By Keith Nightingale
This post originally posted on my Facebook page (minus photos which I added here) and received tons of comments afterward. One comment was written by Frank Polk truly describes what you will read below: “This soliloquy encapsulates every sense, feeling, smell, drop of sweat, the suck of exhaustion that any person that has entered with their weapon has experienced. It says what we have felt, then, now, and forever. It puts words to our explanation we try to explain to ourselves as well as others. That mystery ingredient that no movie or telling someone can describe. Every feeling, every memory, every reality, it is the real, it is the BUSH.”
If you were a Grunt or an artillery forward observer or just unlucky, you humped the Bush. The “Bush,” had many forms, variations, and aspects.
The Bush stays with you always. A sight, smell, sound or sense can bring the personal images from the internal vault file to be reviewed, reminded and re-posted but never forgotten.
The Bush is always wet-always hot, always painful, always too much. Rope crossings. Poncho crossings. Always crossings. Sometimes the water is a welcome cool. Sometimes an obstacle to safety. It is always a challenge. Charlie puts mines in the water and on the bank. The bank is greasy and you can grab the wrong thing.
The Bush are boats to be checked or passed or engaged. It is families, dogs, fishes, and bad guys. Hard to figure out. Sometimes too hard and too late.
The Bush is leeches-big, little and everywhere. Small at first. Big, wet and bloody later. Mosquitos sensed by sound. Sometimes by sight. Always there. DEET is good for maybe 15 minutes. Stings constantly-the DEET and the mosquito. Tradeoffs.
The Bush is ringworm, roundworms, dysentery, blisters, and infections. All to be suppressed to the requirements of the day. Stuff hurts and has to be dealt with. Powder, ointment, soap, pills. Whatever.
The Bush is GOOD MORNING VIETNAAAAAAM!
The Bush is the green world through the starlight scope. I think I see something. Four of them?
The Bush is tossing the enemy bodies in the shell craters and watching the flies and ants go to work.
The Bush is an overwatch position. The women in the paddies planting new rice. Visible tendrils of the incredible combination of heat and humidity rise over them How do these people survive? Are they burying weapons? Where are the men?
The Bush is the heat, dirt, smoke, and fear when the bird drops you off on the CA. Where am I? What the F is going on? Hot LZ!!!
The Bush is the soft rhythmic hissing of your friend’s sucking chest wound, the tiny bubbles in the red liquid. This is not Don Ho.
The Bush is too long in overwatch. It is so hard not to sleep. Everything itches. I have to move. Going crazy. I hear stuff out there. Don’t sleep here–you may never wake.
The Bush is approaching the ville next to the creek…the water is incredible sludge–black, thick and stinking. Kids swimming in it. A haze of blue smoke hangs over the place. Strange foreign smells. Bad tobacco, wet smoldering hay, sharp smells of drying fish and nouc mam. Where are the men? Rats in cages–fat and ready for breakfast… the protein. Huge pigs-all fat, no lean. Old ladies with rotten red betel-stained teeth. Kids without diapers. Some old guys-no young guys. Watch your step. Don’t go through the hedge. Follow the kids. Where are the men?
The Bush is watching a road-a red slash of packed laterite. The cyclo blows by trailing a cloud of blue-black market gas. How do so many people and things get into that? The ao dai’s look neat blowing in the wind. Wonder what is underneath? No mines today. Hope.
The Bush is scrambling to eat the ice cream with a C Rat spoon before it loses all the cold. Nice gesture. Bad timing.
The Bush is unknown upon entering. There is no control.
The Bush is the new guy. Now the dead guy.
The Bush is where you barely see the furtive figures to your front. Now you see too many, too clearly.
The Bush is the smell of death. It never leaves you.
The Bush is the incredibly steep hill that will be climbed. The contour intervals have no space between them. Shit. This hurts. It’s one branch, one root, one step at a time. The pain is so great it just goes away. Mind in neutral. Can’t see shit. Don’t care. One step at a time. Why are we doing this?
The Bush is sleeping in a pounding rainstorm.
The Bush is the Bloop of the M79 and the Clunk of the enemy mortar.
The Bush is not having to shave every day. Firebase sucks. Bush sometimes. Life always.
The Bush is where a morning coffee in a fruit can mixed with Swiss Miss is the best drink on the planet.
The Bush is unknown upon entry. There is no control.
The Bush is the dump you want to take but can’t and the dump you didn’t quite time right. It is the dump where you see all the small white things moving.
The Bush is where the training kicks in.
The Bush is your buddy now with always open eyes.
The Bush is being a stranger in an always strange land.
