undershorts and mortar attacks: a veteran's story

My dad, Paul, enlisted in the Army in the late 60s. He led convoys through Vietnam. I think that's right. I know "muleskinner" and "48th Transport" are significant to him, although I don't know exactly what they mean. My dad didn't talk about his experiences in Vietnam until much later. I don't remember hearing stories until high school in the late 80s. (Maybe he talked about it sooner, and I just wasn't paying attention, but I don't think so.). Here is one of my favorite stories:

Fresh on the ground, my dad was awoken early one morning to sirens for an air attack. He heard doors slamming and men yelling and running. He yelled to his hooch buddy, a guy named John from California, "John! Here we go!" John's response: "Zzzzzzzzzzzz."

My dad grabbed his flak jacket and a steel pot, crawled into the fetal position under the bunk, and wondered what in the hell he was doing there. John slept peacefully until the all clear signal. When the rest returned, my dad learned that no, running to the bunker was NOT just a suggestion; and no, hiding under your bunk in your underpants was NOT okay. "From that point on, I ran like hell."

They were bombed again two days later while my dad was standing in his skivvies at the piss tube. The sirens went off, and he cleared the 40 yards between the tube and the bunker in approximately 3 steps. "I didn't have to pee anymore. I'll tell you that," he said.

For the rest of his time in Vietnam it would seem that "every time they tried to blow us up, I was in my skivvies." I forgot to ask if John ever stopped sleeping through mortar attacks.

I love my dad a lot. I've said this before about my parents--the strangeness of suddenly realizing they are actual PEOPLE who existed before me, who experienced things outside of parenting me. It's strange to think of my dad as some scrawny young 20-something hiding from bombs under a bunk bed. Charming almost, if I am allowed to say something so naive about war. It's strange to know there is so much I don't know about his time there and how that's shaped his life. He has said on more than one occasion that he can't not notice small things--trained to pick out inconsistencies in others dress or speech or behavior. I know he feels deep respect for the new generation of veterans.

He was in the car listening to the radio in 1990 when they announced F-15s taking off for Saudi Arabia at the start of Desert Storm. "The entire car filled with the smell of cordite. All I could smell was cordite. It was the weirdest experience, and it never happened again."