War Story #20 War, Music & Survival
My day had come. It was time to sign up.
At the University, the record players boomed music at night. For me, it was always work at a job, study, sleep, and class time. I had no free time.
After my college graduation in May 1968, I enlisted in the Army and asked for Officer Candidate School (OCS) and to be an infantryman. I lined up with hundreds of other guys at the old Army base in South Boston for medical and administrative processing.
I remember watching the movie “Deer Hunter”. Vietnam seemed like a horror show. But I had to face my fears directly and I had no one to answer but to myself.
After kissing my girlfriend and family goodbye, on the radio, I listened to “Sunshine of Your Love” by Cream and felt more excitement than anxiety.
(Note: you can simply type the song title and singer in the search bar of Google or Bing, and you can listen to the songs I mention in this article.)
I also remember hearing the song; “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” by Simon and Garfunkel.
My mom and dad were half accepting of it but obviously worried. The Vietnam War was all over the news every day with over 500 casualties a week beginning in the Tet Offensive and for the rest of 1968. My dad had paid his dues with several years in the Army but got out a year or so before Pearl Harbor. He then enlisted in the Navy and was on one of his ships that was sunk, while on another in the North Atlantic, he was involved in sinking a German submarine, U-233. (German submarine U-233 - Wikipedia)
He knew better what I was going to experience, but I was older at 21 and spent four years getting a college degree. That wasn’t easy since I worked at night on a food truck; otherwise, my parents could not afford my college bills. At that time if your grade average slipped below 2.0 or a “C” average, you were drafted.
I had no idea of what training or war would be like.
We had no cell phones, no internet, no streaming or video games. Instead, using a transistor radio, I listened to the “Ballad of the Green Berets” by SSgt Barry Sandler.
I was ready to learn and prepare for war.
The first stop was Fort Dix, New Jersey, for eight weeks of basic training.
This is when I realized I hated running, especially at 5 a.m. I was not a physical specimen. I had gotten my bell round playing football in middle school and decided not to play any team sports.
On our first run at Dix, I remember hearing in the distance the music, “Light My Fire” by the Doors. I thought about everyone still sleeping while we kept running. The sound of all the boots hitting the ground in unison is still vivid.
It was painful, but time did go by fast.
If the summer heat wasn’t bad enough, I learned what it was like at my next stop: Fort Polk, Louisiana. This was for AIT or Advanced Infantry Training and another eight weeks of training. They called it “Tiger Land,” where all infantry soldiers were trained specifically for deployment in Vietnam.
I loved the song “Summer in the City” by the Lovin Spoonful.
Assigned to KP (Kitchen Police), I worked hard all day and into the night in the kitchen. I also got heat exhaustion with my heart pounding, almost jumping out of my chest, and a splitting headache. I thought, how in the world will I survive Vietnam when I can’t stand the heat in the kitchen? I refused to go to a doctor and just tolerated it without saying a word.
Soon, I got the hang of it, and the weeks passed.
Many would go directly to Vietnam after completing Tiger training. I would continue to OCS and be required to endure more pain for six months.
When we got to Fort Benning, GA, we learned that the OCS class would not start for 4 more weeks. They gave us a choice: 4 weeks of KP or Airborne School. I had no idea if I could jump out of a plane, but more KP was not an option for me.
Airborne taught me how to control my fears. Besides being exhilarating, I felt I had really accomplished something, and it certainly got me in better physical shape as we ran everywhere. After all, we were “Airborne, All The Way!”
After I got my jump wings, it was Christmas time in ’68. I flew home, married my sweetheart, and brought her back to live off-base in Columbus, GA. She endured living in a trailer located 20 feet from railroad tracks that shook the little aluminum box several times a day.
OCS was twenty-three weeks long, it was designed to train and develop future infantry platoon leaders for Vietnam. Unfortunately for me, since our entire class went to airborne school and was the first to do so since WW II, we had to demonstrate our special status by running everywhere.
Did I say I hated running, especially in Army boots?
The curriculum was extensive, and the in-the-field training was excellent. Another unfortunate aspect was that for the first 18 weeks, I got to see my new wife only for a couple of hours on Sunday mornings after church. That was brutal for both of us, but for her, it was especially difficult. She lived in a totally different area in a trailer with no friends and little employment. She tolerated a great deal, and I was selfishly happy she was there.
The songs were “This Guy is in Love with You” by Herb Alpert and “Hello, I love you” by the Doors.
After getting my “butter bars” as a newly minted Second Lieutenant, I was assigned as a training operations officer for the brigade. I did not volunteer to do this, but orders were orders, and it afforded me time to spend each night and weekend with my wife, Paula—and yes, she was soon pregnant.
