The Day That an Incoming
122mm Rocket Rolled the Outhouse
With Me Inside
By Don Brodie

Don Brodie

I have been thinking of the past more here lately than ever before. The reason for the thoughts is simple, old friends are coming out of the wood work each and every day. I have talked with many friends that for one reason or the other had been lost in the cracks of time for some thirty three years or more.

Now with all this introduction here comes a story as to this date, that has never fully been told by me or any one else. On a Early Sunday morning on the DMZ of Southeast Asia a young soldier (Me) was on guard duty. As I remember that morning it was cool and over cast and my guard duty was winding down into it's last hours. I was doing pretty well that early Sunday morning except for one thing.....Nature was calling (and I mean calling) so I told the other guys on duty with me that I didn't think I could make it until the hour was up before I allowed Nature to take it's course.

Both the other guys understood and told me to make a run for the crapper and with that the run was on. And this begins the worst and best day of my life to date. I remember the relief of making it to the crapper (crapper small building with six holes, over cut off barrels full of diesel fuel) you all know that feeling . Well I had just gotten sit down and undone my flack jacket and gotten the old pants down an was just setting there having a few quite thoughts of home. No one else was in there (I always liked it that way never did get use to doing my business with someone else seating across making small talk with me). I heard a very load noise, one I had heard before but this time it seemed to get my attention much faster. I knew what it was, it was incoming and it sounded like it was close, but never did I dream how close. The next few seconds seemed long, but so fast, when the round hit, I did not know whether (Shit or get off the pot).

Come to find out that decision was made for me as the round hit within 20 feet of the very throne on which I sit. Yes it is true your life can pass before you in just a faction of a second. The concussion took the crapper, me and yes those barrels full of diesel and other stuff flying across the field. We (crapper and me) landed upright after a roll or two and my flack jacket was off my pants were down, my ears were ringing and without even knowing it was taking inventory of body parts. I remember being on my knees for a few seconds and believe me when I say in that few seconds I was thanking God that the inventory of the body parts matched the same count as before that round hit.

I was not hurt except to say that I was standing there now with my pants down looking at a large hole in the ground. I did not look long however, as that same sound that started this hole story was coming again, this time I found my self running for the bunker, I almost made it when the next round hit our maintenance tent, I blinked my eyes and the maintenance tent was gone. I had tried to forget that day, but some of those old friends brought it up on the 8th and 4th web site so I thought the rest of you ought to know the story first hand from the horses mouth.

Don M Brodie
8/4th Arty, Svc Btry, 1967/68