Oh God, I’m Hit! by John Kershaw

It’s South East Asia in the late 50s – let’s just say September 1957. I am assigned to MAAG (Military Assistance Advisory Group) Southeast Asia.

I was given this assignment while I was in Europe. It seems that my credentials are the only ones that fit the particular assignment.  Oh, l could have turned it down, but then I would have wound up on someone’s “Shit List” later on. In all probability, I would have been reassigned from Operations and Intelligence and sent to some hinterland assignment in another branch of the Army. I liked Operations and Intelligence (Ops lntel). I could read, write, interpret and comprehend the English and the American languages – perfect qualifications for Ops Intel.

Needless to say. I am placed aboard a priority flight from Weisbaden, Germany, to Bangkok and from there to Saigon.

Bear in mind, all of this is Crypto/Secret (For Your Eyes Only). I am not there, if anyone is to ask. Nobody knows what the hell is going on. But some of the ‘Advisors’ are a little more ‘Advised’ than others and are aware.

Now, I am “Ranger Qualified”, ergo, the reason chosen. I am introduced to a team leader, a grizzled old, Non-Commissioned Officer, who has all of his shit together in one bag and can lift it over his head without fear of it leaking. My kind of guy.

He allows as how, for this particular mission, I am just there to take notes and deliver a report to Headquarters with my recommendations as to equipment needed etc.   He tells me,  “You were chosen because you are Ranger Qualified and you can figure your way out of a hot spot and find your way back home.”

“Thanks, Sarge, that’s just what I need to know! But could you tell me what the hell it is that I am really supposed to be doing here? I don’t need trash talk. I get enough of that in garrison. What is the score and what is it that is required of me?”

“Look you are a temporary Sergeant First Class and you are good at what you do. Those at the top feel that you are the best choice to accompany us upriver. I have my team and a platoon of ARVN  (Army of the Republic of Vietnam), in case we get into any trouble.

It is your job to assess the action from a neutral standpoint.  You will stay glued to my ass. It is my responsibility to get your sad ass back to Saigon in one piece. Understood?”

“I understand, Sarge. And if your shit hits the fan I boogaloo right?”

”You got it that’s ‘A’ Frame:”

Next day, at O’Dark Thirty, we’re on a boat, driven by a “Coastie”, going up the Mekong River to drop us off in the middle of nowhere. [It wasn't until I got back to Europe that I realized just what in hell was going on over there.]

We unload and get another briefing from another team of Special Forces dudes.  Big time Charlie is massing up for some sort of action. Now, I am starting to get the picture. I’m an intelligence analyst.  I’m to let these guys know what Charlie is thinking and what the action is that they may be about to engage.

The Lieutenant asked if I was quick on my feet. I told him I could run like hell if need be.

“No Sarge! Can you make a quick-do assessment of a given situation?”

“Well Lieutenant, I was taught a lot at ‘West Point for Sergeants’ (7th United States Non-Commissioned Officers Academy) and my Series 10 courses. I only have had the chance to use them during field exercises, but I’m sure I can do the job.”

“Then, let’s get our sad asses moving so that we can be back by tomorrow night.”

Now, I thought that Panama was bad with the Jungle Warfare School. But the jungle in South East Asia is not the same.

Nevertheless, we made good time and arrived at the IP (Initial Point) on schedule. Christ, I never saw so many Black Pajamas in my life. But then I was only 18+ at the time.

I’m taking infrared photos and making notes as fast as I can. We don’t really have that much time. All of a sudden the shit hits the fan with Skyburst rockets and all manner of crap. Sarge grabs me by the shirt collar and virtually throws me way to the rear, as we have now to get the hell out of ‘Dodge’.

We cannot start a fire fight and only have permission to shoot back if they start shooting at us. God only knows how we were found out. These many years later, I am still trying to figure that one out.

All of a sudden I have this burning sensation in my hip and thigh. AwwwShhhiiiitttt!!

My next words, “God I’m Hit!” “Oh Please God Not Now Not Yet! God Please Help Me Please Help Me.”

Folks, there is a God. I know. I talked with Him and He talked to me. He asked “Who Did You Call?”

“Oh God, is it you?”

“Who Did You Call?”

“God, if it is You, I called for You, please help me.”

“Do you believe in Me?”

“Yes, I believe in You.”

“You will be taken care of.”

I woke up later in Saigon. Safe and alive in a cast and my Sergeant Protector in the bed next to mine. We had both been hit – the only ones, at that. Wrong place at the wrong time, but very much alive.

I went back to Germany for recuperation at Lindsey Hospital. Later, I rotated back to the world for another assignment. Did that mission five more times before the hard crap started.

They, that is, those up on top, never did take my information to heart, which was disappointing, to say the least.  Well, it only took them ten years to realize that those of us that were there first were right and they were wrong.

Sergeant, later Command Sergeant Major, received two Silver and four Bronze stars, along with a few Purple hearts, six, I believe. He was a pro and dedicated. He was a bit more so than others, but dedicated none the less.  I still feel that he should have received the Distinguished Service Cross and I’ll go to my grave believing that.

As for me, it was not until the war was really public that I was awarded my Purple Heart, along with the Bronze. My Silver didn’t catch up with me until just before I retired. I got the orders at Aberdeen Proving Ground. But the medal and the cite were not delivered until six years after my retirement from the Army after 23 years.