Monday, October 20, 2014

The Last Smith on the Huey.

(This story is true, just not the names.)

Frank and Jesse were young CPAs starting their careers. They were drafted during the Vietnam war, and they were not happy soldiers. Sure, they could have been officers. All they had to do was give the Army two MORE years of their lives. They hated the two years they were in for, it doesn't take an accountant to do the math on giving two more. They both thought, “Just get it done with.”

They came together working in the USARV Replacement Office in Long Binh, Vietnam, and they very soon began inventive subversion.

The way Replacement (requisitioning and assigning new troops in the war) worked in those days was that major units would send their projected Force Requirements to USARV (US Army in Vietnam), and USARV would put it all together to send on to the DoD in Washington. Stateside orders would be cut, and troops loaded onto airplanes bound for SE Asia. These requisitions for people, not too different from requisitions for toilet paper, would be by Rank and MOS. An MOS is a “Military Occupational Specialty”--what you are trained to do in the Army. They run a gamut. They are coded by numbers and letters. For instance, an 11B20, spoken as “Eleven Bravo”, is a low ranking infantryman. The “2” goes up to 3 and 4 as rank increases. The “0” is a place holder for special designations. For instance, an 11B2P is a paratrooper, and an 11B2L speaks a second language. Other examples would be “71B20” Clerk Typist; or “94B20” Combat photographer.

As those planes full of new troops left the US, a lengthy “Green Bar” computer print out, just like corporations used in those days, would be sent via teletype to USARV. It would list, by name. Rank. and MOS, all inbound personnel, and would arrive about 20 hours before the plane. At the time of this tale, about 10,000 new troops a day were arriving in Vietnam. The list would be sorted by MOS. Who is not really important to an Army. “What” is.

Clerks like Frank and Jesse would count and circle blocks of names to be assigned to Major Subordinate Commands, like Divisions and Brigades. These commands had similar operations that assigned on down to the battalion and company levels. By the time a replacement landed in Vietnam, his in-country destination was already decided.

One day during Monsoon season, Jesse looked at Frank and asked, “What's the smallest command we assign to?”

Frank said, “Some independent Brigade somewhere.”

“No,” said Jesse, “SMALL.”

Frank said, “We don't assign small.” But they both got looking.

They discovered that there was a courier helicopter company in Saigon that served MACV, USARV, and the Embassy, and was subordinate to no command other than USARV. It was a company, about 200 men, that got direct assignments from Frank and Jesse's office. The game was afoot.

Jesse said, “We've got 10,000 men a day to choose from, and up to 3 days to fill a slot. What if the 334th Helicopter Company only gets men named Smith?”
“Smith?” said Frank.

“Smith,” replied Jesse.

So they began. Smith, after Smith, after Smith.

Theoretically, a tour in Vietnam was 1 year. But men often left earlier due to injury, illness, hardships at home, educational drops, in-country transfers, and more. So, in less than 6 months, more than 75% to 80% of a unit might turn over. And our subversive clerks had been at this for more than 6 months. The Army works on alphabetized lists of names. Duty Rosters; Morning Reports; Leave Schedules and Authorizations; Sick Call lists; DROS (Date of Return from Overseas) lists; and more. These must have been getting interesting at the 334th.

The door of the large, cube-filled office where the replacement clerks worked slammed open. A Full Bird Colonel stepped in and shouted, “Ten-HUT.” This was scary. The lowest ranking man in a group steps through a door first and calls the room to attention. And this was a Colonel.

Behind him a Two Star General stomped in, looking every bit the part. He growls out, “Which of you Sumbitches assigns to the 334th Helicopter Company?”

Frank and Jesse timidly raised their hands. The general combat-strides over to them and says, “Smith. Smith. Smith? Fuckin' SMITH! Do you think that's funny?”

The first rule of military survival is, Deny. Frank and Jesse did, saying something like, “Huh?”

The general is at full bellow. “Every damn man going to the 334th is a Smith, are you Peckerwoods gonna tell me that's an accident?”

“Yessir,” bleats Frank.

“Yes, Sir, WHAT?”

“Yes, Sir. It must be a coincidence. We have no idea how........”

The next Star Filled Explosion cut them off. The general continued to yell. They continued to deny. Finally, out of steam, the general said, “Accident or not, if one more, just one more, swingin' richard named Smith shows up at the 334th, the two of you will be sent so far North, you'll be looking South to the DMZ.” And he spun and stormed out, followed by his brass-festooned minions.

The room was silent and filled with quaking soldiers, including Frank. But not Jesse. He was looking down pensively at a green bar printout.

After about 20 seconds of silence, he looked up at Frank and asked, “Brown?”


Their one-year tours ended before THAT explosion.

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