I reported for duty to the 309th Transportation Company, again at Fort Story, Virginia. The 309th is an amphibious truck unit operating the LARC LX, an amazing vehicle that can carry 60 tons of cargo on land or water. It is powered by four 671 GMC diesel engines – each wheel powered by one engine. Four times the power of a Greyhound Bus.
These LARCs are extremely versatile. Because they are amphibious there is no need to transfer cargo from truck to ship and back to a truck at the destination. As an example, we hauled an oversized radar antenna from Norfolk Naval Shipyard to Dam Neck Naval Training Center. We picked it up from pier side at Norfolk as a normal boat, sailed down the Elizabeth River to the Atlantic Ocean and onto the beach at Dam Neck where we came out of the water onto land and delivered the antennae directly to the building where it was needed.
This FTX was a farce. Prior to the exercise I had tried to inject some reality into the planning, after all it was part of my job as operations sergeant. I was told several times that the detachment had been through it many times and they all knew what they were doing. There were few combat veterans so I had my doubts. I was assigned to be the rear area commander – to keep me out of the way? I was not to participate in the exercise but had to stay back with the sick, lame and lazy.
On the morning of the second day one of the NCOs came into my office and asked if I wanted to check out their defensive perimeter. He did not look happy. We rode over and checked it out. It was a blueprint for disaster. The defensive perimeter was only a stone’s throw from the headquarters and troop tents. The fighting positions (foxholes) were a joke. They had no interlocking fields of fire, no mutual coverage and some were out of sight of the neighboring holes. The fallback positions were only a few yards back – and the troops had to cross open exposed ground and move uphill to reach them. They were no better positioned than the first line. I jumped the troops about the layout.
“We were ordered to do it this way.”
As we stood there steaming I saw our Battalion and Company Commanders inspecting the area, looking very pleased with it. They came over and asked what I thought. I told them exactly what I thought – if they did this in combat people would die.
“But Sergeant Scott, we’re not at war!”
I was beginning to really hate that phrase. I returned to my office and did what bureaucrats have always done in times of crisis. I buried myself in paperwork. That night I started thinking of how many good people had been killed or wounded in Viet Nam because of the incompetence of their leaders. I began to dream about Viet Nam – and about the dead. Not only would I dream at night but I would see reruns of Viet Nam while awake. Imagine a movie screen just above your field of vision – but you can see it with your mind. On this screen would be a movie – playing nearly continuously – of events from the past. These movies would not be of the pleasant times but of the worst times. Scenes of combat when you were unable to control the situation. Scenes showing the result of carrying out orders issued by people who should never have been in command.
I received four pregnant women as clerks. Linda and I could use the help and with proper training and supervision they became a great help. I had been assigned every "extra duty as assigned" job that no one else wanted.
I did not know the high regard these women had for me until they asked me to go out with them. Ordinarily I wouldn't accept the offer – fraternization was a serious offense – but they told me it wasn't a "date,” as I would be with all five clerks but just an "office party.” They all wanted to go out and have fun but were tired of the hassle from men hitting on them. They thought I was the type of guy they would be safe with (a left handed compliment?). I accepted.
