Santos Rosas by fjwuxn

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									Santos Rosas
Santos Rosas was drafted on June 12, 1969 and his tour of duty in Vietnam lasted from
December 1969 through November 1970 in the Army. He lives in Santa Maria.

“This is what we prepared for because we were going. At that time, I couldn‟t tell my
mom. My mom asked me where I was going, where I was going to be at. I said, “I don‟t
know yet.” I knew I going to Nam. I just couldn‟t tell her.”
                                                                            Santos Rosas


        My dad is a very serious person. And he said, “I‟m gonna take you guys.”
Beginning as a youngster we were shining shoes. My brothers and I would go shoe
shining for 15 cents a pair. Then my dad, during the summer time said, “Guess what,
we‟re going to the fields.” “We‟re gonna hoe the fields. We‟re gonna pick carrots.”
On the Guadalupe school
        School was a turn-off at that point.
All I wanted to do was finish high school,
that‟s all. This was because of my
experiences in Guadalupe School. I used to
say I just wanted to get out of high school. I
was not motivated even though they tried to
teach me the best they could. I was bad at
math. I was bad at English. But I loved
Spanish and I loved American history. I
really did. And to this day I still love it. But
they threw me on the ground like a fucken perro. And I never did anything that bad that
they should have done that to me. And I never told my parents. My dad, he would have
done something real bad. He had some other problems that he had to deal with my older
brother.
        The abuse happened once or twice a month, something like that. I saw Jimmy
Vincent getting thrown out of a window. Come on, you don‟t do stuff like that. Hey come
on, we‟re human man.
        I got out of high school and I didn‟t want to go to school anymore. College just
didn‟t appeal to me at that time. The thing is, my dad always told me that you had to
learn has to earn a dollar. I‟m not gonna give it to you. You have to work for it. That‟s
how it was.
On being drafted
           So I entered the workforce. I worked at CBS Records for one year. I was already
18, registered for the draft and bingo! I told my dad that Vietnam‟s not very pretty right
now. Vietnam‟s gonna pick me up, like it did Mike. Mike was already in Vietnam. My
dad wanted to hide us in Mexico. I said, “I‟m not gonna hide in Mexico. I am going to
serve my country.” That‟s the way it was.
           It was 1966 and I knew that something‟s gonna happen. The instructors teach you
about before WWI, before WWII and Korea. He said, “You boys better realize that you
guys have to turn 18 and register for the draft.” I thought the war would be over. Then I
got out of high school. I worked a year at Columbia Records and bingo! I got my draft
notice. I was drafted on the same day as Henry Ruiz, Joseph Tesoro, and Richard
Oliveras. All four of us were drafted on the same day. It said report to the Santa Maria
bus depot right here. You‟re going to Los Angeles on June 12 th for a physical. June 30th
we got drafted. We got our notice on June 12 th . June 30th we all got drafted. We were
drafted and taken from Los Angeles for a physical and to Ford Ort on June 30 th , all in one
day. I was proud and I was scared because Vietnam was a television war. The television
was every day, once a week on Friday. Walter Kronkite would announce how many
soldiers got killed. 150 got killed. 250 got killed. What‟s happening man? So we got
drafted.
On basic training
           Fifty of us were on the Greyhound bus. Waiting for us were 150 other guys from
the National Guard. We took boot camp and the drill sergeant said, “You 50 don‟t pack
and stay here because you‟re all going to Vietnam.” I d idn‟t know what I was gonna do
then. We didn‟t know what our job status was going to be. Neither did Henry (Ruiz) or
Joseph (Tesoro).
           So we got to Ford Ord and we separated. All three of us were separated. Joseph
and Henry go to the new barracks. I go to the old barracks from WWII. They built two-
and three-story buildings. A week later Henry (Ruiz) shows up in my platoon, in the
same barracks. I said, “What are you doing here bro man?” He said, “Hey I‟m gonna
room with you. Orale! Homeboy!” We took boot camp for 9 weeks at Fort Ord.
