Point Man

Point man By Jim Holley

   1968 and it was the Tet Offensive in Viet Nam. And in Phuoc Tuy Province, the casualties have been heavy. Chris was becoming more nervous at the thought of the upcoming patrol, a search-and-destroy mission.

     Standing 6 ft in height, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, he was a handsome figure but now, he was being more quiet than before. On each new patrol, he found himself folding his hands in prayer. He felt better praying. Something was bothering him and he nervously thought about this upcoming patrol. This was his ninth time being the point man for his platoon and he was wondering if his time is running out. He would consider himself now a seasoned Viet-Nam combat veteran, but now he needed prayer before each patrol, as it seemed to provide him the extra strength needed to overcome his fears.

    Being point man on a patrol was the most dangerous position of all on a recon mission. He was only 18 years old but old beyond his years of experience. He thought now he knew all the Viet Cog tricks. Chris’s job was to alert the patrol of an impending ambush. He would be looking for any movement Not even a blade of grass that moved that was not natural and caused by even the slightest breeze would catch his attention. He was that alert.

    Chris knew the difference. Anything, not natural would catch his eye, so the VC wouldn’t surprise his platoon. The platoon-sized patrol was ready. These were his comrades. He was their eyes and ears.

    Lieutenant Athanasou, the patrol leader spoke to his patrol quietly. Lieutenant A, as he was respectfully called, was a West Point graduate with a sharp military bearing and always wanting a crisp hand salute when at headquarters. But it was different in the field in which he told us all not to call him Lieutenant or anything which would identify him as an officer. A VC sniper may be lurking seeking a target.

    Lieutenant A, a tall, dark-tanned man of Greek heritage, showed no emotion. “You people listen up.” “Watch Chris. He will signal us if he sees something is not right”

   “Damn, he put so much trust in me,” Chris thought.

     Chris thought back to his youth. His dad used his experience as a former Army Green Beret and Ranger to teach his son the art of hunting in the outdoors.

    . “Deer and other game are just like people” he would say. “Always try to see them before they see you”

      Dad would also spend much time dressing me in camouflaged clothing. He would break up the outline of my face and hands with military black and olive drab color sticks.

    “Enough” my Mom would say to my Dad. “You two are just going hunting to have some fun. This is not Ranger school”

    But Dad always believed that military training should be used for teaching us all how to get along in life.

    As the steps of learning Dad’s “advanced” hunting techniques continued, it now became time to learn how to approach game without being noticed.

  Yes, we would move ever so slowly without making a sound and stopping every so often. And we would repeat this often. We tested his methods over and over again. And they worked.

    Now, his teachings were ingrained in me in the lessons he taught. And they came back, as they did in combat situations, like here in Viet-Nam

    Chris remembered they would move very slowly through the woods, stopping every so often, and I would notice that sometimes, the woods would come alive with some animals when we stopped. At different times, we would see deer, rabbits, squirrels, and other game only to have them “disappear” when we began moving again.

    We even took the time to camouflage our weapons. Anything that deer or any game could see or sense differently, will send them flurrying away in panic. But as soon as your movement stopped and you waited long enough, animal activity would start again.

   There was a questionable look on Dad’s face. He wanted to discuss something important.

“It’s time Chris,”, we going to teach you the real thing. We’re going to actually creep up on some real people.

    And so we did, numerous times using Dad’s techniques, I noticed at no time, and using extreme caution, did people notice us approaching. “ Yes, we were doing it correctly but they did not know we were coming. If they were on the watch for you, it would be an entirely different story.

    So, as I grew older and having used Dad’s methods, I became a proficient hunter. I had learned my lessons well. They made me also become a good point man.

    Mom would say, “Your Dad’s methods were different”. But she would acknowledge, “Our freezer was always full.

    Dad passed away a few years ago after the Viet Nam war had started. Chris tried to enlist in Special Forces to follow in his Dad’s footsteps, but the recruiter said that would be impossible.

    He explained, “To get into Special Forces, you need prior 3 years of military experience just to try out. You had to be a qualified military paratrooper also.

