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Operation Prairie II Memories by Richard Constable L/3/7 1st Division USMC |
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| I couldn't believe it! Look at all that stuff! There was almost anything you could possibly want, candy, clothes, soda, radios, cameras, as far as the eye could see, The Great PX at Da Nang. After being out the in bush for a few weeks (or was it months), I was able to head south to the U.S.S. Repose at Cam Ranh Bay to get a new set of glasses. At last, I would get to see Viet Nam. I lost my glasses during the move to the DMZ from Chu Li. I could just barely see anything, good thing I wasn't on point. Anyway, I was wandering around the PX, just looking at things, trying to decide what I could afford. I hadn't been paid for a while and only had about three bucks in what was left of my pockets. I couldn't decide if I wanted a candy bar or a soda, when an Army Officer stopped me. I can't remember what his rank was, but it was defiantly much higher than mine, PFC, U.C.M.C. This guy looked like he had just stepped out of a recruitment poster for the army. Starched utilities with a crease so sharp you could slice a finger off if you weren't careful. Boots so shiny, you could use them as a mirror to shave. Aviators' sunglasses that reflected your image back at you. He had every hair in place, every crease was perfect, and not a thing was out of place. I don't think this guy even sweated, you know, the 'perfect' leader. He came up to me, looked me up and down and started reading me the riot act. It seems that I didn't meet the standards of the United States Armed Forces, Viet Nam according to his views. I was a disgrace to the Marines and the United States. I should be put up on charges for appearing the way I was out in public! He was going to see that I went to jail for my crime. What was my crime? Well, believe it or not, I had just come out of the bush, a place where if you got one meal a day you were lucky. A place where there weren't any laundries to make sure the crease on your trousers was starched and perfect, in fact, I barely had any trousers. Mine had rotted through enough that I had to sew the inseam with communications wire to keep everything from falling out ( and I mean everything!!). My boots were almost worn out; I didn't have a utility shirt on, only a dirty T-shirt that was so dirty that when it got wet and you wrung it out, the water ran brown. I hadn't shaved in a couple of days, no bath for a week or so, and my hair was getting a little long. Oh yes, don't forget a flack jacket, helmet, and a loaded .45. Well, it seems that I had a little bit of an attitude in those; my younger days, and I really didn't feel like taking a ration of shit from this officer. While he was chewing my ass, my hand started to move, without any thought from me, towards my .45. I had just lifted the flap of the holster when a hand grabbed my wrist from behind. It was a Marine Officer of an even higher rank that had been standing there listening to all of this. He asked me what unit I was with, what I was doing there, and where I was supposed to be. After I answered all of his questions, he told me to go about my business. I gave a look that would make the NVA think about going home at the Army Officer and left. As I was walking away, I heard the Marine Officer reading the other officer the riot act and telling him how lucky he was. I think I would have blown that officer away if I hadn't been stopped. After all, he was only Army! |
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