by Wing Wiper

     Part of the check-in routine for FNGs was a visit to the squadron armory for issue of a sidearm. This was one activity on the check-in sheet I was looking forward to. It was an overcast, rain soaked afternoon when I stepped inside the armory shack. There was no one in the outer office, just two makeshift desks, both of which were empty and a few filing cabinets. A dutch door painted red had yellow block letters on it which read ARMORY ROOM. I stepped over, knocked, and opened the upper half of the door. I was immediately transported from the gray and wet environment outside into a world of brightness and air so dry it made me gasp involuntarily. The armory walls were lined with a reflective foil material and there were high intensity lamps of some sort in each corner. This happened in a heartbeat and the effect was startling. They had created a man made sanctuary for the weapons. A refuge wherein they would be safe and secure from the ravages of the sodden Vietnamese climate.

     I stood there momentarily, squinting while my eyes adjusted themselves to the brilliance. When they finally focused, I stared at a truly unique scene. Mounted on the foil walls, stacked in the corner, or resting in racks was an amazing variety of weapons. I saw, M16s, M60s, M3A1 grease guns, .45 autos, .38 revolvers with both 4inch and snub-nosed barrels, several M14s and, most striking of all, the Browning M2,.50 cal machine guns. These were the "aviation fifties" I had heard so much about. Essentially the same as the defensive guns mounted on WWII bombers, they were truly impressive!! A Marine flight instructor I had flown with back in Pensacola had been with one of the first CH-46 squadrons deployed to Viet Nam. (I believe he told me they were deployed in late 1965.) Flying the problem ridden "A" models, (That's the bird Dick referred to having a distressing tendency to lose its aft pylon usually with fatal results.) originally, they had M60s as side guns. As if those early 46s didn't have enough problems, apparently the M60s just did not do a good enough job in suppressing enemy ground fire. The birds were taking an inordinate amount of hits. The way he told it, someone found out about an Army warehouse in Korea that was full of .50 cals. A cargo plane was dispatched and somehow, someway, came back full of them. The M60s were removed and replaced by the M2 Brownings and the 46s began to take something like 50% fewer hits. If you had ever been shot at by a .50 cal, you wouldn't need to ask why.

     Anyway, I stood there for a minute or two, just taking in the sight of all those weapons in front of me. It was truly exciting, a real rush. About that time a young corporal materialized out of the brightness and asked what he could do for me. Still blinking, I identified myself as a new pilot checking in and said I supposed I was there to get issued a sidearm. He replied

"Yes sir, what would you like to have?"

I told him I had a .45 auto of my own back in the states, was very familiar and comfortable with it and therefore, would like to be issued one.

"Sorry lieutenant, he said, Group regulations say that only staff NCOs can be issued .45s."

Well, I didn't like it but figured there was not much I could do about it, so I indicated one of the S&W .38s with a 4 inch barrel.

"Sorry lieutenant, he said, Group regulations say that only enlisted aircrew members can be issued one of those."

Hmmm... this was becoming just a little annoying.

"Well corporal, I said, since Group regulations say I can't have either one of the pistols I prefer, just what do Group regulations say I can have?"

He showed me the snub-nosed S&W Airweight in his hand and answered,

"Sorry lieutenant, but this is what Group regulations say you can have, and it's about the biggest POS that ever floated."

The look on my face must have been one of extreme disgust. He nodded sympathetically and said,

"I know how you must feel, but that's all the regulations will allow me to issue to pilots."

     I responded with some comment worthy of an officer and a gentleman. Probably something on the order of "That really sucks". But in reality, what could I do about it? Not a thing. FNGs follow, they do not flaunt regulations. As I reluctantly signed the custody card he handed to me, he put a brand-spanking new shoulder holster on the counter and told me it went with the pistol. Sort of a package deal. The shoulder holster was a lovely unstained tan leather and one of the straps even had some cute little green nylon cartridge loops sewn into it.

     However, when I asked about some cartridges to put into those loops the corporal responded,

"Sorry lieutenant, Group regulations say you'll have to get your ammo from the Group armory. I can't issue you any."

When he saw the look of utter disbelief on my face, he again nodded with sympathy and added,

"Yes sir, I know how you must feel, but that's what the regulations really say."

     I have to admit, I was stunned by the absurdity of it all. It was almost beyond belief. It couldn't have been more ridiculous if it had been scripted by the writers for "Gomer Pyle, USMC." Looking back on it after all these years, I can laugh at the humor of the situation. However, at the time it was happening, it wasn't very funny. I mean, this was supposed to be a combat zone not the "Twilight Zone". It was insane. Handing the custody card back to the corporal, with weary resignation I asked where I might find the Group Armory. Naturally, it was located on the other side of the airfield.

     With my new acquisitions in hand, I went back to the squadron ready room to try and catch a ride to the other side of the airfield. While I was there one of the senior pilots gave me a classic dose of FNG treatment. He saw me looking at the Airweight, walked over and sarcastically commented about my having a deadly weapon. He asked if I was ready to go out and do battle with the wily Cong? I tried to be just as sarcastic when I replied that before I could do battle with anyone, I first needed to get ahold of some bullets for that so-called deadly weapon. He sat down beside me, took the Airweight from my hands and told me in all seriousness that I was mistaken. The very first thing I should do was to file off the front sight. (Remember now, I was a FNG and I took the bait like a hungry catfish.)

