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Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

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  • Eddy-Smiles
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Hopefully for most of the guys there won't be a need for a Part 2. Sadly for some they'll have to write their own.

    Leave a comment:


  • Rustic Rick
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Where is part 2?

    Leave a comment:


  • dogcatcher
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Thanks for the story. Reminded me of an RTO I had that had a pet squirrel. I think I will call him and tell him to look this one up. Thanks again.

    Leave a comment:


  • rickm
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    yeah but did u call in the gunships- great story telling eddie

    Leave a comment:


  • SeaLeveler
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Thanks for the story and thanks to the vets who made the sacrifice for us.
    Tony

    Leave a comment:


  • Eddy-Smiles
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Thanks Al... A laugh is better than a doctor!

    Leave a comment:


  • Eddy-Smiles
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Oscar... I don't think that I've got too many of these, at least this humorous that is. I don't think that anyone that was over there came back unscathed with out a little PTSD. It's just that some of us are luckier that others in that we handled it better. I know a couple of guys that it didn't come around and bite them in the butt until they reached their 60's. You can only bury it in your brain for so long. Eventually it has to come out. Glad you enjoyed the humorous side of it.

    Leave a comment:


  • Eddy-Smiles
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Thank you Carl for your sentiments!

    Leave a comment:


  • Eddy-Smiles
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Maken Chips! You're right. It would make a great scene, if only one of the gophers with a straw hat and the NVA star! Uncle Ho! Ha! Ha!

    Leave a comment:


  • AL...
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Eddy Thanks for the laugh mate Im in knots here
    Yer one in a Million bud

    Cheers
    AL

    Leave a comment:


  • torpidhummer
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Eddy,sure brought back memories about the "tunnel rats",I'm looking forward to your next
    reminder.
    Semper Fi
    Oscar

    Leave a comment:


  • cgm
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Hey Eddy, Very good story
    I wasnt in Vietnam But I Appreciate the sacrifice the ones who served made for us.
    Thank you to all war vets
    Carl

    Leave a comment:


  • makenchips
    replied
    Re: Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    Eddy, this is to funny. I can picture this actually happening. Thank you for sharing.

    Would make a great carving scene.

    Leave a comment:


  • Gopher's Through The Wire - A Story for our Vietnam Vets! - Part 1

    The Gopher Attack


    By Bob Hopkins


    VVA Newsletter 1985


    Last Saturday dawned bright and warm, a welcome relief to an otherwise cold and boring winter. With the advent of spring, I knew it was time to come out of hibernation and see what damage winter had wrought on my property. Since I have a 50 by 120 foot lot I didn’t have an awful lot of real estate to inspect and figured to be back in the house to enjoy the breakfast my wife was preparing. As I bounced down the stairs, feeling like a cub in spring, I was stopped dead in my tracks. There, in the middle of my lawn, and running in all directions, were tunnels! Even though they were only two to three inches high, they were, without a doubt, tunnels! And out of one tunnel popped a shrunk-up, ugly as dirt, Victor Charlie! The S.O.B.’s were here! I spun on my heels and charged up the stairs, roared through the slightly ajar back door and bowled over my wife, knocking two glasses and her to the floor. “What the heck!” she exclaimed. “VC,VC, beau-coup VC!” I bellowed. “Get the kids into the bunker. I’ll call for support.”
    “Bunker? Support? What the heck are you talking about? Help me up and get the mop so I can clean this mess up.” “Screw the orange juice” I replied, “Just take the kids down the cellar. I know what I’m doing.”

    All my instincts came back. I threw some flak jackets on the kids, although they did look a little like ski jackets. Charlie would never know the difference. Next, I checked the ammo supply. A few knives. No guns. Looked like I might have to go hand to hand. Next, reinforcements. I dialed frantically. Two rings. Four rings. Oh heck. Every- one at the TOC must be sawing some logs.

    Finally, a bleary “Hello.”

    “Barry, it’s Bob. Get your butt over here. Charlie’s through the wire. We gotta plug up the hole!”

    “Charlie? Wire? Bob, you been drinking?”

    “Heck no a—h---. The S.O.B.’s are here. The domino theory ain’t no theory. It’s real. We should have stuck it out a few more years. Now we gotta fight ‘em here.”

    “Bob. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll play along for awhile. What do they look like?”

    “Look like? Look like? They’re little dudes, about two, three inches high and ugly as sin.”

