My name is James Gales, aged 51 and I reside in Glendale, Wisconsin, which is a small suburb of Milwaukee. I was born in Milwaukee in January 1951. I enlisted in the Army in 1971. There was a military draft and my older brother and I were both likely to be drafted. I found that out after I had enlisted. I signed up for a two-year hitch. I also volunteered for the infantry and for Nam. By the time the draft lottery came along, I knew that if my brother got drafted I would be way ahead of him and he would never go to Nam. At least that was my hope and that is the way it turned out.

I had a deferment for a couple of months because my appendix was removed. I didn’t go into the Army until April 1, 1971. My basic training was at Fort Campbell, Kentucky and from there I went to Fort Polk, Louisiana where I did my infantry and 81mm mortar training.

After AIT, I had a thirty-day leave and then reported to Fort Lewis, Washington. I stayed there about ten days waiting to get on a flight manifest and doing the rest of the processing. At the end of August, I left. We flew to Hawaii, then to Japan and from there to Cam Rahn Bay.

More paperwork and on to Chu Lai for ten days of in country combat training. The best class I ever took was there. It was on mines and booby traps. It was such a good class that many people would sneak back to take it a second time.

From Chu Lai I went to Da Nang to join the Americal Division. I was in B Company, 2/1 Infantry, 196^th LIB and was assigned to the mortar platoon. After one day in the rear area, I started my life as a firebase soldier. I was on Hill 151, Firebase Maude, Firebase Linda, O.P. 56, the ridgeline, and a little compound that was a LORAN station. Life on a firebase was a killer. I helped build 151 up sandbag by sandbag and months later we would tear it down sandbag by sandbag.

Because there was no officer in charge of our platoon, we got screwed over on every firebase we were on.

My days went like this – get up at 6:00 am for stand around. I was in the mortar pit. If we weren’t firing, we were practicing firing because the old gunners were short and we were the replacements. After that it was chow. Some firebases had mess kitchens and on others it was C Rations. Then it was shave and time to clean up the ammo and mortar pits. Choppers would come in with supplies and ammo and we’d hump from the top of the hill to the chopper pad and carry the 81 rounds up two to three cases at a time, one on each shoulder and a third balanced on the other two. I carried hundreds of rounds up that way.

After that, it was detail time which was spent filling sandbags, improving bunkers and fighting positions, pulling KP, going out on ambush, shit burning detail once every four days or anything else they could come up with. By then it was around 12 or 1 o’clock, time for more C Rations and filling up canteens down at the water buffalo that was at the bottom of the firebase. Afternoons consisted of more details or firing at predetermined targets or any fire missions that came up. At 1630 hours you washed up in your steel pot and if there was hot chow, we ate.

Just as you got your plate and sat on the sandbag pit wall, choppers would come in and blow sand all over your food. You then had a half-hour to write letters and get ready for nighttime. Every third day you had to go out on night ambush or LP. LP was scary. Three guys went out the same way every night. I thought that was asking for trouble. After busting ass all day, you had to pull a three hour shift on LP. I lived on three hours of sleep a night. After the old guys left, I became the Number 1 gunner for B Company. We fired constantly and I practiced every night I pulled pit guard. It consisted of sitting by the mortar pit in case the phone rang with a fire mission. My hootch was in the 81 pit so I could be on the gun ASAP.

Hootches were a real trip. They consisted of ammo boxes stacked as high as you wanted to go. The culvert halves (metal window wells) were put on top spanning the ammo boxes and covered with at least five layers of sandbags, mine had eight layers.

Your poncho was the door to keep any light inside. We took the wax cover on the 81 rounds and twisted them to make candles.

When the monsoons hit, firebases became giant mud towns. You never got dry and your clothes were never clean.

Among the things that stand out in my memory from my tour is the October 1971 incident when five African Americans were down by the beach in Chu Lai and somehow they went out into the water and couldn’t get out. Along with a bunch of other guys, I jumped in to try and save them. One struggling man reached out and pulled two other guys and me under. We were ordered to leave him and try to save ourselves. All I know is I saw some TOP in the water tossing a lifesaver toward me.

I then woke up on the beach and they told me I almost drowned. The original five guys did drown. I went to the 95^th EVAC and had the night off.

About two weeks later during mid afternoon, we were playing spades in our hootch when a gunshot rang out. I ran to the next hootch and saw one guy standing by the far door who looked like he was in shock. Another guy was sitting on a cot with his back against the wall. Blood was behind him. I could see as I got closer that he had a hole in his head. He had shot himself. I applied my field dressing and yelled for a medic. They brought in a dust off. The guy smiled and waved at me from the stretcher but died shortly thereafter.

In late October, I had a kid brother die and went on a thirty-day emergency leave that I had to fight to get. I was flown in dirty jungle fatigues to Fort Lewis. There, while I showered, they made up a Class A uniform complete with medals and patches and drove me to the SeaTac Airport. The only problem was that the only money I had was MPC. I was referred to the red Cross. A nice lady did the paper work while her husband took me to the bar and bought me a few beers. I did have to pay the Red Cross back, but they were a blessing in disguise. While I was home, my squad leader figured I wouldn’t return so I was passed over for any promotions.

