the field of vision was easily distinguishable." “We could see clearly as the VC walked from the tree line towards the concertina wire defensive perimeter. They could be seen carrying weapons and satchel charges of explosives. When you looked out toward the wire without the ‘Star-Light’ scope it was pitch darkness.” “Of course the ‘tree line’ was a subjective term. It simply indicated so much space between your position outward to a point where you could not see any further. Sometimes trees were actually there. Sometimes it was sand dunes; a few patches of Banana groves and a few ‘Ironwoods’. “We had trip flare grenades on the wire and we watched as the sappers attempted to come through the entangled barbed wire or concertina barrier. The flares, once tripped, would 'pop' and illuminate the perimeter in a bright pinkish but brilliant light. Marines in position would open up on the sappers with the M-60 machine guns and their M-14's were usually on full automatic.” “After the flares went out and the sapper probe was withdrawn the VC would manage to carry off their dead and wounded. Occasionally not. Every once in awhile we would recover some riddled ‘Gooner’ off the wire the following morning.” “They were usually charred and burned from the flares or the illegally used frags or M-26 grenades we would hang out there. Occasionally, in the darkness beyond the perimeter, the VC or a Water Buffalo would set off our rigged ‘Claymore’ mines. In any case something usually took place every night.”
“At some point in the war, before I got there; someone decided to amend the ‘Rules of Engagement’. It was confusing. I don’t know if M.A.C.V. wanted to give the VietCong an even chance or lure them into a false sense of security. Probably a little of both. Things were very weird.” “You were not allowed to ‘legally’ put ‘Frags’ on the wire; only trip flares. We put ‘Frags’ on the wire anyway. It was done at night and they were removed at sunrise. If one went off; a Marine could always swear he tossed it.” “Anything that moved after dark outside the wire was fair game. No permission needed. Just open fire. However, in the daytime the rules got a bit more ambiguous. If you were in a sentinel position you could not return fire in the daytime unless you had permission; and if you were on patrol and fired on during daylight hours you could return fire without permission.” “Water Buffalo were declared off limits. If you shot one you were subject to punishment. If one wandered into the middle of a fire fight you could still be open to punishment if it was your round that gave rise to the bovine’s accidental demise.”
“In the daytime we did not have to worry about sapper activity or probes but we did maintain a low profile because of constant sniper fire. I had to crouch and run from object to object to get to the ‘Water Buffalo’ to draw water to fill my canteen. The tanker was replaced frequently after so many sniper hits because it leaked faster than it held water.” “About every two days a ‘Six-By’ (Big assed truck) pulling a fully replaced water trailer or ‘Water Buffalo’ would leisurely pull off the dirt highway and ‘granny gear’ his heavy 600 gallon load through the snow white sand to our group of ‘12-man’ hardbacks.” “The VC snipers would not shoot at the truck or driver as he dropped the new trailer and hauled off the bullet ridden empty. After all the object of the game was not to shoot the truck or driver. The game was to snipe the Marines when they huddled and crawled with a hand full of canteens to the ‘Water Buffalo’; open the spigot and try to fill the vessels and attempt to return to safety without getting dinged.” “The Marines amused themselves trying to lure the snipers into revealing their positions. In some of the more boring moments of perimeter guard duty Marines would capture rats and saturate them with gasoline. Lines were drawn in the sand and the rat was set ablaze. As it ran the Marines would wager on the distance the rat would travel before it succumbed to death by ‘Flambé’. These games usually drew sniper fire.” “One day a sniper began firing at us from inside the perimeter; between us and the airstrip behind us. The Marines flanked the sniper on both sides and played a kind of ‘Hide and Seek’ variation of foot ball. Finally by chasing the man down and tackling him in the sand dunes several times; he’d slip free and run. Someone eventually tired of the sport and fired; killing him.”
