Download CAP Môt: the story of a marine special forces unit in by Barry L. Goodson PDF

By Barry L. Goodson

The Marines’ mixed motion Platoon program—CAP—was the most cutting edge ways to pacification utilized in Vietnam. From adventure in different civil wars in Haiti, Nicaragua, and the Dominican Republic, the Marine Corps believed that firepower by myself wouldn't subdue the enemy, that the folk needed to be gained over. together with a volunteer rifle squad, a army clinical corpsman and a in the community recruited platoon of renowned Forces (PF), the CAP lived one of the villagers 24 hours an afternoon for the specific goal of shielding and supporting them to outlive the risks in their enemies. in addition they have been to aid them increase their health and wellbeing and their day-by-day lives.

Unlike different forces in Vietnam, the CAP forces didn't arrive via helicopter within the morning and depart at evening. the one time a CAP marine left the jungle was once while he used to be rotating domestic, wounded or killed. They grew to become a part of village lifestyles and aided the neighborhood citizens in lots of methods. The marines turned accustomed to the neighborhood terrain, may perhaps herald heavy fireplace strength while helpful, instilled self-discipline and self belief within the PF forces, and gained the loyalty of many Vietnamese villagers.

This e-book tells the tale of Goodson's own reviews as a CAP Marine within the jungles of Vietnam.

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Extra info for CAP Môt: the story of a marine special forces unit in Vietnam, 1968-1969

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The jeep we were in looked like a relic from the Korean War, complete with bullet and shrapnel holes, and a driver so doped out that he continually swayed into bushes, chug holes or anything else he could find to hit. The driver held his silence no longer and began raving about some "broad" he had banged while on R and R 1 in Saigon. I didn't really care for his rambling but it somewhat subdued my nervous feeling. I was afraid, not of the surrounding jungle but of the unknown ahead of me. The bums had taken away all my weapons and now here I was with a drugged-out idiot rambling along a jungle road as if the war was millions of miles away.

The only problem was that this fog was laced with real bodiesreal death. As the muck sucked at my legs the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of Danny following off to my left. It was working! They couldn't sight in on both of us or couldn't decide who to concentrate on. With luck we'd both make it. I felt sick from the slow-motion feeling of the muck sucking at my feet, the bullets spraying water in my face, the fear gripping my body. "Surely I'm a sitting duck," I thought, and wondered if each step would be my last.

The bleeding had slowed but refused to be stopped. The wounded man groaned through clenched teeth as I hoisted him to a fireman's carry. Momentarily staggering under the load, I searched the skies for the medevacs 7 and saw them descending behind some trees on the opposite side of the paddies. The journey across was a good hundred yards with no coverthat is, unless you were a leech. What rotten luck. To attempt a crossing unencumbered would have been dangerous, but a trek carrying a wounded man was suicide.

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