Sample Chapter from "My Last War"
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A blood red Asian sun rose ominously from the South China Sea as a commercial airliner filled with American soldiers crossed
the dark coast of Vietnam. The soon-to-be jungle warriors, most of them young and inexperienced, looked down through wispy
clouds and pondered their future in a dangerous no-man’s-land infested with a skilled and cunning enemy.
It was September 1970, and one of those anxious young soldiers was me, a twenty-one-year-old Army second lieutenant who
was about to lose his innocence to the siren of war. As the “gung ho” son of a World War II infantryman, I found myself swept up
with other members of my Baby Boomer generation, some voluntarily and some not so voluntarily, by the battle to save the world
from international communism.
With my jump wings and Ranger tab securely attached to my uniform, I volunteered for combat duty, an act many of my civilian
friends would refer to as a “death wish.” I didn’t believe I wanted to die, but I was an adventurous, seemingly immortal young man
who was easily seduced by excitement and danger.
I was only twenty years old when I was commissioned as a second lieutenant in 1969, and there were those who said I was too
young to be an officer because I was a novice at life in general. That was probably true for the most part, but I was highly motivated,
I never seemed to lack self-confidence, and I was determined to make my own way in an exciting world full of endless mystery and
limitless possibilities.
Landing in Vietnam was the beginning of my first great adventure as a man. I was filled with a positive attitude fueled by lifelong
patriotism and a traditional love of all things American, like Mom and apple pie. After all, I was one of the good guys, and I knew the
Lone Ranger always won.
It didn’t take long for me to learn that war was not a glamorous way of life. The blood was real, our friends were frequently and
violently stolen from us, and the Lone Ranger was only a television hero. Patriotism and apple pie were pushed aside as survival of
the fittest became the ultimate reality.
Our youthful innocence was finally crushed by the terrible world of war, forcing us to become like jungle cats. Our very
existence became a desperate struggle to kill the enemy before he killed us. We were still young men when our tours ended, but we
had aged before our time. Few of our fellow citizens tried to understand us, but we understood each other. With wounded bodies
and cracked souls, we became the phantom soldiers of our time as we faded into history.
Almost thirty-four years after I arrived in Vietnam, an older and presumably wiser man sat in a C130 military aircraft as it twisted
and turned in its efforts to avoid ground fire while landing at Baghdad International Airport. No longer a wide-eyed, shiny-new
Airborne Ranger lieutenant, I was a grizzled, fifty-four-year-old Army Reserve sergeant and an experienced police officer.
Deep within my heart and soul, I believed I had long since come to terms with any leftover ghosts from Vietnam. My youthful
illusion of immortality vanished during my jungle war, and the subsequent decades offered increasingly larger doses of reality that
sometimes punched me squarely in the gut. I was fortunate in many ways, but I saw the world through experienced eyes, and I
looked at life from the perspective of a man whose older spirit bore a few scars and just a tinge of rust.
Before I left for Iraq, many of my friends, relatives, and acquaintances suggested I was too old to serve in a war zone. I was
polite to some of these people, but in the manner of an old soldier and an old cop, I told a few of them what part of my anatomy they
could kiss. I made the decision to go to war again simply because I believed it was the right thing to do.
When the new war on terror began, my age and experience gave me a different vantage point in life. As a young soldier stepping
off the plane in Saigon, I walked into the quicksand of war for the first time. When I landed in Baghdad, I was more aware of the
historical significance of what our nation was doing, where I was going, and what challenges would lay ahead.
I tried to write a journal in Vietnam, but the rapidly changing events of life in combat absorbed my days as an infantry platoon
leader, and that journal was quickly forgotten. My most accurate recollections from the jungle were the letters and photographs I
mailed to my parents. These memories were meticulously saved and catalogued by my mother, who proudly presented me with
several scrapbooks when I came home.
In Iraq, I made a commitment to myself to keep a detailed journal. This computer record became a chronicle of my physical and
emotional journey through a new and different war. I had an unusual, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compare my experiences in
Iraq with some of the lessons I learned a generation ago in Vietnam. I was also able to reflect on how all of this made an indelible
mark on my life as a man, a husband, a father, and a grandfather.
After all, when a man’s soul is immersed in war, he never knows how much time is left on the clock of life. What better time
could there be to contemplate the previous chapters of his life as the tide of war carries him to an uncertain future? My daily war
journal became the primary reference for this book.
It would be my honor to serve with a new generation of young patriots in Iraq. These men and women witnessed the savage
attacks of September 11, 2001, on their fellow citizens and volunteered to be part of the military force seeking justice for our
murdered countrymen. With courage and resolve, these extraordinary Americans set out to confront the new purveyors of
international evil on multiple battlefields throughout the world.
