My First Days In Vietnam
My name is Gary Parker and I was born on March 22, 1949. I joined the Marine Corps December of 1966. It was just 2 months after my mother passed away and 1 month after I had a bad car accident that left my girl friend in the hospital not to mention my father who took to drinking. I figured I had to get away from my spiraling downword life at that time so I quit school and signed up.
I went to boot camp in San Diego Christmas day ’66 and realized at 17 years old I would have to grow up fast and my life was going to change. After boot camp I was sent to radio school for 4 months and then to more infantry training in Camp Pendleton, California. It’s then I knew for sure I would be going to Vietnam soon. Ended up there 2 days before Christmas of 1967.. As soon as I arrived in country I was sent to Danang to await orders. About a week later I was assigned to 1/26 infantry division that was up in a place called Khesanh. Never heard of Khesanh but knew it was about a mile from the border of South Vietnam and North. On the way to Khesanh I got a call on my radio that I was being diverted to Hill 881s which was about a mile or so from the Khesanh base to replace another radio operator who was killed the night before. I also found out that I was also going to be doing landing zone duties along with radio duties. My job with that included calling down the hill for supplies and replacements to be helicoptered in. The worst part of my duties were when I had to call in choppers to get our seriously wounded off the hill because those who were killed could wait. There were priorities first. I remember looking out if the helicopter window and wondering if I could do what was expected of me. When we got there I remember being told we would have to circle for awhile because the hill was taking incoming and it wasn’t safe to land. When we did the crew chief screaming to get the hell off and fast because the mortar and snipper fire was all coming in. Didn’t have to ask twice. The first thing I saw as I was running of the helicopter was about 6 dead Marines covered up with their ponchos waiting to be taken off the hill. I knew It was going to be a bad place. I asked someone as to who was in charge. And that someone was Lt. Dabney. Later after the firing stooped he told me that he wanted me to work off of 2 landing zones on the hill and to check in with him every night to relay down the hill what they needed such as food, water and ammunition. He also wanted me to get whatever I needed off the Marine I replaced. He was one of the dead Marines next to where I got off the chopper. I took the radio off his back and a few radio batteries and that was the first time I saw a dead Marine and knew I was in for a long hell on earth. I set up in a fox hole next to 2 Marines manning a .50. Every morning before I set out to get in contact with the Lt. I had to decide which landing zone I would be using and both were zeroed in by the North Vietnamese army. No matter which one I picked I had only 20 Seconds the get them in and loaded with dead and wounded before the bullets and mortar rounds came in and that was nerve racking to say the least. It didn’t always work that way and sometimes I would loose. I can remember being the only Marine out in the open guiding the help in to hover in becaus It was too risky landing. I also remember many, many times standing under the cooper hooking up cargo nets while others took cover while the mortars came in. It was funny but being there you couldn’t hear the bullets or explosions because of the noise of the chopper blades. It was better that way because you just didn’t know and I didn’t have time to think about getting killed till the job was done. There was no other choice other than to stand there and prey that today wouldn’t be the day. I not only had to worry about my butt , but the lives of so many seriously wounded Marines. It was my responsibility to get them out as soon as I could. Something that I think about almost daily. There were times When I had very badly injured and when I say badly injured I mean clinging to life lying right next to me at times asking for their mothers or wives waiting to get off the hill so that they might have a chance to live another day. I also remember at times the incoming was so bad that the helicopters just couldn’t risk landing. There were times I even felt God like because I was the only one that could get the helicopters in at the time. If I couldn’t sometimes they died and something died in me also. I felt like I failed them. I believe I carry every dead Marine inside me to this day. I remember everything they said to me as they took their last breath. Something over whelming for a 19 year old. There was nothing more I could do for them. I just wante to crawl under a rock and die. I also that if I could have given my own life to save there’s I would have in a heartbeat.