“Gunfighter Village” Danang, a Joke

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By Gordon Duff, Senior Editor

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Every so often phony heroes crawl out from under rocks.  I will avoid naming the creepy slimeball but, in the process, will right a wrong or two.
You see, someone is claiming to be a heroic combat veteran of Vietnam who served in the US Air Force at the 366th Tactical Fighter Squadron in Danang at a quite luxurious base, “in the rear of the rear of the rear” they called “Gunfighter Village.

Whenever a real vet hears the name, “Gunfighter Village” we literally roll on the floor laughing.  The “village” part was right. The “gunfighter” part, where in the name of all that is holy was that one made up?
While on long range patrols though the hills of I Corps, we could, on occasion, look down in the distance and see the runway.  The tiny planes would take off, one after another, circle the base then drop a load of bombs about a mile away, near “the Danang barrier” constructed during Operation Pipestone Canyon.

At other times they would fly out, drop napalm canisters against a rocky hillside, blackened to this day I suspect.  These were the “air support” missions that made sure more Marines died in Vietnam than in all of World War II.  These are missions now spoken of as dodging North Vietnamese missiles.

This reminds me of Bagram Air Force Base in Afghanistan.  Dr. Aafia Siddiqui was held prisoner there for 5 years, gang raped, starved and beaten.  She was accused, th0ugh wheel chair bound, of nearly killing a half dozen “Air Force commandos” and sentenced to 87 years in prison for that.  However, out of embarrassment, she was later quietly released and returned home.

I had visited the facility a couple of times during the war, a war I served in as a combat Marine.  This was 20 miles from any danger, hidden behind base after base, tucked away, a land of fresh fruit and veggies, of perfect steaks, of lobster tails, of air conditioning and manicured lawns.

This is where the fresh food that was meant for “the troops” was derailed, stolen and eaten or sold.  This is where those who couldn’t get into a safe National Guard or Reserve unit like Bush and his “Chickenhawk” buddies but had “pull” were put.  “Life was beautiful all the time.”  Pilots flew phony combat missions, dropping their bomb loads at the end of the runway, others soaked down scotch and at the best food while little Vietnamese girls washed their uniforms, made their beds, polished their shoes and took care of their other needs.

Our friends rode around the base in cars, air conditioned Chevys.  Vietnamese trimmed bushes, washed the sidewalks and polished the endless patriotic signs that were everywhere.  There was a movie theater, bowling alley, several clubs, lots of single malts, tennis courts, a pool and the ability to call home whenever, watch tv whenever, things none of us were able to do ever, forever, things none of us knew existed.

The closest anyone came to combat were forays into the countryside to recruit “club girls.”
It isn’t the privilege that is the problem, it is the lying and very much the “stolen valor.”
Not everyone serving there was unappreciative that Marines died protecting them, in this case over 5000 Marines died keeping this base alone safe from rocket attack.

When my good friend, Marine Sergeant Major Ed Nichols visited them back in 1967, stopping in to ask for a carton of fresh milk, something Marines wouldn’t see in months, he was harshly turned away.  You see, anyone in real combat uniform, anyone carrying a weapon, was not allowed there.
They didn’t like the fact that we wore torn uniforms or sandals, cutoff tee shirts and shorts, and, of course, several canteens of tepid water, carried hand grenades and up to a thousand rounds of ammunition.  After all, we were the people who fought the war, ragged, skinny, malnourished, often with malaria and bandaged wounds that would have sent an Air Force type to Walter Reed for months of recuperation.
Vietnam was a war for the privileged and most who served lived a life of privilege and debauchery.  Some wrote books later on about “stolen valor” who, themselves never saw a minute of combat.  Others are festooned with unearned medals, out of Cracker Jack boxes.  Still others were POWs but kissed North Vietnamese behind for privileges while their buddies were tortured and starved.

Those names are hidden, lies perpetuated for “the common good” along with presidential pardons forced on the good and bad alike in a sick coverup, yes, we are talking to you John McCain.
Today we mention the 366th Tactical Fighter Squadron.  They gave no air support to the Marines who defended them.  They wasted hundreds of millions, they stole our food, they ate up resources and now some of them at least have come out from under their rocks to lie.

I remember visiting there in 1970 on a rare “day off” which put several of us on the back of a “6 by” for the endless ride to the “rear of the rear of the rear,” out of harms way.  I remember being let in and having faces turn away in shame.

Vietnam was a war where “the few” fought and died while others who live went on decade after decade taking credit for the sacrifice of others.  If we, “the few” were better people, we would have wiped them off the face of the earth but instead I seem to have “mellowed out.”
The gene pool would have been so much better off if I hadn’t.
I don’t suspect the military is any better today.