The Bush is making the top. It’s lower all around. Feels so good. Shoulders and back still feel the weight, but the ruck is on the ground. Air is sort of cool. A smoke helps. Maybe this is the NDP. Maybe not.
The Bush is waking your buddy so he can take watch. Hope he stays awake.
The Bush is your hands blistered, stained and broken from the combination of sun, humidity, sweat, black drive on gloves, cut to the knuckles and the constant Ching Clank of the machete against the jungle. Jungle always wins. Machete Whang-Ouch when you use a bad angle. Made 100 meters in an hour. If there is a dink up ahead, he will hear us, and we will never see him until it’s too late.
Rotate me. Please………..
The Bush is where everyone’s feet are a pale white. Even the Black’s feet are white-rimmed by the nails. Dog tag chains collect waxy skin. Water, sweat, and heat are powerful chemicals.
The Bush is the night NDP with all the strange sounds, glimmers and glows that begin with the descent of the dark. It is really dark. Is the white stripe moving? I can’t see anything, but I sure sense something. Sleep is welcomed, but brief. Too damn many bugs. Drive me crazy. AFVN is great- when they play my music. No smoking. Where is the OP?
The Bush is opening warm beer with a P38.
The Bush is drying out your poncho and liner in the early morning, a cigarette and C Rat coffee warmed with a ball of C4. How much do we need for a Claymore to work?
The Bush is elephant grass and the passage of a thousand cuts.
The Bush is the sudden crash and flash of combat. Furtive light flashes in front of me. Spray and pray. What is it? Where are they? No questions now-it is obvious. Third magazine already. “OP IN”–full auto…..
The Bush is sticks, branches, dirt and steel showering down. Didn’t notice. Too busy.
The Bush hears the rain on the top of the canopy, but not feeling it. Yet. Soon. Sensing is a distinct notice of rain wetting the uniform. Then soaking the uniform. Then not even noticing. Wet or dry, its the same.
The Bush is endless.
The Bush is being in the open when the rain thunders down in a constant torrential volume. Instantly everything is underwater. No amount of protection works. It hammers and thunders continuously blocking any vision or perceptions other than its presence. Suddenly it is completely silent with only the sound of drips and the draining rivulets of runoff. Lightening in the distance. Wouldn’t want to live here. Hats off to Mr Charles.
The Bush is a week’s worth of mail and the incredible joy at what you read. Or sorrow.
The Bush is where you suddenly realize the rain is steaming and bouncing off your rifle barrel.
The Bush is walking through a successful Arclight strike. God reached down and tore the earth. I see parts. Wouldn’t want to be here when that stuff landed. The smell of the fresh turned earth is incredible. Never seen holes that deep. Almost big enough to swim in. Guy looks like he just went to sleep. Look. Way up there. Another guy. Funny-I don’t hear any birds.
The Bush is where it is sometime better than base.
The Bush is watching the tracers and flares on the horizon. Somebody is catching shit. Hope it won’t be me.
The Bush is the main gun on the M48 with lost hydraulics. The coax works. Do not mess with the link chute or I will punch out your lights.
The Bush is where you follow the leader more than the rank.
The Bush is where water really tastes good.
The Bush is the rain of leaves, twigs and junk from the canopy when the log bird hovers over and kicks out the load. It is the smoke grenade on the ammo box for the CEOI and med stuff.
The Bush is knowing there is an ambush ahead.
The Bush is anxiously watching your leadership try and figure out what to do. We are in this all together.
The Bush is the great rush of fresh air after liftoff and the welcome evaporation of sweat. Everything looks kind of green and blue and brown. WOW-almost fell out. Grab the load ring. Maybe a shower and real food, cold beer and a clean set of cammy’s. Avoid the lifers if you can.
The Bush is wait a minute vines. Don’t fight them. Move through them..
The Bush is throwing the poncho-wrapped bodies on the floor of the bird and having to quickly get back to the work at hand.
The Bush is running onto the bird and getting your hand all wet and sticky with the stuff on the floor. Smells bad.
The Bush is the sixth day of a four day log cycle.
The Bush is the sudden smell of rice fires and strange cigarettes.
The Bush is eating C rats next to the poncho covered bodies.
The Bush is where you don’t do anything stupid. More than once.
The Bush is your fingernails being ground off to the quick and the cuticles cut, red and a constant waterlogged white.
The Bush is the rain of hot empty cartridges clanging through the canopy from the close air support. Get it closer. Get it closer. Please.
The Bush is looking up and seeing the airbrakes open on the bomb just released over your head. Close is good. Sometimes.
