Killing Peace

  ***

  In the spring of 1969, my tour of duty in South Vietnam began. I was assigned to a weapons platoon because of my 0351 military occupation specialty (MOS) as an antitank assault man. I found that odd, because I didn’t assume the Vietcong even had tanks. My unit was India Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines, 1st Marine Division, Fleet Marine Force (FMF). My job entailed spraying flaming-hot diesel or napalm with a flamethrower and using a 3.5 rocket and light antitank rocket launchers. I was also a demolitions expert, and I carried satchels of TNT and C-3 or C-4 plastic explosives. In addition to these responsibilities, I was assigned collateral duties as a tunnel rat.

  The five-pound bazooka aluminum rocket launcher tube was not heavy, but it was an awkward, bulky weapon that measured approximately five feet long and six inches in diameter. Meanwhile, my tiny physical stature, a mere 128 pounds and barely over 5 feet tall, attracted humorous banter and mocking from my fellow Marines. Nevertheless, the Marine Corps gave me the job, and I became good at it, so I really didn’t care what the other Marines thought about me, physique or otherwise.

  In the bush, I could assemble or disassemble the bazooka and ready it for action or transport in less than a minute. The nine-pound high-explosive (HE) rockets, however, were awkward and heavy. In addition to my other equipment, such as my helmet, flak jacket, water canteen, pistol, grenades, etc., I also carried a backpack with two HE rounds, mandatory for an assistant gunner. As an assistant gunner, I carried the bazooka with one round in the tube, ready to fire. I was very accurate with it, so much so that I even surprised myself. Had I been confronted with a tank in ‘Nam, I probably could have taken it out, but I only had the opportunity to fire at suspected enemy tree lines and suspected bunkers.