Gary B. Macchioni Story about the flight line at Cam Rahn Bay, South Vietnam 1970

Letters from The Rock

…and words I meant to write.

By

Gary Macchioni

Yo Mom,

I just arrived in Country.  Cam Ranh Bay Air Base has the second largest Air Force Hospital in the world and where we live is one block from the beach.  All the armed services have bases here. Unlike the other services, we Air Force people live in a Country Club with modern bathrooms and air-conditioned offices. The other people only have outdoor latrines and dirt roads. We medics have it made. We have Hooch maids who pick up after us, make our beds and clean our clothes. We even have our own hospital dining hall.  Two medics in my office picked me up in our air-conditioned four wheel drive ambulance. I’m anxious to do some cruising along the beach.  Although life here on the Bay is busy, I will write as soon as possible. Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom,

I’m having a real problem breathing in this heat.  Talk about sweat, when I walk outside my shirt becomes instantly soaked.  As soon as we landed, we were informed that the base was under Yellow Alert. That meant a rocket attack was soon expected and we were instructed to depart the airplane in an orderly but expeditious manner. I quickly gained a new appreciation for the word expedite. While parked on the tarmac, the big jets are like sitting ducks for a well-placed rocket. To top it all off, what looked like an armored truck parked in front of the terminal, turned out to be the ambulance from my office. I walked off that airplane and stepped into a foreign world devoid of sanity and human dignity. What have I gotten myself into? I feel lost.

Yo Mom,

I had a happy reunion with some of my old stateside friends.  Last night we grilled steaks. Afterwards, a bunch of us guys jumped on the bus we call the Blue Monster and rode to the other side of the base to see an outdoor movie.  The stars were out and the night was silent. No traffic noise here. There is a lot to do, so I’ll write later as soon as I have some time.  Your Son, The Rock

Dear Mom,

Saw some of my old friends from my last base.  It was almost like I never knew them. They seem to have a quiet resignation about themselves and they didn’t have much to say. Last night while at the outdoor movie, a rat walked right by me in the sand. No big thing. Last night before I fell asleep, our pet hooch rat walked across the roof rafters above my bed.  He was here before we were, so we just let him live his life in peace. At night, there’s a silent eerie feeling here.  When I walk down the street, it’s so dark that I can barely see where I’m going.  I don’t ever remember feeling so small.  I feel lonely.

Yo Mom,

The base got hit with a rocket attack last night. My Hooch shook from the explosions.  It turned out to be a flack vest and helmet all nighter. Looked and felt like fireworks. What a wild night. Until next time, from The Big Show, Your Son, The Rock

Dear Mom,

Last night while I was alone and asleep in my hooch, the world seemed to come down around me. The base got hit with rockets from the surrounding mountains. The explosions were so loud and the vibrations were so violent that I seriously thought the hooch would blow over. My hooch mates were working night shifts and I was alone. All I could do was put on my flack vest and helmet and dive for the floor. I felt helpless at the random mercy of a stray rocket.  Talk about feeling small, this did it.  I’m afraid.

Yo Mom,

This hospital is huge. I walked through some of the surgical wards today and talked to the patients. Most of them were Army guys who will be flown out within the week. They really appreciated my visit.  Your Son, The Rock

Dear Mom,

Reality hit me in the face today. War is not pretty and what I saw made me sick. Seeing the mangled remains of what used to be someone’s recognizable son was more than I could bear.  What do you say to a guy who had a leg or an arm blown off?  Good luck, I’m sure your family will be glad to see you?  Even worse, there was a guy with only half a face. Those men who went out there in the jungle to fight, did it for me and you. It could have been me lying there. Instead, I’m here in the safe zone.  I feel ashamed and not worthy to be in the same room with them.

Yo Mom,

Today we drove our ambulance onto the beach for an emergency call. A small cargo airplane flipped over right before it reached the runway. We were amazed to see some guy walk out the back of the airplane untouched. The wild thing was that he was coming to our hospital to get checked out from being in an airplane crash. That guy sure had some luck traveling with him.  Until next time, Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom,

Today the guys in my office pulled two very dead young pilots out of an over turned airplane. The tall guys in my office had to reach down and pull them out because the water would surge over my head. It seemed like they didn’t have a solid bone left in their body. They were just one big lump of bloated skin with lifeless expressions on their face. It hurt to think about their wives and little children at home. How would they live without them? Would their children ever know how their daddies died?  Those faces could have belonged to any one of us who fly in those death traps. It could have easily been me. I feel vulnerable.

