When we arrived at fire support base Birmingham, it was hoter than hell and twice as humid. The chopper let us off at the small air strip near the main road along the river. There we sat in the sun, waiting for something to happen at least an hour. I could see the base up on top of the mountain, and it looked like it was at least three miles up the road from where we were. Eventually a duce and a half truck showed up to take us to our new home.
The base was divided into different areas and levels, there were ammo dumps at the base of the hill, then a motor pool part way up, a 155 battery, then an infintry base, and at the top was c battery. It sure didn't look like much at first, and now that I think about it, it wasn't. It was the bare minimum to sustain a semi human existance. But this was home, or one of many that I would learn to accept as home in the comming months. Which goes to show that you get used to anything in time. You either adapt or go crazy. Hell, you even begin to enjoy it. That's the scary part.
I got put into the ammo section, I guess because I was a big guy, and looked strong, and the others went to gun sections.
After a quick talk buy the old man, I went with my new section chief. Cener was his name, and he had all the charm of a rattle snake. I learned quickly that he was a misrable bastard, sadistic is the actual word I would use, and it wasn't long before they had to keep me from killing him. That was when they put me in a gun section. Let us say, for reasons of the man's health and well being. It was in # 3 gun section that I met Tom Powers, he was from Long Island N.Y. not far from where I lived in N.J. We seemed to hit it off right from the start. Tom is a hell of a nice person. I learned the ropes of a combat gun crew, which is a lot different than the training that you get stateside. It wasn't long before I was assistant gunner and filled in as gunner when Tom was off duty. We got a night off once a week, at least from fire missions. They still got you for the shit details During the day but at least you got to sleep one night out of seven. Most of the fire missions were at night, and frequenty all night.
One night we shot illumination rounds all night. It seems that a forward observer and his infantry platoon were lost big time. He kept calling, we kept shooting, they saw nothing. He must have been a cherry.(A term used to describe a soldier new to the country.) That night my section got no results, or sleep.
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