 “They didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure,” Chris thought

    “I want to wear a Green Beret,” Chris thought, and he realized what he had to do to become a Green Beret. 

    “I will enlist in the infantry and volunteer for jump school.” “In fact, I’ll enlist in the 101^st Airborne”. “Yes, the 101^st  infantry airborne and get my 3 years military experience”. “And when my initial enlistment is done, I’ll volunteer for Special Forces, as I will have met all the requirements

    And now, here he was in Viet Nam getting ready to be point man again and lead his platoon on another dangerous recon mission.

    And now he realized, as he prepared for combat, his Dad’s purpose in his teaching his son these abilities, was to make him a confident person. And to prepare for whatever happens. Not to be taken by surprise in any situation.

    The Viet Cong were the most adaptable at ambushing but Chris thought, “I am better prepared because of my childhood to see you before you see me. I am prepared for any event. “Yes I am”, he thought.

    Let me see. Move slowly, stopping often to observe the area. 

    The Viet Cong would sometimes kill the point man and scurry off into the bush leaving the rest of the patrol nothing or nobody to shoot at. One of their many tricks.

    There were other problems on these patrols. Sometimes you were in elephant grass, grass that could cut like a knife, and other times in thick vegetation and always, the ever-present insects and bloodsucking bugs.

    Chris knew his Dad was teaching him to be a hunter. But the skills he taught Chris were very important today in combat also. 

    His platoon was getting ready for their mission. They made jokes and kidded around with each other. But Chris knew it was all show. He sensed their fear. And they were scared.

    Yes, he learned much in those early years. And using these skills today would keep him and his men alive.

    “Chris, You’re the best point man ever” “You are a quiet professional”. Lieutenant A commented.

   “Like a fox sneaking up on a rabbit”

     A quiet professional”.

     “Hmm,” Thought Chris. “Quiet professional” 

    Strange, the lieutenant said that. That’s what Dad told Chris they called Special Forces sometimes. The Quiet Professionals.

   Chris started to reflect. “Maybe, I think after my tour of duty is up, and maybe I believe, I would just like to go home. No Special Forces. No more Army. Just maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop pushing my luck anymore.

    Chris, for the first time, felt his body and mind weakening. The thought of the upcoming patrol, and the thought scared him to the point his palms were starting to sweat. He prayed and he was shaking somewhat.

   What did they call it before in each war shell shock, battle fatigue? The military had different names for it in different wars. What is it now?

 Oh yeah. Post-traumatic Syndrome. Is that what’s happening to me he nervously thought

    This feeling of fear is something new with Chris. He caught himself starting to tremble.

Praying, he slowly calmed down. He needs to be calm and cool. He owes it to the platoon

   Lieutenant A bellowed.” Mount up. Let’s go. We have a party to go to.”>The Viet Cong are waiting.

Point man By Jim Holley

   1968 and it was the Tet Offensive in Viet Nam. And in Phuoc Tuy Province, the casualties have been heavy. Chris was becoming more nervous at the thought about the upcoming patrol, a search and destroy mission.

     Standing 6 ft in height, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, he was a handsome figure but now, he was being more quiet than before. On each new patrol, he found himself folding his hands in prayer. He felt better praying. Something was bothering him and he nervously thought about this upcoming patrol. This was his ninth time being the point man for his platoon and he was wondering if his time is running out. He would consider himself now a seasoned Viet-Nam combat veteran, but now he needed prayer before each patrol, as it seemed to provide him the extra strength needed in to overcome his fears.

    Being point man on a patrol was the most dangerous position of all on a recon mission. He was only 18 years old but old beyond his years in experience. He thought now he knew all the Viet Cog tricks. Chris’s job was to alert the patrol of an impending ambush. He would be looking for any movement Not even a blade of grass that moved that was not natural and caused by even the slightest breeze would catch his attention. He was that alert.

    Chris knew the difference. Anything, not natural would catch his eye, so the VC wouldn’t surprise his platoon. The platoon-sized patrol was ready. These were his comrades. He was their eyes and ears.

