John Santini – An Original – Part Two

The Boys of Battery B

John Santini

An Original Member of B Battery

Part Two

John traveled up and down the coast with B battery from Tuy Hoa south to Phan Rang, a span of 180 miles. His stories tell how the boys of B battery did more than fire howitzers. They manned patrols, they sat in pot bunkers at night under enemy fire, and sometimes they endured the wrath of the high seas.

Back on the Ocean

I remember going on LSTs twice from the Nha Trang beach.

Landing Ship – Tank
Under Threatening Skies

The first time we were on a special mission and had the whole battery loaded on board, howitzers, trucks, troops, everything. We got out on the ocean and a typhoon came in. We were bouncing around  so much we lost a couple of trucks over the side. We almost lost a howitzer. The gun was hooked up to a truck and both were going over, so we released the truck to save the gun. One of the trucks that went over had all our personal gear. Then the mission was called off because of the bad weather. After that we only had what was on our backs.

From Nha Trang we worked our way up to Tuy Hoa. Every 50 miles or so we’d set up for a fire mission. In that area we supported the 101st Airborne, the 5th Special Forces and the Korean infantry, whoever needed artillery. After we lost all our gear off the LST we only had what was on our backs. Out in the jungle we washed our underwear and socks as best we could. For 30 days we were out there and we stunk. The enemy only had to wait for the smell and they knew we were there.

 

The Hesitation

This was later in my tour when we were further south around Phan Rang with the 101st. One of our observation posts was under attack. I made an ammunition run out to it and on this occasion I stayed with the OP. Most of the night we were under attack. Daylight was coming in when I saw the brush move, the jungle coming alive, somebody coming. At that point you’re ready to shoot anything that’s coming at you. You don’t even hesitate. I was locked and loaded ready to take out whatever it was. For some reason my brain made me hesitate, and I saw a brown face, not a while male or a Vietnamese. He kept on coming and when he got close I said that old bullshit, “Halt, who goes?” And he didn’t know nothin’ and just kept coming. He was drunk. So I got up from the foxhole and went out to him and discovered he was an American. He didn’t know the password because he was out all night. We talked for a moment and I let him by and did not see him again.

I mean I had a loaded weapon ready to go. If I thought he was VC he’d been gone. Could of been a child, any Vietnamese would have been gone. I was scared to death. I was going to shoot anything that moved, but something made me hesitate. I saw he was an American in military fatigues.

When I saw the jungle move I could have took him out right there. I was a distance shooter. They needed something shot at a distance, they’d call me. I could put a bullet where they wanted it. I had qualified for long distance shooting. If we had a target out there, they’d say see what you can do, hit that target. They’d look out with binoculars and tell me to raise or lower it, and I’d put the shot where they wanted it. We’d shoot at an area because maybe they saw something and didn’t want to open up with the howitzers.

Some years later I was working for Shaker Rapid Transport in Cleveland. I was sitting in the bull pen where we hung around and waited for assignments. You sit around, drunk coffee, talk and wait till the dispatcher needs someone to move a train. Here comes a new guy and at first we didn’t talk, we just stared at each other. Then when we were driving a train together, at the end of the line we had a conversation and he said. “I know you from somewhere.”

I said, “I know you too, you look familiar.”

He said, “You were in Nam with B battery, 5th of the 27th.”

I said, “Yeah” and pretty soon we figured out that he was the guy I almost shot coming out of the jungle. He remembers when I was going to shoot him. We laughed and said “crazy son-of-a-bitch” a lot.

Leaving Vietnam

John’s departure from Vietnam was almost as complicated as his getting there.

We were at Tuy Hoa. It was late at night, between midnight and three in the morning, and our OP was overrun by the enemy and abandoned. We had to get the OP back, and I was part of the support team to go get it. In the process one of the soldiers got bitten by a snake, I can’t remember where. He was screaming his head off out there. We’re trying to cover his mouth and shut him up. He kept screamin’, “I’m gonna die … I’m gonna die.” There was no medic, so I took a flashlight and saw that where he was bit was red and swollen. I cut it open and let it bleed, and he’s screamin’ and screamin’. Then I did the John Wayne thing and sucked on the spot and spit it out of my mouth. And that’s all I did.

After we secured the OP and got back to base, the medic said the guy’s got to go to the hospital. We called a Medivac helicopter that night. I was already scheduled to go to the hospital the next day for dental work, so they told me not to go back to the OP but to go with him.

I’m at the 8th Army Field Hospital in Nha Trang. I was a bleeder and I had a high fever. They told me all my teeth had to come out. I was already scheduled to have my teeth taken out. I don’t know if the snake was poisonous or if it had anything to do with my teeth. All I know is I stayed in the hospital for a long time. After my teeth came out and I stopped bleeding, they would come in and take my temperature and say I had to stay. Two weeks later you’re still in the Army hospital, every day you still got a thermometer in your mouth, and they’re still saying you ain’t going back to your outfit.

While I’m in this Army hospital I wrote a letter to my mother telling her where I was at. Meanwhile my mother got a telegram from the Army saying PFC Herman John Santini is missing in action, or he’s AWOL (away without leave). My mom knew I was in the 8th Army Field Hospital. So she called the number in the telegram and tells them. Then she gets another telegram to CONFIRM her son is missing in action or AWOL. Now my mother goes to a congresswoman named Frances Boatman and tells her the story, and that brought some pressure.

In the hospital they made an arrangement for me to talk to my mother. I was ordered to go to go to a certain area so I could call home. I talked to my mother and said I was all right and “Don’t be writing no more letters.”

I rotated out of the country from the hospital. It was my last duty assignment. I was only in Vietnam three months, but my two year commitment was almost up.

Still they couldn’t send me home because I did not have a shot record; it went overboard in the typhoon with everything else. So they gave me a jeep driver and we went back to the 101st Airborne in Phan Rang. I couldn’t get the shots again because you couldn’t get them all at the same time. The lieutenant told me to find someone who was close to my dates of rotating in and rotating out, and we’d copy his record. So that’s how my shot record became my shot record. Then we drove back to the hospital.

One of the hardest things coming home from Vietnam …I never told my family, my wife, my daughter, or anybody that knows me personally how long I was in Vietnam. Whenever I got the question I said I couldn’t hear you, and worked around the issue, and never answered the question. I have lied. One time I did say I was there for a year. But I was not there for a year. I was very embarrassed to say I was not in Vietnam for a year. I suffered for years over that. It got to me. I busted my ass to go with my unit to Vietnam. Almost got court martialed for everything I did, and those are my boys. I was one of the earliest to come home. It was heartbreaking to leave. You socialized with these guys, you slept with them, you went downtown together, you did everything with them. You didn’t get along with everybody every day of the week. They used to beat me up, tie me up at night, they used to put shaving cream in my pants. In the end we were all one family. We’d do anything for each other.

 

Dad

My father survived his heart attack. When I came home he was the proudest man in the world. I’m thinking of it right now, coming into the kitchen and seeing him sitting there, an old Italian with his coffee cup. He greeted me at the door and hugged me.