Machine Dreams

told Mitch the same. Talked to some guys waiting to go on R&R (one going home) at the Enlisted Men’s Club but haven’tseen much except the Base and the land as we came in—even from the air, it didn’t look like anywhere I’ve ever been. Travel broadens the mind—Nam is my first foreign country, will keep you posted. Write often, I like to hear all the news. Unlike the guys on the ground, I will come back to a base every night with the choppers and have an actual workday, will get letters within 2 weeks or so. Don’t know what else to say to reassure you, except it’s probably better not to watch the news—they show the hot spots. The war is hot in Cambodia as the news says, but combat assaults are rotated and a lot of the days will be mostly routine, mail drops, resupply runs, what is routine here.
    love,
Billy
    PS—Mom, I had a real nice time on leave and I want to thank you for all the fine meals and for throwing the party for me. Good to see all the high school crowd, and Kato had a great time, too.
    LAI KHE, SOUTH VIETNAM
    Pvt. W. Hampson/RA 11949711
Co. C, 227th Aviation Bn.
1st Infantry Div.
APO Frisco, 96490

June 1, 1970
    Dear Danner. Am at Lai Khe, 3 days OJT now, am assigned to a Huey UH1-D chopper crew-chiefed by a guy from Oklahoma named Luke Berringer, short-timer gunner everyone calls The Luke. Pilots and copilots are rotated and I’ll be the resident twinkie on any crew for awhile. Berringer will be training me. He goes on about how The Luke is my shepherd etc and calls the chopper Barbarella. This is his second tour & he says he has an understanding with Barbarella. I share a hooch (square shack made out of plyboard & ammo boxes, sandbagged walls) with him and two other gunners, Gonzalez (Texas) and Taylor, a black guy from LA. They’ve all been here six months or more, know whatthey’re doing. These pilots do some incredible maneuvering and we’re all plugged into helmets, earphones, eyeshields, mouthpieces, like some kind of futuristic air riders—better than bomber jackets. Glad I’m not out there humping at night, wrapped in a poncho in the jungle rot. Instead, I come back here if I get my ass thru the day, and drink slightly cold beer. Lot of dope around but too soon to fuck my head up, all of a sudden there’s no doubt I’m here. You asked how it was at the very first—got off the plane, these American stewardesses and Muzak behind me, a sergeant checking the bathrooms to make sure no one was hiding in the can. Right out of the air conditioning you step into this furnace, I mean the air is cooked, 105 degrees, but the weight is worse than the heat, the air smells, sort of ripe and spoiled, like rotting vegetation or something burning that was rotten. Turns out they burn all the shit from the latrines. Guess they have to burn shit in this heat or it would get up and walk. Well, that’s all the (you guessed it) shit from here. I’m not feeling too bad. Take care of yourself and drop me a line.
    love,
Billy
    June 8, 1970
    Dear Danner. Thanks for writing and also for the pictures you sent. Kato sent me some pictures from the going-away party at Mom’s. Don’t hold it against her for going out with anyone—I don’t expect her to be waiting for me like a nun. As for what I’m really doing, right now we’re doing combat assaults into Cambodia. Seven or eight a day from sunrise on, as well as resupply and mail runs. At least seven choppers, carrying six grunts or eight ARVN. We go in from Song Be or Brown or one of the other close Firebases. Circle for about ten minutes while the base fires artillery prep, sounds like the finale at a fireworks display. Then the Cobras (AH1 gunships) go in, clear the treeline with rockets. They break off on both sides and we’re on short final, quarter of a mile from touching down, gunners firing their asses off. Allsounds good but the Cong figured it out a long time ago—they just hide about 20 ft. down in their holes, listen for the prep to stop, listen for the Cobras to drop and pull off, listen for the choppers coming in. Then they crawl up into the trees with their AK-47’s & their rpg rockets and fire at us from about 50 ft away. You never see them, you see muzzle flashes. Women’s Lib is real big with the NVA and the Cong—sometimes it’s women trying to waste us. You’re up there in the
chump-chump
of the blades, spotting flashes and firing while the chopper drops low enough to land the grunts. If you’re carrying ARVN and the