The Bush is the worst truck ride. Covered in dust. Scarcely breath. Blinding sun. Dead truck on the side of the road. Big curve up ahead.
The Bush is the open ACAV and the bee’s nest falling inside. The fire ants all over us. Spraying your buddies at close range. Changing a torsion bar in four feet of wet mud.
The Bush is the PUNK of the first illum round overhead. Anxious scan to the front. Where are they? I know they are there. The flare hisses and twists and dies. Keep it up. They fire all night. It helps, but not much.
The Bush is stopping and knowing something is just up ahead. Do not say a word. Amazing how quiet we can be.
The Bush is the deep feeling of contentment when you get that first deep draw of a cigarette in the NDP.
The Bush is fighting the monsoon. Buddy up with ponchos. Never dry. Head to head with a heat tab trying to make something warm. Got lucky-it works. Incredible rainfall. Do we have to tear down our hooches and move? Fuck it. Just do it. Monsoon always wins.
The Bush is utter exhaustion.
The Bush is where you can sometimes hide. Or be found.
The Bush is the smell of cordite and phosphorous and jungle rot.
The Bush is coming out next to the ocean. Incredible brilliant white sand. Better than Hawaii. God it’s hot in the open. We’re taking fire-4 O’clock!. Move.
The Bush is an ambush at three AM looking at the Hi Speed Hard Pack. Hope they don’t show. Hey-I hear feet pounding. Get ready. Claymores sure light up the place. Can’t hear a thing. Too busy. Go. Go. Go.
The Bush is incredible boredom, huge adrenaline rush, exaltation, exhaustion. Loneliness. The Bush is the Bush.
The Bush is always waiting. It has different times. Different faces. Different places. Always the same.
The Bush is not seeing enough.
The Bush is seeing too much.
The Bush is ugly and beautiful at the same time.
The Bush is what sticks in your mind when you take your last extraction ride.
The Bush is our youth.
The Bush is forever.
Thank you brother for a great piece.
Keith Knightingale is a former US Army Colonel and served in Vietnam with the 1/502nd Screaming Eagles and the 75th Ranger Battalion.
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CherriesWriter - Vietnam War website 
The bush is being on squad ambush realizing you have a leech in the crack of your ass swollen to size of a cigar and rely on your buddy to squirt deet on it …..you want to scream but you can’t.
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Fantastic!!! Brings back every thought, sound and smell. You’re never so alive as when you’re “danger close” to death. RIP all my fallen brothers then and now.
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Two sorts of people…those that know this and everybody else.
I feel ok with people who know…
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What about the CAB WE DID OUR PART 2 Air mobile ???? 1st and 47 Cab.67&68
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As a grunt myself I’ve seen and done everything I read and agree with it 100% and it is a life a grunt will never forget !
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Well said. reminded me of some things I had forgotten
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The Bush is you and your buddy transferring in to a new unit after our unit stood down and meeting them in the bush. Setting up your NDP position in thick bamboo. Who the hell picked this spot! Chopping your field of fire, trying to find a place to lay down, bamboo viper, cut its head off. Trying to find your way back after guard. You and your buddy waking up to full daylight. How did we sleep so long? No noise, what’s up? Every one else is gone!! WTF!!! Left without us!!!! Pack up quick, will they realize , should we follow ? No stay put. We have no idea where we are. What if they don’t come back? Sit back to back listening. One hour maybe more, here they come. Really pissed off at us! Are you kidding me? They met the real Fred Robinson after that!!
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The longer you are in it the more you become a part of it. I was there 1969-1970 101st Airborne 2/502 Infantry. Great article.
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2/327 Infantry 70-71.
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Life in the bush was the most miserable time in my 69 years. People are surprised when I tell them that nights in the mountains west of Hue were the coldest I’ve ever experienced. Weather shut down resupply, soaked us beyond wet and boiled our brains. Sleep deprivation and adrenaline overload burned us out. At the same time, the bush was way better than the rear.
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Thanks for saying that Don. I am also 69 years old. And I also survived a year in the bush of Thus Thien Provence in 70-71. I was the Artillery Forward Observer with the 2nd BN 327thth Infantry, 101st Airborne Division. I never knew you could freeze to death in 65 degrees weather. But I remember many, many sleepless nights in the jungles and mountains of the A Shau Valley. I have no idea how we survived. Welcome Home Sir.