“Then like clockwork every two days our ‘Six-By’ would show up again and drop off a six-hundred gallon water tank and haul off the empty one. It was riddled with holes from sniper fire; it would go back to a shop in Chu-Lai to be plugged and repaired. The truck was never fired upon during these deliveries.” “The commander of this VC cell was not the sharpest pencil in the box. If he had shot and killed every driver that tried to deliver water then eventually no one would deliver water and we would have had to fall back to a safer position allowing them to get closer. The VC honcho was probably a graduate of the ‘A.R.V.N.’ War College.” The counselor interrupted. "Why do you call them ‘Water Buffaloes’?” She asked. “I have no idea. Maybe because they held water, weighed a lot and moved slow like a bullock. What difference does it make?” After a pregnant but pensive pause she remarked, “Your making this all up. Calling water tankers ‘Water Buffalos’ would be confusing. We have water tankers here on island and we call them uh...’Water Trucks’. Besides it would be too confusing since the Vietnamese used ‘Water Buffalos’ to work their rice paddies.” She had that ‘I got’cha look’ on her face. “Well Ms. ‘Know-It-All’ sometimes the Vietnamese used their Water Buffalos tacked out in a yoke to haul large cans of water. Maybe that's why we called our tankers ‘Water Buffalos’.” I shot back. “What did they look like?” She asked. “Oh! You know. Big, smelly, black slow moving bovine creatures. Usually docile or domesticated; bilateral horns that curved posteriorly but somewhat different than their African Cape cousins. The African Cape Buffalo’s horns curved down and forward.” “No! Godamnmit! What did the Marine's ‘Water Buffalo’ look like?” Her face pinking with anger. “Oh! Excuse me!” I apologized smiling at her intolerance, “Ours were large flat 600 gallon oval drums mounted on a ‘Tee’ over a truck axle.”
“They were like everything else in the ‘Corps’; painted ‘O.D.’ (Olive Drab) Green. Since they had to be shipped over along with the rest of the military vehicles on transports they rode steerage.” On my mark! ...1, 2, 3, 4... nothing. I looked at her blank expression. “Water Buffalos, ships, ‘Steerage Class’... it's a cow joke Nat!” Resume count! ...5, 6, 7...direct on target! It hit her and I dodged and ducked as she fired a dog eared paperback in my direction. ‘Incoming!’ “Can you pal...ese be serious,” She begged. “I'll give it a shot,” I replied using my best but faked conciliatory voice. “Let's continue,” She commanded, “It doesn't make sense. Why would they paint the water tanker Green if it was sitting in White sand dunes?” I picked up the old paperback she had fired at me and handed it to her. She was rearmed. “The man at the repair and paint shop at Chu-Lai was color blind and he flunked his ‘Rhorshach test,” I responded soberly; trying desperately not to laugh. The book was launched without warning. Direct hit! She got me. “Enough already!,” She snapped. I guess my ‘Water Buffalo’ tales were so much bull shit. “Tell me more about the perimeter guard,” She ordered.
“At night on the perimeter I would sort of crawl along the bunker lines and check each bunker to see how the Marines were doing. There were two guys per bunker. I came upon one. As I approached I could hear muted sounds of pain. someone was hurt but he was trying desperately to keep his pain to himself and remain as silent as possible.” “I slid down in the bunker and illuminated the man with a red lens filtered flash light. He had been sleeping while his buddy was on guard. While asleep a rat had crawled up inside his shirt; the Marine rolled over in his sleep and the rat, startled, began gouging chunks of flesh from the sleeping Marine’s chest.” “It wasn't life or death emergency but then again it couldn't wait either. A medevac was out of the question. It would only serve to alert ‘Charlie’ outside the wire and illuminate the area and ruin everyone's night vision.” “I walked the man out of his fighting hole back to our C.P. and we took a jeep across the sand dunes; straight across the ‘MAG’ airstrip. There was a ‘Flight-Line’ dispensary. Once inside we examined the man's chest and the rat bites and told him we had no choice but to begin a ‘Rabies’ vaccination series. I explained to him what the physician was going to do and that it was not going to be fun nor pleasant.” He just nodded and whispered a, “Semper Fi! ‘Doc’ as I left the tent.” “Tell me about this Rabies vaccine Ron. As you know we don't have Rabies in Hawaii.” Nat was all ears. “It's not pleasant; the vaccination process or the viral infection should it fail. It is a horrible way to die. I once saw a video on a terminal patient in the last stages of the disease.” “It’s hard to explain. Besides I have been out of the loop for a few years now Nat.” “The video was gruesome. All that frothing at the mouth. I once saw a kid at school try to brush his teeth and gargle with liquid dish soap. Looked like he had Rabies. I think the School’s ‘Safety Patrol’ shot him?” “Ron!” “Well it was tragic. Your forced to take a ‘Hygiene’ class then you end up dead. I mean they want you to brush after every meal; and floss between every bite. Makes the teeth as clean as ‘White on Rice’. “Ferrell...!” “I don’t really care for ‘White Rice’. It was so-so then they took out ‘Uncle Ben’ and now the stuff will cause eye damage from the glare. Of course I just wear sunglasses; add vinegar and make Sushi!” “Knock! It! Off!,” She screamed.
