13th Valley (101 page)

E
PILOGUE

31 A
UGUST
1970

With great dignity and military bearing Command Sergeant Major Zarnochuk mounted the stairs, marched to the center of the stage and halted. He executed a precise right-face and took two steps forward. In his hand he held a single sheet of paper. He glanced down at the paper, then called out, “Captain Matthew R. Kalemba.”

“Here,” a voice sounded from the bleachers.

The sergeant major paused. In a semicircle before him on the stage there were twenty-nine M-16 rifles with bayonets affixed. The muzzles were turned down, the bayonets stuck into the plywood. Atop each weapon was a helmet and in front of each, a pair of jungle boots. Someone had taken the time to spit-shine the boots.

“Captain Thomas M. Lopez,” Zarnochuk called.

“Here,” another voice answered.

Again there was the pause. The weapons and helmets and boots looked like a strange, morbid picket fence. The sergeant major was three steps behind the fence. Behind him was the colonel, the battalion XO and the chaplains. The brigade commander, the Old Fox, did not attend. He had already rotated to a duty station in the United States.

“Captain Peter L. O'Hare,” Zarnochuk called.

There was no answer. He paused, looked forward, down. The remnant of the 7th Battalion, 402d Infantry sat in the sun, on the crude wooden benches before the stage. Cherry was in the fourth row back. Around him were Lt. Thomaston, El Paso, Jax, Cahalan, Brown and FO. Squads, platoons, companies sat informally, partially mingled, yet generally the boonierats sat with the men they were closest to in the field. The sun was beating down harshly on the soldiers. The air was still. Zarnochuk surveyed the battalion.

“First Lieutenant Lawrence J. Caldwell.”

Again there was no answer. The boonierats shuffled and fidgeted in the sun. They had been sitting there for an hour. The memorial ceremony had begun with Chaplain Gibson's invocation.

“In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,” the chaplain had mumbled.

“Amen,” the chaplain's assistant had responded from the first row of bleachers. Cherry had gritted his teeth.

“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

“And also with you.”

“Hey,” Cherry whispered to El Paso.

“iQue pasa?
“El Paso nodded to him.

“You are, Bro,” Cherry said. He smiled. “Hey, do you believe in reincarnation?”

The chaplain's voice rose as his tempo increased, “… Give our brothers peaceful rest in the Light of Your Resurrection, in the Glory of Your Holiness. May they see the Light of Your Divine presence, Lord Jesus, in the Kingdom where You live and where You will graciously allow them to abide …”

“Yes,” El Paso whispered back to Cherry. “I think so. Everything in nature renews itself.”

“… Christ was the first to rise from the dead …”

“Shee-it,” Cherry smiled, “you mean, they goina be recycled.” He laughed. Jax laughed too yet he was angry with himself for laughing, for finding Cherry funny.

“… He will raise up our mortal bodies to be like His in Glory on the last day …”

Cherry did not want to listen to the chaplain and was happy when the chaplain ended by mumbling the Latin,
“Benedictus qui veni in nomine Domini.”
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Cherry scratched his nose, rubbed his chin.

A new operation was to begin 1 September. He looked up toward the Oh-deuce pad to see what activity was in progress. The hilltop was buzzing with supply personnel and stacked deep in new equipment. The GreenMan's speech brought his attention back to the stage.

“I feel humbled to stand before so many brave and valorous men,” the colonel began. He spoke with total sincerity, with real love and total belief in his words. “I want you men to under stand what your valor has achieved,” he said. “And for what your brave brothers have died. To each of these men represented here, we are awarding a Bronze Star. This may not seem like much. But these are symbols. It is a way the country has of saying, ‘Thank you.' These men, you men, have made a significant contribution toward the accomplishment of our mission. These men we honor here today can rest in peace, assured that progress in Vietnamization, for which they gave their lives, is being made …”

Cahalan shook his head at the GreenMan's words. He found them sickening. He looked at Jax and Cherry. Jax did not seem to be listening. Cherry was listening intently now.

“… I am fond of telling people that the job of the infantry in this country, this military region, this province, stacks up against the job of any infantry in any war that our country has ever fought. That includes the Winter Campaign in Germany in 1944 and the World War Two island hopping in the Pacific.

“I want you to know that you have been knocking against much of the NVA 7th Front composed of infantry, sapper and supply battalions. You ran head-on into a strong enemy in his own base area and you defeated him. You discovered what has probably been the biggest, most extensive, best camouflaged and, yes, most secure NVA complex discovered in I Corps during this entire war. You successfully exposed and neutralized the enemy, and you commenced his ultimate destruction. The headquarters you exposed has been completely destroyed by follow-up heavy bomber raids which produced numerous secondary explosions. Bomb damage assessment photographs indicate total destruction.

“Gentlemen, there are a lot of women and children in Hue and the surrounding lowland communities who are alive because of your sacrifices. The Vietnamese held national elections yesterday and because of your efforts there were no significant incidents in our coastal areas. There are also a lot of GIs in this division rear area who are thankful that you were out there …”

“They best be,” Cherry said aloud.