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We flew. Over Northern Laos mostly. Sometimes low (100 ft or less) over the Gulf of Tonkin. We were part of “Operation Rolling Thumder”. We help guide the bombers going North to bomb targets in the Route Packs in North Vietnam. It was way different than than those folks on the ground. It was getting to the aircraft early, entering in classified info on the status boards to keep our Chief Controller advised of any changes in the flying schedules for us and the status of the bomber flights. When all the bombers were “up”, we would hook them up to the tankers flying tracks, waiting to top off the bombers. After fill up, we would follow and direct them to the targets. All the targets back then were chosen by the White House. Our area for targets was North Vietnam and Laos. We flew over areas of the Ho Chi Minh Trail almost every day. We couldn’t see anything of them. They were 17,000 ft below us. We flew above the maximum reach of the biggest anti-aircraft guns they had (14,000ft). We would watch the bombers on radar. They were lighted points on our scopes (raw radar-no computer assist). The bombers would go down to bomb, or behind a mountain to complete their runs. They would disappear, and reappear when they came back up, empty. If they needed, and they mostly did, gas, it was back on the tankers again. In cases where there were shoot downs, we would assist with the search and rescues, alone with five other radar sites, some on mountain tops, some were on ships in the Gulf. The SAR guys would go out, and, mostly, we could have a good pick up. If the pilots were shot down in Route Pack Five or Six, you could just about kiss off rescue. You were almost in downtown Hanoi, or Haiphong. We did this all from a pressurized USAF EC121D Warning Star, flying out of Thailand. We did land in South Vietnam between some of the target times. We refueled, and waited. Waited until the aircraft commander said: “let’s go”. Back on the bird, and off into the Gulf of Tonkin, radar tuned to see for 250 miles in any direction. A real “EYE in THE SKY”. Anyway. Different from some of you guys on the ground…. We did have some nasty “Hi C”. Terrible…
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I enjoyed reading this article. It certainly expressed the hardships, death, struggle that the bush entails. I have often had many questions about the Vietnam War & this blog has helped me understand just how bad it was. I wish I could talk to folks that were there that would be very interesting.
Thank you for writing these articles.
Pamela Morris Siemsen
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Outstanding… says it all. Thank You.
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excellent piece! spent my 15+ months in the bush. some of the small game wanted our blood as bad as the dinks. spiders in the jungle bigger than your hand. trying to dig in thru willie peter was a real treat. if you didn’t go, you’ll never know.
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I have enjoyed reading all of the true facts, pictures, & stories of Vietnam war. I was 14 years old in 1969 & did not realize all of what this terrible war was about. I am thankful for al of our military then & now. It breaks my heart to find out so much .i thank all of you that are able to share memories with all of us.
Thank you & God Bless.
Pamela Morris Siemsen
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THANKS TO ALL THE GUYS ANDGIRLS THAT WERE IN THE BUSH AND MAY GOD BLESS THOSE WHO ARE HERE AND ACCEPT THOSE WHO HAVE GONE AHEAD.
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Thank You. All the movies from Horrywood about the Vietnam years are not as vivid as my imaginative thoughts that your words spurred. Very real. A Reverie. Thank you, again.
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The bush becomes part of your life that never leaves. Recon 1/502 101st. AD.
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Hi John,
You hit another home run with this one. I would say I was lucky in that I didn’t spend time in the bush other than to be the guy that came in on medivac day and night. I forgot the bucket of water washing out the bottom of the Huey. Did that more than I wanted. As you guys did in the bush, I too saw too much.
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To quote Forrest Gump, “like a box of chocolates, you never knew what was inside”. Great images of what “Grunt work” meant! #Airborne
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My Father TSGT Sargent went through hell In WW2 and Korea and literaly getting His butt and arm mutalited but I read every word of this letter and truly found out some of the things that He went whrough that He never talked to me about and I Thank You Sir foer shareing with Me 🙂 Not in a great way but in a SPECIAL WAY 🙂 Harry A. Simpson Proud Son of A Former Marine Harvy Cecil Simpson Oh Rah and Sempir Fi 🙂
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The Bush sucks indeed.
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Bravo Zulu from a 3 Purple Heart Grunt, with 13 months there in India 3/9, 3rd MarDiv.!
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Thanks u Colonel,nothing like being a grunt,was in the Central Highlands with the 4th Inf Div.I never thought I could do what we had to do,carry heavy loads ,hill after hill,plenty of ammo,c-rations,water,all together we carried over 100 lbs.Heck Charlie was bad enough,then came snakes,tigers,drinking nasty water,suppose to wait 2 hrs after putting the 2 little pills in when hadn’t had water in hrs,sorry bout that we drank.Never seen it so dark and stars so bright in such a hell hole.Welcome Home Brothers.I will never forget!!!!.