The similarity of this new group of warriors to the young soldiers I served with in Vietnam was amazing. It was further proof that
the uniforms, the enemies, and the music may change, but America’s twenty-first century sons and daughters share the same spirit of
patriotism that sent their ancestors to confront the British at Lexington and Concord, the Nazi menace at Normandy, the North
Korean and Chinese hordes in South Korea, the North Vietnamese soldiers and Viet Cong guerrillas in Vietnam, and the Iraqi
invaders in Kuwait.
It was also a privilege to serve in Iraq with some of my fellow Vietnam veterans. We obviously had much in common, including
our participation in a new war where the public recognition of our service was so unlike the negative treatment we endured in the
sixties and seventies.
I will never forget my soldiers in Vietnam, but serving with this new group of warriors was the high point of my life. The men of
the C.O.B.R.A. Team became more than just my brothers in arms. Since I was old enough to be their father, they became like sons
to me. With a common law enforcement background, all of us already had a “cop” state of mind. We also had many years of military
experience between us, and we were ready to confront the deadly threats posed by a dangerous and brutal insurgent enemy.
Even though I knew we were the good guys, I remembered my lessons from Vietnam. I had no illusions about our mortality. I
knew the simplest quirk of fate, one single mistake, or one bad decision, and all of us would go home in body bags.
From my standpoint as a leader, I only had two missions in Iraq. If I were able to accomplish them both, my own tour would be
a success. The primary mission of our Protective Service Detail (PSD) was to ensure the survival of Brigadier General Charles
(Sandy) Davidson. My own secondary mission was to make sure that all the members of my team made it home as well.
The war against Islamic extremists continues throughout the world. The final chapter in this epic struggle may not be written in
our lifetimes. Every veteran of this war will perform an important mission as a vital part of a team, and each warrior will have a unique
story to tell.
I wrote this book to share the experiences of the C.O.B.R.A. Team and to tell the stories of some of the dedicated Army
Reserve and National Guard warrior citizens we served with in 2004. Although real names are used for most of the individuals in this
book, some names have been changed.
When we began our tour in Iraq, I didn’t know what the future held for me or for the men of the C.O.B.R.A. Team, but one
thing was crystal clear.
This was my last war.
Charles M. Grist
"My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq"
Copyright 2009 by Charles M. Grist
All Rights Reserved
(Please note: No part of the above text may be reproduced without written consent of the author.)
the dark coast of Vietnam. The soon-to-be jungle warriors, most of them young and inexperienced, looked down through wispy
clouds and pondered their future in a dangerous no-man’s-land infested with a skilled and cunning enemy.
It was September 1970, and one of those anxious young soldiers was me, a twenty-one-year-old Army second lieutenant who
was about to lose his innocence to the siren of war. As the “gung ho” son of a World War II infantryman, I found myself swept up
with other members of my Baby Boomer generation, some voluntarily and some not so voluntarily, by the battle to save the world
from international communism.
With my jump wings and Ranger tab securely attached to my uniform, I volunteered for combat duty, an act many of my civilian
friends would refer to as a “death wish.” I didn’t believe I wanted to die, but I was an adventurous, seemingly immortal young man
who was easily seduced by excitement and danger.
I was only twenty years old when I was commissioned as a second lieutenant in 1969, and there were those who said I was too
young to be an officer because I was a novice at life in general. That was probably true for the most part, but I was highly motivated,
I never seemed to lack self-confidence, and I was determined to make my own way in an exciting world full of endless mystery and
limitless possibilities.
Landing in Vietnam was the beginning of my first great adventure as a man. I was filled with a positive attitude fueled by lifelong
patriotism and a traditional love of all things American, like Mom and apple pie. After all, I was one of the good guys, and I knew the
Lone Ranger always won.
It didn’t take long for me to learn that war was not a glamorous way of life. The blood was real, our friends were frequently and
violently stolen from us, and the Lone Ranger was only a television hero. Patriotism and apple pie were pushed aside as survival of
the fittest became the ultimate reality.
Our youthful innocence was finally crushed by the terrible world of war, forcing us to become like jungle cats. Our very
existence became a desperate struggle to kill the enemy before he killed us. We were still young men when our tours ended, but we
had aged before our time. Few of our fellow citizens tried to understand us, but we understood each other. With wounded bodies
and cracked souls, we became the phantom soldiers of our time as we faded into history.
Almost thirty-four years after I arrived in Vietnam, an older and presumably wiser man sat in a C130 military aircraft as it twisted
and turned in its efforts to avoid ground fire while landing at Baghdad International Airport. No longer a wide-eyed, shiny-new
Airborne Ranger lieutenant, I was a grizzled, fifty-four-year-old Army Reserve sergeant and an experienced police officer.
