Rip Tide

In the summer of 1965, it was hot in Chu Lai, South Vietnam. I suppose it is hot there every summer, but the only one I really experienced was that one. I think it was only about 95 or 100 degrees during the day, but it still felt hot. We lived in tents, so there was no air conditioning, except for a fiberglass building we called the bubble that housed our radar equipment. Those were the days of vacuum tubes and the equipment needed to stay relatively cool to operate properly, unlike us.

In order to give us some occasional relief from the heat, command sometimes organized a swimming trip down at the small cove on the coast that was the eastern border of our area. It was a walk of about one or two hundred yards from camp. We would have several armed guards posted at the two sides of the cove to keep watch for any enemy activity. The water was somewhat cooler than the air, but I noticed that if I swam too hard, I could still work up a sweat, even in the water. I have always thought that as odd.

It was on one of these outings that we encountered a rip tide, with those of us out from the beach a little further than the rest suddenly realizing that we were being slowly swept to the north, up the coast and away from the cove itself to where the sandy beach of the coastline gave way to a rough volcanic wall.

Captain C was a bit further up the coast than the rest of us when I heard him calling for help. He was on an air mattress that he was using for a raft and the waves were threatening to dash him against the wall that was the shoreline. I thought at the time that he really had little reason to be frightened, but I could clearly hear in his voice that he was. He did have an air mattress after all, even if he was close to that rough sea wall.

I was a relatively strong swimmer at that time and knew that I could swim for a great distance if I had to, especially in that salty sea water. And Captain C was afraid. So, with little thought, I struck out in his direction.

I closed the distance quickly and with only a short distance left before reaching him the situation suddenly changed. Captain C managed to ride that air mattress high enough on the waves that he was able to catch one that deposited him at the top of the wall. He then grabbed his float and ran straight down the shoreline to the rest of the swimming party, leaving me to figure out how to escape the situation myself. I had been concentrating on reaching the captain with little thought about what was next. And what was next was not good.

The waves that were crashing into that wall where I was were probably seven feet high. When a wave receded, it pulled the water from the very bottom of the wall, all the way down to the sand before collecting enough water to then slam it against the volcanic rock again, up to a few feet from the top.

The force of the water took me into these waves before I realized it and started throwing me against the sea wall repeatedly. I was able to position myself so that I would strike the wall with my hands and feet, but I could get no grip on the rock face and as the water pulled back it would pull me with it, only to reform as a new wave and throw me at it again.

I was inhaling more air than water during this struggle, but I knew that it was still too much water and it would only be a matter of time before I would drown. I just kept attempting to grab some part of that volcanic rock each time a wave would crash me into it.  I don’t know how long I was caught in that turbulence, or how many times I was thrown against that rough volcanic rock. At some point though, I realized that I was going to drown. The feeling that came over me at that time was not really fear or panic though. It was almost relaxing.  I think the closest thing to describe my feeling was just disappointment.

And then, as my time was certainly running out, I hit a spot on the rock where my hand finally found enough of a grip that I was able to pull myself clear of the water before it could pull me back. I scrambled up a few feet to the top of the rock and began walking back to where the other swimmers and an ambulance had gathered.

I suffered a few small cuts and scrapes from the sharp volcanic rock, but only one real cut on my right ankle that required any attention. It bled enough that the medics wanted to treat it there and have me ride in the ambulance back to camp. I told them I didn’t need anything and that I would walk. I was too angry to accept anything. Captain C had gotten back long before I did and never even mentioned to anyone that I was in the water back there and busy drowning. I could have used some help when I was in the water drowning, but I certainly was not going to accept anything from anyone once I had saved myself. Thanks for nothing, Captain.