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Fantastic article!! I was not in the bush but associated with a lot of guys from the 101st/82ndand my cousin who was with the 1st Cav in Xuan Loc. Dirty, job but someone had to do it. My hat is off to all of you. I was with C-130 outfit out of Tan Son Nhut, Dec 68 – Dec 69. Hauled a lot of you guys where ever you were needed.
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Thank you Colonel. This is the most concise, thorough description of the life or an 11Bravo! I was in the Delta with “Battle”Co. 4th Bn. 39th Inf. Brigade 9th ID. Company Commander – Colonel David Hackworth. HARDCORE Battalion!!!
I was a little surprised that your article made no mention of snakes. I remember the cobras and those little green (3 Step) hiding in the bush and in the tunnels.
Welcome Home to all my brothers I had the honor to serve with.
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Well that was really moving for me. Thank you.
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Outstanding! Deepst and clearest expression of the Grunt’s Mind I’ve ever read. Said what I have thought for 54 years but could not put on paper as vivid and accurate as this.
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Yes. A friends comments about……Platoon/the movie………. anything missing? Yeah. There was NO SMELL with show………that would really make it realistic………good comment he made for sure. A GOOD Memorial Day to you; Sir for making these articles go…….and get rec’d by us out here……..
I’m leaving the ship, Sir.
PD Rhodes AO3 VA-196 USS Bon Homme Richard CVA 31 Nam cruises 1964 and 1965 ________________________________
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Some of those things I had pushed to a dark corner of my mind, but I never forgot them. This piece was amazing in that it brought so many back into focus. In this old FO’s opinion, it was a really great job!
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Excellent piece Col Knightingale! Although I’m not a grunt, I surely had the opportunity to run into many of you during my year in Vietnam. I was Dustoff22 (III & IV Corps 67-68). My hat’s off to you guys for having the toughest of all jobs. I was always heartbroken for those we couldn’t save but thankful for those of you we could. Yup, memories we can’t forget!
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Ken Bago A/Co 3/47th 9th Inf Div.
Well Said My Brother, Glad We Made It Home. I only spent 5 months in the bush and was med evacuated back to the states Well Done Kieth.
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I was there with the 1st of the 502nd in 70 and 71. Article well written. I was a recon team leader Thanks for the memories. Pretty darn accurate.
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Pretty much says it all.
JG., Gunner, 1st Plt., B Co., 1/502nd.
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Great piece of writing Col. I did a 1968 tour with 3rd Marine Recon and can attest to the senses that are aroused, the exhaustion of humping up and over mountains with 90+ pounds of gear, eating cold C-rats while trying to keep skeeters from eating your meal of ham and mothers, using a Zippo to remove leeches, sitting (and sweating) under a poncho at night using a flashlight and a map trying to guess coordinates for a fire mission…. I could go on but you covered it well. Ain’t memories precious?
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Brought back many memories to this old grunt. I’ve never read anything that could describe what we ground pounders experienced, until reading this piece. It is as if you were in my head Thanks for sharing.
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It’s was everything that I experienced when I was in Nam. Love your rendition. Right ON
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This writing covers it all. It took me back to 1969 when I spent seven months in the bush before being seriously wounded. I have looked upon the last 50 years of my life as a gift, and I remain extremely grateful that I was able to come home alive. Those of us who were fortunate to survive our time in the bush can closely relate to every point made in this article. Well done!
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I spent 11 months in Recon in the Central Highlands. I agree with almost all of the observations about the “Bush”.
Anyone that spent any time in the “Bush” should read this.
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WOW having spent months in the bush in Nam in 66 before getting wounded this is the best i,ve ever read
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Every word was true as I spent 11 months in the “Bush” and was awarded two purple hearts, and thank God that I made it home. Will never forget it as long as I live. TerryV. Levins Plant City,Florida
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Much respect to you Terry. I spent 10 months in the “bush” as an Artillery Forward Observer for the Infantry. I was lucky…no Purple Hearts. Like you…I will never forget that experience. Welcome Home Sir. Glad you made it.
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Whether in the Central Highlands, the Delta, DMZ or other locale, this scenario covers virtually every aspect of the emotions, smells, sights, taste, sounds, and behavior which a Grunt experienced in SE Asia.
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The article was dead no. I can relate to every single comment. I spent 10 months in the “bush”. It was all of that and probably more. Great article.
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That should have read “dead on”. Sorry.
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I could feel that “Bush”!
Thank you for this post…
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The Bush is seeing a medavac come in with your friend rapped in a poncho and washing the bird out with a bucket of water. And he lifts off to get another one.
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Spot on !
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