By Gerald McGill

On December 12, 1967, the Point Welcome was assigned to assist the Americal Division of the U.S. Army in an anti-exfiltration patrol along the coast of Area 3C, south of Da Nang Harbor.

Throughout central Vietnam, inland rivers that flowed to the sea made the area ripe for NVA and VC ground troop transport. To disrupt the movement of enemy fighters, U.S. Army soldiers and Marines on the ground would attempt to flush NVA/VC out of the jungles and force them towards the shore. Together with Navy Swift Boats, the Point Welcome’s objective was to create a naval blockade to prevent evacuation of NVA/VC personnel trapped on the beaches.

This was a bit of a reverse operation for us, as our usual objective was to prevent suspicious incoming vessels from infiltrating the coast, not shut down enemy escape attempts by sea. Since it was not uncommon for local people to collaborate with the NVA/VC to smuggle fighters and arms on fishing vessels (either by choice or by coercion), we were ordered to intercept every local boat that attempted to make a sea passage. Every boat we stopped was a potential ambush. Every person we spoke to was a potential enemy combatant.

We intercepted and boarded boats day and night. In addition, the Point Welcome was equipped with enormous loudspeakers that would blast messages in Vietnamese commanding the locals to “Get ALL junks out of this area immediately!” There was no mistaking our intent.

We would also broadcast recorded messages from PSYOPS at all hours. These messages were intended to discourage the VC/NVA from fighting and encourage them to surrender.  The messages told the enemy that they could not win, and that the Americans and the RVN would treat them fairly if they turned themselves in. We would get as close as half a mile to the beaches and it always made us hold our breath – they could (and did) shoot at us from that distance!

We had already been out for ten days in Area C3 when we received orders to return to Da Nang harbor on 22 December 1967. We had no sooner arrived back at port than we were notified of another exfiltration event in Area 1C that we had been assigned to patrol.

While the crew refueled and resupplied the boat, I walked up to the Officer’s Quarters and took a shower. When I changed back into my uniform, I noticed that my belt was a little tighter than usual. There was a scale in the dressing area, but I didn’t bother to step on it because I was in a hurry to get back to the boat. Within a few hours, we proceeded to Area 1C.

I have mentioned before that on my first real evening in Vietnam I was given my official SQUADRON ONE belt and belt buckle. The belt itself was a “one size fits all” khaki colored web belt. When the belt was run through the buckle and tightened, the “bitter end” was cut off to keep the excess end from showing.

The first morning on our new patrol, I woke up and noticed that my belt was tighter again. There was no scale on the Welcome as it would have been impossible to get a good read with all of the pitching of the boat, so I wasn’t able to weigh myself. I had been a soccer player at the Academy and at 5’8” weighted a pretty reasonable 160 lbs due to regular running and exercise. I remember thinking that maybe sea life was catching up with me and I would just have to lay off the desserts.

The next day, my belt was even tighter. I thought this was weird, but just decided to again skip dessert AND forgo the bread and potatoes served with dinner.

By the morning of day seven on patrol, I couldn’t even fasten my belt. I skipped breakfast (again) and walked into the galley to get some coffee.  I looked up at the bulletin board and noticed that tacked to the center was about an inch and a half long strip of khaki fabric, unmistakably taken from a standard-issue belt. A closer inspection revealed that that the strip was made up of smaller pieces of belt fabric, about ¼ of an inch each, that had been glued together. I put down my coffee and shook my head. They got me.

I never figured out which one of the crew members had spent the last three weeks sneaking into my quarters whenever I was sleeping and painstakingly cutting small slices off of my belt to make me think I was gaining weight. No one ever confessed or claimed to have any idea what I was talking about.

I couldn’t even be angry with my crew. It was a good joke.