Photos and description thanks to
David Klehn A-113

Skip Minnicks in the black shirt with Earle Petty
standing beside him. Jerry Temple is in the back
ground. We had decided that we wanted to barbeque so we bought a cow and butchered it. We didn't have some of the tools to butcher it so we ended up eating the meat off of a big rib instead of cutting it into smaller pieces.

View of Gia Vuc looking east probably taken from a truck on the runway, The tall building at the back is the camp dispensary

Photos and description thanks to
David Klehn A-113

The driver is CPT William Hurt.  The passenger in civilian clothes is the late actor Raymond Burr.  In 1965, this was his second or third trip visiting Vietnam.  He made an invitation to us that if we were ever near Los Angeles to call him and he would have us out to his house.
 The guy in the back is the pilot of the L19 aircraft that flew him in.  I believe he was 1LT or CPT Melton.  He use to fly in often and take one of us up to recon the area.

Good Fortune

I remembered Bassett when he visited Gia Vuc in 1965. He was determined to go on a patrol, so we finally agreed on one that we thought would be mild-mannered. It was to check Viet Cong activity along a small river south of camp. Everything went fine and we eventually turned around and headed back toward camp.
      "Suddenly, as we were walking between a rice field and a river, we came under fire. We dropped to the ground, which was an embankment about two feet high and we began firing back.
      "Gene was beside me and I told him repeatedly keep his head down. He was not carrying a weapon of any kind but had dropped his sketch book on top of the embankment. We began firing back. We could see the Viet Cong about 300 feet across the rice field and we could hear bullets cracking the air around us. Our team leader called for reinforcements from camp which was about three miles away.
      "Gene kept wanting to get his sketch book and I told him to lie down. After about 10 minutes or so, the Viet Cong backed off. (This was typical. They knew that US and Vietnamese reinforcements were on the way.)
      "I reached up over the embankment and got Bassett’s sketch book. When I looked at it, book, I saw that a bullet had creased a shallow tunnel right across the front of it. I handed the sketch book to him and we were both stunned at our good fortune," 
 Story thanks to Sr Medic - SFC  Loyd Little - (Gene's sketchbook was published (October, 2015) by Syracuse University Press)

Added Fire Power at Gia Vuc

"Something that we did was shoot helicopter rockets from the ground towards the North every once in a while. They had a lot longer range than anything else we had. We stored the rockets for operations that used helicopters so they could fly to the camp and rearm. Well, we took one rocket at a time and put it on a mount that we built. We would run wires from it to a radio battery and that would give enough charge to ignite it and fire. We weren't very accurate with it but we figured it might scare the VC. We had to be pretty sure that there wasn't any aircraft flying in the area at the time."

Information and photograph thanks to CSM (Retired) David Klehn SSG A-113
(April 65 to November 65) Sr Commo Sgt

A-113 Saved by a Buck!

I carried a Stag handle Buck knife during my entire tour.   On one occasion, it literally saved my life.  In order to keep receiving parachute (jump) pay you have to make a jump every 3 months even in a combat zone.   Well, during a pay jump at my first camp (An Phu, where I was stationed for 8 months), we jumped out of a helicopter when the winds were really too strong to be jumping.  But, what the heck.  It was during the monsoon season and our camp was an island surrounded by rice fields which were at this point about 3-4 feet deep in water.
Anyway, we jumped and my chute opened fine. But, the wind carried me away from our camp where we were supposed to land.  I hit water and a sudden gust of wind grabbed the chute, which was still open, and began pulling me at a high speed across the top of the water.  Unfortunately I was face down in the water, and the wind was pulling me so fast I could not get the quick-release tab to work.  I tried to turn over, but no luck.  I was quickly running out of air.  However, I always carried my Buck knife strapped to my right boot during parachute jumps.  I managed to reach down, get the knife and cut my right 'chute riser, which immediately spilled the wind and stopped the dragging.

"Story thanks to SFC Loyd Little (SR Medic),  1965"

A-113  A very long night!

