[Mission 6 – Firebase Omaha without supernatural foes and a subsequent mission to relieve an overrun firebase and evade a tribe of cannibals]
Firebase under attack
Report: After Capt Myers headed out of the firebase, the day went fairly normal and it was good. That night while trying to get some rest while waiting on Major Payne, the VC launched an all out assault on the firebase around 2400. Well now was the time for me to put my battle knowledge training to the test. The battle was joined with the VC outnumbering us at least 2 to 1. I directed the mortars and howitzers to concentrate on the massed VC troops and directed my squad members to join the battle at the main gate of the firebase. OUTSTANDING WORK is all I can say. Corporal Johnson was a machine taking out at least 50-75 troops alone as well as their officers. PVT Gump and PFC Sanchez also distinguished themselves in the heat of battle more so than any other individual member of the firebase. The battle tide was immediately turned and went against the VC but they refused to withdraw until 0500 when the major's helo arrived to help drive the remaining VC off. I do not know how we survived other than beginner's luck on my part and the heroic actions of my squad.
In case you guys play without me here are some BENNIES for you from Lt Dan to say THANKS for the hard work defending the firebase. The powers that be have decided that my SPIRIT has increased from the nasty firebase battle as well as making me a natural CHARISMATIC leader. YES you know what that means troops --- + 2 on you battle award rolls so maybe you losers can get promoted faster!!
Lt. Dan Wyatt
Heroism during wartime vs. character altering meta-gaming
A hero, that's what my fantastic role determined; that I was, a hero. I single handedly killed scores of foes, rescued comrades, and turned the tide of a battle meant to overrun and destroy our little fire base. And for what? The Medal of Honor? Combat promotion? Sweet e.p.s? No, none of that. I was a hero for none of that. I was a hero that spent 7 chips (that's right 7); so that I could help firebase Omaha live to fight another day. Or, I could have squeezed the trigger a few times and hid in my foxhole and saved my chips. I would not have been a "hero", but I would have basically the same chance for medals and promotion. And most importantly I would still have 7 chips to roll for sweet e.p.s, most likely giving me the points I needed to reach the next level. So, here is the story of a hero who has learned his lesson.
Early morning February 29th, 1968 (yes, a leap year - most people born in said leap year probably know of its leap year status.) anyway, oh yes it was about 2 in the morning when I noticed the doc had just dozed off in our foxhole (he was doing pretty well for a new guy). I reached over and shook him awake, and stared back out into the darkness. Where the h*** was Sanchez? He had had this watch for 3 weeks straight. I guess now that the captain was gone things were going to be different. I returned from my thoughts when I felt something crawling on my throat. I quickly tried to brush it away only to realize that it was my snake pendant. I clasped my hand around it and looked off into the jungle. For a split second, it was like I was hurtling through the jungle at break neck speed. I came to an abrupt stop at a clearing about a kilometer from base. Unlike the previous times I had seen the clearing during our patrols, the normally empty expanse was now teeming with activity, VC activity. And suddenly I was hurtling back to camp and fell back against the other side of the foxhole (again waking up doc). As I picked myself up I told doc we were about to be overrun, and to go and tell the lt. before he could grasp what I was saying and get one knee out of the foxhole we were hit. Several rpgs zipped over our heads and bullets started flying from all over the place. It was on and there was nothing to do but, return fire. The doc (now fully awake) and I were doing great. We were killing VC left and right. They were barely able to get past the tree line before we mowed them down. Unfotunately, private Jericho’s foxhole was not able to hold his position as well. I told doc he would have to handle our firing zone and I would have to go help Jericho (we can't have our source being killed of now can we). I was going to try to retreat back into base and then come back out right behind his foxhole, but there just wasn't time. They had guys within 30' of them already. So I just grabbed my rifle and took off. Straight across the open entrance to the base. I must have had a thousand rounds wizz past my head. The VC were pretty much on top of them as I got there. I shot 4 of them and put my bayonet in the last ones back as we both flew into the foxhole. It was a little chaotic for a second until they realized that the VC in there foxhole were all dead and I was on top of them. I ignored the stench of feces, and got Jericho and his men to start firing back into there kill zones. We were finally pushing them back to a safe distance, when I heard Sanchez' thumper ass finally join the battle. I looked over to check on him and doc to see how they were doing. They were doing great and they both gave me thumbs up (or the finger, I couldn't tell with all the smoke). Looking past them I noticed another weak spot in our defences. It was a couple hundred yards and I knew I couldn't make it there in time. I noticed a mortar nearby that was unfortunately no longer manned, so I ran to it. When I got there I turned it around, cranked it so that it was practically straight up and dropped in the shell. I hoped Sanchez ' lesson on mortar use would see me through. As soon as the shell fired, I took off at a dead sprint straight for the weak spot and the target of my mortar. My shell was placed perfectly and hit right outside the foxhole, killing most of the VC that were swarming over, but leaving the marines unharmed. I got there a split second after the explosion and finished what my mortar had started. I dug through the foxhole looking for marines before they were smothered by the dead that I had rained down upon them. Covered in blood from head to toe, I must have created quite a sight. After I freed them from the corpse quicksand, my eyes lit up with lustful glee as I realized that I now had a squad of devil dogs to take the fight to the jungle. I had seen the staging ground and could end this siege before they could get a foothold. As I entered the jungle with 5 marines (so filthy from battle that I don't even know which 5), it was as if the jungle opened up to us. The sounds of battle were everywhere. Bullets and explosions hit all around but never where we were. We were afforded our own private subway straight to the clearing. It wasn't until we arrived that I realized how close we were to the temple. The VC didn't seem to be using the temple itself but had set up in its clearing. I don't really remember what happened next, but when I came to I was surrounded by death and destruction. Not a single living VC was in the clearing. The sounds of battle were drifting off deeper into the jungle. I stumbled to my feet and found my comrades; amazingly they were all still alive, but in various states of health. The train we had arrived on was nowhere to be found, so we just stumbled back through the jungle. Just as we arrived back at the base, we heard the sounds of the helicopters that "saved" the day. I dropped my new extra gear under my bunk and came out to see the new c.o. order us onto his huey to help with another firebase that had just been overrun. If I hadn’t been going to help marines in trouble, I think I would have just shot that Payne in the a** and gone back to my bunk. As it was I grabbed some extra clips and jumped on the chopper. Hoorah!
