Phu Bai was a raw, unpolished Marine Corps base. Many of the structures were only tents or dilapidated buildings. The airport could handle jets, but all the facilities were primitive. Our “home sweet home” was two or three rows of plywood and screened-in buildings with tin roofs. Each building had room for 15 cots. The living conditions were very poor, but it beat being in the field and sleeping on the ground. We didn’t have to worry much about being shot here. On the other side of the base, there was a PX that sold cases of soda and other necessities.
On Sept. 28, 1967, my friend Gordon “Gus” Gustafson and I decided we would walk the half-mile to the PX and buy some goodies. There wasn’t a road. We just walked over rolling hills dotted with various buildings and tents. The ground was dry and dusty with a distinctive red-colored dust.
Our mood was light as we walked and talked. It was nice to be out of the field and in the relative safety of the base…but everyone that spends time in the field has diarrhea at one time or another, and mine was calling now. When it calls, you go.
