Being taught not to kill and then kill on purpose at 18 is very hard to rectify in your mind. As an M-60 machine gunner, the deadliest weapon in the jungle at the time, I did some real soul searching. Most people don’t realize a Machine gunner can’t hide behind a tree or bush. We have to be in the open with a field of fire. The many firefights that ended up with me and some NVA gunner duking it out gunner to gunner were sights to see. The RPD machine gun threw out many more rounds than the M-60, but it wasn’t nearly as accurate, but it was deadly. I don’t know how many one-on-one engagements I had, but it was at least five or six.

My greatest machine gun battle was in 1968, and I think June> We were hit with Machine Gun fire and automatic weapons from two sides; I had no time to remove my rucksack, just jumped on the ground and started firing. I let loose some rounds from the M-60 and watched in horror as a tracer round was fired back past my head into my Rucksack, hitting a can of peaches (i thought it was water at the time). Two enemy gunners from different sides orchestrated tremendous fire at one another, then a pause and a few shots are heard, then another blast of rounds going both directions. I felt my Machine Gun being hit, but with the noise, you couldn’t hear the rounds hitting around you, but the dirt flying up was everywhere. This went on for about twenty minutes. My assistant gunner had four or five belts of ammo hooked up and was behind a tree to avoid getting hit. I felt my rucksack being hit each time the RPD fired, and I had no idea how bad because I didn’t have time to investigate. I fire another 10-round burst and hear nothing in return. You usually never know if the gunner was killed or ran away, but if you kill them, you have a chance to see. Everything becomes silent, not one sound. I break loose all but 20 rounds from my ammo belt and walk toward my enemy gunner. I was very shocked to see we were so close to each other and how we both weren’t killed right off.

The NVA gunner and his assistant were shot in the head, it looked like I hit the gunner first, and his assistant was pushing the gunner out of the way when my rounds hit him; not a pretty sight. I sat there for about ten minutes just looking and thinking. I was never proud of killing; I did it because they would have killed me. My many nights wondering if this was right or wrong gave me no peace.

I got up and walked away when I took one more look and realized one of the soldiers had a rosary around his neck. It hit home that a religious man like myself I had killed had many of the same beliefs as myself, most likely. My time was less than four months to leave this God-forsaken country if I survived.

I noticed the indifference in the war coming home, most people looked at it and saw the killing, but it wasn’t natural to them, the smell, the taste, your mouth so dry that water can’t hydrate, and the horrors of the wounded and dead are not in your head, it has little to no meaning. \