Jonathon Jones - Beneath the Bamboo: A Vietnam War Story

by

Jonathon Jones

- Copyright 2016 by Jonathon Jones-

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a first-hand account of a true American soldiers story, written in his own hand, and then edited only for grammar and then published by his son. The almost half-a-century old memories contained within come directly from an author who would try not to think about war, rarely talked about it, and never wrote about it. Until now. Therefore, it must be understood that this book, in no way, shape, or form, will read like an exact, to-the-letter Vietnam War story. The reason is because the memories contained within are from a real senior citizen who was involved in the conflict who completely separated himself from it when he came back home.

Unlike a lot of books available on the Vietnam war, this was not written by someone who has been reading war stories since the war happened, a historian, or someone still mentally immersed in their own past in Vietnam who has kept every last detail in their minds present. No, this is a memoir based on the memories of a late teen caught up in one moment in time who just did his job, got out of there, and hasnt looked back until recently. So, please, respect the story and the patriotism of the author, and take all that was said into consideration when reading it. He remembered what he could, and thats all we can ask for. Due to that, we now have a story based on his past that we can all share, and perhaps even learn from.

Published for my father, the bravest man Ive ever known. Based on his true life story.

Oh, the tears I have shed over the years.

Remembering the fallen soldiers and their fears.

Time ran out for oh so many in this twisted land.

But for their country, these soldiers made their last stand.

God, give me the strength to write this story.

Many sacrificed their lives.

Theyre the ones who deserve the glory.

It was Mothers Day, a day of celebration for most. But for us, it soon became the worlds biggest nightmare. When we first arrived in Dong Ha, the northern part of southern Vietnam at seven a.m. on a low-key airstrip, we were in awe of the serenity of the spacious scenery. You see, after spending seven months in the dense, steamy, mosquito-infested jungles of this God-forsaken land, this was as close to paradise as we were going to get. Its funny, but it wasnt until this day that I truly stopped trusting my vision. I found out first hand that liking the way something looks gives no guarantee that it wont turn around and bite you in the ass.

The morning had started off simple enough. We all landed in three Chinooks, our personal transport helicopters of the day, and then walked carefully on the outskirts of the city. It was easy to disregard the 105-degree temperature since it felt like an arctic blizzard compared to the sweltering 115-degree jungle heat we were accustomed to.

After three hours of monotonous walking, we all noticed four highly stylized sand dunes, each about the size of a four-story building. Noticing that we were all mesmerized by the unusual shape of these creations, our company commander quickly snapped us out of our trances. He ordered our 240 man troop to spread out, but not until he had four point men to lead the way.

A point mans job is to venture out in front of his company by 25-100 yards to watch out for the enemy. Since I did this for three months when I arrived, I said I would take the right flank. Three greenhorns, or new recruits to a civilians ears, volunteered for the three positions on the left. We walked out slowly, feeling somewhat safe in this vast emptiness. It truly seemed deserted, and you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Just then, a mere 50-75 yards away from the dunes, the most horrific form of hell came our way.

An entire battalion of North Vietnamese soldiers hit us with so much firepower that we didn't stand a chance. They had an entire battalion, which consists of four companies, and our numbers were only a fourth of that. We were outgunned, and it showed. It was almost surreal, like what was happening was only a dream, and amazingly enough that is what kept me calm in the face of the storm.

I watched two point men take a 50-caliber machine gun bullet to the head, and watched the third being grabbed and taken behind enemy lines. Two of the enemy soldiers, which we often referred to as gooks, quickly came after me. As I quickly mowed them down with my automatic rifle, I crawled backwards away from the enemy gunfire, using my helmet to push sand in front of me as I went, which made it possible to look behind me. But as I looked back, I realized that my safety net was no longer safe. I saw my entire company falling like dominoes. Medics were running left and right, risking their lives to help others with bravery that even the most amazing soldier couldnt hope to match.

Some of the events I witnessed during that moment were beyond comprehension. I watched a young, courageous black medic take what looked like an 81-millimeter round to his head, and his whole body instantly turned to smoke. Young nineteen and twenty year old kids were crying like children, but fighting like someone had raped their sisters. So many things were going through my head at that moment, and in one single heartbeat I was overwhelmed with a flashback of my entire life. This is my story, from point A to B, of my life and times in the midst of hell on Earth.

You know, life is funny in the fact that the more complex something is, the more interesting it becomes. But complexity isnt always easy to spot. Sometimes even the most common looking tree off in the distance can become a lot more fascinating the closer you get to the trunk that helped define it.

Truth be told, my story is no different. Talking about the trials and tribulations of wartime is actually a very common thing, but a lifetime of war stories isnt going to convey everything, is it? Every story has an origin point that can help shape it into something that gives it a lot more meaning to both ourselves and the world around us.

What I learned more than anything is that how a person handles themselves throughout their life, especially during life or death circumstances, has been and always will be a direct reflection of what they experienced as they grew up. I never really understood that concept until now. Who I was and how I was brought up are the reasons I became the type of soldier that no one in my unit could fully understand. But yet, for those very same reasons, I was someone they seemed to admire. I always knew I was different physically, but I never really knew how different I was mentally until my life flashed before my eyes during that one chaotic moment in time.

It all started at the age of two, during the post-WWII era when things would seemingly be better. As I quickly found out, just because one problem is fixed doesnt mean everyones will be. Although divorces were exceedingly rare during that time, my parents still did it, and my mom and I were left without much hope. Times were tough, but a few years later I was told that she met someone else and was going to marry him. Even though Im a little fuzzy with those kinds of archaic memories, I do recall being extremely happy for us since we would finally be taken care of.