    Lieutenant Athanasou, the patrol leader spoke to his patrol quietly.. Lieutenant A, as he was respectfully called, was a West Point graduate with a sharp military bearing and always wanting a crisp hand salute when at headquarters. But it was different in the field in which he told us all not to call him Lieutenant or anything which would identify him as an officer. A VC sniper may be lurking seeking a target.

    Lieutenant A, a tall, dark-tanned man of Greek heritage, showed no emotion. “You people listen up.” “Watch Chris. He will signal us if he sees something is not right”

   “Damn, he put so much trust in me,” Chris thought.

     Chris thought back to his youth. His dad used his experience as a former Army Green Beret and Ranger to teach his son the art of hunting in the outdoors.

    . “Deer and other game are just like people” he would say. “Always try to see them before they see you”

      Dad would also spend much time dressing me in camouflaged clothing. He would break up the outline of my face and hands with military black and olive drab color sticks.

    “Enough” my Mom would say to my Dad. “You two are just going hunting to have some fun. This is not Ranger school”

    But Dad always believed that military training should be used for teaching us all how to get along in life.

    As the steps of learning Dad’s “advanced” hunting techniques continued, it now became time to learn how to approach game without being noticed.

  Yes, we would move ever so slowly without making a sound and stopping every so often. And we would repeat this often. We tested his methods over and over again. And they worked.

    Now, his teachings were ingrained in me in the lessons he taught. And they came back, as they did in combat situations, like here in Viet-Nam

    Chris remembered they would move very slowly through the woods, stopping every so often, and I would notice that sometimes, the woods would come alive with some animals when we stopped. At different times, we would see deer, rabbits, squirrels, and other game only to have them “disappear” when we began moving again.

    We even took the time to camouflage our weapons. Anything that deer or any game could see or sense differently, will send them flurrying away in panic. But as soon as your movement stopped and you waited long enough, animal activity would start again.

   There was a questionable look on Dad’s face. He wanted to discuss something important.

“It’s time Chris,” we will teach you the real thing. We’re going to actually creep up on some real people.

    And so we did, numerous times using Dad’s techniques, I noticed at no time and using extreme caution, did people see us approaching. “ Yes, we were doing it correctly but they did not know we were coming. If they were on the watch for you, it would be an entirely different story.

    So, as I grew older and having used Dad’s methods, I became a proficient hunter. I had learned my lessons well. They made me also become a good point man.

    Mom would say, “Your Dad’s methods were different”. But she would acknowledge, “our freezer was always full.

    Dad passed away a few years ago, after the Viet Nam war had started. Chris tried to enlist into Special Forces to follow in his Dad’s footsteps, but the recruiter said that would be impossible.

    He explained, “to get into Special Forces, you need 3 years of military experience just to try out. You had to be a qualified military paratrooper also.

 “They didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure,” Chris thought

    “I want to wear a Green Beret,” Chris thought, and he realized what he had to do to become a Green Beret. 

    “I will enlist in the infantry and volunteer for jump school.” “In fact, I’ll enlist in the 101^st Airborne”. “Yes, the 101^st  infantry airborne and get my 3 years military experience”. “And when my initial enlistment is done, I’ll volunteer for Special Forces, as I will have met all the requirements

    And now, here he was in Viet Nam getting ready to be point man again and lead his platoon on another dangerous recon mission.

    And now he realized, as he prepared for combat, his Dad’s purpose in his teaching his son these abilities, was to make him a confident person. And to prepare for whatever happens. Not to be taken by surprise in any situation.

    The Viet Cong were the most adaptable at ambushing but Chris thought, “I am better prepared because of my childhood to see you before you see me. I am prepared for any event. “Yes I am”, he thought.

    Let me see. Move slowly, stopping often to observe the area. 

    The Viet Cong would sometimes kill the point man and scurry off into the bush leaving the rest of the patrol nothing or nobody to shoot at. One of their many tricks.

    There were other problems on these patrols. Sometimes you were in elephant grass, grass that could cut like a knife, and other times in thick vegetation and always, the ever-present insects and bloodsucking bugs.

    Chris knew his Dad was teaching him to be a hunter. But the skills he taught Chris were very important today in combat also. 

