War Stories

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MIKE “CHOO CHOO” CANNIS LTJG USN AND SEAWOLF 30 AND THEN MAJOR OF MARINES A FELLA COULD GET KILLED AROUND HERE WITHOUT EVEN TRYING As if this combat stuff isn’t dangerous enough, Vietnam offered myriad ways to get killed without the enemy laying a glove on you. Some ways involved friendlies, like “friendly” Vietnamese, some involved your own friends, even your own det mates and squadron mates, and some involved other Americans whose names you never learned. At the nearest local airstrip, which served as our favorite “watering hole” refuel/rearm runway after launching from our …

It was a dark and moonless night. . . . . No it wasn’t. It was a bright and moonlit night. A big moon, a bright night, clear skies washed clean by the pure monsoon rains of the day. We were running a night patrol, looking for trouble, spoiling for a fight, name your cliché. . . . Soon after moving into the new AO down by the mouths of the Mekong and Bassac Rivers, we had flown around to meet the neighbors. We were the only local, night capable, air support and it was a good idea to get …

Seawolf Det Nine was out visiting the neighbors again. This time we were down at Solid Anchor hob-nobbing with our brother Seawolves of Det One. Solid Anchor was a thorn in the side of the VC. They really hated it; much more so than the run-of-the-mill U.S. base. The reason was that it was on what they long had considered, until recently, to be THEIR turf. Waterlogged as it was, it was THEIRS! From Saigon, at the northeast corner of the soggy Mekong Delta, the table-flat Delta spread out and down to the west and southwest in a regular series …

Dark as the Inside of a Well Digger’s Ass “It is not the critics who counts, not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled or how the doer of deeds might have done them better.The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marked with sweat and dust and blood who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again. Who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement, and who, if he fails, …

IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY MORNING . . . It had been raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock for two days. The monsoon was definitely here and nothing was flying. Even the ducks were walking, as they say. The only good news was that the radios had been silent. Apparently the VC weren’t in the mood to take advantage of the fact that every aircraft in the entire delta was on deck because of the weather. I walked into the wardroom from the most recent check with the radio watch in combat and flopped down on …