Nineteen year old Clarence had arrived in Saigon just a few days ago. He kept getting orders to fly further north and when he got there he got orders to catch a hop even further north. Pretty soon he was almost out of “north” to go to. At his final destination he got off a truck and found he was assigned to my platoon at Camp Carrol, about seven miles south of the DMZ.

I’ll never forget our meeting. He was a slightly built, small kid, with soft hands and a wimpy handshake. He spoke slightly haltingly, as if trying to catch his breath while his eyes furtively darted around in wonder and apprehension. He was as nervous as a cat in the dog pound. He was scared shitless.  He had a narrow, smooth, face that had maybe five whiskers, a high forehead that was prematurely balding, and wore black rimmed glasses. It immediately struck me that this guy was the human incarnation of Tweety Bird. When I found that he was studying to be a librarian that just sealed the deal for me. It all just came together. Tweety was born in my mind. I never called him that out loud, of course, but he was very definitely Tweety to me.

A couple of months later I was making the rounds, inspecting our gun positions and I noticed Tweety had a swollen jaw.

“What’s that knot and swelling on your face, Clarence?”

He managed to mumble, “I’d ravver no’ say , Sir” It was difficult for him to speak.

“What happened to you? Is that from a scorpion bite or what ?”

Again he painfully mumbled, “I’d ravver no’ say,Sir.”

“OK. Clarence, get over to sick bay and have your face looked at.”

I asked the First Sergeant to find out what had happened.

Later he got back to me.

“Clarence fell asleep on guard duty last night. His squad leader caught him and woke him up by smacking him across the face with a combat boot!”

“OK. Thank you First Sergeant. I guess that is taken care of.”

So on this particular day we were providing security for the minesweeping team. KABOOM! KABOOM! Mortars were landing around us. I couldn’t spot any smoke in the jungled hillsides, but the Marines told me where they thought the mortars were.  I was standing in the hatch right next to Tweety who was in the gunners seat getting ready to engage in his first combat. I was yelling in his ear where to aim the 40 mm cannons and he complied flawlessly just like we had practiced it. No more scared shitless.  Just fierce determination and efficiency. He was a rootin’ tootin’  gun slingin' sum'bitch getting on with  his business. 

After the dust had settled I took him aside and told him what a great job he had done that day. You could see him swell up w pride.

When it came time for me to leave and go “back to the world” he made sure to find me and shook my had with a firm grip, looked me straight in the eye and wished me a safe trip home. That knot on Tweety’s face never did fully resolve, and it added to his new “look.” Tweety’s metamorphosis was one of the more amazing things I’ve seen in this world. I couldn’t help but wonder if his family would even recognize the new Clarence.