Cpl. Jack Johnson
Dear Jenny,
Momma always said that stupid is as stupid does. Since arriving in the 'Nam (it's this whole other country), I've decided that momma was a crazy-a** b****. Lt. Dan says that he's the only person I ever need to listen to and Lt. Dan says that stupid is as stupid dies. I don't entirely know what that means since Momma isn't here to explain it to me, but since I'm not dead yet, I figure I must be some kind of genius.
The other night, for example, some guy named Charlie and a lot of his very p*****-off friends attacked our firebase. That's at least what Cpl. Johnson told me later. All I remember was Johnson shaking me awake and yelling something I couldn't understand because of all the shooting. As best I could tell, he said "Charlie's comin', and he called Jenny a b****."
That's when I popped a can of woopa** and put a cap in Charlie's a**. Except... as I knelt over Charlie's body and gave him the business with my bayonet (just to emphasize my point), Johnson said the guy I killed wasn't Charlie. He said Charlie was the guy charging us with a bomb strapped to his stomach. So I put a cap in that guy's a**, too. Not knowing exactly what Charlie looked like, and not wanting him to get away with bad-mouthing my girl, I decided to pop a cap into everybody.
I had no idea Charlie had so many friends. And apparently they all thought you were a b****, too.
All these screamin' fools were comin' so fast, I couldn't kill 'em fast enough with just one rifle, so I picked up another one off a dead friend of Charlie and went at 'em two-fisted for a while.
At one point, I looked over at Johnson. I've heard of people speaking strange tongues and accomplishing tremendous feats of strength in times of duress, but Johnson was just a crazy f*****. The guy had staked a severed head of a friend of Charlie on his rifle-mounted bayonet, and after repeatedly screaming "GET SOME!" at the top of his lungs and exhausting his ammo supply, he had taken to killing Charlie's buddies with his bare hands and, at least on one occasion, by biting through the poor b******'s jugular vein. At one point, after running out of ammo, he cut a spent bullet out of a dead guy's head, fashioned a sling-shot out of the chin strap from his helmet, and shot it right through the eye of one of Charlie's pals. I lost track of Johnson after that until the next day when it was all over. It's too bad they don't give medals for blind, murderous rage.
Johnson and I came through the whole thing without a scratch, but I'm still trying to figure out why Cpl. Johnson was so p***** about a bunch of pajama-wearing foreigners insulting MY girlfriend. After thinking about it, I'm not sure I would have been that p***** off at Charlie if he hadn' t started shooting. Having seen what I've seen, though, I don't think I'm going to ask Johnson about it -- crazy b******.
Stupid is as stupid does, indeed.
Love Always,
Da Gumpster
Worn out from lack of sleep and outsmarting his Vietcong counterpart, the lt. straps himself into the chopper and closes his eyes. Seconds later 3 blood encrusted, dirt covered marines plop down next to him. It was impossible to tell if it was your blood or someone else’s. We all caught a little combat nap and woke just as we were setting down in a clearing with 2 armored vehicles. Lt. Dan shook himself awake and headed for the "tank". He let the other officer have the armored personnel carrier. It was obvious that we would need a driver and who better to be that driver than me. Sure I’d never driven a tank before, but I’d never driven a boat before either. What could go wrong? We got our orders and motored off into the jungle. Doc, our front gunner once again, spotted an ambush by an rpg crew. It was a little hairy, but with Sanchez' heavy weapons mastery, we wiped them out. We continued toward our target when doc again noticed something. It was some sort of weapons depot with plenty of support troops. The lt. called in air support that took out about half of them. The other half reorganized and set up defensive positions. We were exposed on top of a hill but traded several rounds of fire before both sides were forced to retreat. We now had control of the remains of the weapons depot, but we still had a firebase to re-overrun.
Cpl. Jack Johnson
Immediately after routing the supply depot; we received orders to stay at the supply depot and ensure its destruction then hump it out the next day. While Johnson took the tank to the extraction point, the rest of Force Recon hunkered in for a long night. As we were digging a foxhole, I had a strange feeling of being watched. As I scanned the jungle tree line, I spotted a figure in a crook of the tree - immediately I thought "Another dang sniper looking to take out Gump!!" but no shots rang out as I warned Sanchez and Gump to take cover. I continued watching the figure as it snuck closer. He was a sneaky g** but I spotted him in the underbrush and gestured for him to come closer.. closer.... it was a jungle savage who did not speak any of our dialects. He gave me the heebie jeebies for some reason but eventually he moved back off into the jungle to disappear from sight. While the squad talked it over... Gump and Sanchez reasoned he was a scout and most likely we would be robbed later... then it hit me!!! he was a cannibal down to the filed down pointy teeth!!! We were certain we would be overrun, so we snuck off into the dark and located another defensible location. Sure enough, in the darkest of the night, a whole tribe of cannibals descended on the area hunting for us but luckily they never found us or else we would be in the bottom of a pot for sure!
LT
