(Klebsiella-Aerobactoer organism).
5. Gram negative septicemia.
6. Extensive acute renal tubular necrosis, bilateral.
7. Status post multiple recent surgical procedures.
A. Hip disarticulation with debridgement of stumps, bilateral.
B. Testicular removal bilaterally.
C. Exploration of abdomen, suturing of lacerated liver.
D. Removal of left kidney and ureter.
E. Multiple blood transfusions.
EXTERNAL EXAMINATION
The body is that of a well-developed, well-nourished, though thin, Negro male in his late teens or early twenties, showing absence of both lower extremities and extensive blast injuries on the perineum. There is a large eight-inch surgical incision running from the chest wall to the pubis. There is a previous amputation of the distal right thumb and left index finger....
“I liked it better in ’65 and ’66. Then it
was just you against them. Now you
just sit back and you get blasted away
or they do. That ain’t no fun.”
Special Forces trooper
Orthopedic Ward
U.S. Army Hospital, Kishine, Japan
5
The Shaping-Up of Macabe
M ACABE WROTE HIS STORY about Vietnam during the fall term of his senior year, two months after he’d returned from ROTC summer camp. It was not a very good story, but he liked it, and the school’s literary quarterly published it. They had published a few of his other things—lyrical little pieces about growing up—which had earned him a certain literary notoriety. It had caused a bit of a flap among the campus intellectuals when he enrolled in ROTC, but there was a war on and he wanted to have a piece of it. Hemingway had his Spain; Macabe would have his Vietnam.
But Nam was not at all like his story, nor really what he had hoped for. In the twenty-seven days he had been there, the only village he had ever come near was the one he blew away. Women, children, dogs, huts, rice, water buffalo—the whole thing. He just sat there on his track half a click away and blew it apart. He did it two weeks after he’d been in country, and the fourth night after his unit had been hit three nights in a row.
The morning before Macabe destroyed the village, a squad sweeping through the village area found the imprints of mortar tubes 500 meters from the village. The Old Man asked for clearance to hit the compound, but was told that unless they were receiving direct fire, they were to leave it alone. That evening he told Macabe that on the first round that came in from anywhere—anywhere—he was to blow the village off the face of the map.
Before it got dark, Macabe plotted the village’s coordinates and pasted them on the front of his radio. A little after midnight, they took a single sniper round. The bullet cracked across the lager and was gone. While troopers turned over in the mud and tried to get back to sleep, Macabe, shaking himself awake, climbed up on his track. In the silence, he picked up the horn and, staring out into the black, cloudless night, called in an illumination round. Fifteen seconds later it came whistling in over his head, splattering the paddies into a dazzling, metallic silver. The star shell drifted gently in the air, and swung slowly back and forth above the village. With the radio crackling in the heavy air, Macabe waited a while to make sure the star shell was working, then pressed the button.
“69/51 fire mission, over.”
“69 fire mission, out.”
He checked the coordinates and then looked back at the village.
“51 D.T. 106 direction 0600; shell H and E, enemy visible; prox 800 meters, over.”
“51/69 corrective, shell WP, over.”
“69/51,” he said calmly; “shoot, over.”
“51 shoot, out.”
The first rounds came roaring in over the lager. Suddenly, with a reddish roar, the whole left side of the compound lifted up.
“69/51, right 50, add 100; shell H and E; request zone fire, three quadrant, 3 mills, battery 2, over.”
The radio crackled again with the corrective read back, and a minute later a second salvo came roaring in.
5. Gram negative septicemia.
6. Extensive acute renal tubular necrosis, bilateral.
7. Status post multiple recent surgical procedures.
A. Hip disarticulation with debridgement of stumps, bilateral.
B. Testicular removal bilaterally.
C. Exploration of abdomen, suturing of lacerated liver.
D. Removal of left kidney and ureter.
E. Multiple blood transfusions.
EXTERNAL EXAMINATION
The body is that of a well-developed, well-nourished, though thin, Negro male in his late teens or early twenties, showing absence of both lower extremities and extensive blast injuries on the perineum. There is a large eight-inch surgical incision running from the chest wall to the pubis. There is a previous amputation of the distal right thumb and left index finger....
“I liked it better in ’65 and ’66. Then it
was just you against them. Now you
just sit back and you get blasted away
or they do. That ain’t no fun.”
Special Forces trooper
Orthopedic Ward
U.S. Army Hospital, Kishine, Japan
5
The Shaping-Up of Macabe
M ACABE WROTE HIS STORY about Vietnam during the fall term of his senior year, two months after he’d returned from ROTC summer camp. It was not a very good story, but he liked it, and the school’s literary quarterly published it. They had published a few of his other things—lyrical little pieces about growing up—which had earned him a certain literary notoriety. It had caused a bit of a flap among the campus intellectuals when he enrolled in ROTC, but there was a war on and he wanted to have a piece of it. Hemingway had his Spain; Macabe would have his Vietnam.
But Nam was not at all like his story, nor really what he had hoped for. In the twenty-seven days he had been there, the only village he had ever come near was the one he blew away. Women, children, dogs, huts, rice, water buffalo—the whole thing. He just sat there on his track half a click away and blew it apart. He did it two weeks after he’d been in country, and the fourth night after his unit had been hit three nights in a row.
The morning before Macabe destroyed the village, a squad sweeping through the village area found the imprints of mortar tubes 500 meters from the village. The Old Man asked for clearance to hit the compound, but was told that unless they were receiving direct fire, they were to leave it alone. That evening he told Macabe that on the first round that came in from anywhere—anywhere—he was to blow the village off the face of the map.
Before it got dark, Macabe plotted the village’s coordinates and pasted them on the front of his radio. A little after midnight, they took a single sniper round. The bullet cracked across the lager and was gone. While troopers turned over in the mud and tried to get back to sleep, Macabe, shaking himself awake, climbed up on his track. In the silence, he picked up the horn and, staring out into the black, cloudless night, called in an illumination round. Fifteen seconds later it came whistling in over his head, splattering the paddies into a dazzling, metallic silver. The star shell drifted gently in the air, and swung slowly back and forth above the village. With the radio crackling in the heavy air, Macabe waited a while to make sure the star shell was working, then pressed the button.
“69/51 fire mission, over.”
“69 fire mission, out.”
He checked the coordinates and then looked back at the village.
“51 D.T. 106 direction 0600; shell H and E, enemy visible; prox 800 meters, over.”
“51/69 corrective, shell WP, over.”
“69/51,” he said calmly; “shoot, over.”
“51 shoot, out.”
The first rounds came roaring in over the lager. Suddenly, with a reddish roar, the whole left side of the compound lifted up.
“69/51, right 50, add 100; shell H and E; request zone fire, three quadrant, 3 mills, battery 2, over.”
The radio crackled again with the corrective read back, and a minute later a second salvo came roaring in.
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