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    Brown Water - Red Blood
    Brown Water - Red Blood
    Brown Water - Red Blood
    Ebook78 pages1 hour

    Brown Water - Red Blood

    By Bruce Gaughran

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    About this ebook

    Novella - Four stories, one poem, and Background on CTF-117 taken from the author's personal experiences during his tour of duty as a River Rat with the Mobile Riverine Force in the Mekong Delta, Republic of Vietnam. Plus, four other stories that reflect the trials and tribulations of those of us who served during this contentious time in history. 

    It has been 37 years and he still cannot forget. You would think after all this time he could put these thoughts and emotions aside and get on with his life.

     Brown Water - Red Blood is a story of survivor's guilt. It is the author's way of atoning for coming home in one piece. Many times during his tour of duty, he said, "That could have just as well been me."

    What readers have said about "Brown Water Red Blood":
    "Well written and insightful"
    "Fight for Survival"
    "Excellent portrayal of the Vietnam War"
    "Five Stars!"
    "Thankful for men like you".

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBruce Gaughran
    Release dateNov 29, 2014
    ISBN9781502275271
    Brown Water - Red Blood
    Author

    Bruce Gaughran

    Who is Bruce Gaughran? A. "River Rat" B. Retired business professional with too much time on his hands C. 'Survivor' of SERE training D. Published author who has written  fiction and non-fiction stories for over twenty years E. All of the above (and so much more) If you answered 'All of the Above', you are correct. And each is a story waiting to be told. Bruce Gaughran has published "2074", a SciFi novel, and "Staff of Rhah", a Fantasy novel: > "Brown Water Red Blood" - a novella - is a four short stories and one poem of his experiences as a member of the Mobile Riverine Force in the Mekong Delta Region of the Republic of Vietnam plus four other stories related to the 60s and 70s. > "TROUBLE" - a novella - is a Justin Seaborne Duology. TROUBLE has been adapted for the stage and was performed on February 11-14, 2016 by the Marshall Area Stage Company. Published short stories and poetry include: > Living and Dying at the Sam's Club > Almost Perfect > The Age of Innocence > A Cat's Tale > Will I Ever Find Some Peace - a poem about his experiences in Vietnam > A Patriot Found His Home > The Nine Stages Bruce lives in northern Georgia, is a member of the Chattanooga Writers Guild, and leads the North Georgia Writers Group. He is currently writing "Shattered", a Nazi war crimes story focused on Treblinka. Bruce's The Writer's Corner Website:  http://www.brucegaughran.com

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      Book preview

      Brown Water - Red Blood - Bruce Gaughran

      The Brown Water Navy

      On both tactical and operational levels the MRF was one of the success stories of the Vietnam War. While it operated, the MRF effectively wrested control of the northern Mekong Delta from the VC and opened Highway 4 for the first time since 1965, which in turn freed the flow of agricultural products from the delta for both export and domestic use.   Weapons and Warfare

      The Look

      Soren Kierkegaard said, Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

      ________________________

      ––––––––

      It had been a long flight. I am more than ready to stretch my legs. Unfortunately, there is a sea of green between the door and me. When the flight attendant opens the cabin door, intense heat and humidity floods the interior of the plane. The once air-conditioned cabin now feels like a sauna. By the time I reach the front of the plane, I am sweating and my shirt sticks to my body like glue.

      The soldier behind me taps me on the shoulder and says, I sure hope the terminal is air-conditioned.

      When I finally exit the plane, the stench of something rotted or decaying overwhelms my senses. I gag and then clear my throat. Nervous murmurs and the occasional short chuckle by other passengers tells me I am not the only one having problems with the smell. I step off the stairway onto the sizzling hot tarmac. It must be a hundred degrees with 98 percent humidity. I’m not certain what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

      Come on, ladies, grab your duffle bags and form a line behind me, yells the military policeman standing off to the left. Let’s get a move on it. We don’t have all day.

      We are now strung out like a column of ants and almost circle the aircraft. Sweat drips down the back of my neck and off my chin. How does anyone work in this heat?

      As we wait for a few stragglers, I look around Tan Son Nhut Air Base. There are hundreds of aircraft, military and civilian, large and small, jets and prop jobs, fighters and transports, as well as dozens of Huey helicopters. Maintenance crews work on some, while others taxi, take off, or land. Air traffic and ground control must be one busy place.

      The guy in front of me picks up his bag and starts walking. I grab mine and follow. Another MP yells, Move it—move it—move it.

      As I enter the terminal, I notice dozens of men standing in two columns near the door. Some have duffle bags while others have large rucksacks. They must be going home. But, instead of being relieved or happy, they seem weathered and old. Fatigue is burned into their postures as if they carry some unseen baggage on their shoulders and backs. Each of their worn and well-tanned faces tell a story, but one that I can’t decipher. The far off stares refuse to make eye contact with the ‘newbies’. The stare bothers me. They are devoid of life.

      Smoke ’em if you got ’em, someone yells up ahead. Navy to the left, Army to the right, and everyone else in the middle. Have your orders and I.D. ready for the clerks. There is chaos for a moment as hundreds shift to form three lines.

      A loud speaker announces, American Airlines flight 43 is ready for boarding. Have your orders and I.D. available for inspection by the MP at the door. I turn around and glance at the departing soldiers. What happened to them?

      Next.

      I pull out my orders as I step up to the table.

      Gaughran, B. A., you will be flying to Dong Tam at 1330. You can hang out in the snack bar on the second floor until then. You’re in luck, the air-conditioner is working today.

      I think he is kidding, but the expression on his face shows no signs of amusement. He hands back my paperwork. Report back here at 1300. Next.

      As I try to locate the stairwell, I notice another line of departing soldiers forming. Their faces are identical to the previous group. Uneasiness churns away in my belly.

      While enjoying a coke and sandwich in the snack bar, the immensity of the air base and the organized confusion fascinates me. I watch a pup-tractor with eleven trailers stop at the rear of a C-17 Globemaster. The plane’s ramp is down. Several men load large brushed aluminum boxes onto a portable conveyor system that extends deep into the plane. The murky sun

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