European Stars and Stripes (Newspaper) - September 19, 1990, Darmstadt, Hesse                                M died or disappeared. In Cambodia in 1970 two photographers i worked with were killed by the Khmer Rouge four Days apart getting the  a a the Story kept pulling you Back and Back like a spellbinding deadly temptress you know is sizing you up for a body bag but you still Chase her and dare her and All you have to do is dance out of Range when she swings open the blast Furnace door. Getting to Khe Sanh the baddest Story in the world two of us flew in on a c-130 transport loaded with 30,000 pounds of ammo and explosives. We hit the ground running from a plane that never stopped moving. It shoved its Load and us out the rear ramp with shells Choo choosing in All around blowing up body bags blowing up everything until finally they closed Down the Airstrip and supplies had to be parachuted in. We got out Days later when the strip briefly opened. Along with a Bunch of Raggedy marines we went clawing up the spinning rollers of that plane ramp like wild eyed animals As the shells started falling. The plane went scudding As straight up to the blessed sky As it could go and everyone inside was suddenly smiling like Angels ascending. The night we got Back from Khe Sanh the tet offensive started. I walked and then hitched a 4 . Ride with a vietnamese on a motor Scooter he was the Only thing moving on the Street and might have been a Viet Cong late to his attack for All i knew smack into the Middle of the Battle of Saigon. In time to witness the last hours of a pc commando unit assaulting the american embassy. Epic on the spot headlines. No pools no clearances no bureaucracy needed. Earlier reaching the Story at Dak to one of the most Savage Jungle Battles of the War was so frustrating it was funny. Even making it out of Saigon was Tough. Hundreds of soldiers and a Bunch of griping correspondents jammed in the terminal. Sleeping on the floor grumbling and sweating equipment piled All Over. The morning of the second Day we were going nuts when a French photographer hurried to me and whispered Quot look i just saw some vietnamese up Zee flight line. Zay Are going to Dak to a straight. I tried to get on Zere plane and Zere american adviser said it is impossible. He look at me like i am spy or zome zing. I Zank we could get on zat plane if you carry Zee  we grabbed our packs and ran. But up the flight line the troops were already nearly finished loading through the Tail of the c-130. The panting Frenchman yelled Quot look zone maps in zat jeep. Maybe Zay run us up Zere. You ask zem. You carry Zee  i asked and they screeched us up there. We jumped out dashing toward the plane. The props were roaring. Heavily armed paratroopers were packed nearly flush to the Tail. We ran up the ramp just As it started to lift and writer Don Tate in Khe Sanh South Vietnam in 1968. Squeezed in among the vietnamese. An american adviser saw us and started cussing and waving us to get off. We waved Back. Quot of hell Quot he finally yelled Quot but it s Gonna be a hot Mother Back there. Don t  a hot Mother. Absolutely jammed in. Sweaty bodies elbowing for space. Arms legs gun barrels All intertwined and poking at you. We were wedged in High in the ramp. We flew through a storm and the plane soared swooped bounced All Over. Viets clasped their hands prayerfully opened their Mouths and started throwing up. Then the Frenchman leaned Over rolled his eyes helplessly and threw up on my pack. No pain no gain. But getting into Dak to base Camp was not the real Story. The real Story was out there. The most fearsome terrain i d Ever seen or dreamed. Deep dark Snake Leech and Tiger country. Hot fuming Jungle valleys rolling up into great death rattling Hills. Seven regiments of Nova skulking around under triple canopy Jungle. All kinds of ugly firepower lighting the sky like Jack of lanterns Smoky red and Black toothed and weird. And All around were walking wounded looking spooked and shaking their Heads burning up with War fever. Why Are you Here whispers the Little voice again. Outside the emergency tent inside a dying Soldier screamed a sound that went from a Wail to a gurgle to nothing left to say we asked a wounded still practically smoking wretch of a Green Beret the Best Way to get out to the fighting. Thirty minutes before he had been trapped in the deep Bush and thought of himself As a dead Man. And then he had been hoisted out of the Trees plucked up by a harness at the end of a Cable attached to a medevac helicopter and still hanging swung off across the Jungle and deposited near the overflowing emergency tent. It was hand of the lord stuff but his eyes seemed still Back there in the dark Bush dancing with the beast. His right  was heavily bandaged and he was so blood caked and dirt encrusted and so Many holes in his fatigues and so scratched and gashed and used up looking that he sent a shiver through me just standing close to him. He looked at us strangely slowly pointed toward some resupply choppers across the Little Airstrip and said Only about 17 had been shot Down that Day. Quot might make  Quot we need to get out there Quot i said urgently. Quot you Don t really need to Quot said the Beret. Quot nobody on Earth can order you dumb people to go out  Quot after this much trouble we done to give a Damn Quot i said not knowing what trouble Lay ahead. And then trying to lighten it i imparted a Little news philosophy. Quot our Job is to capture the essence of the Battle on  Quot be careful it Don t capture you off of paper Quot muttered the Beret peeling off a piece of his lip. Talking about it is always easier than doing it. I was a War correspondent for Scripps Howard newspapers Ernie Pyle s old Bosses. They did t want Saigon commandos. They wanted their Guy out with the troops in the great Pyle tradition. Fine i said in the Best eager Beaver tradition. Charge. Done task me exactly Why. Having a nose for news did t entirely cover it. To witness fascinating life death struggle was part of it. To Tell the truth at times there seemed As Many truths in Vietnam As there were correspondents to the american people. To feel the thrill of adventure. To feel Noble to feel Brave to gain experience. To test oneself in deadly circumstances. To be a big War Star. To find out How the Story was going to end. Yes yes. Charge. Like a Tail wagging Puppy. I tripped Over to Vietnam for six months and years later i was still feeling my Way through the smoke. I went to cover the War As the saying goes and the War covered me. In the Middle of Vietnam i zipped out to cover the indo pakistani War. A fast gruesome conflict with strange adventure. Later i jumped from Vietnam to the Arab israeli War of october 1973 a dense Jungle to wide open desert War in 24 hours. Nowhere to hide in the Sinai. A firepower lovers dream. The Quick and the dead israeli tanks striking like columns of stinging scorpions. Later i went to Cyprus to cover the unpleasantness Between the greeks and the turks. And then to some other Little misunderstandings. But those were Short wars. To really practice proper War correspondence to get out there and voluntarily sweat bleed and live on the Edge with the troops in the grand Ernie Pyle tradition requires a much longer War. A world War ii. A Vietnam. And then All that s left is to explain to yourself one More time Why you re really there with 50 percent of you grown to hate it and the other half pulling you on and on toward the deadly Beauty whispering from the flames. Maybe old Ernie knew but he did no to live to write it. Up american troops at Khe Sanh Scurry for cover As an incoming artillery round explodes nearby. The stars and stripes a a a Page 15