Ramblings from an old scribbler Joe Gelarden Wed, 12/23/2020 - 7:30am Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I and thousands of other American service members lived in a semi-tropical land known as Viet Nam. It wasn’t my idea, but somehow America had become involved in a complicated nationwide family feud that erupted after the Vietnamese people kicked the French out. Add that to the Communists, the Cold War and, well, if you grew up in the ’60s, you know the story. I was assigned to a Marine artillery battalion known as the Fourth Battalion, Twelfth Marines. Our job was to support the infantry units that patrolled the area looking for assorted Viet Cong or North Vietnamese army units. We had a lot of firepower – 18 very big cannons and, naturally, we were placed on the edge of the vast Marine base called Phu Bai (Foo-Bye). It was located south of the old Imperial capital, Hue.