Tales from Monkey Mountain

Mike Hoyt

Description

Behind the scenes of America’s first TV war.

“With the proliferation of televisions, news networks strived to have the most exciting, dramatic, and attractive stories. They competed for the finest reporters, highest-rated equipment, and largest number of viewers. … For the first time in American history, the news from the front lines was brought straight into the living room.” - Jessie Kratz, Historian of the National Archives

As American families sat down for dinner in front of their TV sets 50 years ago, horrific stories from Vietnam flashed across the screen. It was one of the country’s bloodiest conflicts and we had a front-row seat 10,000 miles away

Vietnam has been the subject of hundreds of books, movies and commentaries for decades. But we know little about how these stories were gathered and told, nor about the men and women who risked everything to tell them. Our gaze back then was on the fighting at a time when the war everyone hated and feared reached a climax.

“Tales from Monkey Mountain: Stories of the Vietnam War” is a different account of Vietnam. It is a war seen through the eyes of a young Navy press escort officer stationed in DaNang, not far from the Demilitarized Zone separating the Vietnamese north and south.

Mike Hoyt became immersed in almost every aspect of the war and in the telling of its stories. A trained journalist, Hoyt takes us into the heart of the conflict for a rare look behind the scenes at how the news media went about covering the fighting.

“Tales from Monkey Mountain” takes us on a journey through the strange, uncharted waters of news gathering in combat. We follow Hoyt down dangerous rivers, into smoky bars, through enemy attacks, onto the flight decks of aircraft carriers, on Swift Boats and river patrols, lumbering Navy supply boats dodging mines and into furious Naval gunfire support missions on the South China Sea.

We glimpse the inner world of Vietnam and its remote, ancient villages and hamlets with names such as Cua Viet, Dong Ha, Quang Tri, Hoi An, Chu Lai and Tam Toa. There are stories of killing and hardship, of love and kindness, of unbridled heroism, of loss and laughter in a war-torn place that changed America forever. 

Through a series of often humorous vignettes, Hoyt pulls back the curtain on a war that was never liked or understood. You’ll climb aboard patrol boats, helicopters and ships as warfighters go about the job of confronting a fierce enemy who could kill from a passing motorbike.  It delivers a firsthand look at the uncertain life and times of reporters and those who accompanied them into and around the battlefield. 

This is a yet untold story filled with irony, fleeting terror and looming questions about life, death and survival. It is a soul-searching, often humorous, remembrance of a brutal, unforgiving time in the life of a young man confronting his own fears and a search for truth.

“Tales from Monkey Mountain” probes the ironies of men fighting and dying, while others drink beer and revel in racy stage shows just miles away. It is about war at its best and worst. About ordinary men and women who were turned into heroes when they least expected it and who left part of themselves behind in a small country far away. 

So now, see the Vietnam War from the inside out in a way that perhaps you never imagined.

Sujets

• HISTORY
• Histoire
• General officer
• Military
• Vietnam War
• Naval
• General

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 14 février 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977263537
• Langue: English