"Why should I do that I asked? Is it to make it come out of the shoulder holster faster or to keep it from hanging up on my flight suit?"

"Hell no, he said, and forget all that John Wayne B.S.. You file off the front sight so it won't hurt so much when the Gooners capture you and ram it up your a**!!"

At the time, I didn't think that was very funny either.

     An hour or two later I walked into the Group (Marine Aircraft Group 16) armory. Looking up from the Playboy he was scanning, a staff sergeant took a well chewed cigar out of his mouth and asked if he could do anything for me. Still smarting a bit from the FNG treatment in the ready room, I tried again to be sarcastic. I told him I was there to be issued some ammo for that deadly piece of weaponry my squadron had just issued me a couple of hours ago.

"Yes sir", he said while reaching into his desk. "Here you are."

There were 10 .38 cal rounds, 5 ball and 5 flares.

"You mean this is it?", I asked. "Only 10 rounds?"

"10 rounds lieutenant, that's all Group regulations say you get."

I remember thinking that I had surely fallen down the Rabbit Hole and at any second the Mad Hatter would run through the office with Alice and the Queen of Hearts. This couldn't be happening, but it was. More insanity...Incredulously I asked the staff sergeant why did Group regulations say I could only be issued 10 rounds.

     The staff sergeant was a salty old dog. He had obviously been through this with FNG lieutenants before. He sighed, leaned back in his chair and told me that the Group Commander had decided that there was entirely too many unauthorized weapons and too much unauthorized ammunition floating around MAG-16. That the presence of these weapons and this ammunition was not only unsafe, it was bad for morale. Morale??

"Yes Sir, morale!! That's what it says in the Group Order. I can show you if you like".

When I held up my hand indicating that would not be necessary, he continued.

"So, the Group Commander wants to cut down on all this unauthorized gear. That's why you only get 10 rounds. It's in the order and its good for your morale."

     After what had happened at the squadron armory a couple of hours earlier, this was a bit too much. FNG or not, I wasn’t about to stand still for this absurdity. I tried to put on my best command face, lowered my voice and said in what I hoped were firm and even tones.

"That may well be what the regulations say sergeant, but what's going to happen to my morale not to mention my young a**, if I get into a situation that requires more than just 10 rounds?

     He didn't even blink...just gave out another sigh, clasped his hands behind his shaved head and told me that in the first place, if that ever happens, I would be in deeper sh*t than I ever thought possible. He related that flying around the area in a BGH (Big Green Helicopter) at 3,000 feet wasn't anything like running around the boondocks playing graba** with the gooners on the ground. Ground combat, he said, is up close and personal. He also said he hoped that such a thing never happened to me. But, if by some chance it did, he hoped I had a good sergeant there to tell me what to do. In the second place, he continued, if he were me, he would forget about that worthless POS Airweight and get myself a .45 auto!! I just about did a back flip. OUTSTANDING sergeant, can YOU issue me one?

"Sorry lieutenant, squadron pilots have to be issued their sidearms by their own squadrons. The regulations are very specific about that. I can't help you."

     He saw the disappointment on my face and immediately followed with, "No need to worry though. After you have been here a little while and get snapped in, you'll be able to get your hands on just about any kind of weapon you want to carry. There's always something for sale or some guy wanting to trade what he has for something else. It won't take you long to make some contacts, you know, to do a little bit of networking. It'll happen. Just put the word out that you are looking."

     His voice had softened appreciably. It no longer had that slightly contemptuous tone that Staff NCOs can use so effectively with junior officers. He was even smiling.

"Yessir, just give yourself a little time. It'll happen. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the next time I see you, you're wearing a .45. Wish I could give you one myself, but I can't".

     Just like over at the squadron armory, I wasn't exactly happy with the situation. But I wasn't nearly as bent out of shape as I had been just a few minutes before either. My hackles were down considerably. Things no longer looked so hopelessly insane. And, I can only guess that my mind suddenly began to consider all the possibilities. You know...what do I really want, do I have anything to trade, how much will I have to pay?...etc., etc.. I recall thinking, "I wonder If I can get a Thompson". I've always wanted a Thompson. Never fired one, but sure would like to have one. Just like Sgt. Saunders on "Combat". A Thompson would really be great."

     I must have been totally preoccupied with those thoughts, or more accurately, those fantasies, cause as I turned to leave, I heard the staff sergeant's voice say,

"Hey lieutenant, don't forget your 10 rounds".

     Well, he was right. Within a month I had a .45 auto. In fact, before my one year tour was over I had three of them. Picked up two on medevac missions and traded an Army LRRP team leader for the third one while on SAR duty down at Chu Lai. It was an absolutely pristine Ithaca model. Just beautiful. I have always regretted that I was unable to somehow bring it home with me. (Unfortunately, by this time, the scurvy drug smugglers had made security so tight that an honest gun runner didn't have a chance.) The others were Remingtons and were in pretty good shape as well. As I have previously related, I also picked up a M16 before too much time went by.

     Appropriately, the S&W Airweight barely saw the light of day before it was banished to my wall locker for the duration. A year later, when it came time to turn it back in, it still had those same 10 rounds resting in the nylon cartridge loops which had been sewn into the shoulder holster. They had served their purpose. My morale was none the worse for wear!!!