“What can you remember?,” She asked, pushing for more yardage. “Generalities mostly. Each exposure to Rabies needs to be evaluated on an individual basis by the physician. The use of human ‘Diploid’ cell Rabies vaccine is or was the treatment of choice, or at least it used to be. This applied to only those people who never had a previous run in with the virus.” “I’m not sure I understand,” She interrupted. “It’s pretty straight forward. Rabies is an acute infectious disease in warm blooded mammals; so we are at risk. Just like dogs, cats, raccoons, squirrels, rats or County level bureaucrats; you know? It’s been said that it’s epidemic in the Treasury Department!” “Please don’t get off the subject Ferrell!” She admonished; using her reserved ‘Clinical Voice’ of authority. “The disease is characterized by involvement of the central nervous system. Incubation of the bite is generally four to six weeks but can be as short as six days! Or can appear after a year! Weird yeah?”
“These time lines depend largely on the depth of the laceration and the site of the wound. In this case the Marine had several bites.” “Rabies is a virus and it moves along the nerve axons passively at about three millimeters per hour. It is unknown, at least then, and I have no idea what the ‘poop’ is today; on where the virus is during it’s incubation period. It’s etiology is a neurotropic filterable virus in the saliva of rabid animals.” I put my hands up in a ‘Tee’ for ‘time out’. “Don’t even bother asking me about these terms.” I can time out all day long but I still can’t get that Vulcan hand signal to work without using two hands? “The symptoms are usually general malaise, depression, or intense excitement and aggressiveness. Some times there are respiratory problems, swelling of the Lymphatics near the wound, Tetanic spasms, fever. There is usually vomiting, unusual saliva and Albuminuria. ‘Wakari mas’?” “What does all that mean?” She asked. “It’s Japanese. It means do you understand?” “No! What do those medical terms mean!” “It's not worth the explanation nor is it important. Look it up! Do I look like a Medical Dictionary to you?” “No! What is ‘Albuminuria’?” She demanded. “It used to be an Eastern Soviet ‘Block’ country. There are you satisfied?” Nat was frowning. “Just get on with it smart-ass!” “However, given the symptoms you can see how it would be difficult if not impossible to distinguish a Rabies victim from a jacked up Marine in a 'firefight', or a cop in L.A.! At an NCO club it would be virtually impossible to distinguish the Rabies victims from the party animals!” “Fuck you Ron! What happened to the Marine?” “They clean and treat the wound sites with anti-viral cleansing agents. Then begin the anti Rabies serum vaccination. It is sort of infiltrated around the wound site, hence the famous ‘Circle of Injections’. In normal situations you catch the suspect animal and observe it for ten days. If nothing happens you are home free; sometimes. On the other hand it is preferred you catch the animal; cut it's head off and ship it to a lab for analysis.” “I don’t know about now but then there were one of two vaccines available for use. One was generated from the rabid infected brain of a sheep. The other from a culture of human embryonic cells; sounds pretty yukky huh Nat?” “Your impossible Mr. Ferrell!” Every session she declares me impossible. I can’t be. Well it’s a possibility.
“Okay,” She relented, “Why Sheep?” “I have no idea girl. I’m not a research doctor,” I replied quite honestly. “Okay then why human embryonic cells?” She pursued. “I don’t know the answer to that one either counselor. All I can do is hazard a guess or two.” “And...that would be?” She waited. “I dunno. Maybe they used them because humans or very susceptible to Rabies. Maybe they used them because they wanted to create Rabies virus based drugs for Postal Workers.” “Postal Workers?” She repeated. “Yeah you know. Postal workers are susceptible to dog attacks. Why not mass inoculate them so they give off a pheromone that dogs can sense. Scare the shit out of the dogs while delivering the mail. Not that dogs deliver mail; I mean the Postmen, Post Persons.” “More ‘B.S.’?” Her brow raised. “No! I swear. No matter though. It didn’t work,” I remarked causally. “Why?” “Oh! You know. Lots of reasons. The mailmen would bark at tires, pee on fire hydrants; easily provoked they would try to run down dogs when they should be delivering mail; or become easily side tracked only to become distracted by cats and chase them up trees.” “Then you had the Fire Department out rescuing the cats and the mailmen. It wasn't cost effective,” I lectured with a straight face. “Our time is up. Get out! Please show up next Tuesday on time and drop the attitude. I want some straight answers at our next session. Do you understand me?” Ooops! Stress trigger! That is one of my buttons. Don't ever say to me, “Do you understand me” in an authoritative tone. If you stand around waiting for a response you will age with time. “Do you understand?” She repeated. “See ya’ next week. In the meantime remember you can’t get blood out of a turnip. However, if you want we can run down to ‘Naalehu Dairy’ and see if we can get water out of a cow?” She pushed me from her office and slammed the door.
Copyright: 1975 - 2001 By - Ron ‘Doc’ Ferrell |
