Vietnam Essay, Research Paper Anyone Remember the F U Lizards? by Ronnie Beaver, 1st of the 5th Air Cav 69-70 While I was in Nam we kept hearing a strange voice at night yelling f**k you (I’m not trying to be rude it really was saying that) it was loud and would keep us awake at night. we would get tired of hearing it and yell back f u too. one night at dusk I went looking for what was making the noise as we thought it was a bird. it would also make a strange sound before saying the words. as I was walking by a tree I saw a small lizard and it started puffing out its neck and made the sound, I brought a buddy over and showed it to him.
Vietnam Essay, Research Paper
Anyone Remember the F U Lizards? by Ronnie Beaver, 1st of the 5th Air Cav 69-70
While I was in Nam we kept hearing a strange voice at night yelling f**k you (I’m not trying to be rude it really was saying that) it was loud and would keep us awake at night. we would get tired of hearing it and yell back f u too. one night at dusk I went looking for what was making the noise as we thought it was a bird. it would also make a strange sound before saying the words. as I was walking by a tree I saw a small lizard and it started puffing out its neck and made the sound, I brought a buddy over and showed it to him. I have asked many vets if they ever heard this thing since I’ve been back over the years but they just look at me and laugh.
Yes Gracie There Were FU Lizards
To answer Ronnie Beaver’s question about the lizards:
I have had other Vets say that I am crazy and that they never heard of the lizards. It seems that they were only in certain parts or regions of the country. We had alot of them at An Khe in 1968. Geckgo or Geckco lizard I am told. Not sure of spelling but it sounds like I spelled it. The little bastards used to get under the pallets and PSP inside a bunker and keep us up all night with their Buuck…Buuck…Buuck ……. Buuck Boo … Buuck Boo. Always 3 Buucks Followed by 2 FUs. One night the guy I was with got so POed that he told me to get all my junk out of the bunker and flipped a frag into the bunker. All I heard after the explosion was buuck … buuck … Buuck ….. Bucck Boo …… Buuck Boo it got lower and lower toward the end but he got us ONE MORE time then silence!
The spoon that baked the bread and stuff at the mess hall used to sleep from 0300 while the bread was rising and then his alarm would wake him up to put the bread in the ovens. One morning about 0400 there was this terrific explosion. I was still up and looked down toward the Mess hall and there was this guy staggering out a pillar of flames, yelling “I Got you, You little bastards!!!” He had poured gasoline in this 8 inch pipe near the mess hall and tossed a match into it. The flames blew out of both ends of the pipe and made a real big noise. He was tired of the FU Lizards.
No it was not your imagination!
Jim 1-68 to 1-69 1st Cav
First Day In Country by John Oscarson
We were well trained and prepared for combat duty in Vietnam. After spending six months in boot camp, ITR and staging battalion I was prepared for whatever was to happen in Vietnam.
The flight from California to DaNang was aboard a charter 707. It seemed surreal, there we were, a whole plane full of young men and there were stewardesses serving peanuts and cokes just like we were going on vacation. We all knew, however, that a worse fate awaited us. There was a great sense of foreboding as the flight progressed. I thought the trip was going to last forever. I had my camera with me and figured that I wanted to document my experience so I took pictures from the plane. Finally, we sighted land and were told that we were approaching DaNang, which had become one of the busiest airports in the world.
Though I had trained in California, I was unprepared for the heat. I had on full combat gear and ducked for cover as I deplaned. I fully expected incoming rounds from hostile fire. Instead, I found two guys in a small jeep waiting for me to transport me to the base camp of the 3/26 Marines.
I thought that DaNang was a large city but as we drove along the narrow road we went through one small village after another. The whole area had more the feeling of country than city with many open fields and rural areas. I was sweating profusely because of all the gear I was carrying and the clothes that I was wearing and all I could think about was what we would do if we were attacked as there were no other vehicles along with us.
We had over ten mile to go to get to the base camp I was told. As we drove along I was shocked to see women squatting along side the road relieving themselves. My companions laughed at my shock. Then, just as we were leaving another village I spotted a rather attractive young lady with a very long dress on. When we were about 100 feet away she waived to us. My drivers slowed down and when we were no more than 20 feet away she reached completely down to her ankles, grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it completely over her head. She had on nothing under her dress.
My friends were busy laughing as we drove by and while it would have been interesting to document my first day in country, I was too stunned to use the camera that I still had around my neck.
Happy Valley Laundry by Dan Benjamin
I served with Mike co 3rd bat. 9th marines. In 1965 we were in Happy Valley and we had made are hooches in some tombs. We would wash our clothes and hang them on a line strung just in front of our hooch taking them down every night. Well one night I was woke up for mid watch and saw movement in front of us I woke the others and after checking with the cp for friendlies in front of us we opened fire. Of course then did everyone else. After a while the movement stopped. A patrol was sent out and found nothing. The next morning we found our clothes on the ground and the clothes line broken. Needless to say we found the enemy from the night before, and the worse or funniest thing is not one piece had a hole in it.
semper fi all my brothers in arms.
