Defunding the Defenders

Now that the anti-uniform War For Oil mob in Congress is frantically skittering to distance itself from the scheme to bleed-down The Surge, I can probably write this without being accused of posting a partisan political polemic in the guise of a TINS.

One of the (many) squawks of outrage I heard concerning Monsieur Murtha's Modest Proposal went something like, "This is the first time in the history of the United States that politicians, in a time of war, intend to rob soldiers of the tools they need to fight that war!"

The first time? Heh -- maybe so or maybe no. How 'bout I tell you a little story and let you decide for yourselves, okay?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Time: Early-to-mid-1970

The Place: Tent City, aka Circus World, aka the Company Area of the 162d AHC.

There must've been a dozen of us -- pilots, crewchiefs, doorgunners -- gathered around the bulletin board outside the Orderly Room.

DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY HEADQUARTERS, 164TH AVIATION GROUP (CBT) APO SAN FRANCISCO XXXXX "THE DELTA GROUP" ORDER NUMBER XX

1. Due to recent funding constraints imposed on USARV, all units under this command will implement ammunition conservation measure as stated below.

2. Effective immediately, units will be limited to drawing five hundred (500) rounds of linked 7.62mm machine gun ammunition per machine gun barrel per day.

FOR THE COMMANDER:

Twelve helicopter crewmen with a single thought. We do about ten CAs on a good day.
[Note: On a bad day, the number of CAs you flew depended on what time you got shot down]
We're gonna get killed because some effing bean-counter wants to save a buck...

Twelve helicopter crewmen with a single vision: five wrecked Hueys scattered around in a clearing.

1st Platoon 1LT: "Emory."

1st Platoon Doorgunner: "Sir?"

1st Platoon 1LT: "How many rounds do you burn up going into a hot LZ?"

1st Platoon Doorgunner: "About six hundred. Maybe a thousand, if the grunts are slow unassing the ships. Or if we have to shoot our way out."

Six hundred rounds for one M60D. We mounted one on each side. Two hundred rounds shy of what each ship needed to fight it's way into a hot LZ -- and a thousand short of what each needed to fight it's way out. We're all dead...

1st Platoon 1LT: "Hey, Geoff -- when was the last time we went into a cold LZ?"

1st Platoon CW2: "Last week, southeast of Nui Hon Soc, but that was because we caught Chawles-baby with his drawers droopin'. The second and third trips in were hot."

Copperhead Crewchief: "We worked that LZ all morning after the flight got fragged to clean out that ammo cache the SEALs found. We had to re-arm three times..."

We're gonna get killed. First hot LZ, we're gonna get killed...

Second Platoon WO1: "Cripefire, even the kamikazes got protection on their last flights..."

1st Platoon 1LT: *studying the order* "Hah! I think we may be in better shape than we think. This doesn't say, '500 rounds per machine gun,' it says, '500 rounds per machine gun barrel.' Doesn't even say they have to be good barrels..."

We didn't have one single gunner who hadn't squirreled away at least six spare barrels -- not counting the burned-out ones decorating the tent interiors.

Copperhead WO1: *wolfish grin* "Minigun's got six barrels. And we have twelve minis in the Supply hootch."

Long story short, we eventually counted over two hundred 7.62mm barrels, which we dutifully displayed for the local bean-counters. Of course, when the IG paid us a visit, we had to hide three-quarters of them. We dumped the sand out of the 55-gallon drums we used for counter-mortar blast walls, stuck twenty in each drum and then put sandbags on top. If we got mortared, we might definitely get wounded, but if the IG made us turn in those M60 barrels, we'd definitely get dead.

However, even though we could, by the strict letter of the edict, draw 100,000 rounds per day, we practiced ammo conservation and only drew the tens of thousands we needed.

Until we needed more...

And everyone -- except the enemy -- was happy with the solution. Of course, when the bean-counters from 'Way On High realized they were spending just as much on ammunition as they had been before the edict, they came up with a diabolically clever alternative target.

However, I'll save the saga of the Great Mekong Delta Toilet Paper Shortage for another day...