The song was “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” by Marvin Gaye.
Soon, our son would also be “One child born to carry on…to carry on…” or “When I Die” by Blood, Sweat & Tears. He was born in November 1969 at Fort Benning, and we moved back to Boston.
After Christmas, I was off to “Jungle School” for yet more training. Fort Sherman was more specific tactical training for officers in Panama at the western end of the Panama Canal on a peninsula overlooking the Pacific Ocean. We would spend a couple more weeks doing forced marches for miles with rocks in our backpacks. However, the unit training in jungle settings was truly outstanding. I would later put it to great use in Vietnam on several occasions, and it was a déjà vu awakening. It would save my life and those in my platoon.
Near graduation again, I walked to the ocean edge and sat on a rickety boat dock and heard the music, “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding. It was surreal.
It was time to fly home for one last goodbye. Our son was just three months old and the parting left my head dizzy with thoughts as I boarded the plane. I listened to “Leaving on a Jet Plane” by Peter, Paul, and Mary and the jarring music of “War” by Edwin Starr.
The trip was incredibly long, starting in Boston, stopping in Anchorage, Alaska, and eventually ending in Chu Lai, where, by the luck of the draw, I was assigned to the Americal Div. Ominously, I should have realized why - they were short of Lieutenants. Now, after nearly two years of constant training, what’s next? More training. I got two more weeks of “in-country” training to learn local enemy tactics, weapons, and specific dangers.
Each night, I would listen to B.J. Thomas and “Hooked on a Feeling” while thinking of my young wife who patiently tolerated so much in our early days. Back home, she went back to work full-time while relying on family and friends for babysitting.
For me, I was ready for the “bush”. Let’s get on with it.
On the eve of my first combat assignment, I sat on the edge of a ridge looking out over the South China Sea, listening to James Taylor's “Fire and Rain”. I stared hard at the horizon under the light of a full moon thinking of home.
But the song that strikes serious terror was “Fire” by Arthur Wood. Soon, I would see the fire of war.
Finally, I got a ride north to a firebase called, Hawk Hill. From there I got my gear and loaded up on a Huey out to Hill 251 west of Chu Lai and surrounded by rice paddies.
As I looked out over the foreign landscape, I wondered if I would ever make it back home. I remember thinking that now was the time to “prove my metal.” I would find out whether I would be a reliable leader, trustworthy under fire, and effective against the enemy while saving American lives.
I would also learn that no matter how smart, prepared, or strong you were - if your luck was up, you were gone in an instant.
The following days and weeks would see a green lieutenant adjust rapidly to the reality of booby traps, ambushes, snipers, constantly changing terrain, air combat assaults, and countless patrols in the rice paddies and then in the jungles with close contact with the enemy. All the while, death and destruction were all around me.
The song that still sends chills up my spine is “Run Through the Jungle” by Creedence Clear Water Revival.
It was the putrid smell of the carcasses of animals, the smell of cooking fires, the grass huts we set on fire, the jungle floor where we slept or in the muddy foxholes. Worse was the smell of human death.
There was a time when my platoon traveled on top of armored personnel carriers (APCs) in a column of other APCs and tanks. We crashed through dikes and went fast up and down through rice paddies, with music playing loudly inside the APC from a huge boom box. The song was “Black Magic Woman” by Santana. It was an incredible ride in a death match.
I was witness to one of the great tragedies of the Vietnam War. My Chinook, loaded with my 23 platoon members and gear, transported us to a mountaintop base called LZ Judy. Just five minutes after my Chinook landed, we raced out of the huge chopper and started hiking up the steep hill when the last Chinook was arriving right behind us, fully loaded with a platoon of D Company and the mortar squad. Within fifty yards or so of landing on the ridge that dropped down severely for hundreds of feet, the NVA opened fire into the belly of the lumbering Chinook slowing down to land. It stumbled backward, tipped to one side, and crashed below, exploding and burning for hours. 31 Americans were lost.
It was horrific. Also, it was a time to reflect on the fact that my entire platoon and I missed guaranteed death by no more than five minutes.
Years later I would learn that the highest death rate for lieutenants was in the exact area I was assigned.
I repeatedly listened to the song “When I Die” on my portable cassette tape player.
Such was life in a free-fire zone. It was war.
When I left Vietnam after my tour of duty was over, I remembered my final song: “Everything is Beautiful” by Ray Stevens. I had survived, even five dramatic times, cheating certain death. However, I will always remember those who gave all at such a young age while I could go on and live my life. I remember them every day, not only on Memorial Day.
U.S. Army, 1LT John Shoemaker: 3rd Platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st Infantry, 196th Infantry Brigade,
Americal Division. 1970.