Reputation Preceded Us

After serving one year with the 101st Airborne Division, I had formed this opinion. If you took the meekest, most polite person in the world and put him in an army uniform with the Screaming Eagle on either sleeve people would think that he was one of the meanest people on the earth. One story that lead me to believe this theory happened when our unit along with the rest of the 1st Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division was sent to Chu Lai in 1969.

On May 15, 1969 our whole unit, B Troop 2/17th Cavalry was awakened in the early morning hours with the news that we were moving south and to pack for three days. As soon as the sun started to light up the sky our lohs, cobras, and slicks started the journey south to assist the Americal Division.

Upon landing at Chu Lai West, a runway that was used by the larger fixed wing and Marine Corps fighter jets, we found that we would spend our first night in a huge empty hanger at the very end on the runway. If I remember correctly there wasn’t even a place to get a drink of water and in our haste to leave Camp Eagle, most of us didn’t have time to refill our canteens. Toward evening we started to get a little thirsty and although being tired, no one could really get comfortable on a poncho liner spread out on a concrete hanger floor.

A few of us went to see Sgt. Phillips, who was put in charge of the aircraft maintenance people that were in the advance party. We told him that we were starting to get a little thirsty and would like to check out the area to see if we could find a place to grab a few cold beers. He told us to go ahead but there were two conditions. One was that we would stay out of trouble and the other condition was that if we did find some club, we had to bring a few "cold ones" back for him.

There were five or six of us that set out on our mission. We had no vehicle and had no idea where we were going because none of us were ever here before. We started down this deserted black top road and saw nothing but sand and palms for about the first twenty minutes of our walk. We had circled around the airfield where our helicopters were parked and it looked like we were headed back toward civilization, the main part of Chu Lai base, if you wanted to call it that.

We finally came across someone else on that road. There was a ¾ ton truck off the black top, stuck in the sand. The only person with the truck was the driver who had on jungle fatigues, sporting the Americal Division patch. He took one look at us and our Screaming Eagle patches and questioned us nervously as to what we were doing in Chu Lai and weren’t we afraid that we were going to be picked up by the MPs, because no one was supposed to be on this road. He told us that he was trying to turn around and got stuck in the sand and he was worried that the MPs would come and put him in the connex containers they used for a jail.

We told him we had no idea why we were sent to Chu Lai, but right now we were concerned with finding a few "cold ones" and not getting picked up by the MPs. We struck up a bargain with him. If we got him out of his predicament he would take us to the nearest club where we could quench our thirst and wouldn’t be picked up for being in an unauthorized area. After a little rocking back and forth and a little muscle power supplied by us, we got him out of the sand. Once on the black top we jumped in back and off we went.

Our nervous driver seemed have gotten lost while trying to uphold his part of the bargain, because he kept driving around in circles for awhile. I think he was really trying to find a place to unload us without being seen. After a few trips around the block he dropped us off and pointed in the direction of a typical "hootch" looking building, telling us we could find a few "cold ones" in there. It was still light out but as we were walking down a short, hard packed sand driveway, it seemed that there was no one around this particular club and there was no noise coming from inside.

When we walked inside we were almost speechless. This was one of the most beautiful EM and NCO clubs that we had ever seen. The ceiling was painted the shade of the night sky and had white stars sprinkled here and there. It almost had the effect that there was no ceiling at all and you were actually looking up at the sky. There was a huge silent Whirlitzer jukebox in the corner and neatly placed around the interior were empty cocktail tables and padded chairs. The bar itself was really decked out and looked like it belonged in someone’s game room. Behind the bar was the club’s only occupant, one bartender wearing a Hawaiian shirt. This place was immaculate, to say the least.

We bellied up to the bar and asked for a couple of "cold ones." The bartender nervously set us up with our request and took our MPC. We asked if the Whirlitzer worked and he told us yes, but he would have to exchange our MPCs for slugs if we wanted to listen to the music. After a quick exchange from MPC to slugs and making a few selections of a wide variety of music, including some of the latest hits, we sat down at a table to enjoy our long anticipated cold beers.

I don’t think that we had finished our first round of beers when this mountain of a man appeared at our table. He too was wearing a brightly flowered Hawaiian shirt. I don’t know where he came from, but he just loomed there for a few seconds and the Whirlitzer went dead. He squared himself up and told us that he was the 1st Sergeant of the EOD Company that owned the club and asked what were people from the 101st Airborne Division doing in "HIS" club. Feeling a little intimidated and remembering that Sgt. Phillips warned us not to get into trouble, we politely explained who we were and how we arrived at his club. He was quiet for a few seconds then said. "If you guys behave yourself and don’t mess up my club, the beers are on me." "I’ll even get you a ride back to the airfield when you’re ready to go. That way the MPs wouldn’t get you." It was a bargain that none of us wanted to turn down, not because of the free beer, but because I don’t think any of us knew exactly where we were and how in the hell to get back to the airfield anyhow.

We passed the night drinking on the huge 1st Sergeant and enjoying the tunes coming from the Whirlitzer. The club never really got crowded, but the concerned 1st Sergeant sat at the bar where he could keep a close eye on us. When last call came we got a couple of extra "cold ones" to enjoy on the trip back and a few for Sgt. Phillips who let us sneak off for the evening. As soon as we were loaded up with what we could carry, we heard this "beep – beep" like a huge truck backing up. We stepped out the door and found a big dump truck waiting next to the club. This was our ride back to the airfield. Without any argument from us, we piled into the back of the dump and off we went. A ride is a ride and a promise is a promise. Free beer and a ride home as long as we didn’t mess up his club, which we had no intentions of doing anyhow. I don’t think any of us ever made it back to that club the next three months we spent in Chu Lai but I’ll never forget the hospitality of that 1st Sergeant or the appearance of "HIS" club.