TBS 2-67 Cruisebook_Updated_7Jan23

John Burwell Wilkes
and aim and load the artillery pieces to be ready to fire on the same
site.
With eyes in the scope, the searchlight would be turned on. If enemy
activity was seen, the command to pull the lanyards of the guns would
be given. If nothing was seen, everyone would move to the next site
and start over saving a great deal of what otherwise would be wasted
ammunition, a percentage of which would be duds eventually
converted to booby traps.
I was quite proud of my system, but soon after its instigation, I
received orders transferring me to the 3rd Marine Division, and I had
to get myself up to Dong Ha which was a long way north of Da Nang.
But there was one problem. At some time during my life in the desert
compound, because of the availability of electricity, I had acquired a
waist­high Japanese refrigerator, and I was adamant that I did not want
to leave it behind. I cherished my ability to have a cold beer whenever
I felt like it. After much searching, I could only find one way of
getting my beloved refrigerator to Dong Ha. I had to book passage on
a Navy landing craft – it may have been an LST (landing ship tank).
The cruise up the South China Sea along the Vietnamese coast was
uneventful until we approached the mouth of the Cua Viet River. An
enemy push through the DMZ had made it unsafe for the ship to enter
the river. We had to bob around out on the ocean for almost a week
before safe passage was restored. It was a week of hell in very close
quarters! The only unused bunk was the bottom bunk of a stack of
bunks with several smelly sailors straight above me. The cargo hold
with my refrigerator was packed solid with gear and supplies. I spent
the whole week sitting in the chair of the one and only anti­aircraft
gun on the boat in order to stay out of the sailors’ way. The only thing
that kept me sane was their godsend copious supply of ice cream. I
had some for every meal including breakfast.
When I finally reached the division HQ, I was chagrined to find out
that I had gone through all that naval trouble for nothing. I was being
assigned to 3rd Bn 12th Marines in a place called Ca Lu that had no
electricity. I had grown so attached to my refrigerator, I could not
abandon it. I had a good friend, Don Odle, who had come up from the
11th Marines ahead of me and landed a 3A job at division HQ. I gave
him custody of my cherished refrigerator. During the short time of my
stint back with the 11th Marines, Don and I had bonded when he had
introduced me to warm Sake, his favorite drink. We had sat on the
floor of his tent during a mortar attack sipping the Sake and stupidly
electing to stay put rather than run to a nearby bunker.
Ca Lu was far west of Dong Ha out Highway 9 and the last village
before the now infamous Khe Sanh. Upon arrival at Ca Lu, I was
given a 3A job in the Battalion Fire Direction Center. As a captain
now, I knew I might be in line to command a firing battery if a
vacancy presented itself. I was a little worried about this prospect,
because I had spent all my time as a lieutenant with the infantry doing
things other than holding a battery billet. I tried to assuage my worries
by telling myself that the battery commander’s job was not technical
and that Fort Sill had at least taught me what to expect from the other
officer billets, and that the actual technicality of putting rounds on the
target would be accomplished by others, at least until I could get
reoriented in battery gunnery functions.
Ca Lu was 3/12’s forward position. The commander was a LtCol
Foxworth. The headquarters and battalion Fire Direction Center were
in what was once a big old house situated right on Highway 9. This
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