Death in the Delta

Informationen zum Autor Alan Maki grew up in Belleville, Michigan, and was inducted in 2001 into Belleville High School's Distinguished Graduate Hall of Fame. He was awarded the Jefferson Award, sponsored by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, for outstanding community service in Montana in 1988. Besides serving as the pastor of three Baptist churches, he broke a Guinness World Record for "balancing on one foot" for more than eight hours to raise funds for disabled children and children with cancer. He has written two Christian novels and three nonfiction books about Navy SEALs. Alan's first movie, Sidewalk Singer , which he wrote, produced, and starred in, was released on DVD in January 2014 by Vision Video. His second movie, which he wrote, produced, and starred in, was titled Mr. What and was distributed on DVD in January 2015 by Bridgestone Multimedia Group. Both movies received five Doves from the Dove Foundation. Gary Smith served with UDT/SEAL teams for more than 15 years, engaging in 257 combat missions. He was awarded the Purple Heart, three Bronze Stars, and other honors. Klappentext Mankind is a predator by nature and a hunter by instinct. I loved to hunt. It was in my blood. And I was now ready to head back to the bush! to hunt the biggest game in the world--man. With five tours of Vietnam and 257 combat missions under his belt! Navy SEAL Gary R. Smith has witnessed hell itself. DEATH IN THE DELTA covers his third and fourth tours in Nam. From Cam Ranh Bay to Nam Canh to night insertions into Cambodia! he served as SEAL adviser to volatile Vietnamese special forces! including the fierce PRUs (Provincial Reconnaissance Units)! Biet Hai! and Regional Forces. Often accompanying their missions! Smith vividly captures the nightmare of a jungle war! whether staging sudden deadly ambushes or sitting silently for hours soaking in mosquito-infested swamps. It wasn't pretty! but Smith makes no apologies for himself or his fellow warriors in this no-holds-barred account. For him! its a privilege and honor to pass on a small part of the history of the U.S. Navy SEALs experience as he saw it in Vietnam. Introduction The room was very formal and carefully arranged to be as intimidating as possible. There was a series of windows which overlooked the railroad yard that led into the old Studebaker plant, but the blinds were closed and the only light was of the sterile overhead fluorescent variety. I had been waiting for some time, so I got up, parted the blinds, and looked out at a typical cold, gray day common in northern Indiana in late November. I remember thinking about how my mother would take me with her when she visited her sister and I would look down on the same tracks from my aunt's apartment window. The difference was that back then the yard seemed almost alive, the activity reminding me of ants swarming over a decaying animal carcass. Jeeps and amphibious vehicles were produced in the plant, and they were rushed from here to there for loading and transportation to some far-off battlefield. Now it looked like the ants had finished their task and gone on to whatever else ants do, leaving only the skeleton of a factory that had produced one of the finest cars ever made in this country. My nostalgic journey ended abruptly when I was jerked back to reality by the less than friendly voice of the South Bend, Indiana, Superintendent of Schools. If you persist in this foolishness, you will never work in this school district again, he said pointedly. I was somewhat, but not completely, taken aback by the frontal assault because I had long suspected that the superintendent was not the avuncular gentleman he would have everyone believe he was. Look, I replied, my country is at war and I feel strongly that it is my duty to do my share. I find it very difficult to hide behind a schoolteacher's deferment when there's a war go...

Klappentext

Mankind is a predator by nature and a hunter by instinct. I loved to hunt. It was in my blood. And I was now ready to head back to the bush, to hunt the biggest game in the world--man.

With five tours of Vietnam and 257 combat missions under his belt, Navy SEAL Gary R. Smith has witnessed hell itself. DEATH IN THE DELTA covers his third and fourth tours in Nam. From Cam Ranh Bay to Nam Canh to night insertions into Cambodia, he served as SEAL adviser to volatile Vietnamese special forces, including the fierce PRUs (Provincial Reconnaissance Units), Biet Hai, and Regional Forces. Often accompanying their missions, Smith vividly captures the nightmare of a jungle war, whether staging sudden deadly ambushes or sitting silently for hours soaking in mosquito-infested swamps.
It wasn't pretty, but Smith makes no apologies for himself or his fellow warriors in this no-holds-barred account. For him, its a privilege and honor to pass on a small part of the history of the U.S. Navy SEALs experience as he saw it in Vietnam.

Leseprobe
Introduction
 
The room was very formal and carefully arranged to be as intimidating as possible. There was a series of windows which overlooked the railroad yard that led into the old Studebaker plant, but the blinds were closed and the only light was of the sterile overhead fluorescent variety. I had been waiting for some time, so I got up, parted the blinds, and looked out at a typical cold, gray day common in northern Indiana in late November. I remember thinking about how my mother would take me with her when she visited her sister and I would look down on the same tracks from my aunt’s apartment window. The difference was that back then the yard seemed almost alive, the activity reminding me of ants swarming over a decaying animal carcass. Jeeps and amphibious vehicles were produced in the plant, and they were rushed from here to there for loading and transportation to some far-off battlefield. Now it looked like the ants had finished their task and gone on to whatever else ants do, leaving only the skeleton of a factory that had produced one of the finest cars ever made in this country.
 
My nostalgic journey ended abruptly when I was jerked back to reality by the less than friendly voice of the South Bend, Indiana, Superintendent of Schools.
 
“If you persist in this foolishness, you will never work in this school district again,” he said pointedly. I was somewhat, but not completely, taken aback by the frontal assault because I had long suspected that the superintendent was not the avuncular gentleman he would have everyone believe he was.
 
“Look,” I replied, “my country is at war and I feel strongly that it is my duty to do my share. I find it very difficult to hide behind a schoolteacher’s deferment when there’s a war going on.” My position was somewhat preposterous by today’s standards, but it was 1964 and my early childhood had been spent exploring Rumvillage Woods, Bullfrog Pond, and Pinhook Lagoon. On Saturdays, for fourteen cents, my cousins and I had watched John Wayne win World War II at the Indiana Theater. Actually, we started out with twenty-five cents earned by collecting and selling old newspapers and scrap to the junkyard. The movie consisted of a double feature, a cartoon, and a serial, usually Lash Larue or Flash Gordon. We would spend ten cents on gedunk, which left us with a penny. The sporting goods store was next to the theater, and they sold BBs in penny packs—guess what we spent our last cent on? In any case, the superintendent was not impressed with my explanation of why I wanted to break my teaching contract, but he was true to his word—I never worked in that school district again.
 
What I didn’t tell the superintendent was that I had already been accepted into the U.S. Naval Officers’ Candidate School at Newport, Rhode Island. My plan was to breeze through the required four-month course and fol…