My 1st Platoon was on patrol somewhere in the jungle west of Hue. On the particular day, we were walking a trail on a valley floor with a fairly large river running through it. As we came along side the river, it was decided that we needed to cross. Our platoon leader, I think it was Lt Trautmann that chose a place to cross the river where the bank dropped straight done into the deep water. The other side of the river was a gravel bar. It was decide who would swim across with a rope and secure it. Then it was decided who would get in the water to help with the mattresses, since I was six foot three, they picked me. It was something I didn’t relish doing, but when the time came I slipped off the bank and into the cold, murky water. My feet hit the muddy bank about four feet under the water. My platoon members started dropping air mattress loaded with a pack to me as the men slipped into the water and took the mattress. The mattress was attached to the rope stretched across the river. It was taking forever for everybody to cross over to the other side.
After quite a few had crossed, Raines’ air mattress was lowered into the river and as it passed into my hands, his boots slide off the top of the pack and started floating away. I jumped for them and started kicking to swim to them. My legs immediately cramped up, and I mean cramped up! The cold water had an icy grip on my legs. I remember going under as my legs spasmed in pain. I don’t think I made a sound as I went under. I came back up thrashing my arms to stay above water. My boots and fatigues were trying to pull me under. I remember seeing someone jump in the river as I started to go under again. The next thing I knew was that a strong arm grabbed a hold of me and pulled my head up above the water. Sgt Dunn swam me to shore as I tried to remain calm. When Sgt Dunn got me to the bank, a couple of men grabbed my arms and hauled me up on to the bank, spitting and sputtering. I thought I was a goner, like the boots. After I recovered, the rest of us crossed the river.
When I got across the river, Raines was blaming me for loosing his boots. Sgt Dunn told him to shut up. Everybody was saying how it was his fault for not securing his boots to his pack. Raines had to walk in his stocking feet until we could meet up with the supply helicopter. I don’t remember how far we hiked before Raines got his boots, but I remember thinking how lucky I was to be alive and how much gratitude I had for Sgt Dunn for saving me. Thank you Sarge!
