- I feel like I'm looking at the world through the wrong end of a
telescope; everything appears distant and as if it's in a tunnel. My best
friend is talking to me but I do not recognize his voice. For some reason
I find that I'm trying desperately to grasp onto something familiar; a face,
a name, anything! My confused, foggy brain keeps trying to sort things out.
A name. I'm thinking of a name. It's my wife's name! I hold on to that
thought as if my life depended on it. What the heck is going on?
- The day really hadn't started out all that badly, although I do hate
moving our radar system; something we must do every few weeks. The
sarcastic comments from my teammates confirm that I'm not alone in those
feelings. What made this move different, however, was the newly issued
tower; all 84 feet of it.
Prior to the tower, our radar sat on top of a
standard 15 foot mast; a system that was relatively easy to setup and take
down. The tower, on the other hand, was quite different. It consisted of
fourteen 6-foot sections that stacked one on top of the other. This tower
system was capable of reaching heights of 300 feet or more. We were issued
enough sections to "only" go 84 feet into the air. Unlike the mast, which
we could not climb, each tower section
had a cat-walk and diagonal ladder. This little feature ushered in a new
element of danger for the whole team; if we weren't sniper-bait before, there's
no question we were now. And to add insult to injury, the tower was orange!
- We received orders to move the night before, which was quite typical.
We were leaving the American Special Forces camp in Ben Soi and heading to an
ARVN camp in Ben Cui. Everything was going smoothly when we broke camp early
the next morning, until we got down to the last 4 sections, or
24 feet worth. The tower was first assembled only to the 60 foot level
and there were 3 sets of guy-wires to support it. Later, 4 additional
sections were delivered and the tower height was increased to 84 feet. To
evenly spread out the wires, we moved each wire set up a section or two. Our
mistake was dropping the lower (last) set of guy wires rather than re-attaching
them to the second or third level. When I swung the fifth section over
the side, over we went. I don't remember anything after the very
first hint we were tipping. As luck would have it, we crashed right in the
middle of the tower sections we had just removed. My buddy said I actually
broke a piece of the aluminum tubing on one of the sections with my head.
I guess I was fortunate the tubing was thin-wall. The only other guy on
the tower messed up his knee pretty bad.
- By the time my senses started returning I found myself sitting in the ¾
ton truck as my buddies took us back to base camp for a medical checkup. As
luck would have it, we were on a barge, crossing the Song Vam Co Dong River when
I realized I was in this sorry place called Vietnam. Happy days.
- The doc checked us over and decided to keep us overnight for observation,
most likely because of the bump I took on my head. I was in quite a bit of pain
and the idea of having the night off sounded terrific, not to mention a couple
of hot meals, a real shower and a nice bed! I took the pain medication the
doc gave me and turned-in early, anticipating a peaceful night's sleep. Unfortunately,
a monsoon had different ideas. Heavy rain on a tin roof makes for a bunch of
noise, not to mention the thunder and lightning. Nuts!
- As we're laying there,
wondering if the storm will ever pass, a strange phenomenon appeared; St.
Elmo's Fire! At first, neither of us knew for sure what it was. As the
turquoise halos moved slowly around the roof-rafters my buddy shrieked,
"don't touch anything!" We both felt kind of silly when we figured out
what it was and that it was harmless. It's the only time in my life I've
seen St. Elmo's Fire. A fitting end to a rather strange day.
- Early the next morning, one of our teammates arrived and gave us a lift
to our new camp site. We received a bunch of ribbing for avoiding setting up
the radar system. By now, my injuries, although not serious, are becoming
very uncomfortable. I'm convinced I have a cracked rib or broken rib or
two. A few days later I head back to the base camp in Tay Ninh for some
X-rays. They reveal nothing. In retrospect, I regret that trip. While I
was waiting for the X-ray results, a Dustoff arrived with casualties. What
made this
Dustoff
unique was the fact the
casualties were children. It appeared
they had tripped a booby-trap or ended up near some type of explosion. One
of them was certainly going to lose a leg, if not his life. It took me
weeks to shake the affects of that terrible image. And Lord knows, I'll
never forget it.
- The cuts on my back did eventually become infected with ring-worm
or some such thing and it took a couple of months to get rid of the
symptoms. Nothing to complain about, really. Things could've turned out
far worse.
Copyright © 1995 David C. Stafford
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