Kregg P. Jorgenson - Acceptable Loss. An Infantry Soldiers Perspective

SEPTEMBER 17,1969

Rumor had it that the war would soon be over and that the Paris Peace Talks would hurriedly bring about its negotiated end.

Of course, that was only one of the rumors we heard on the long flight and maybe the only one we really gave any credence to because for myself and the two hundred or so other GIs heading toward Vietnam the war was just beginning.

I was a sergeant E-5, a buck sergeant, which was the lowest rung on the sergeant grading ladder. Whats worse was that I was a nineteen-year-old shake n bake, the Vietnam Wars version of the ninety-day wonder. Only in this case instead of becoming lieutenants after the ninety days of training, those of us who entered and successfully completed the Noncommissioned Officers Candidate Course became sergeants. The theory was the sameto produce combat leaders in a short period of time and rush them into battle where they were sorely needed.

The trouble was, because of the brevity of the course and our ages, we were often viewed by the more experienced soldiers as less than well seasoned. Hence, the nickname shake n bake. We were also known by a few other names as well, not that it mattered since the disdain still tasted the same.

But then, like everyone else who had shuttled into the war, wed have to prove ourselves. To be honest, for the most part we did look like somebodys little brothers playing soldier. That couldnt be helped. We were young, but we were well-trained, enthusiastic if inexperienced, and ready to do whatever was expected of us.

All we wanted was the chance; digging ourselves into the proverbial pile of horse manure, we were certain there had to be a pony under there somewhere.

CHAPTER ONE

BIEN HOA, VIETNAM

As I stepped from the plane, it wasnt the sudden rush of heat or humidity that immediately caught my attention. It was the applause! Off to one side of the airbase terminal, several hundred gaunt, tanned, and laughing GIs wildly applauded our arrival. That is, the loosely assembled audience was applauding the arrival of our planea plane that when refueled would take them out and away from the Vietnam War. We were simply an added attraction.

Grabbing my duffel bag from the cargo area, I followed the other new arrivals to the terminal, running the gauntlet of catcalls and comments from the soldiers whod soon be shuttling out of the war zone.

Fucking new guys! Cherries! howled a veteran, a thin, sharp-faced soldier who then pointed to our new, dark green jungle fatigues that still smelled of the mothballs theyd been stored in only a few days before. Pinching two fingers against his nose he added, Shew! They even smell new! Finally, there was one ringing editorial from another soldier that caused many to laugh and shake their heads knowingly. Good luck, assholes! he said. Youre gonna need it!

Luck? Sure, why not? Hadnt the drill sergeants and training officers back in the States said wed need training and luck in the Nam and that all of the training in the world wouldnt mean a thing unless Lady Luck was on our side? God, too, for that matter? Then didnt they smile, saying there was no such thing as luck and that God probably didnt really want to get involved in this nasty little mess anyway?