        Boot camp ends. And we had a big party. The captains gave you anything you
wanted. And my folks saw all of us graduate. I was like Audie Murphy. I marched and all
that. They tell us right on the spot. Just like the 50 of us. Yo u‟re all staying here. Well,
parts of us are staying. Henry gets separated. Joseph gets separated. One goes to
Missouri. Some go to somewhere else. Henry does engineering. Me, I‟m in infantry, as a
ground troop, a grunt as they called us. They labeled us that. So they told me, “You‟re
gonna be here for ten weeks to go for advanced infantry training.”
        So they start breaking me in. They start showing us weapons, how to use them.
This is what we prepared for because we were going. At that time, I couldn‟t tell my
mom. My mom asked me where I was going, where I was going to be at. I said, “I don‟t
know yet.” I knew I going to Nam. I just couldn‟t tell her.
        I finished my ten weeks. It was November 6, 1969. I said, “Mom I‟m sorry to tell
you but I‟m going to Vietnam.” She started crying and my dad said, “I got to go through
this again.” I said, “I‟m sorry you have to go through it.” So I stayed home for two
weeks. On the last day, I can tell you right now, to see my mom, my dad, my brother
Mike, my sister and other brother with eye contact knowing that I was in the infantry. My
brother said, “You‟re in a bad field. Not as bad as I was. You are no different from me. I
don‟t know if you‟ll make it.”
        I‟m shaking. But I didn‟t cry, not until I got to the plane. Hijole! My dad! That
was the first time I saw my dad cry. No it was the second time. The first time was when
his dad died. He shed some tears at that time. I saw my old man and I said, “ Hijole, I
won‟t cry.” I thought I‟m gonna come back. When I come back you can buy the beer. I
was too young of a boy. That was at the airport and I‟ll never forget it. I went from Santa
Maria airport to San Francisco, San Francisco to Seattle, Washington, to Anchorage,
Alaska, to Japan, Cam Rahn Bay, Plei Ku. That‟s where everybody went. Cam Ran Bay.
There was a big huge camp.
        Never saw anybody I knew. That‟s the worst part was when I left I didn‟t know
anybody. And I was scared. I had friends at boot camp but then you go off and you don‟t
know anybody. There was paperwork for a day and a half. Paperwork. Paperwork.
Hijole! Who‟s going to be your beneficiary? That would be my mom. Then they‟re gonna
send me to my company, who I‟m gonna be with, my division.
In Vietnam
       After I got to Cam Rahn Bay they assigned me to my unit. Which was to be the
 th
4 Division, 3rd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment, “A” Company, 3rd squad. That‟s where
I spent my eleven months and one week. I went in with two guys, three of us flying in a
Huey. They took us from Plei Ku, a Vietnamese city. I was attached to the city. From
there they give you some more paperwork. And then they give you your rucksack. Your
rucksack carries all your food. You got your sleeping mat, poncho, poncho liner, food for
three days, and about thirty cans of C-
rats. You use three for the morning, three
for noon, three in the evening. That‟s nine
cans. You also carry like nine or ten
quarts of water. Lots of ammo too. You
got grenades, M-16. Everybody carried
this. Then you carry a clamore mine. I
was cleared to carry clamore. That was
about as big as this sheet of paper right
here, same size, same thing. You connect
it to a wire and you keep it with you all the time. If you hear anything that‟s coming at
night, vamanos, you blow it. I always carried a clamore. I took everything I could.
Everybody carries their own weight, whether you‟re big or whether you‟re small. I
carried all my own weapons. I carried boxed ammo. You carry your paper, pens, and
your writing utensils, soap. You carry photos of your family. All the personal stuff that
you didn‟t want to get wet. We have to go through rivers, streams. You want to protect
them. You carry extra socks. You get re-supplied every three days.