Deep within my heart and soul, I believed I had long since come to terms with any leftover ghosts from Vietnam. My youthful
illusion of immortality vanished during my jungle war, and the subsequent decades offered increasingly larger doses of reality that
sometimes punched me squarely in the gut. I was fortunate in many ways, but I saw the world through experienced eyes, and I
looked at life from the perspective of a man whose older spirit bore a few scars and just a tinge of rust.
Before I left for Iraq, many of my friends, relatives, and acquaintances suggested I was too old to serve in a war zone. I was
polite to some of these people, but in the manner of an old soldier and an old cop, I told a few of them what part of my anatomy they
could kiss. I made the decision to go to war again simply because I believed it was the right thing to do.
When the new war on terror began, my age and experience gave me a different vantage point in life. As a young soldier stepping
off the plane in Saigon, I walked into the quicksand of war for the first time. When I landed in Baghdad, I was more aware of the
historical significance of what our nation was doing, where I was going, and what challenges would lay ahead.
I tried to write a journal in Vietnam, but the rapidly changing events of life in combat absorbed my days as an infantry platoon
leader, and that journal was quickly forgotten. My most accurate recollections from the jungle were the letters and photographs I
mailed to my parents. These memories were meticulously saved and catalogued by my mother, who proudly presented me with
several scrapbooks when I came home.
In Iraq, I made a commitment to myself to keep a detailed journal. This computer record became a chronicle of my physical and
emotional journey through a new and different war. I had an unusual, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compare my experiences in
Iraq with some of the lessons I learned a generation ago in Vietnam. I was also able to reflect on how all of this made an indelible
mark on my life as a man, a husband, a father, and a grandfather.
After all, when a man’s soul is immersed in war, he never knows how much time is left on the clock of life. What better time
could there be to contemplate the previous chapters of his life as the tide of war carries him to an uncertain future? My daily war
journal became the primary reference for this book.
It would be my honor to serve with a new generation of young patriots in Iraq. These men and women witnessed the savage
attacks of September 11, 2001, on their fellow citizens and volunteered to be part of the military force seeking justice for our
murdered countrymen. With courage and resolve, these extraordinary Americans set out to confront the new purveyors of
international evil on multiple battlefields throughout the world.
The similarity of this new group of warriors to the young soldiers I served with in Vietnam was amazing. It was further proof that
the uniforms, the enemies, and the music may change, but America’s twenty-first century sons and daughters share the same spirit of
patriotism that sent their ancestors to confront the British at Lexington and Concord, the Nazi menace at Normandy, the North
Korean and Chinese hordes in South Korea, the North Vietnamese soldiers and Viet Cong guerrillas in Vietnam, and the Iraqi
invaders in Kuwait.
It was also a privilege to serve in Iraq with some of my fellow Vietnam veterans. We obviously had much in common, including
our participation in a new war where the public recognition of our service was so unlike the negative treatment we endured in the
sixties and seventies.
I will never forget my soldiers in Vietnam, but serving with this new group of warriors was the high point of my life. The men of
the C.O.B.R.A. Team became more than just my brothers in arms. Since I was old enough to be their father, they became like sons
to me. With a common law enforcement background, all of us already had a “cop” state of mind. We also had many years of military
experience between us, and we were ready to confront the deadly threats posed by a dangerous and brutal insurgent enemy.
Even though I knew we were the good guys, I remembered my lessons from Vietnam. I had no illusions about our mortality. I
knew the simplest quirk of fate, one single mistake, or one bad decision, and all of us would go home in body bags.
From my standpoint as a leader, I only had two missions in Iraq. If I were able to accomplish them both, my own tour would be
a success. The primary mission of our Protective Service Detail (PSD) was to ensure the survival of Brigadier General Charles
(Sandy) Davidson. My own secondary mission was to make sure that all the members of my team made it home as well.
The war against Islamic extremists continues throughout the world. The final chapter in this epic struggle may not be written in
our lifetimes. Every veteran of this war will perform an important mission as a vital part of a team, and each warrior will have a unique
story to tell.
I wrote this book to share the experiences of the C.O.B.R.A. Team and to tell the stories of some of the dedicated Army
Reserve and National Guard warrior citizens we served with in 2004. Although real names are used for most of the individuals in this
book, some names have been changed.
When we began our tour in Iraq, I didn’t know what the future held for me or for the men of the C.O.B.R.A. Team, but one
thing was crystal clear.
This was my last war.
Charles M. Grist
"My Last War: A Vietnam Veteran's Tour in Iraq"
Copyright 2009 by Charles M. Grist
All Rights Reserved
(Please note: No part of the above text may be reproduced without written consent of the author.)
Prologue
Copyright 2009-2012 by Charles M. Grist. All rights reserved.