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LZ_Tuffy_-_Mike,_Carl_and_George.JPGLZ Tuffy - 1970Mike Medley, "Carl the FNG" (but great guy who saved my butt on the Advance Party going into the cluster at Susie Pig), and Eugene "George" Jarisch getting cleaned up in front of our hooch.
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LZ_Tuffy_-_Jarisch_and_Medley.JPGLZ Tuffy - 1970Clean up time. (L to R: Eugene "George" Jarisch and Mike Medley). When those of us in the advance party (that didn't find the punji stakes) out of the 4 slicks that made it, we were stranded in the clouds without commo, in the mud inundated with 50 gallon drums of persistent CS. Each morning, a dink from the group on the overlooking ridgeline would come up the draw and let off a clip trying to get us to fire back to locate our 60s. It was only fitting that the three-holer (top left in photo) was placed in that shitty location. I was hesitant to use it since it was on the draw and left one's backside facing the dinks on the opposing ridgeline.
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LZ_Tuffy_-_Civilized.JPGLZ Tuffy - 1970{continued from previous slide} From memory, both the 101st and 1st CAV had previously inhabited the LZ and both had the same problem we did exiting based on the evidence of Arc Light strikes and downed chopper husks in the jungle below the LZ. Like an idiot I decided I needed a break and chose to go out on the last chopper for a change instead of the usual Advance Party. So I got to party with the gun the dinks couldn't see from the ridgeline and didn't know was there when they opened up on the Chinook carrying Pineapple's crew and gun.
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LZ_Tuffy_-_Built_up.JPGLZ Tuffy - 1970Radio City Music Hall. Nah, the dinks will never recognize the cleverly disguised antennas.
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LZ_Tuffy_-_A_Dozen_Eggs.JPGLZ Tuffy - 1970 Breakfast coming upGotta love the Army's massive tail, they know just what the tooth needs. Carl and (I think) the Chief picking up rations - raw eggs. They sent us thousands of raw eggs. Just what you need when you can't get a fire going and there is nothing larger than a canteen cup to cook in. Unfortunately Jim Hurdle's stainless steel pot went back to the World with him. Necessity is truly a mother, excess powder bags burn and helmets hold water. Soft boiled or hard?
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Medley_and_Crew.JPGMeanwhile, back at St GeorgeReturning back to LZ St. George from LZ Cathy photo of the September '69 crew: Sp4 Denny Mrowzinski, PFC Mike Medley, Sp4 George (Eugene) Jarisch and Sp5 Clint Curry. With our trusty power generator for the radios in the background. Enlarging the photo, you can see 1st Shirt Mac (McPeek) in the background complaining about something.
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Modern-Day_Mike_Medley.JPGModern Day Mike & spouseFast-forward to August, 2014, just a "few" years later. Mike Medley and wife of 47 years, Karen Medley. Mike is proud of his "Ole Miss" cap, home of his law degree.
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Guns___Ammo.JPGMove to LZ Red FoxThis photo and the next are of a shithook lifting a gun and net with 10 rounds and stakes to set up for firing as soon as landed. I wasn't a cannon cocker so I don't remember the name of the delicate gizmo for the gun, which went in with advance party to the new LZ before the guns were lifted.
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CH_liftoff-RedFox_Hop.JPGMove to LZ Red FoxMoving to LZ Red Fox for a hip shoot.
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Mr_Kool_Aid.JPGMr. Kool-AidKool-Aid, a "Shake-n-Bake" Section Chief from Pennsylvania, was being a good guy until he threw the bag to candy to me. Thanks a lot, dude.
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Sp4_Jarisch.JPGMy name isn't George, but...Sp4 Eugene ("George") Jarisch manning the horns in the FDC conex June '69. George was the second most junior guy after me and had only been in FDC for a couple of months when I came in. He was very bashful with a heavy Texas twang. When he first joined the battery and was asked his name he said Jarisch, but it was heard as "George". He was too shy to correct anyone for a few weeks and by that time he WAS George from then on.
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FNG.JPGNew Arrival shoots ratMike Medley, brand new FNG with one of the couple of lights on St. George (although the grunts kept trying to tie into our generator) and the ventilation "window" made out of an ammo box that could only be used during the day. While sitting out as the dummy during the ubiquitous Spades game that ran all night, I shot a huge rat running across the "window". It flopped out on to the charts throwing blood everywhere and then on to the back of the guy sitting with his back to the charts and from there on to the "card table" a/k/a computer desk. Never heard so much high-pitched hollering (not from the rat) until my daughter had her first pre-teen sleepover party at our house.
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