       You got one hot meal a week. That means they‟re bringing you a hot dinner from
the base camp. They bring you chicken or they bring you some meat. Other than that, C-
rations. The cans had spaghetti, chicken, eggs. I‟d write to my mom. My brother Mike
said, “I‟ll send you fruit, beans and beer.” They canned beer, the small Coors beer, eight
ounces. At that time I was drinking Coors. I don‟t drink Coors anymore. My mom sent
me canned fruit.
        This is the machine-gunner. I was on assistant for a machine- gunner. I was new. I
was green. This is a heavy load. You know what they used to call us? FNG‟s. That means
fucken new guy. And you will find it in every manual that you read about Vietnam. Talk
to anybody. Talk to my brother. Talk to Henry. They used it for the new guys, “the
pendejos.”
February 1970
        (Pointing to photographs) This is Rob the FOE: forward observer. He‟s the one
that‟s gonna call in artillery. He‟s protecting us. And this is me around seven months
later. Look at my backpack. Nothing but necessities. By then I knew how to pack and
everything. I‟m broken in. I‟m not an FNG anymore. This is about 7 mo nths later. I‟d say
it‟s July of 1970.
        Every month we‟d get a new captain. Every day we‟d get new people coming in
on a rotating schedule. I‟m on a rotating schedule. We had a Black captain. He got killed.
We had a Mexican captain. One day the captain found a marano. He killed him. And it
was chicharrones time. But I didn‟t want to eat that stuff. I didn‟t eat it. I lost contact
with that guy.
        (Pointing to some photographs) This is what you call a cobra. You got rocket
propelled. These support us. When there‟s enemy contact. We call them in and they call
them gun ships. And they call „em “puffs.” You saw that 1965 movie with John Wayne.
Phony movie, man! And this is a 155 Howitzer, and they had a 175 Howitzer, big as a
post.
        We used to dig in all the time. We‟d sleep on the air ponchos. You blow them up.
You pay a dollar if you wanted somebody else to do it. You know why? Because
everybody‟s so tired. I‟d give someone a buck or a soda. This was 1970. That was a lot of
money, man. This is called a bunker. They told us to dig in and put your mattress
together. We used a poncho liner and another poncho liner. It used to rain and you put it
up when it rained. You made a tent with the ponchos.
        During the summer in Vietnam it‟s hot and it‟s humid. And we‟re on patrol, on
mission in a valley. I‟m sitting down. I reach down and I felt this thing. It started to feel
smoother. Guess what it is. I pulled a skull out of the ground. I pulled the head out. I was
gonna pull his body out and take him home with me. It was a gook. He‟s deader than
dead. But I didn‟t pull the body out just the head. I pulled his hand out and said,
“vamanos.” That was the summer of 1970. Look at my jet-black hair. I was young at this
time. Someone always had a camera. We had to send the film off to San Francisco and
they‟d send them back to us.
       We go out three weeks. Vamanos. We came back for two days to party. And
that‟s what it was. Guys are crying. There was recon platoon that they called „lerps‟—
long-range patrols. They called the short ones, the small ones, „slerps‟—short-range
patrols. If a hundred of us were on patrol, the short ones, four guys would go in front. The
long ones four guys would go way ahead, by themselves, maybe a mile or two ahead.
They have protection on the side. Company size would be about 60 or 80 guys. The short
would be four guys and the long would be four guys. But they get special privileges.
They would get hot meals. They‟d get everything. I never volunteered for that. I would
say, “Chale, I don‟t want to do that.”
       In a company you stay out for three weeks at a time. You sleep in the ground, like
a perro. Then you come back for two weeks of party time. Every three weeks you get
that. Our bed was the dirt. Our food was C-rations. Your writing materials would be
whatever my Mom would send me. You carry all your food, about eighty or ninety
pounds on your back. And here‟s your hot bath—(Santos points to a picture of a group of
men bathing in a stream).
