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"Dedicated to the Preservation of
Southern Heritage"
North Carolina Chapter
My Thanks to A Black Hero!
Subtitled: Good ol' Southern Boys.
Contributed by "Josie" CSA HISTORY.
The Seige of Fire Base Alpha!
by: Jay Buckner-CPI
The day was sunny; the wife had went the day before to visit her sister in Pensacola,Florida so I headed east toward Destin,
stopping at a popular Greasy Spoon. Taking a booth in the rear, I ordered a fat roll and coffee. The place, as usual was
crowded, this early in the morning. Seating being scarce, I was approached by a Large Barrel Chested Negro Gentleman. May
I share your table sir, he ask?
Certainly, have a seat! He joined me and ordered a breakfast of Eggs & Ham. We began with small talk, nothing serious! Then
he spoke up, since we were at ease. Seen you around from time to time; you from Destin? No, Fort Walton Beach, I said!
Couldn't help but notice your ball cap with the Big Rebel Flag. Thinking I was about to get jumped all over by a huge black man
about my flag, I kept silent. He seeing my discomfort, gave a big smile! Don't worry, it ain't about a flag protest. The subject of
the NAACP flag boycott in South Carolina was all over the news. If your not in any hurry, I'd like to tell you a story. Please do,
I indicated!
My name is Willie Black, he said; I am a Vietnam Veteran. In the late sixties I was part of a company of men operating out of
Da Nang. On this particular day we were dropped off by choppers at the edge of the jungle near the Cambodian, North
Vietnamese border. We were to attempt to intercept supplies heading down the Ho Chi Minh trail. That job turned out to be
about as effective as shooting fleas with a howitzer. Move a lot of dirt, but very few fleas get killed! After patrolling a couple of
days, we ran into a nest of Vietcong. A bloody hatchet job it was; Heavy losses on both sides. Somehow I found myself
separated from my company and covered with shrapnel wounds. Loosing blood and getting weaker by the moment. Hiding in
the bush and moving only in short cautious advances, I soon totally lost my way. I must have roamed in a daze for what seemed
like several days or more. Death stalking me with every step!
There was no way I'd get out of this jungle alive. If I could only make it to our lines! By this time I had no idea which way I
was going, or where to find my company. The occasional chatter of automatic weapons fire in the distance told me that Charlie
wasn't far behind. My eyes were looking through sweat, mud and blood at a daze. Then I came upon what seemed like a
clearing, so I scanned the area. I wasn't about to go charging across an open field, but I seemed to have no other option. I
needed help desperately , or I'd die out here. Maybe my hope lay across that open space? Then as I came to the edge of the
jungle and took a better look across the clearing, I couldn't believe my eyes. This was totally out of time and place! A fire base,
built like a fortress out of dirt bags, rock and anything else the terrain had to offer. High overhead flew the "Confederate Battle
Flag"!
I started across the field, hope against hope, I wouldn't get shot after coming this far. Then I heard commotion inside, as the
two soldiers started toward me, slinging their rifles over their back, and then I knew I was home free. Then and there, I thought
to myself, I don't care what ol' Abe Lincoln said, that Southern flag was the prettiest site I ever did see. I never questioned what it
was doing in a clearing, in the jungles of Vietnam, flying over a fire base. I'd have kissed it with my last breath! Inside I found the
place manned with about three dozen troops, White Southern Boys, and they all sounded like it too. They worked desperately to
patch me up and feed me until it would be safe for a chopper to lift me out.
About a half day later, it was getting on toward dark, approximately two hours to go. Movement was spotted along the edge
of the jungle perimeter Charlie was attacking, and I wasn't about to rest on the ground while he came over those barricades.
Weak or not, I intended to join the firing line. I looked like an Oreo Cookie sandwiched between all those white folks. The
place was a bloody killing field, until well after sunset, and sometime into the night, with only a pause about mid-night, as Charlie
came at the walls again. Come morning, that field out there reminded me more of the stories I'd heard about the battle of
Gettysburg, than Vietnam, covered as it was by all those bodies. Once and a while, during the lull in the fighting I'd look up at the
"Big Bright Rebel Flag" and it's Saint Andrews Cross. What would Ol' Jefferson Davis have to say about this?
Strange thoughts for a black man! After a couple of days, the fighting let up and Charlie retreated into the jungle. About the
third day, a chopper came in and airlifted me out! Since that day, I've searched for those Southern Boys and their Bright Red
Rebel Flag. Never found them! I received nothing but official denials as to the existance of a Fire Base Alpha, three dozen
soldiers and the chopper that brought me out.
I figured they were Confederate Soldiers or Angels from the realms of glory. But whatever they were, or whomever they
were; in a clearing in the jungles of Vietnam, three Red Neck White Southern Boys, and one Dark Black Yankee from New
York, fought off the Demons from Hell. While every moment staring into the eyes of death. Mr. Buckner he said, my number
came due, it was my time to die, but under the Starry Cross of Saint Andrew, over thirty years ago, death passsed me by. I Wish
all those Protesters against the Southern Symbols, could have spent one day with me, at a place called Fire Base Alpha.
Tell the South Carolinaians - Keep the Flag Flying! I thought to myself, either this is the biggest whopper I've ever heard, or
Willie had experienced a Miracle. Willie seeing those looks in my eyes, and having his back toward the crowd, opened his
buttoned up shirt and pulled up one of his trouser leg to the knee. Willie bore the shrapnel wound's of scares of battle alright.
Looked like something out of a horror movie. Willie got up to leave! I wanted to know more about this man, but he insisted,
Giving me a hand shake, he had one more statement before departing, You Southern White Folks have paid your dues, don't let
them hassle you. Stand your ground! I never saw Willie again!
One thing that I want to add to this is my Hand of Thanks to a Courageous Black Man! wherever you are, Thank You, from
the Nashville Rebel!!
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