Sept. 19, 1965:  We have a captured VC document with a sketchy outline of a planned attack on Gia Vuc within the week.  Other SFers say we get these periodically and not to worry.  We are already at a high state of readiness.  About 9 p.m., Viet Cong begin probing several of our outposts.  A few rounds exchanged.  A few murky figures seen.  A few illumination flares fired.  About 12:30 a.m. Capt. Hicks and the LLDB commanding officer, a Lt. Tuey (not sure of name), get into an argument about whether to ask for air strikes.  Voices raised.  Bitter argument erupts.  Tuey whips out a .25 pistol and jacks a round into the chamber. Threatens to kill Hicks.  Then he leaves team house. 
1 a.m.: Our interpreter is in the LLDB teamhouse and hears discussion among LLDB. Tuey wants to kill Hicks tonight.  LLDB first sergeant agrees but says they might as well kill all the Americans.   They all agree; it's a fine idea.  Our interpreter speaks up, and LLDB grab him and slap him around a bit. He escapes and runs to our team house. Repeats conversation to us.
1:30 a.m.: We only have 6 USSF in camp; three of us go on guard immediately.  One is outside our team house in a bunker that faces the LLDB team house with .30 machine gun aimed at the LLDB.  We notify C-team on radio and tell them that if we don't contact them every hour, assume the worst.
2-4 a.m.: My turn on guard duty.  Misty, rainy, foggy, standing there leaning against an old French tractor, rain dropping out my hat on my black PJs.  All night long, I see flashlights crossing back and forth from the LLDB team house to their commo room and to their arms room.  Some of the Hre are up; many get into their own bunkers.  But they're facing inward, not outward.   Hicks is afraid that LLDB will simply open up with everything they have on our team house.  No attempt made to talk. Discussion about what Hre would do in case of a firefight.  Consensus seems to be that Hre would back the LLDB and then, later, kill all the LLDB at their leisure.  No love lost between LLDB and Hre.
Dawn:  Fog lifts.  Helicopter lands with Col. Ross and his LLDB counterpart from the C-team.  Consoling, calming words passed around.  Hicks requests that entire LLDB team be removed or that USSF team be lifted out.  Ross convinces everyone to stay and be calm.  Tension lifts.  Ross, others return to C-team late in the day

"Story thanks to SFC Loyd Little (SR Medic),  1965"

A-113 Jokes!

I Have come to realize that the Hre strikers really enjoy jokes.  One day on a routine medical patrol, I convinced the strikers that our orders had been changed, and that we were staying an additional four days.  In fact, I said, helicopters would be dropping in additional food for us soon. Later, when they realized it was a joke, they loved it and talked about it for days. 
When I'm dressing someone's wound, I often tell them they have to pay me 20 P's for the bandage.  They look horrified, and then they realize it's a joke.  They enjoy retelling the story. 
I had trouble persuading the Hre to bury/dispose of old/used bandages.  Then I told them that it was powerful luck to burn old bandages.  That made better sense to them than the germ theory, and so they began burning them.
One day on a patrol, I broke an ampoule of smelling salts and pretended to sniff it (while holding my breath).  Then I passed it to the strikers who sniffed it and began coughing and sneezing and tearing up.  They thought that was hilarious. 
Sometimes, when a striker comes in with a stomach complaint, I'll ask him dead seriously if he's ever been pregnant before.  That cracks them up.  Sometimes when a striker comes into sick call, and there's nothing wrong that I can find (he's probably trying to get out of a patrol), I'll tell him that his condition is serious and that he'll probably die before the next full moon.  That usually brings him out of it.
Many of the Hre bum cigarettes from Americans, not so much because they want them, but they keep tally amongst themselves about who bummed how many cigarettes from which American.  Sport to liven up slow nights in camp. 
One day on a patrol, our senior Hre questioned why we were going to a hamlet called Ve Vong because no one lived there.  I pulled him close and said that I had it on good authority that a lively bunch of whores had just moved in and...  He cracked up and was in good humor all day.
One day, I was walking by one of the striker barracks and saw a pair of pants hanging over the side.  With great stealth, I stole the man's billfold which was full of pictures and about 300 P's.  A few minutes later, I wandered inside the barracks and found the men playing cards for cigarettes.  I offered to play with them, but said I wanted to play for money not cigarettes.  They figured they had a sucker and finally agreed.  When I began taking money out of the billfold, the owner of the billfold recognized what I was holding.  Great hilarity, much rolling about on the ground and pointing at the owner.
 
"Story thanks to SFC Loyd Little (SR Medic),  1965"

A-113 Nice Shirt!
When we were in Vietnam we were allowed for a while to make our regular fatigue shirts into short sleeved shirts. SFC Earl Petty, a big sized man, told us that he had found out there was someone in the village who could alter clothes. He was sending some of his shirts back to the village with the civilian who washed our dishes and cleaned the kitchen to get them altered.
So, some of the rest of us sent some with the guy.
About a week later, we noticed that the houseboy had a new well-fitted short sleeved fatigue shirt on. The name tag said "Petty"!

Luckily we were able to retrieve our shirts before they were altered to fit the houseboy!
Story thanks to CSM (Retired) David Klehn SSG A-113 (April 65 to November 65) Sr Commo Sgt