Extracts about daily camp life, Gia Vuc, (Sept. 8 to Nov. 2,'65), taken from letters written home by Loyd Little, senior medic:

     Hre: Nearly all Hre chew betel nuts, which are similar to mild speed but also have pain-killing properties. The Hre men wear only a sash wrapped around the waist and looped once through the legs. Nothing else except an occasional gold/brass or silver earring. Most of the elders let their hair grow, and it looks like gorgeous lion manes. The women go bare breasted, which is wonderful. They wear a wraparound long skirt, and the women and kids wear 2-10 copper/gold bracelets. In the valley around Gia Vuc, there are 8 or so villages and about half of those are refugees from other areas. They were run off either by VC or by us. Many walk the 3-6 miles daily back to their original villages to tend their crops.

     A typical medical patrol: On this day, my medical patrol (15 Hre, 2 SF) went to a village with about 60 people living in 16 or so huts perched on a small hill. The sides of the hill had been burned away and kept clear. We were served rice wine. It was made in a two-foot-tall earthen jar with about two inches of stuff floating around top. Fermenting agents and God knows what else. You poked hollow bamboo straws through the stuff on top and drank. Tasted like muscadine wine but a good deal stronger. The Hre love rice wine and the soldiers fill up their canteens with it whenever they can. For lunch, I had three bananas, half a sugar cane, a grapefruit-like plant and rice wine. Coming and going on this patrol, we heard the usual single-shots at a distance. Typical VC warning signs relaying a message of our location.
     Perhaps we had a little too much rice wine, but about halfway back to camp, we felt a dire need to go swimming. We set up security on the Song Re River and went in. Joining us were four water buffalo, several Montagnard women and a flock of kids. We threw grenades in the water and everyone was happily picking up the floating fish. The fish are just stunned, so you had to work fast. Like the Hre, I carried them ashore in my teeth. You needed both hands to swim in the current.
     A dozen yards downstream were remnants of a bridge that was once part of the major highway from Quang Ngai to Kontum. Vines crawled over the bridge. The Hre were more isolated now than when the French had controlled Viet Nam. The VC control all the roads in the mountains in this area.

     Sept. 11: I noticed the Hre kids weren't in school today and asked one why. He said the teacher couldn't come because he had to take machine gun training.

     Sep.19: Typical day in the camp dispensary: One Hre got a punji stake in the shin on a patrol. Stake hit the shin bone, glanced sideways and into the calf muscle. 9 stitches. Another Hre striker caught a bullet about 2 inches above the elbow. The bullet hit the elbow joint, slid sideways and came out about 2 inches below the elbow. Cleaned. About a half-dozen sub-cutaneous stitches, a dozen stitches on top. 5-6 malaria attacks. 3 acute asthma. 5-6 dysentery. Usual assortment of stomach aches, sore backs, painful teeth, colds.

     Sept. 27: VC broke into one of my hamlet dispensaries; stole nearly all our medical supplies. Hamlet was only 500 yards from camp.

     Sept. 30: Saw, treated nearly 2,000 people during past month. The concept of time is a bit shaky for many Hre. As a result, when I give out pills, I say something like, "Take one pill when the sun comes up, one when it's overhead, and one when it goes down."

     Oct. 9: We know the VC have a complete defense plan of our camp. They captured one of our strikers in Quang Ngai early in the summer while he was on leave, and persuaded him to act as an agent, which he did. Until he was caught recently.

     Oct. 15: The rice is coming into full bloom these days and so most of our patrols are off considerably, as the soldiers join their families in harvesting. Everyone from 6 to 60 is cutting and wrapping it in small bundles from dawn to sunset.

     Oct. 24: Delivered a lovely, bouncing baby boy to a Hre woman this morning in the dispensary. The Hre have the equivalent of midwives who normally help out at births. Actually, most Hre women will work right up to the birth of the baby. Although I never saw it, team members say they've seen babies born in the rice fields. Woman squats down and catches the baby in her hands. Anyway, this particular woman had been in labor about eight or nine hours before she and her husband (and a handful of other relatives) came to the dispensary. She was in considerable pain, and the midwife had finally suggested she come to us. She was a lovely 18 years old and worried and in a lot of pain. Our training included births; however, we were also taught to use pain-killers only as a last resort. I talked to her, examined her as best I could (the husband stood there the whole time which meant no internal examination for that would have seriously offended the Hre), and talked to her. Gave her water, etc. She was running a slight fever but everything was normal as near as I could tell. After 3-4 more hours, I returned the team house to eat. And got involved in a pinochle game.
     I had my senior Hre medic watching her. He rushed in several times to get me, but they were false alarms. Another 3-4 hours passed and my Hre came running in again. I had a great pinochle hand and said I'd be there in a minute. By the time I got there (about three minutes later), there was a six-pound baby boy crying between her legs. Everyone was OK. I cut the cord and then found one reason for the lengthy birth. She was too small. I had to put in a half-dozen or more stitches. The relatives all crowded in and congratulated the father at great length, who was now holding the baby. It was their custom that the father was the one to be slapped on the back and cheered. I held the mother's hand and told her she did a wonderful job and that her baby was beautiful. (I have pictures of the baby shortly after being born that I'll send eventually.)

     Jokes: Have come to realize that the Hre strikers really enjoy jokes. One day on a routine medical patrol, I convinced the strikers that our orders had been changed, and that we were staying an additional four days. In fact, I said, helicopters would be dropping in additional food for us soon. Later, when they realized it was a joke, they loved it and talked about it for days.
When I'm dressing someone's wound, I often tell them they have to pay me 20 P's for the bandage. They look horrified, and then they realize it's a joke. They enjoy retelling the story.
     I had trouble persuading the Hre to bury/dispose of old/used bandages. Then I told them that it was powerful luck to burn old bandages. That made better sense to them than the germ theory, and so they began burning them.
     One day on a patrol, I broke an ampoule of smelling salts and pretended to sniff it (while holding my breath). Then I passed it to the strikers who sniffed it and began coughing and sneezing and tearing up. They thought that was hilarious.
     Sometimes, when a striker comes in with a stomach complaint, I'll ask him dead seriously if he's ever been pregnant before. That cracks them up. Sometimes when a striker comes into sick call, and there's nothing wrong that I can find (he's probably trying to get out of a patrol), I'll tell him that his condition is serious and that he'll probably die before the next full moon. That usually brings him out of it.
     Many of the Hre bum cigarettes from Americans, not so much because they want them, but they keep tally amongst themselves about who bummed how many cigarettes from which American. Sport to liven up slow nights in camp.
      One day on a patrol, our senior Hre questioned why we were going to a hamlet called Ve Vong because no one lived there. I pulled him close and said that I had it on good authority that a lively bunch of whores had just moved in and… He cracked up and was in good humor all day.
     One day, I was walking by one of the striker barracks and saw a pair of pants hanging over the side. With great stealth, I stole the man's billfold which was full of pictures and about 300 P's. A few minutes later, I wandered inside the barracks and found the men playing cards for cigarettes. I offered to play with them, but said I wanted to play for money not cigarettes. They figured they had a sucker and finally agreed. When I began taking money out of the billfold, the owner of the billfold recognized what I was holding. Great hilarity, much rolling about on the ground and pointing at the owner.

                -- Loyd Little