Yo Mom,

Last night I was on an emergency call at the fuel depot. A few Viet Cong infiltrated the perimeter with intent of blowing up the huge jet fuel tanks. We medics were there in case any one was injured. Our new Hospital Commander showed up, but when the machine gun fire started, he jumped in his car and flew out of there like a Bat out of Hell. I never saw a Doctor move so fast. Until later, Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom,

I don’t know what they expect from us medics.  I am not trained for, I am afraid to, and I don’t want to handle weapons.  As the security police were shooting their automatic rifles, I had to just stand by like a little duck in a shooting gallery. I did what any good medic would do in that situation; I hid behind the wheel of the ambulance. I didn’t take it personal that the Viet Cong were shooting in my direction. If the VC knew who I really was, they may not have considered harming me. However, the VC who were doing the shooting were not so enlightened. All I wanted to do was run away, because I was really out of my element. While the security cops were shooting, I was thinking about how to treat the injured and then how to escape. This is insane. I have never been in a situation where I was in a potential life and death situation. I feel helpless.

Yo Mom,

Yesterday I went off Base with a MEDCAP Team. (Medical Civic Action Program). We drove to a local orphanage. The kids were really cute. The little Vietnamese Nuns who ran the place wore shower sandals instead of shoes. We stopped at a village bakery on the way back and bought a warm loaf of French bread. The bugs baked onto the hard crust were free. That’s what you call organic seasoning. Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom

As of yesterday I felt somewhat satisfied with my life and I thought I was a relatively strong person. Today, that is no longer true. Our MEDCAP team traveled to a local orphanage. My heart broke when our ambulance pulled up to the building and the children who could walk came running out with their hands held up. They weren’t reaching out for candy. All they wanted was to be held and loved. It was there that I learned the true meaning of goodness and charity. The Vietnamese Nuns who gave their lives to those children didn’t even own a pair of shoes. They wore whatever the guys from our hospital gave them. All the diapers and blankets were Air Force blue. Before we left the base, we backed our ambulance up to the back door of our hospital dining hall to get cases of canned milk and food. The kitchen staff looked the other way because they knew where the food was going. Those babies broke my heart. There was a two year old little guy I held the whole time I was there. All he wanted was to be held and loved.  I didn’t want to leave him and couldn’t hold back my tears when we left. The way I feel now is that I can’t leave them. We will get to go there twice a week. You just couldn’t image what their lives are like. We are their only source of medical treatment. Because they are of mixed race, the Vietnamese government will not accept them as citizens and has abandoned them. The five year old girls are being little mommies to the babies. Although the nuns and the kids didn’t understand a word we were saying, there was no lack of communication. Our Vietnamese interpreter helped with the treatment part. The other parts needed no words. In a strange way, I feel responsible for this situation. It’s our country who fathered and threw away these babies.  You, me, the politicians, we’re all guilty.  Some day I will have to leave for my next assignment.  I just can’t face being away from them.  Their parents and their country already threw them away. I can’t leave them.  Today I feel like a broken man and I feel horrible.

Yo Mom,

Great news.  Today I was promoted to Staff Sergeant.  That means I now wear four stripes, get a small pay raise and take a microscopic leap up the chain of command.  The Hospital Commander personally presented me with my stripes and said I am now in Middle Management.  I knew I would eventually get promoted, but I never guessed it would happen this soon. Even the Colonel in charge of Flight Medicine was surprised. The other two Staff Sergeants in my office are twenty-year career enlisted men and I am only a first termer. I suppose the Air Force High Command knows what they are doing. Your Son, Staff Sergeant Rock.

