A Trucker's Tale – The Compactor Caper

Jul 17, 2024 - one year ago

When I began the first article of my time in Vietnam, I mentioned that I was one of two truck drivers who drove tractor trailers hauling loads from Danang back to our base.

A Trucker's Tale - The Compactor Caper — During the Vietnam war, U.S. Navy SEABEES were responsible for bridge construction in I Corps, assigned to the Public Works Department, Naval Support Activity, Da Nang; 1972. Photo credit: U.S. Dep’t. of the Army. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The other driver, Baker, was a likable, tall, rail thin fellow who always had a mischievous grin on his face.

We heard a rumor that a new motorized sheepsfoot soil packer had been issued to our battalion, and both Baker and I wanted to be the one to haul it north because it was also rumored to be “one aggravating son-of-a-bitch to transport,” plus the fact that both of us looked forward to the challenge. Well, I was the lucky trucker who happened to be in Danang on the day the piece of equipment arrived. That thing looked like an enormous wingless insect on steroids. It was not heavy; maybe 15 to 20 tons before adding water to the reservoirs in each wheel. If you know what an asphalt roller looks like, increase its size by three times, and instead of smooth rollers, imagine these large rollers with hundreds of steel appendages, resembling actual sheep’s feet, welded to each roller. It had articulated steering, as it broke in the middle; it was 12’ wide; it was close to 12’ high. Let me tell you, this son-of-a-bitch could do some dirt packing!

Only a few of the numerous feet of each roller touched the wooden floor of the bed of the lowboy trailer, and I really didn’t have a helluva lot of confidence the thing would stay on the trailer for 75 miles. Heeding the aforementioned Colonel’s advice, the one I came close to flattening with some steel plates [see “Flatbeds and Lowboys,” Supply Post, May 2024, p. 46]. I used every chain and binder I could find on that sucker. I had so many chains holding it down that I don’t think it would have moved if the trailer had flipped upside down.

The sheepsfoot was so ungodly looking that most everyone, military and civilian, stopped what they were doing just so they could watch it go by. When I arrived at our camp, most everyone came out of their offices (hooches) and the mechanics stopped what they were doing and stood in the shop’s doorways staring at the spectacle.

One of the equipment operators stationed at our Danang base had driven the piece of equipment onto the trailer when I picked it up, so not having a clue how it operated, I stopped at the transportation hooch to ask who would unload the sheepsfoot. The First-Class Petty Officer looked at me and said, “You brought the goddam thing up here, so you get to unload it!” It didn’t take but a few minutes to figure it out, and after backing down the loading ramp, I got the thing in high gear and headed to the shop for them to give it a physical. I went flying past the transportation hooch at a high rate of speed, and the dust cloud pissed-off the First Class, which of course was my intention. What was he going to do? Slap my hand and send me to Vietnam?

Other than the beer loads, this was one of the most enjoyable loads I hauled while “in country.”

Since we were the only drivers assigned to the Danang supply runs, it was imperative that we turn each round as quickly as possible. Our time spent waiting at the convoy point(s) was quite alcoholically entertaining, but it did not make for a quick, round-trip, turn-around. We explained to our leaders the time we lost while waiting for each convoy, even though they already knew this fact, but we also pointed out the fact that it had been many months since there had been enemy activity while travelling through the Hai Van Pass.

Our good officers went to our battalion’s Captain, and within a few days, we both had signed orders allowing us to “Travel anywhere, at any time, in I Corps.” (South Vietnam was divided into four geographic military sections, or corps, 1 Corps (or I Corps) being the northern most, and it stretched from the DMZ to just south of Danang).

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After receiving our new orders, Baker and I both happened to make our initial “Travel anywhere” journeys the same day. At the convoy point, we presented our orders to the Army soldiers. They said they did not care what the orders read, and they told us “crazy-assed Seabees that we would be convoying with them.” We were then, not so politely, instructed to, “Go get your asses back in line!” We found that particular soldier’s sergeant, and thankfully, it only took him one short radio communication to find out our orders actually did mean, “anytime, anywhere.” We were very disgustedly waved to the head of the line and, and we then made the 30 mile up-and-over with no problems.

If we got a very early start, some days we could make one round trip to Danang, and then make a one-way trip back to Danang before the road closed at dusk. I’m not sure whether we had anything to do with it, but about two weeks later, the convoy points, both north and south, were done away with, and traffic went up and down the mountain at any time from dusk to dawn. (At least we think we might have helped this occur.)

Just like many other good things have a downside, there were two drawbacks to not having to convoy across the mountain. The first was that we did not have several hours to sit and drink beer. Secondly, it was much harder to use the throttle maneuver when Mother Nature called. (You just had to remember to go before you headed up the mountain.)

Ed Miller ([email protected]) has more than 40 years of management and ownership experience in the trucking industry. Today, he is a part-time tour bus driver, published author of “A Trucker’s Tale”, and regular contributor to Supply Post. He is a father of three and a grandfather of two, and lives with his wife in Rising Sun, Maryland.