       I found these photos a month ago. (Santos points to a number of photos) I just
found these in an undeveloped roll. They‟re so old it‟s pathetic. I asked, “Where in the
hell did these come from?” They‟re negatives. And those are our interpreters. They‟re
holding a huge bong for smoking grass. I am seeing these for the first time since they
were taken thirty-seven years ago. And those are boxes of C-rations and that‟s how they
used to give them to us. This young guy was seventeen years old. Look at how he‟s
loaded up. He‟s packed up big time. He‟s seventeen, he‟s new, and he‟s FNG. This is
Benny Garcia from Puerto Rico. He attached to us for six months. You know why? He
didn‟t speak English. He had a hard time communicating with the sergeant and the
captain. The captain assigned me to two of them: Benny and another guy named Je rry
Pagan. I had to stick with them for the six months. Every two or three weeks they sent us
entertainment. They would bring us a band, viejas, and all we could drink. We would go
right to the base camp. There was no fooling around or nothing. Sometimes they had a
good band with all American music.
       I am just going to go by the months I do remember it happened. We were on
patrol. We were close to a place called Qui Yon. It was right next to the ocean. There
were about 60 helicopters. They took the company to a mountain, I don‟t know what it is,
it‟s just clear and bombarded with artillery and we land. It was in the evening. It wasn‟t
dark yet but the captain said, “ No patrols are going out tonight.” It was a beautiful
evening, stars were shining,
and we were just sitting
around smoking, kicking
back. In the morning we
wake up, our squad, nine of
us were going on patrol, we
were down 500 meters.
There is a guy named Jeff.
He was just walking and a
second guy in back of him,
a third guy then me then
two or three other guys in the back and we warmed up. It was a beautiful place, it was
about 8 o‟clock, we stepped on a mine and we hit the ground and he lost his leg. He lost
his leg and was mostly punctured big time. We called Medivac to get him out. It took two
guys to get him out of there. He came down to my house. I didn‟t know that he survived
that. I didn‟t know that he lost both his legs, the second leg he lost to gangrene. He came
to Santa Maria and I lived on the other side of East Main and it took him a while to get
there. His car broke down on the 101, him and a first master who communicated with me.
Two of the guys that I spent all my tour with and it was touching man, I don‟t know. I
had to take time off. I had to work a Saturday, and I made some tri-tip. He was from
Orange County, Bill Kruse. It was touching though. It had been so long, 25 years later
reunited. Amazing. It had been out of Vietnam, it had been 37 years for me. My kids
were still small and it‟s been tough for me.
        I remember this particular time it was a Tuesday 9:30 or whatever. I came up to
the lieutenant; I didn‟t know that fact that he knew anybody. He took us up this mountain
and he made us go through empty trails. You know why? Because there was a booby
trap. You would trip on the wires and you would get stuck someplace. So we kind of
went through the jungle, triple canopy we call it. With these backpacks and you had to
cut through it almost all day at the top of the ditch. We didn‟t find anything but 50
bunkers. We can‟t go back up. The lieutenant said, “W we are spending the night.”
A couple guys, two or three guys and everything started to hit us, artillery, mortars,
whatever they had to shoot at
us. It was a nightmare. Nobody
slept that day. That is bad.
At least 20 or 30 of us were
operating. It was too small.
There was only 9 of us. We
operate company strength,
that‟s good, that‟s real good.
So in any case, he said
something happened as we
operated 100 guys. Big companies right here. Big mountain here. And guess what. It was
all covered in triple jungle. You can‟t even see it from the top. Every village, all you can
see is the trees. You can‟t see nothing down there. Third squad you guys go after these
guys, there‟s no trails. No trails at all. I fell in the hole. My two companions fell in the
hole. I got Medivaced. I was in the hospital for a day. We were operating small. There
were nine of us. Empty trails were all over the place. The evening was good, and we
stayed the night. In the morning wake up we were all sitting around. We were not paying
attention. He opens up on us. We stayed together and said we would come back together.
We opened up big time. He got hit in the chest. We opened up on everybody to hit the
area and we couldn‟t find. To have lunch, I opened up my backpack and I had no food.
Everything was shattered. That could‟ve been real easy.

								
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