    His platoon was getting ready for their mission. They made jokes and kidded around with each other. But Chris knew it was all show. He sensed their fear. And they were scared.

    Yes, he learned much in those early years. And using these skills today would keep him and his men alive.

    “Chris, You’re the best point man ever” “You are a quiet professional”. Lieutenant A commented.

   “Like a fox sneaking up on a rabbit”

     A quiet professional”.

     “Hmm,” Thought Chris. “Quiet professional” 

    Strange, the lieutenant said that. That’s what Dad told Chris they called Special Forces sometimes. The Quiet Professionals.

   Chris started to reflect. “Maybe, I think after my tour of duty is up, and maybe I believe, I would just like to go home. No Special Forces. No more Army. Just maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop pushing my luck anymore.

    Chris, for the first time, felt his body and mind weakening. The thought of the upcoming patrol, and it scared him to the point his palms were starting to sweat. He prayed and he was shaking somewhat.

   What did they call it before in each war shell shock, battle fatigue? The military had different names for it in different wars. What is it now?

 Oh yeah. Post-traumatic Syndrome. Is that what’s happening to me he nervously thought

    This feeling of fear is something new with Chris. He caught himself starting to tremble.

Praying, he slowly calmed down. He needs to be calm and cool. He owes it to the platoon

   Lieutenant A bellowed.” Mount up. Let’s go. We have a party to go to.”>The Viet Cong are waiting. Point man By Jim Holley

   1968 and it was the Tet Offensive in Viet Nam. And in Phuoc Tuy Province, the casualties have been heavy. Chris was becoming more nervous at the thought of the upcoming patrol, a search-and-destroy mission.

     Standing 6 ft in height, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, he was a handsome figure but now, he was quieter than before. On each new patrol, he found himself folding his hands in prayer. He felt better praying. Something was bothering him and he nervously thought about this upcoming patrol. This was his ninth time being the point man for his platoon and he was wondering if his time is running out. He would consider himself now a seasoned Viet-Nam combat veteran, but now he needed prayer before each patrol, as it seemed to provide him the extra strength needed to overcome his fears.

    Being point man on a patrol was the most dangerous position of all on a recon mission. He was only 18 years old but old beyond his years of experience. He thought now he knew all the Viet Cog tricks. Chris’s job was to alert the patrol of an impending ambush. He would be looking for any movement Not even a blade of grass that moved that was not natural and caused by even the slightest breeze would catch his attention. He was that alert.

    Chris knew the difference. Anything, not natural would catch his eye, so the VC wouldn’t surprise his platoon. The platoon-sized patrol was ready. These were his comrades. He was their eyes and ears.

    Lieutenant Athanasou, the patrol leader spoke to his patrol quietly. Lieutenant A, as he was respectfully called, was a West Point graduate with a sharp military bearing and always wanting a crisp hand salute when at headquarters. But it was different in the field in which he told us all not to call him Lieutenant or anything which would identify him as an officer. A VC sniper may be lurking seeking a target.

    Lieutenant A, a tall, dark-tanned man of Greek heritage, showed no emotion. “You people listen up.” “Watch Chris. He will signal us if he sees something is not right”

   “Damn, he put so much trust in me,” Chris thought.

     Chris thought back to his youth. His dad used his experience as a former Army Green Beret and Ranger to teach his son the art of hunting in the outdoors.

    . “Deer and other game are just like people” he would say. “Always try to see them before they see you”

      Dad would also spend much time dressing me in camouflaged clothing. He would break up the outline of my face and hands with military black and olive drab color sticks.

    “Enough” my Mom would say to my Dad. “You two are just going hunting to have some fun. This is not Ranger school”

    But Dad always believed that military training should be used for teaching us all how to get along in life.

    As the steps of learning Dad’s “advanced” hunting techniques continued, it now became time to learn how to approach game without being noticed.

  Yes, we would move ever so slowly without making a sound and stopping every so often. And we would repeat this often. We tested his methods over and over again. And they worked.