Extrait

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Tales from Monkey Mountain Stories of the Vietnam War All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2023 Mike Hoyt v2.0
The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com
ISBN: 978-1-9772-6353-7
Cover Photo © 2023 www.gettyimages.com and Mike Hoyt. All rights reserved - used with permission.
Outskirts Press and the "OP" logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my patient and loving wife Judy and to the brave men and women of the Naval Support Activity, DaNang, Republic of Vietnam in 1968 and 1969.
Table of Contents
Foreword
Life as a Photo Album
The Early Days
Becoming an Officer and a Gentleman
Survival School: I Joined the Navy for This?
Surviving SERE
Little Field of Horrors.
A Brief Life as a POW
Leaving the World Behind
A Day at the Office
Duty Came Calling
The Lay of the Land
“They Shall Not Want”
Camp Tien Sha
Indian Country.
The Mouth of the Beast
Over the River and Through the Mines
T t’: The Mother of All Holidays
On a Wing and a Prayer.
Mr. Mountain
The Nuoc Mam Navy.
Shelling the Convent
Typhoon Bess.
The Magic of the Ice Cream Bribe.
The DaNang Press Center.
Cumshaw: The Art of the Trade
Welcome to the Roach Coach
The Corpsman Will See You Now
Death on the Bridge
White Mice at the Checkpoint.
Reporters and Other Annoyances
U.S. Navy Departing
Forklifts with Purple Hearts
The Murder Trial.
Pot Shots and Popcorn
A Date with Katie
Hue: The Imperial City
The Swifts
The Bite of a Rabid Dog
The Woman on the Radio
Voices of Angels
China Beach.
The Rock N Roll War
A Country of Children
The Duke Comes to Town
Should They be Saved?
Sanctuary
Ties That Bind
The VC on the Front Porch
Irving
Trunkline
The Cruise Book
The Evening News.
A Break in the Action
Land of the Big PX
The Magic and the Heartbreak of Saigon
Back to the World
Epilogue
Foreword
MOST SELF-PUBLISHED BOOKS about the war in Vietnam seem to follow one of three tracks, sometimes all of them. The majority, intended mostly for the grandkids to read after we’re gone, are reminiscences about a time spent in a far-off, alien place where people were killing other people. Most of it is usually true, but often sanitized for reading by family members.
The second track tends to be more of a true war story, sometimes of novel-like proportions, with graphic descriptions of life under fire. The third kind of book is a fantasized novel-like approach filled with embellished stories of the wild and crazy life of soldiers and sailors, often off the battlefield. This book is none of these, but some of each.
When I again read through the raft of letters and listened to the tapes I sent home in the late 60s, I was startled at the detail they contained, but also what they didn’t. Knowing our kinfolk were being subjected to daily horrific news coverage of the war on TV and in newspapers, much of it of the "burning-down-villages" variety, I consciously or without thinking tried to sugarcoat what I sent home. Much of what I wrote or recorded on little reels of tape was sanguine, as I tried to counter the bad news and the sporadic blood and guts events in Vietnam I encountered.
This was, after all, a war. And while guys like me didn’t get shot at a whole lot, when we did, it was so stupefying it didn’t make for good reading for the folks back in North Carolina. So, a lot of what I put in the mail and what became the main source for this writing is tame. There was a whole lot of "the food’s terrible and the monsoon is miserable, but on the whole everything’s fine. Don’t worry." I never wrote, "Rockets hit Camp Tien Sha last night and I was scared shitless."
Conveying a sense of normalcy and safety became my mission. But between the lines and buried deep in these messages, in a kind of code only I can decipher 50 years later, are the real and deadly truths of wartime, Vietnam style.
For me, as I’ve said, it was not an everyday shooting, shit-in-your pants, kind of experience, but one that was, in intense bursts, life changing.
War is not hell, as the popular saying goes. War is pure crap.
Life as a Photo Album
LIFE, AS WE recollect it, is not a movie. Rather, it is more like a series of snapshots. Moments in time. Snippets of reality. A mosaic of images and sounds and smells and emotions that light up our past and shape our future.
For those of us who spent time in Vietnam, it is no different. There are things we remember and things we choose not to think about. And yet, the tapestry of our time in this far-off and sometimes frightening place is woven tightly together by threads of vivid recollections. Moments that stand out. Vignettes that recur in dreams and nightmares that have lurked in the background of our lives ever since.
For me, these play like a jerky, disjointed movie. It is like film with missing scenes. There are parts that are left out and there are moments that shine brightly. Some are in color, others in black and white. It is like an interrupted story, both pleasant and horrific, that you do not tell anyone else, yet remember and ponder for yourself.
That’s because Vietnam, or any wartime experience, never lets go. It is a chapter in your life that is probably the most vivid, the most visceral, of any. It is a time you can never forget because it’s always with you and, deep down, you know that part of your soul is still there.
The story of Vietnam is filled with pride, with fear, with heroes, with comrades, and with those admired and hated. It is about life and death and about sublime character and profound bravery. It is about those killed and horribly wounded, on both sides. It’s about destruction beyond comprehension. About those whose courage defies reason. About being frightened like you’d never believe, yet pushed forward by a gut-level instinct that you have a job to do. About the irony on getting wasted within the enemy’s range, yet being numbed and unafraid of it.
Vietnam was about living and dying. But most of all, it was about surviving. About getting through it on the other side all in one piece.
What follows are my recollections of a time in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969 when the war had reached a fever pitch and anti-war sentiments back home were running wild. It was a confusing, conflicted, painful period for those serving in-country, not knowing whether we’d been abandoned and vilified by America, if the war was winding down or ramping up, or what lay ahead.
These stories, then, are set against a backdrop of fear and uncertainty. While there was no shortage of sheer courage and determination, there was nonetheless a fast moving current of change in Vietnam. Amidst it all, the war raged on. Men died. Men were being blown to pieces. The Vietnamese people continued their centuries-old miserable existence in a poor country ravaged by fighting and death.
These stories are as factual as my 78-year-old mind allows. Most of the names have been changed either to protect others, or me, or because I simply cannot remember them. I have relied on my memories and letters home as sources. So they are as accurate as that. Only that.
The Early Days
I GREW UP in the post-World-War era of the 1950s and 60s. I was always around the military and it was very much a part of my life and a source of fascination.
You see, my dad was a Navy officer during the war and, as a result, I was born near the U.S. Naval Air Station in Alameda, California. In Oakland to be exact. He spent much of his life after the war in and around airplanes, first during the early days of Eastern Airlines in Miami working for Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, the World War I flying ace and winner of the Medal of Honor. As a toddler, I remember walking through oil-soaked airplane hangers and tripping over tools. They smelled of aviation fuel and hydraulic fluid.
In 1949, we moved to a small, forgettable town in the Florida panhandle called Fort Walton. They’ve added since "Beach" to the name to make it seem like more of a resort, which it barely was.
Fort Walton was home to Eglin Air Force Base where my dad worked as a civil service engineer. Eglin was a gigantic aviation laboratory, the Air Proving Ground Command, where they invented and tested all sorts of airborne weaponry. It was an amazing place to grow up in. My life was filled with airplanes and pilots and loud airborne firepower demonstrations where, as a kid, I got to see and live a life that very few my age would experience.
I’d spend weekends with my dad on the Eglin flight line, climbing in and out of B-47s and F-86s and mammoth B-36s, then the pride of the new Strategic Air Command. My dad’s best friends were other engineers and pilots. One day, into my small bedroom at 549 Kepner Road, walked Paul Tibbets and Tom Ferebee, the pilot and bombardier of the Enola Gay that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
My tiny bedroom was festooned with dozens of plastic airplane models of every description, hung by wires from the ceiling. At night, they’d sway silently in the breeze of the giant attic fan in the hall that brought some relief during the hot, dripping Florida nights.
Sometimes, I got to visit Eglin’s famous climatic hanger where they’d drop the temperature to 60-below-zero or raise it to more than 125 above. Under these harsh conditions, the Air Force tested weapons and airplanes to see