    “Bob, what you got there are moles. I got some milky spoor. I’ll come over later and we’ll spread it on the lawn. It kills the grubs and June bugs, and the moles leave when their food supply is gone.”

    “Moles! Milky spoor! You ain’t listening. These dudes got tunnels! They’re VC. On second thought, though, you might have a point with poisoning the rice. No rice, no full stomach. No full stomach, you got p—d off VC who won’t fight. I knew I could count on a CAV man. Get your butt over here. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

    “Bob. Think for a minute. They’re only two to three inches high. Can’t be VC. VC go a minimum of 36 inches.”

    “That’s how much you know, Barry. ****. **** Agent Orange shriveled the little runts all up. Get over here.”

    I slammed the phone down and suddenly realized I was going to need air support. As I raced back through the kitchen, I again ran into my wife, who had cleaned up the floor and was taking two more glasses of orange juice to the kids, who seemed to be enjoying the whole thing. Same result. Same messed-up floor, same p—d off wife. I shot through the door, down the stairs, and through the bushes that skirted the house. Pretty good cover. The little buggers would never see me. I’d have the element of surprise. I got to the garage and found some bricks and most importantly, napalm. So what if it said gasoline? Same effect. Same result. And no triple clearance needed to use it. Warfare as it should be played.

    I low-crawled back to the house and climbed on the back-porch. As I edged my way to the end of the roof, I suddenly remembered why I never went airborne. I was scared out of my head of heights! My stomach knotted up and my head started spinning. I grabbed for the rail only to remember that roofs don’t have rails. I do remember the first one and a half turns and my children’s eyes following me down from inside the window. I don’t have full recall of the impact but I have given thanks for the bushes that cushioned my fall. Screw jump pay!

    After regaining my senses, I decided that I’d better get some steel on my target. I picked up a few bricks that had accompanied my free fall and started heaving them at Charlie. All of a sudden, one of them made a mad dash for the tunnel complex. A long shot to be sure, but worth a try. I heaved the brick with all my might. It arched beautifully and would have nailed the sucker dead center if the car window hadn’t gotten in the way. The glass of an ’81 Ford Fairmont really explodes when hit with a solid object. Oh well. Fortunes of war. I’d contact the motor pool later.

    I now remember that I had a few slightly illegal cherry bombs left over from the 4th of July. Now we were talking. Charlie was going to feel American might like he never had before. As I limped toward the house, I noticed that a few of the neighbors were coming out of their hootches without flak jackets on. Stupid REMF’s, I thought. They wanta buy the farm. Green as hell.

    As I was approaching the back door to the house and starting in to the kitchen, I saw my wife look over and throw two full glasses of orange juice on the floor. Strange, I thought. I figured she’d hold up much better under fire. As I passed the two kids who were roaring with delight, I realized I had to get them out of the house and back to the base camp before Charlie hit full force. My wife must have been reading my mind, as she was already ordering the kids to get ready to go to the neighbor’s since Dad had gone “dinki dau.” I really felt bad that she didn’t understand the enormity of what was going on. No wonder they didn’t draft women.

    I crawled over to the window and opened it. I lit the first cherry bomb and heaved it out the window. It hit the lawn, rolled over to one of the tunnels and blew a twelve inch hole in the ground. The only louder sound than the explosion was the hysterical screams of the pajama-clad REMF’s as they ran back into their hootches. There was no turning back now. I had Charlie on the run. I quickly heaved three more cherries at the scattering VC and crawled down the stairs as the explosions shook the house. I bolted across the dining room and hit the juice-covered floor at top speed. The sound as my face hit the floor was almost as loud as the REMF’s screaming. Hell, this was going to be tougher than I thought.


    I put a compress – or was it a dish towel? – on my blood-stained nose and chin and headed out the door. The area was strangely quiet. The REMF’s must have come to their sense’s and were in their hootches looking for weapons. Good. I could use the help.


    “Hey a—h--; what the hell are you doing?” came a cry from my next door neighbor. “You ain’t rowing with both oars in the water. If you don’t cut this crap, I’m going to call the cops.”

    “Screw the MPs” I roared back. “They’re only good for guarding the General’s jeep. If you really ‘want to help, get over here and help me hit these suckers with some napalm. No student deferment for you this time. “

    Having taken care of that little chore, I proceeded to get some fire on the target. The fire spread a little further than I planned and the leaves on the far side of the lawn started crackling.
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