“… whether you like this unit or not,” the GreenMan continued, “you owe it to yourselves to be proud of what you have accomplished. You men descended into a valley that no allied troops had ever set foot in. The enemy will never again be secure in the Khe Ta Laou. You men sitting here have faced possibly the toughest obstacle life can throw at you and you have conquered it.

“Thank you.”

The GreenMan paused. Cherry sat ramrod straight in the seat below his commander. His chest swelled with pride. The GreenMan seemed to stare right at him. Then very solemnly the GreenMan said, “Sergeant Major Zarnochuk.” The GreenMan's voice was now loud and clear and hard. “You are directed to read the roll call.”

At that moment Zarnochuk had mounted to the stage. The roll call continued. No one answered.

“Second Lieutenant Roosevelt Wheltley.

“Platoon Sergeant Manuel T. Alvarez.

“Platoon Sergeant Washington C. Briggs.

“Staff Sergeant Johnny Cartney.

“Staff Sergeant Le Huu Minh.

“Staff Sergeant Rafer S. Ridgefield.

“Staff Sergeant Leon I. Silvers.”

Jax could not help it. Tears were heavy in his eyes. He cried unashamed. El Paso cried too. On Cahalan's face the flow glistened in the sun.

“Sergeant Michael D. Bissett.

“Sergeant Anthony K. DiComo.

“Sergeant Joseph R. Escalato.

“Sergeant Woodrow M. Hayes.

“Sergeant Donald A. Nahele.”

Behind Cherry, McQueen also cried. There were no tears in Cherry's eyes. He was pissed, indignant. “They are still here with us,” Cherry whispered. The others are not listening to him. “They are here in these seats. Now,” he said. “Now and forever. In me, by me, their spirits shall live forever.”

“Specialist Jerome Clement.

“Specialist Charles T. Finton.

“Specialist Norman Rocca.

“Specialist Carlos Sanchez.

“Private First Class Daniel A. Dunn.

“Private First Class Juan Carmona.

“Private First Class Dewey C. Greer.

“Private First Class Wayne Z. Smith.

“Private First Class Justin Trumbull.

“Private Thomas Martinzelli.

“Private Thomas M. Southern.

“Private Stanley Wilson.

“Private Alberto S. Wong.

“From Eagle Dust-Off, Warrant Officer Robert Thatchman.

“Warrant Officer Brian E. Vaughn.”

Zarnochuk paused for a long minute. The theater area was silent. Zarnochuk pivoted about-face and stepped to the back of the stage.

The GreenMan came forward again. He called out, “This is the last roll call for these men. From here forward, those men who have not answered roll call, Sergeant Major, I direct you to strike their names from the battalion roster.”

The theater was silent.

“Hey, Jax, El Paso.” Cherry nudged El Paso. “How come they didn't call out Egan? or Doc? or the L-T?”

No one answered. Cherry turned to Thomaston. The new company commander looked at him coldly and said, “Haven't you heard? They listed them as MIAs.”

“Well fuck,” Cherry smiled. He was happy they were not listed among the known dead. In me, he thought. He laughed. “Fuck it. Don't mean …”

Thomaston cut him off. “Don't say it, Soldier.”

G
LOSSARY

AC:
    Also A/C. Aircraft Commander.

AGL:
    Above Ground Level.

AHB:
    Assault Helicopter Battalion.

Airmobile:
    Helicopter-borne. Those who jump from helicopters without parachutes.

Airborne:
    Parachutist. Those who jump from airplanes with parachutes.

AIT:
    Advanced Individual Training.

AK-47:
    Also known as Kalashnikov AK-47. The most widely used

assault rifle in the world. A Soviet produced semiautomatic or automatic 7.62mm assault rifle. Known as the Type 56 to Chinese forces. Characterized by an explosive popping sound.

ALPHA:
    The military phonetic for the letter A.

AO:
    Area of Operation. In rear areas this may connote a sleeping area or bunk. “MY AO …” See TAOR.

ARA:
    Aerial Rocket Artillery. A Cobra AG-1H helicopter with four XM-159C 19-rocket (2.75 inch rocket) pods.

Arty:
    Artillery.

ARVN:
    (Ar'—vin) Army of the Republic of Vietnam. Also a South Vietnamese soldier as in Marvin the ARVN.

AWOL:
    Absent without leave.

azimuth:
    A bearing from North.

B-40:
    A communist bloc rocket-propelled grenade launcher. Also the rounds fired—B-40 rockets.

B-52:
    A can opener (church key type). Also a heavy American bomber.

ballgame:
    An operation or a contact.

band-aid:
    A medic.

basketball ship:
    An illumination-dropping (flare) helicopter.

battle-sight zeroing:
    The process of adjusting a weapon's sights and windage to an individual soldier so the weapon, when fired, will hit the object of aim.