Medal of Honor (Undaunted Valor 2)

“Anything else, Captain Finn?” Major Adams asked. Captain Finn felt under the gun as Major Adams had been the maintenance officer for his aviation unit on his previous tour in Vietnam.

“No, sir,” Captain Finn said with a sigh of relief as no more questions would be coming his way.

“Supply?” Major Adams asked, looking at First Lieutenant Guidone.

“No issues, sir. If anything we’re getting overstocked with people wanting us to take their stuff so they don’t have to clean it and ship it. We’re excess in about everything,” said Lieutenant Guidone, a newbie pilot. Supply was an additional duty for him.

“Excess. No, no, no. We will not be excess. Don’t accept anything else from someone that just wants to dump it. If they dump it and we have to move, we have to ship it or haul it. I want just what’s in our TO&E,”23 the major directed. “In the next week, bring me a list of what we’re excess in so we can start looking at downsizing.”

The young Supply officer looked forlorn as it was common practice in Vietnam to stockpile items to trade for supplies you needed or would like to have but weren’t authorized.

“Yes, sir.”

“Medical?”

“Nothing serious, sir. A few cases of VD, mostly nonspecific urethritis, but that’s about it. A couple of people have malaria, all pilots but nothing serious,” Dr. Christeson explained.

“Aren’t the pilots taking their malaria pills?” the major asked.

“Yes, sir, but of the two pills, one affects night vision, and those pilots that fly most of our night missions have avoided that particular pill. I guess the fear of flying into something at night outweighs the fear of potential malaria.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that, but let’s keep track of any new cases,” the major instructed. “How many VD cases do we have? What do you call a few?”

“Sir, we can manage those cases okay and we are monitoring the situation,” Doc Christeson answered, avoiding the direct question.

“How many, Doc? Are any of them pilots?” Major Adams asked again, projecting daggers with his look.

“Sir, there are twenty cases at this time,” he replied, quickly adding, “All are gonorrhea, so nothing really serious.”

“Twenty? And what do you call serious? The black syphilis that sends a man to Dickless Island?” Major Adams asked as his voice rose an octave. Others were enjoying this exchange, watching Doc shift in his seat a bit.

“Sir, Dickless Island is a false rumor repeated by the new guys,” Doc responded, trying to extricate himself from this conversation. He wasn’t doing a good job of it.

“Really. Well, Doc, here’s what I want you to do. Interview each man and find out where he may have contracted the disease and report back to me. If it was at the massage parlor, then I will put it off-limits,” the major indicated.

“It’s not from the massage parlor, sir. I’ve already asked each man,” Doc indicated.

“Well, where is it from?” Major Adams asked with some frustration in his voice as he was tired of dragging an answer out of Doc. What the hell is he hiding? Everyone suddenly stopped grinning at Doc’s predicament and was studying their notes.

“Sir, I believe it’s from one or two hooch maids,” Doc reluctantly confessed. There were a couple of groans from the others and some heads snapped up to witness the major’s reaction.

Quickly, 1SG Miller injected himself into the conversation. “Sir, this is the first time in the two years we’ve been here that this has happened. Let me and Doc investigate this and find the infected hooch maids, fire them and make it known to everyone that a repeat of this will result in all the hooch maids being fired.”

After a minute of thought, the major responded, “Okay, I’ll go along this one time. Doc, I want you to examine every hooch maid for VD, physically and tests, whatever they are. When you determine who has it, I want them identified to the 1SG. Top, you will make a public display of firing them in front of the entire company and all the other hooch maids. Be sure the men know that if it happens again, the hooch maids are out of here. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” 1SG Miller responded

“I’ll get started first thing tomorrow, sir,” Doc replied.

“Anything else anyone has for me?” the major asked, looking over the assembled group. “Nothing? Okay. This was a good update, and we’ll do this at least weekly. This company has a great reputation and performed very well in the past, and I expect it will do so in the future at whatever we are assigned to do. One observation I’ve made in my short time here is that we’re away from the flagpole, and as a result we tend to become lax in our military bearing. I’ve noticed that mustaches are a bit long, as is most hair. Boots are almost tan in some cases, probably having not seen polish since arriving in Nam. A couple of people I doubt have taken a bath since they arrived in Nam, especially that one pilot, and I think you all know who I mean. Tomorrow, 1SG, let’s take a walk through the hooches and see what kind of living conditions we have there. We need to clean up our acts a bit, gentlemen. We’re in a combat zone, but we’re still in the US Army. Any questions?” He paused. “If not, that’s all I have. Good night.” With that, everyone got up and headed out.

Back in the orderly room, 1SG Miller told the clerk to round up the platoon sergeants and tell them to get over to the orderly room, now. Best break the news to them early that there would be a barracks inspection tomorrow and they better get them cleaned up, if they wanted to keep hooch maids. And to keep the men off the hooch maids. Times were changing, and there was a new sheriff in town.

Two days later, Major Adams was leading a flight of six aircraft throughout the day in support of the ARVN Airborne unit. It was a good day of flying with clear skies for a change, cooler weather and no turbulence. Everything had gone smoothly, and he would arrive back in the company area early and hopefully get some correspondence done. Yesterday’s inspection of the barracks with the 1SG was satisfactory, and while certainly in these conditions, spit-shine appearances were out of the question, things were in order and clean. It was obvious that the platoon sergeants were performing their duties in a satisfactory manner.

Once he shut down the aircraft, he offered to help the crew chief with cleaning up the bird but was told that the crew chief and door gunner had it and his help wasn’t needed. He had known this would be their response but felt he should still offer as almost all the pilots did after a day of flying. Leaving Flight Operations, Major Adams started across the company area when he noticed a very long line of Vietnamese females outside the aid station. What the hell?

He entered the company aid station, where a medic sat behind a desk, writing down the name of each female. Looking up, he noticed the major. “Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”