I returned to Da Nang on December 24^th. They were going to stick me on guard duty, but with a few treats from Care Packages I brought from home, I was able to hitch a ride on the mail chopper out to Firebase Maude where my unit was. Maude was a mud hole at that time.

Just after New Year’s Day, they brought out an admiral to show him how a firebase operates. I happened to be in the 81 pit cleaning the tube when they popped a red starlight flare. I started firing at targets we had worked up and pretty soon everyone started firing. We hadn’t fired very long when an explosion occurred on one of the bunkers. We all thought it was incoming. A few minutes later they yelled cease-fire. One of the rounds was a short round and had landed on a bunker. Three guys were wounded. A medivac was called in and we learned later that one guy died. He had a big hole in his stomach.

Guards were put on all the gun pits and after a C.I.D. investigation, it was determined that another 81 pit had not rotated their rounds which was the reason for the short round. One probably had damp powder bags.

Later, during the Eastertide Offensive, I shot my first two gooks with my M-16 but that will be another story at another time.

The most memorable person I met was a Lt. Col. Mitchell. He and I had a good relationship and he even offered to send me to West Point. How I don’t know. I declined. At that point, I had had enough of the Army. In hindsight, I wish I would have taken him up on the offer. Col. Mitchell was a great officer. You could be straightforward with him and he wouldn’t bullshit you. He also took care of B Company Mortars when he found out we were short of guys and had no officer with us on any firebase.

Just before I left Nam, I went before the promotion board for E-5. I passed and my captain (McBane) said he gave me a great commander’s evaluation. They even let me sew on my stripes. When I got to Fort Riley, they claimed my promotion packet got lost and I was a Spec 4 again. That also soured me on any career in the Army. I tried 25 years later to get my stripes, but was denied because I had no proof other than a letter from Captain McBane.

The good times were serving with the guys in my squad. We still keep in touch today. Another was when we would get a stand down for three or four days - a trip to the rear, hot showers, and a visit to the "steam and cream". You could take hot showers, steam or sauna until you felt squeaky-clean and also get a massage that soothed every ache in your body.

Living conditions on a firebase were one step up from the bush. We had rats, bugs, mud, rain and all the dust and sand you could eat.

If I had to do it all over again, I would go tomorrow. I tried to get my parents to let me drop out of high school to enlist but they wouldn’t have it. My only regret is that I didn’t get to Nam sooner. I’m proud to be a Vietnam Veteran.

The only things that really piss me off are the antiwar crap, the protesters, how we were treated when we returned and how people say we lost the war. That’s pure bullshit!

The medals I received were the National Defense Service Ribbon, Vietnamese Service, Combat Infantryman’s Badge, Vietnam Campaign Medal with W/60 device, Army Commendation Medal, one overseas bar and a shit burning expert badge.

After Vietnam, I reported to Fort Riley, Kansas where they let me be a unit of choice recruiter. After 30 days, when I didn’t recruit a man, I was called back. At the time, Fort Riley was big on sports so I spent my last few months on the company football, handball, and basketball teams. Every afternoon at 1300 hours sports teams practiced unless we had to go and play war games.

I applied for an early out for seasonal employment. My uncle owned a construction company. He wrote the Army a letter stating that if I got out 90 days before my E.T.S. date, he would have a job for me. To help vets get back into the working world, they let me go and gave me an extra 13 days off for an early Christmas drop. On December 10^th my SSGT came in and handed me some papers. He said Merry Christmas and I yelled out "SHORT". I was the envy of my whole company, most of who had two to six years to go on their enlistment. Unfortunately I had to say no to the re-up officer.

I came back home to Milwaukee. I eventually became a carpet installer and did that for 25 years until I became physically disabled.

After Nam, I went through many women and just couldn’t commit to a relationship.

After about five years, I met my one and only wife. Darlene and I lived together for a number of years. When her dad came down with cancer, we decided to get married. We prepared for and carried out a formal wedding three months later and a few months after that he passed away.

We have no kids, partly by choice and partly because I was afraid to have kids because of all the stuff I read about kids born with side effects from Agent Orange. Since Nam I’ve had a history of abscesses and infections that no one can explain.

Before I got injured, I was into hunting and fishing. I’m still into gardening with the help of nieces and nephews. Since Nam, I’ve spent thousands of hours in the woods, most of them by myself. I did have a yellow Lab (Duke) for 12 years. After I retired him from hunting, he and I spent over 5,000 hours in a state park close to my house. Because it is a leash law park, we spent our time dodging the D.N.R. because Duke hated being on a leash. I knew that my Nam training would come in handy for something.

I have been a member of the VFW since 1971 and taught the girl’s drill team for ten years in the 70’s and 80’s. Since becoming handicapped I have stopped just about all activities.

I still go into the woods every week and when my PTSD gives me some problems spend extra time there.

My after thoughts on Nam – don’t let anyone tell you we lost that war. We kicked old Charlie’s ass. I strongly feel that we shouldn’t do any business with Vietnam until they admit to and apologize for the way they treated our POWs. Plus they need to give us a full accounting for them and for all MIAs. They lied to us then and they always will.

My last thought is I’d really like to visit Vietnam one more time to visit Uncle Ho’s resting place and place a claymore near it and hit the clacker.

Sincerely yours,

James W. Gales

1001 W. Fairfield Ct.

Glendale, WI 53217 414-351-DEER