Encounter With a General of the Abrams Kind
By Paul Cameron
One sunny and warm day in Vietnam, PFC Rich Karolski and myself were on a mission to MACV Headquarters in Saigon. As we entered this “Pentagon of Vietnam” compound, we were amazed at the “stateside” element of this military fort in the middle of a war. It was like we had passed into a “twilight zone” back to the days of spit and polish, formations, and starched fatigues. One
section of the compound was secluded with a high wall and it contained a very contemporary mobile home court housing officers and their families, we assumed. To our left and about fifty
yards, we noticed a ranch style American design home. Then, in an instant we passed by two soldiers who were walking toward the ranch style home. A commanding voice spoke, “Soldiers! Yes, I’m talking to you two. Didn’t you forget to do something just now?”
I looked at Rich and looked at me. Then we spied this guy’s rank. We were seeing nothing but stars. The MP standing next to the general didn’t even focus into our view at this point. Rich
responded, ” No sir!” Then I spoke up and said,”Sir, we were told to never salute an officer in Vietnam because it told eneny snipers who the officers were.” Specialist, you’re not in the
field right now. Do you see that house over there? That’s my home in Vietnam. Does this look like a war zone?” You’re in the MACV compound. Atten Hut! Present Arms! Rich and I snapped to and
rendered our first hand salute in probably six months. While we were saluting I glanced at the general’s name tag on his jungle fatigue shrit. It read, “Abrams”. Order Arms! He commanded. Now, gentlemen. Do you remember what a hand salute is? We responded in unison, “Yes Sir!” “Specialist Cameron (He noticed my name tag too), what unit are you and PFC Karolski assigned to?” Rich started to respond the same time I bagan to reply. General Abrams spoke up and said, ” PFC Karolski, I’m not addressing you. I’m addressing the highest ranking member of this detail, Specialist Cameron.” While the general was chewing on Rich, I was trying to think up some far fetched unit name that I could give the general, for fear that he would actually report us to our
commander. “Specialist, what’s the name of your unit command?” I replied, “Sir, it’s a pretty long name and I don’t recall all of it right now. It starts out USAHAC out of Long Binh. The general
stopped me in the middle of my statement and said,”I’ll be in touch with your commander concerning this act of military disrespect. Atten Hut! Present Arms! Rich and I snapped to and
saluted the general. He returned the salute and said, “You are dismissed to carry on your duties assigned here at MACV. Don’t ever let me see you two again.”
Rich and I never received any type of repercussion regarding this “encounter with a general of the Abrams kind”.
Don’t Tell the Colonel by Robert Burton
In 1968 while assigned to BCompany 7th engineer Bn. on hill 34 near Da Nang an FNG along with a veteran who had been there awhile ,were assigned to a fox hole to guard the perimeter. As they were sitting there bsing a Marine dropped down into the fox hole and asked if everything was all right,and how things were going. There reply was everything was secure. The marine who dropped into the foxhole at that point pulled a bottle of whiskey from his back pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a pull from the bottle, and then handed the bottle to the veteran who took a pull from it and then handed to the FNG who then took a drink and handed it back, at which point the guy said , with a wink,”don’t tell the Colonel’. The guy jumped up out of the fox
hole and was gone. The FNG asked the veteran,’who was that?’. The veteran looked at the FNG and replyed, ‘ the Colonel’. True story submitted by
Robert Burton, Vietnam, 1967-1969.
Snake Tales by Bob Coker
Early in 1970 I had the chance to visit with a cousin of mine who was with the 8th Bn of the Royal Australian Regiment at Nui Dat Base in Phuoc Tuy Province. Cousin John lived in a hooch with 5 other blokes when back in base. Naturally the hooch was littered with all the usual paraphernalia of a grunt outfit, you know, M60’s, M16’s, L1A1’s, M79’s, M203’s, grenades, ammo belts, etc. So it wasn’t until after sitting on a canvas cot (9inches off the ground) and a couple of real Aussie beers that I noticed an “Air Rifle” leaning against the sandbagged wall. Being the curious type I just had to ask “What the hells that doing here ?” The answer came straight back “It’s for Sam, we use it to get his tucker (food) for him”. “Who the bloody hell is Sam ?” I asked. “You’ve been sitting on top of him for the last half hour, have a look” and they all pointed to under the cot I was sitting on. Bending down with my ears between my knees I came face to face with a 8ft long Rock Python. Imagine those 6 grunts falling all over themselves laughing as I headed for open country like Saturn 5 rocket. That was my first meeting with Sam the Snake. I met up with Sam on a number of occasions after that, but, that first meeting was something else. Apparently the boys had ’smuggled’ Sam into country from their training base in Queensland, Australia. To the best of my knowledge Sam is still in country.
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