Movement to Action

Movement to Action

Show time was 0830 at the 'Can-do' pad. A PSP landing strip (PSP=Perforated Steel Plate, all hooked together to make a solid landing pad) which was usually used to saddle-up, load-up, and ride into combat. It never failed, we would sit there for at least 30-40 minutes. Time enough for our brains, the FNG's anyway, to begin to sweat the mission. The were called 'CA's", Combat Assaults. We waited, yawning, because of the anxiety, to load-up and begin the "Ride Into Combat". We were smoking , making small talk, sometimes going over the first 5 to 10 things we were to do on our 'once landed' checklist. I don't think I ever had a comfortable ruck sack. Something was always poking around the 'C-ration' box I used to keep things from poking me in the back. We used the outer C-Rat case material as a pad between our backs and pointy things inside our rucks. I always tried to doze a bit. Never sleeping, just hiding my controlled fear...
I could hear the 'Slicks' starting their run up.  The whirring then the infamous 'wop, wop, wop' as they neared hover check.  I looked at the two Marines.  One a for sure 'FNG'.  Not our term but hanging with these men, this company, our jargon had started to meld with theirs.  The 'newbie' was a kid from a small town in Oregon.  He wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box but he was motivated.  Motivation can take a man to incredible places if he listens and doesn't let that Ooo RAH motivation screw him up.  My number 2 man was a Lance Corporal trained in the so called art of NGF (Naval Gunfire)  It was his third CA and so far he had shown the calm expected when stepping into what could be a dose of hell.
"Hey, you got the call signs?  You got the shackle code; it's 'KNOWLESRAT' ".  Each letter stood for a number from 1 through 0.  We weren't supposed to use shackle codes but they worked and were quick, never used twice.  We also had reference points.  Ours were different from the unit we were supporting, 'Bravo Company'.  We kept their reference points on our maps, but had ours there as well.  Our reference points were 'Car Parts'.  Point one was 'carburetor'; point two was 'hubcap'; number three was 'mirror'; and so on.  Theirs were 'automobiles';  chevy, ford, bronco, Cadillac, etc..   "Whose got the 2 extra batteries?"  Simpson had the batteries. "Burris, you got the extra chow for Simpson?"  I was carrying the radio, had the ship on the horn and was running radio checks every 5 minutes.  We shared the weight of our combat loads and we swapped rucks everyday to even things up.  The Marine with the radio called the missions.  The insertion was my radio because of my experience.  "Any questions?"  "Yeah", Simpson spoke up, "how many days out?"  "Didn't you get that down at briefing?"  "Damn, boy, where the hell is your green book?"  "Yeah, I got that down somewhere but was just double checking."  "Alright, three, maybe four days."   "It depends on what?"  They both chimed in, " Depending on Victor Charlie's strength and attitude."  "Damn right!  Now Simpson, watch me for arm signals and you'd better be moving."  "Burris, are you jake (squared away)?"  "Yeah, I got it."  "Good, we're set, just waiting for the Army"
After their hover checks the Slicks slowly moved into a line and slowly moved over to pick us up. We stood on the edge of the 'Can Do' pad and waited.  Those seconds seemed like hours.  The slicks moved in all lined up and we checked straps, maps and testicles.  We rushed for our bird, hopped on and began the butt-pucker factor.  There was no safety strap, just us, and 5 other souls headed into the unknown.  Once onboard, the birds did another hover check, upped the RPM, pulled the cyclic, began moving forward with our noses headed down until speed was reached and we climbed into that hot muck we called air.