During the monsoon season of 1968 after several months
of combat following the Tet Offensive my army unit was moved
from the mountains of northern South Vietnam to the coastal plain,
north of Da Nang. We had been assigned to provide security
for a battalion of Sea-bees. It rained torrentially for most of each
day and night but we tried to stay as warm and dry as we could.
As a medic my life was pretty good at this assignment.
I didn’t have to pull guard duty just hold sick call and do radio
watch for a couple of hours each night.
Sure I was halfway around the world separated from my family
and my home but the Seabees had supplies.
We even got fresh food which sure beat the freeze-dried and
canned rations that we were issued for consumption in the jungle.
But best of all I could buy a beer each evening and relax and try
to forget the terror that had been with me since the beginning
of the Tet Offensive. I was aware of the dramatic changes my
personality had undergone in the short time I had been in Vietnam.
I distrusted everything and everyone I came into contact with.
Like the times when I treated Vietnamese citizens in their villages
for their ailments. This was an attempt of the Army to win the
hearts and minds of the local population.
The army’s public information officer wanted some
photographs showing that the first brigade of the 101st Airborne
the toughest of the tough was also the most caring.
On such occasions the villagers would lay out a meal sometimes
consisting of rice and meat with great formality.
This was intended as a respectful greeting to me and courtesy
demanded that I eat first.
But I was suspicious inferring that the food might be poisoned,
I always insisted that the village Chief be the first to take a bite
thus managing to thoroughly offend our hosts.
But I didn’t care; my soul concern at that time was surviving to
make it home.
One night after some revelry in the galley I walked back to camp
and knelt down to slide down into my damp living space.
As I crawled in head first I felt a wet furry body brush my forehead.
I grabbed my pistol and my flashlight and prepared to kill the
rat in my bedroll. But it wasn’t a rat. In the light I saw before
me a shivering brown puppy that looked like a Chihuahua.
Its big eyes were imploring as if it knew that its life was
almost over. I re-engaged the safety catch and picked up the
little body so cold so wet and so scared.
We’re a lot alike I thought. I dug around in my gear and found a
can of beef slices from an old meal unit.
I opened the can broke up the meat in little bites and put it in front
of this intruder who snapped it up quickly.
Then I rinsed the can out and filled it with clean water so he could drink.
That night when I curled up to go to sleep I wasn’t remembering
the girl back home; I had a living breathing being snuggled next
to me trying to gain security and warmth from my existence.
And I didn’t dream of the girl back home either.
Instead I dreamed of my beagle who always curled up at the foot
of my bed when I came home from school on vacations,
and who went with me everywhere.
The next morning I went to breakfast and got extra eggs bacon
and sausages. My new little friend wolfed them down.
I decided to name him Charger after our battalion commander.
Every time I called out “Charger!” I offered him a tidbit of food
so he learned his name in no time. He also learned some simple
tricks and seemed to grow very attached to me.
Wherever I went that little ring-tailed mutt of dubious parentage
was right there with me and I grew very fond of him.
One day I was in the nearby village of Lang Co where I went
every day except Sunday to treat the villagers for their
various ailments which ranged from ringworm and pinworm
to elephantiasis. While I was dispensing different pills
and salves I noticed my little friend frolicking with the fire team
that had accompanied me for security.
As I watched him darting after the sticks they threw for him
and prancing proudly back with the stick clamped firmly in his
teeth I had to smile. I turned back to the Vietnamese child I was
examining and I saw an answering smile light up his small face.
Little Charger was effecting a remarkable change in my personality.
I realized that I had begun to care about the local people.
I really wanted to cure their illnesses whereas earlier I had just
been going through the motions to please the army
public relations machine.
Charger was helping me to recover some of the humanity that
I feared I had lost. I was soon to be separated from my
new friend however. After a few short weeks my company
was ordered back to the mountains.
After numerous inquiries I was able to find someone in a
mortar platoon at our battalion fire base to adopt Charger.
I left him there knowing that I would miss him but trying not
to look back as I walked with my company towards the jungle
returning to the harsh reality of war.
I served more than 7 months with the infantry before I was
reassigned to a medevac unit. I had not forgotten Charger
and as I came through the fire base on my way to my new assignment,
I had already decided that I would bring my little friend with me
to my new unit. We recognized each other instantly and our
reunion was ecstatic. I spent the day at the fire base and soon
noticed that there was something different there.
Talking with the soldiers I registered that the level of profanity
and vulgarity had dropped.
The men seemed more caring towards each other.
A large number of them called to Charger as he trotted by
often stopping to scratch his head or give him a treat or two in passing.
Charger was working the same magic for his new friends in
the mortar platoon that he had worked for me.
With my heart breaking and on the verge of tears I left Charger
with his new found friends for they seemed to need him
even more than I did.
That was the last time I ever saw Charger.
My medevac chopper was shot down about 2 months later.
I was evacuated and regained consciousness in a hospital in Japan.
I tried to find out about Charger but only heard a vague rumor
that he had been taken back to the States.
I hoped it was true.
I still remember him now more than 30 years later.
He lives on in my heart.
And whenever I think back to that rainy and miserable night
in Viet Nam when our paths first crossed it seems impossible
to know just who rescued whom.
| Charger |