STORIES Click on photo to enlarge image
by Charles Rynberg (127th MP Co.)
(We've all seen them, sitting in our seats on the plane, waiting for takeoff, and looking out the window. They're always scurrying about... the little airport tractor tugs pulling baggage carts around...)
One day in Vung Ro Bay an LST pulled into the harbor to offload equipment and supplies for the nearby US Air Force base at Tuy Hoa. They spent the entire afternoon unloading and placing items and supplies in a secure, fenced-in area next to the PBR compound. The LST crew off-loaded three airport tractor tugs, bound for the Air Base. Everybody was investigating the tractor tugs. Someone asked what the tractors were for. The reply was that they were told to drop them off at Vung Ro Bay. Nobody seemed to know why.
The LST departed that evening, with the supplies safely stored until the next day when the Air Force would arrive to retrieve everything.
That night, the tractors became the property of the 458th PBR's! We raced them in circles, drag raced them, and played demolition derby well into the night! If I remember correctly, two of them blew their engines - don't know why!
The next day the Air Force showed up with a large truck to pick up the tractors. They were trashed! The Air Force wanted to know what had happened to their vehicles.
We told them that we didn't know what had happened. "Looks like the work of Charlie!" we told them. We never heard anything about them again.
HAND GRENADE JUSTICE
by Mike Hebert (458th Trans. Co)
We were lucky in Vung Ro Bay. There was never any brass around. The head honcho was an E-6, and we all pretty much lived the good life. Most of us had our own little refrigerators in our rooms which were normally quite well stocked with Olympia or Pabst Blue Ribbon, our favorites.
In the room directly next to me was Bob McCabe. he had a larger refrigerator than I did, I don't remember how or why, but he did. it was very, very well stocked.
I remember entering the hallway to our hootch one afternoon. Bob had just returned from patrol and was absolutely fuming! It seemed as though his beer was disappearing faster than he could drink it.
Not knowing who the culprit was, Bob set about doing some detective work. After a few days, he had determined that it was none other than our NCOIC, the boss himself! (since deceased).
There was really no way to confront the perpetrator about this since we were both E-4's. However, determined to put a stop to these activities, Bob and I devised a plan...
One afternoon when everything was real quiet we took a hand grenade from the conex storage and gently transported it out behind the hootch. We unscrewed the firing mechanism, set the grenade aside, and pulled the pin on the handle, blowing the fuse.
Then we put the firing mechanism back together and screwed it back into the grenade. Bob and I went to his room, opened his refrigerator, and wired the grenade to the second shelf. Then we ran a small line from the grenade pin to the inside of the door.
Coming back from patrol the next day, Bob discovered that the pin was out of the grenade. Strangely enough, though, there was never any more beer missing!
Vung Ro storage yard,
the scene of the crime!