I noticed he had control of the situation,
and decided to use that. I put him in charge of stopping the fight. He seemed to
be considering my order so I commenced to pestering him gently to bring things
under order. About that time the Mess Sergeant, Sgt. M, joined me, having
noticed the racial nature of the dispute. I was heartened by his help, since he
was African American, and we provided an integrated front. He saw immediately
that my strategy made sense, and seconded the task of ending the fight to the
Spec.4, urging him to respond. A few seconds later, he said, almost quietly,
“Bo!” The other guy stopped immediately and turned to him, dropped the 2X4, and
they walked off together.
The B.C. showed up a few seconds later, his personal revolver in hand, and I
reported to him the confrontation we had resolved. He announced the MP’s were on
the way. Unbeknownst to me, he had had a similar confrontation. He told me that
I’d saved him a lot of paperwork. He was returning with his weapon to shoot the
guy. I’d prevented the violence from getting out of control. I would have to
represent the battery in the court-martial to follow because he was getting
short, (coming to the end of his tour of duty), in a month or so. Later that day,
the soldier manning the guard tower said that he had a bead on the guy with the
pistol, any shots fired and he would have dropped him. I laughed and told him I
doubted that would have saved me but thanks for the help. The MP’s arrested the
pair shortly afterward, confiscating the .45 and also finding a grenade or two.
The speculation was if they were on drugs. They were not members of the battery,
but were 40mm Duster gun crewmembers manning the perimeter.
A month later at the Court-Martial, we all reported to Phu Loi or some other
base, my memory is weak here, for the hearing. We sat together on benches
waiting for the procedure to begin, chatting amicably. I asked what had started
the dispute. The fighter said they’d asked to join a basketball or football game
that some guys were doing for exercise. He said he was informed “Niggers weren’t
allowed” by the white guy next to me.
I asked if this was true. These were the same guys protecting him on the
perimeter. He said he spoke those words, but was just kidding; the black
soldiers used that term all the time referring to each other. This was before
the Army started the racial sensitivity training classes. I informed them all
that I needed to tell the truth at the hearing, I’d be under oath. I told the
black soldiers that their mistake was not informing the battery commander of the
use of a racial slur. He would have Article 15'd, (a less severe military
punishment system), the other guy. He did apologize to them, and seemed to be
sincere about his mistake. Later at the hearing, I was hopeful that some form of
justice would prevail because the hearing judge was an African American Major. I
heard later that they both served time in Long Binh jail followed by a less than
honorable discharge. I now understand the Hearing Judges’ rationale; too many
heavily armed soldiers in a high stress situation to allow an insult to rule
reason.
Back at Song Be, near the end of my second week, Sgt. C. returned from his big
adventure, the ¾ ton truck loaded to the gills with all kinds of tools and
parts. He told me that he had to be picky while loading it because he could have
filled a 5 ton truck. More stuff would be following, but would be slower to make
it to us. I felt guilty that I hadn’t provided the 5-ton to begin with, and
maybe collected more coupons from the other officers for more stuff. Sgt. C.
told me he was sure he could have scored another gun so we could have had five
in our battery. I thought damn, missed opportunities! That would have impressed
the Battalion Commander! I probably could have wangled another gun for Alpha
too. I then remembered making a promise to Major Merritt to behave myself.
Learning a lot about the Army supply system, and doing well, I settled into
doing my job and helping the Commander with whatever he needed. I hoped to break
the monotony by scoring a stint as forward observer for somebody.
I used my coupons one other time. Sgt. M. wanted to throw a nice going home
party for Capt. Buhnmann. He asked me for one or two to insure we got the
supplies necessary to do it correctly. I was surprised and happy when he
presented me with some very large boxes of real steaks, like you buy in the
grocery store. I was unaware that such niceties were available in the Army
supply system, having become used to the thin “horsemeat?” steaks that we
usually ate. He also procured charcoal for cooking. Some of the maintenance crew
welded a grill together for him. The guys appreciated the effort. I don’t think
we ever had a morale problem in Bravo after that.
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