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| Full Name | Jeremy D. Smith | Previous Duty Station | Bethesda Naval Hospital |
| Service Branch | USN | Location In Area | LZ Russell |
| Unit | L-3/4 | Date Arrived In Area | April, 1969 |
| Date Entered | Jan. 23, 1968 | Main Job In Area | Corpsman |
| Date Discharged | Sept. 29, 1970 | Rank When There | HM |
| Highest Rank | HM2 | Date Left Proximity | Sept. 1969 |
| MOS | Corpsman FMF | Next Duty Station | 11th Eng. Bn, Dong Ha |
| Boot Camp Location | Great Lakes | Medals Received | None Listed. We assume the usual. |
Note:
Jeremy "Doc" Smith is a retired attorney living in Franklin Lakes, New Jersey.
The Laughing Bird (a/k/a the Fuc-Que Bird)
I never saw this bird - but I sure heard it.
I was a new corpsman arriving in-country in April, 1969, and assigned to Lima 3/4 on LZ Russell. I was choppered out to the LZ to join the company late in the afternoon. I checked in with the CO and the company senior corpsman and then was assigned to a platoon and given the 0200-0400 radio watch.
Someone woke me up shortly before 0200. I was taken to a spot in a nearby trench and given a radio. And then I was pretty much all alone except for other guys standing watch scattered around the mountain and sleeping Marines from my platoon in nearby bunkers. Things were very, very quiet for some time, and then I heard a distant voice whispering in the darkness, "fuck you." I was sure I was imagining things, after all, this is not the first thing one would expect to hear under the circumstances. I sat up a little straighter, peered into the darkness a little harder and listened just as carefully as I could. After what seemed like ages but was probably no more that just a few minutes or so, I heard it again. "Fuck you. Fuck you." Twice this time, and whoever it was, was either a little closer or was whispering a little louder.
I was pretty certain that my Marines were much more interested in sleeping than in playing a practical joke on a new corpsman. So I was confident that whoever was taunting me was no Marine, and that meant that whoever it was sure as hell wasn't "friendly." And then I heard it again, even louder this time. I was now positive that there were NVA crawling up the mountainside, even if I couldn't actually see them, and decided I had better warn someone ASAP. I ran over to a nearby bunker and shook awake a corporal, whispering, "I have some movement in the wire."
In the blink of an eye the two of us were back at my position and I started to explain in a very low voice what had happened. Just as I was finishing my tale, I heard it again, and better yet, so did the corporal. He gave me a look that only an old hand can give to an FNG as he asked, "Is that what you heard Doc?"
"Yep, it sure was," I answered, relieved that I hadn't imagined the whole thing after all.
"Doc, that is the ' fuck you' bird. There is no one in the wire. It's just a bird. Goodnight Doc."
I wasn't the last one in the company to get fooled by this bird, although as far as I know, none of us ever actually saw one either. As a matter of fact, there was always a lingering debate about whether it was a bird, a lizard or some other jungle creature. Whatever it was, not only did we never see it, we never heard it during the day either - it was, in our experience, strictly a night creature.
Jeremy "Doc" Smith
Lima 3/4 1969