TBS 2-67 Cruisebook_Updated_7Jan23

A Tour of Duty in Vietnam
of troops. Gunny Newman had a knack of making a young Marine
double his work production and laugh at the same time. He never
lifted a finger for himself, but the troops were his own personal
servants, and they loved it. Newman always made sure that what
needed doing was done. The troops both feared him and loved him.
At some point during this period I had another significant
personnel problem that required my attention. On one of the occasions
when we were back in Ca Lu and had just returned from one fire base
and prepping for another, SSgt Geiler wanted to go to the erstwhile
SNCO club that had been established in a bunker somewhere nearby
to mingle with some of his contemporaries from other units. I let him
go on the promise he would return sober and in time to take the
evening shift in the FDC.
That night we were extremely busy with fire missions, and
Geiler was UA (unauthorized absence). I stayed and stood his watch
for him cursing him in my mind, but at the same time telling everyone
I had given Geiler the night off. Around 0200 hours the calls for fire
finally ceased, and I left the FDC to find the pee tube. Going from
bright light to dark, I was stepping slowly for lack of night vision
when my feet stumbled onto a limp body on the ground. It was SSgt
Geiler, drunk as a skunk and passed out. I had to make a quick
decision. If any of the others found out about Geiler’s conduct, I
would be obliged to initiate disciplinary action. If I did that, it would
stymie his career, and I might lose him. He had a great brain for
gunnery. I trusted his ability and really did not want to lose him.
With great difficulty, I was able to get him to his feet. Then I half
carried him the twenty yards or so to my hooch. I made a pad for him
on the ground between the tent side and my cot, which actually pinned
him in where he couldn’t move.
Geiler had previously been in some trouble while trying to scrounge
gear back at 3/12’s base in Quang Tri. I had called in some favors and
fixed that misjudgment for him, so I told him that this error in
judgment was strike two, and I would never bail him out again if there
ever should be a strike three. I don’t know if I made the correct
decision, but it did seem to work well for me. A remorseful Geiler
never again caused me the tiniest bit of trouble. He was, from that time
on, a loyal and reliable asset to my command.
On a later firebase, Geiler came to see me one day to tell me
confidentially that “We have a problem.” In the middle of our new
battery location was a full grown marijuana bush. We recently had
been through one minor marijuana problem with one of the young
black Marines who had smuggled some pot into the battery and tried
to smoke some of it under his poncho liner. The pot smoke had
become common knowledge, and another conscientious young Marine
had blown the whistle on him. I made the young transgressor think I
was very close to transferring him to the infantry, and I never had any
more trouble out of him. After that incident, I had informed the entire
battery that marijuana use or possession would automatically result in
disciplinary action and a transfer to the infantry. The latter threat was a
scary thing to a cannon cocker.
Geiler pointed out the bush to me and asked me if I would like him
to cut it down and burn it. I told him not to touch it. I wanted to see
how well I could trust my Marines. I stared at the bush for a long time
and consigned it to memory and made notes on its number of
branches. I am proud to say that no part of that bush ever went missing
even though the word had gone throughout the battery that the
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