Since we hadn’t succeeded in finding a way through it was decided that we would walk the dike around the jungle area. The rest of the squad had already started on the dike as we scrambled to join them. I could see Paul climbing onto the dike next to a mound of dirt where the dike formed a right angle. I had not gotten out of the water yet, with the mound of dirt to my right when a tremendous flash and explosion robbed us of all our senses. In that split second, everything and everyone froze. The enormity of the explosion demanded time to absorb it. My first thought was that it was an incoming artillery round-one of ours that had gone astray, since they didn’t have that kind of firepower. The first verbal reaction was’ “What the fuck was that?” I climbed up on the dike and could see Rogers and Barron further on down the path. There was nothing apparent, no sign of an impact on the dike, just the acrid smell the explosion left behind in a spot where the grass was flattened. I walked back past the mound of dirt and a small blast went off in the mound of dirt with a small puff of black smoke. I had tripped a booby trap. We hardly took notice of it in relation to the explosion which had just stunned us all. As we were trying to make sense of what had happened, someone said “Where’s Risinger?” We started searching the surrounding area and found what remained of an M-16 on the other side of the mound in the thicket. It was the barrel, bent and stripped of all plastic. A few of us jumped into the paddy on the opposite side and started fishing through the murky water hoping to retrieve a life, one of our own. We found something under the water and pulling it barely to the surface we saw that it was a leg with boot still on it, but that’s all there was. There was the answer: “He’s dead”. We let go of it and left the water. That’s all that was said. In an instant, a husband, grandson and son, brother and father was gone.
Back on the dike, Rodgers and Barron were both shaking and obviously in shock. They had been just ahead of Paul. I noticed that both their fatigues were covered by tiny red specks on the back, but I did not say anything. We were trying to comfort them and ourselves. It was passed on to us, that we should retrieve the body. We refused and they radioed in to have a grave registration team flown out to recover the remains. When they finally came, Rodgers and Barron went in with them. They were done for the day and I was glad that someone had enough sense to see that. It pained me then and still does that my last emotion in relation to Paul was one of anger.
The journal entry was again antiseptic: “Time:0759- 1 KIA from mine or booby trap vic 852694, belive (sic) it was grenade booby trap.” And the second one which I tripped:
“Time: 0805- A Co tripped grenade booby trap vic 82694 with neg casualties (type unknown)”
Again, it wasn’t me it was the other guy-the other “me.” He was just one of the dozens who died that day and the hundreds that week and the thousands that year, except that he was a friend, a comrade, the guy next to me. I thought of his family, that they were going through their daily routine with no idea of the tragedy which had just befallen them, thousands of miles away and that, unbeknownst to them, their lives had been changed forever by the loss of this life. Our isolation from each others lives and families sheltered us from the real deep impact of this fact. It was just another hot and dusty Delta day, except there was no dust, but a dust-off of the remains of Paul Risinger. Somewhere back at the 9th Division Base Camp at Bear Cat someone was teeing off at the miniature golf course, someone was diving into the cool waters of the new above-ground pool.
It was now apparent what had happened. There was no stray artillery or mortar round. Paul had set off the relative harmless booby trap just like I had, except that a splinter must have been propelled into his backpack and into the blasting caps which in turn set off the blocks of TNT. In typical twisted army fashion but with cold practical logic, since we were short of radios, it was reported that he was carrying a radio which expedited getting a replacement.
No time to grieve, the choppers were coming to take us to our next objective: the 1/46th ARVN unit was surrounded on three sides by a sizable Viet Cong force and A Company was pegged to help out, yeah, just another hot and dusty Delta day.
Gerhard Grieb