Point Man

Point Man  by Jim Holley

1,334 words

    Chris was becoming more nervous as he thought about the upcoming patrol. Standing nearly 6 ft tall in height, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, he was a handsome figure, but now he was noticeably quieter than ever before.

     Something was bothering him as he nervously thought about this upcoming patrol. This was his 5^th time being point man for his platoon and he wondered if his time was running out. He considered himself now a seasoned Vietnam combat veteran. He had proven himself in battle many times before as a regular patrol member.

    Now being point man was and is the most dangerous position on a recon mission. He was only 18 years old but old beyond his years. He thought he knew all the Viet-Cong tricks. Chris’ job was to alert the patrol of any impending ambush. He would be looking for anything out of the ordinary, even a blade of grass if its movement was caused by even the slightest breeze so the VC wouldn’t surprise his platoon. Yes, his platoon. These were his friends and comrades. He was their eyes and ears.

    “All right. Listen up” commanded the voice at the front of the platoon. Lieutenant A, as he was respectfully called, was a crisp West Point grad with a sharp military bearing and a snappy hand salute when at headquarters. But it was different here in the field. He instructed us not to call him by his rank and not to salute him. A Viet Cong sniper may be lurking and seeking a target.

    His thoughts turned to his job at hand and that was to protect his platoon at all cost. Chris listened to the lieutenant. “Watch Chris. He will signal to us if he sees something is not right.”

   “Damn,” Chris thought, “I wish he would not put so much trust in me.”

   Chris thought back to his youth. He had been, and his dad unknowingly was being taught these future combat lessons by his dad. They both thought Cris would someday he would make a great game warden. Yes, Vietnam was in the future and not thought of. They both had these visions that came from Dad’s long experience as an Army Green Beret and Ranger. And that his training His Dad would translate these lessons of military training to the art of hunting in the outdoors. “When hunting any animal,” he would say, “always try to see them before they see you.”

    Dad would spend so much time dressing me in camouflaged clothing and then 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're just going hunting to have some fun. This is not Army Ranger school.” But his father always believed in making everything realistic.

    We then progressed to something new. How to creep up on wildlife. We practiced these steps over and over, again and again. We took time to even camouflage our weapons. We would leave nothing to chance.

    As I waited for the patrol to move out, his teachings were coming back here in combat situations as in Vietnam.

    Yes, I can remember moving very slowly and stopping every so often. Then I would notice when we stopped long enough, the woods would come alive with wildlife. At different times we would see deer, rabbits, squirrels, and other game only to have them ‘disappear’ when we began slowly moving again. Anything that deer or other wildlife see or sense would send them scampering away in panic. But as soon as you stopped for a while the animals would begin moving again.

    Now he wanted to teach wanted to teach me something important.

    “About time now Chris, I’m going to teach you something really important.” “We are going to creep up on some real people.” 

    “Was this necessary,” I wondered. But my dad was enjoying this as only a former Ranger would.

         And we did and, using the same methods he was taught as a Ranger,

    Mom would say, “Your methods are different, but our freezer is always full.”

    Dad passed away a few years ago, about 15 years before Vietnam.

   I realize now why I am a good point man for the lieutenant and the platoon. It wasn’t intentional. But it is what it is. It just worked out that way.

    I always wanted to follow in my father's footsteps. But the recruiter explained you had to have three years prior service to even be considered a Green Beret. And you had to be a qualified military paratrooper. They don’t make it easy, that’s for sure. But I will know now what I have to do. 

    I will enlist in the infantry and volunteer for jump school. I'll Yes, I’ll enlist in the 101^st Airborne. Yes, infantry, airborne and get my 3 years of military experience. And when my enlistment is over, I’ll volunteer for the Special Forces as I will have met all the requirements. It all seemed so simple. But now, here I am in Vietnam getting ready to be point man again and lead the platoon on another dangerous recon mission. And to be ready for combat if another firefight is in the cards.

    Now, he realized as he prepared for this patrol, that his dad’s main purpose in teaching his son these abilities was that he could stand alone and not be taken by surprise, in any situation. Even on this patrol, he would always be on the alert as usual.

     Having now been in close combat already with the Viet Cong, the lessons with his father were time well spent.

    The Viet Cong were good jungle fighters and were the most adept at ambushing. They were excellent jungle fighters. “Here we go again,” I thought. It was the Viet Cong against the best of the 101^st airborne. Chris knew he was the best at what he did. He has proven himself thus far, keeping his men safe with only slight casualties.

    Let me see. Move slowly, stopping to observe the area. The VC would sometimes kill the point man and then quickly move out of the area leaving the recon patrol nothing to shoot back at. There were other tricks that Chris was aware of. He knew them all. Then there were the other natural enemies. Heat, thick jungle, and clouds of insects and blood-sucking bugs.

    Chris knew his dad was teaching him skills to be a hunter but the skills he taught Cris were now very adaptable to the situation here in Vietnam.

    The platoon was getting ready for their mission. They made jokes and kidded around with each other. But Chris knew it was all a front. He sensed their fear. They were scared. The platoon noncommissioned officer in charge (NCOIC), Sgt Sheridan commented out loud. “Chris, you’re the best point man ever. Like sneaking up on a rabbit. A quiet professional” That’s what his dad told Chris they called Special Forces. The quiet professionals.

    “That’s all well and good.” Chris thought and he started to reflect. “Maybe, after my tour of duty is over, I might just go home. No Special Forces. No army. Just maybe I’ll stop pushing my luck. And just go home.

    Chris for the first time felt his body weakening. The thought of the upcoming patrol scared him to the point his hands began to sweat.

    “What did they call it? It had a name for each war. Shell shock, battle fatigue? Is that what is happening to me? What is it now? Oh, I know. post-traumatic syndrome, he nervously thought.”

    This feeling of fear was something new to Chris. He caught himself counting to ten to calm himself down. He needs to be calm and cool. He owes it to his platoon.

    Lieutenant A yelled out. “Mount up and let's go. We have a party to go to. The Viet Cong are waiting.”