Dear Mom,

Today really took the cake. I was summoned to the hospital commander’s office.  When I arrived, three of my closest friends were waiting outside his door and none of us had the slightest idea why we were there.  A lieutenant walked out and rudely said the commander will be with you in a few minutes and we were to wait for his arrival.  It just so happened that all four of us are the ring leaders of trouble and merriment in the medical squadron.  If it involved giving heartburn to the career guys, we were part of it. I won’t get into the details, because you couldn’t even begin to grasp the scope of our activities.  We spoke softly among ourselves and wondered if an infiltrator from within our ranks turned us in. Was it for about our unofficial recreational flights to Saigon, or how we managed to procure cases of chicken and steaks for our squadron?  The myriad of possibilities pointed to one inevitable conclusion, we’ve been caught and our gig was up. We were certain that questioning by the secret police was soon to follow, so we promised to not break and be loyal to each other. Just then, the Hospital Commander came out of his office and congratulated us for being promoted to Staff Sergeant. We were so stunned we couldn’t even show our shock. What could I say?  Wow Colonel, I thought I was going to jail.  I shook his handed, put the stripes into my pocket and laughed my ass off as I walked the half mile to my office. When the two untrainable career Staff Sergeants in my office looked at my stripes through their blood shot eyes, they called me a Junior Grade Staff.  I pointed to my stripes and replied, see these, we are now equals.  What in the hell is this world coming to?

Yo Mom,

December is here and it’s time to get ready for the holidays.  Working seven days a week doesn’t make it easy to do, but when it comes to Christmas, we will always find a way.  You can’t keep Santa away from Cam Ranh Bay.  Hey, that sounded like a Christmas song. Please convey my warmest Holiday Wishes to everyone back home. We all appreciate their concern for our well being and their wishes for us to come home safely. Before you know it, we will be reunited, and I hope that there will never be another reason for us to be apart during Christmas again. Happy Holidays from the Medics of Cam Ranh Bay Air Base.  Merry Christmas, Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom,

Ya I know, it’s December.  A correspondent from one of the major news agencies was walking around our hospital today. He was recording holiday greetings to be played on our hometown radio stations, and he was getting some favorable responses. That is, until he approached me. Man, did he get an ear full. To his shock, he discovered that I did not want to record some happy make believe message for the good folk back home. As of that moment, I didn’t wish America a happy and joyous holiday.  My only wish is for all of this to just disappear. While you Americans are home enjoying the holidays and toasting in the New Year, we’re here roasting in the heat.  Don’t you get it?  Your sons are dying, people are suffering. The politicians aren’t doing the fighting, we are. The real heroes of our country are over here fighting in the rice patties and the jungle, while the rest of the folks back home are oblivious to what’s really going on.  Don’t get me wrong, I came over here to do my part.  It was my intention to serve my country and to honor those Veterans who fought and died for us. But when I got here, my attitude abruptly changed. What can we do?  We’re in too deep.  If we leave, our allies die.  If we stay, they die anyway.  We don’t even know who or why we’re fighting half the time.  We may even be fighting the wrong enemy, and it feels hopeless.  While life goes on merrily as usual back home in America, this whole mess is insane. We’re all nuts.  It has to end. Call this Christmas?

Yo Mom,

The holidays are upon us.  Yes, even in Vietnam, Christmas is here. The Hospital Wards are brightly decorated and I even saw Santa Claus walking down the main corridor. Thank you for the great box of cookies, they got here just in time. My friends thank you for them. Very few guys have a mother like you who sends them homemade cookies. A special Turkey Holiday meal will be served in our Hospital Dining Hall, so I will write later because it is time to eat.  Merry Christmas, Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom,

Today is December 25th, also known in your part of the world as Christmas. The base was mostly quiet this past week. No rocket attacks or burnt up airplane crash victims for us medics to gather up into body bags. We were at our orphanage today. Our babies don’t know about the holidays. There were no decorations, no stockings hanging on the fireplace mantle, no Christmas tree, no Christmas cards on the tables, no Jingle Bells playing on the radio, no radios, just sand, dirt and crying babies. I wasn’t about to bring up the subject.  I had nothing to buy for them, so my Christmas gift to them was simply to be there. We found a few more cases of canned food and milk from the dining hall and quickly snuck it off base.  The Vietnamese Nuns don’t speak English, so what’s there to say?  Have a nice holiday; hope Santa is good to you?  When we returned to the base, something very special dawned on me. This was my first Christmas without all the hype. I didn’t hear a single radio or TV commercial selling holiday junk. Not much in the way of decorations either, no endless stream of Christmas music and no festive pageants with religious people dressed in bright funny robes. No snow, only sand, work and hot weather. The peace and solitude here made it so special. Was a kinder, gentler spirit hovering over the base this past week, or was it just me?  For me, it was a week of reflection; it was a time to get closer to the real intentions of the holidays, whatever they may be for people of all faiths, or at this point, the lack of it. Santa didn’t land on the roof with toys for our babies and God didn’t stop any of the suffering, so it’s business as usual, only this week, a little quieter.  Christmas is supposed to be about happiness, not sadness. It’s not supposed to be about death, suffering and innocent babies dying.  Instead of eating the big special Christmas meal, I chose to go to the orphanage. Those kids hardly have enough to eat. I don’t even know what I care about anymore. I’m worn out, I’m eroded, and I just want to come home.