    Now, his teachings were ingrained in me in the lessons he taught. And they came back, as they did in combat situations, like here in Viet-Nam

    Chris remembered they would move very slowly through the woods, stopping every so often, and I would notice that sometimes, the woods would come alive with some animals when we stopped. At different times, we would see deer, rabbits, squirrels, and other game only to have them “disappear” when we began moving again.

    We even took the time to camouflage our weapons. Anything that deer or any game could see or sense differently, will send them flurrying away in panic. But as soon as your movement stopped and you waited long enough, animal activity would start again.

   There was a questionable look on Dad’s face. He wanted to discuss something important.

“It’s time Chris,” we will teach you the real thing. We’re going to actually creep up on some real people.

    And so we did, numerous times using Dad’s techniques, I noticed at no time, and using extreme caution, did people see us approaching. “ Yes, we were doing it correctly but they did not know we were coming. If they were on the watch for you, it would be an entirely different story.

    So, as I grew older and having used Dad’s methods, I became a proficient hunter. I had learned my lessons well. They made me also become a good point man.

    Mom would say, “Your Dad’s methods were different”. But she would acknowledge, “Our freezer was always full.

    Dad passed away a few years ago after the Viet Nam war had started. Chris tried to enlist into Special Forces to follow in his Dad’s footsteps, but the recruiter said that would be impossible.

    He explained, “To get into Special Forces, you need prior 3 years of military experience just to try out. You had to be a qualified military paratrooper also.

 “They didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure,” Chris thought

    “I want to wear a Green Beret,” Chris thought, and he realized what he had to do to become a Green Beret. 

    “I will enlist in the infantry and volunteer for jump school.” “In fact, I’ll enlist in the 101^st Airborne”. “Yes, the 101^st  infantry airborne and get my 3 years military experience”. “And when my initial enlistment is done, I’ll volunteer for Special Forces, as I will have met all the requirements

    And now, here he was in Viet Nam getting ready to be point man again and lead his platoon on another dangerous recon mission.

    And now he realized, as he prepared for combat, his Dad’s purpose in his teaching his son these abilities, was to make him a confident person. And to prepare for whatever happens. Not to be taken by surprise in any situation.

    The Viet Cong were the most adaptable at ambushing but Chris thought, “I am better prepared because of my childhood to see you before you see me. I am prepared for any event. “Yes I am”, he thought.

    Let me see. Move slowly, stopping often to observe the area. 

    The Viet Cong would sometimes kill the point man and scurry off into the bush leaving the rest of the patrol nothing or nobody to shoot at. One of their many tricks.

    There were other problems on these patrols. Sometimes you were in elephant grass, grass that could cut like a knife, and other times in thick vegetation and always, the ever-present insects and bloodsucking bugs.

    Chris knew his Dad was teaching him to be a hunter. But the skills he taught Chris were very important today in combat also. 

    His platoon was getting ready for their mission. They made jokes and kidded around with each other. But Chris knew it was all show. He sensed their fear. And they were scared.

    Yes, he learned much in those early years. And using these skills today would keep him and his men alive.

    “Chris, You’re the best point man ever” “You are a quiet professional”. Lieutenant A commented.

   “Like a fox sneaking up on a rabbit”

     A quiet professional”.

     “Hmm,” Thought Chris. “Quiet professional” 

    Strange, the lieutenant said that. That’s what Dad told Chris they called Special Forces sometimes. The Quiet Professionals.

   Chris started to reflect. “Maybe, I think after my tour of duty is up, and maybe I believe, I would just like to go home. No Special Forces. No more Army. Just maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop pushing my luck anymore.

    Chris, for the first time, felt his body and mind weakening. The thought of the upcoming patrol, and it scared him to the point his palms were starting to sweat. He prayed and he was shaking somewhat.

   What did they call it before in each war shell shock, battle fatigue? The military had different names for it in different wars. What is it now?

 Oh yeah. Post-traumatic Syndrome. Is that what’s happening to me he nervously thought

    This feeling of fear is something new with Chris. He caught himself starting to tremble.

Praying, he slowly calmed down. He needs to be calm and cool. He owes it to the platoon

   Lieutenant A bellowed.” Mount up. Let’s go. We have a party to go to.”>The Viet Cong are waiting.