Yo Mom,

Had a little excitement last night. The Security Police chased a Vietcong Sapper into a two square block of thick brush located directly behind my Hooch.  We call it The Jungle.  We never go in there because it is too dense to walk through.  Flares lit up the pitch black sky, we could hear the police dogs growling and it seemed like the machine gun fire would never stop. Although that area is only across the street, it will be a journey that some VC will never take because our security forces won’t stand for it. He messed with the wrong neighborhood.  By the time the Sun rose, it was all over and we went on with our business as usual.  From the Land of the Midnight Sun, Your Son, The Rock.

Dear Mom

The ugly face of war came to my door step last night. As usual, a Viet Cong Assassin infiltrated our base and ended up being surrounded in a thick over grown patch of brush we call The Jungle. This area is across the street behind my Hooch. So much for security and being safe at night. All night long we could hear machine gun fire and growling police dogs. The VC sneak into the base at night, secure a safe hiding place and watch the surrounding activity during the following day. They chose their targets and they perform their duty. Whether they use grenades, small bombs, or just a rifle, their mission is usually nothing less then a suicide attack. I was oddly in awe of that man. He had the willingness to sacrifice his life for his country. I have nothing but respect for his resolve to prevail, no matter how much I may disagree with him. We fear the Viet Cong. They are among us every day and we don’t even know who they are.  We are not safe; we only like to pretend we are.  Us medics are vulnerable and constantly at their mercy. By the way, they never captured that guy. They laugh at us; we are no more than a bunch of buffoons.

Dear Son,

By the time you get this letter, you will only have a few days left before you come home.  The way you conducted yourself this past year has made me so proud of you and I am grateful to have you as my son. You have always been the strong one around here. Whenever there was a problem, you were there. You are my Rock. Being strong comes with a price, and I know that you have been paying it.

I saved all your letters and appreciated how you calmed my fears about losing you in that terrible place. When you come home, my open arms will be waiting for you. Soon it will be time to get on with your life and let everyone else deal with the craziness. The weight of the world no longer needs to be resting on your shoulders. Your family and I are here to help remove that burden.  You will be safe and secure. You will no longer need to use words to hide your fears. You are loved. Please allow us to be there for you in your new life.

Love, Your Mother

Dear Son

Soon you will be home and frankly, I am scared.  I won’t know what to say to you, and I’m afraid that I won’t even know you anymore. I fear that the son I had no longer exists. We know what is going on over there. We watch the news and see the pictures of the killing; especially the photo of that soldier shooting a Viet Cong in the head and the one of the little Vietnamese girl who was burned by the Napalm. This war has changed our Country.  People are marching in the streets, riot police are attacking protestors, and its one big ugly mess.

Your Cousin came home talking to little men on his shoulder and his arms were as skinny as rails. He came back from that God forsaken country a stoned junky. We don’t expect him to be of any use again, only a drain on his family and society. Some hero he turned out to be. One of your old classmates got home last week. He was kicked out because of his drug use. His mother is heart broken and doesn’t even want him in her home anymore. He was apparently doing drugs before he left and the Army gave him the opportunity he dreamed about. He landed in a paradise of cheap and abundant fixes that he craved. He got what was coming to him. He was a bum anyway. All his family wants him to do now is to leave.

I read between the lines of your letters, and I imagined what the words were that you meant to write.  I can’ imagine what happens when our sons come home from war after having blood on their hands. After you get home, and although the blood will be forever washed away, would it have seeped down into your soul and warped who you were?  Could you ever look at life in the same way you did before?  Will you be the optimist I once knew, or will you let the blood and death be the victor?  I can’t do much for you in that department; but I will help you as much as I can.  You don’t have to be The Rock anymore, so just do the best you can.  I am afraid, but I will always be your Mother. I will not abandon you.

Love, Mom.