Graybeard Outdoors

The PTA Hunt

Chapter 1...Landfall

September, 1970. Our unit had been pulled out of Vietnam by Presidential decree. The war was
still not over and, so, many of us felt that to leave before the job was done was, in a word, simply
the wrong thing to do. But Marines follow orders and so we found ourselves arriving on the island
of Oahu in the state of Hawaii.

Many of us had never been to Hawaii. And, except for a short 6-hour stopover 9 months earlier to
refuel our 747 on the way back over to Danang, I had never been there either. But here we were,
joined to the only Brigade in the Marine Corps; the Marine First Brigade on the Marine Air Base
at Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii (leeward side of Oahu island.) We were told our stay would be
temporary, just long enough for the Brigade to absorb those MOS's they needed and then the
rest of us would be ordered stateside.

Pickles, Chopper, Dracula and I left the island all within a week. I to the east coast for additional
professional training, the others to the four winds. So long Hawaii I thought. It had been a nice
idea....we'd not even gotten off base while there. Little did I know.

While attending a high level Navy school on the east coast, I was called to the Marine Liaison
Officers office a week before course completion and graduation. I was told that my former C.O.
had recommended that I be returned to Hawaii for a 3-year tour of duty, dependent on my
academic achievement at the school. I was running head-to-toe with another Marine for the top
place. At worst, I would come in second in a class of some 40+ sailors and marines. It looked
sure enough that I was headed back to Hawaii.

Orders to Hawaii followed a few days later. My wife was pregnant at the time and we'd just bought
a 1970 MGB. So, the day after graduation, we loaded up the car and headed into the setting sun.
Within a week we were on Oahu, stationed at Kaneohe Bay. And it was then that I found out
about the Kaneohe Bay Rod and Gun Club...and the PTA.

And thats how it came to be. I found out about the KBR&GC ("The Club", for short)through a
newly found acquaintance and the next thing I know, I'm sitting in a classroom on the top floor of
the Brigade Command building at 7PM one night. (The Club met there to conduct its business)
The Club had over 70 active members. There was a very high attrition rate. Meaning many joined
and many dropped out soon thereafter. It was never explained to me "why". I was simply told
"you can decide for yourself after a few hunts". I simply could not figure why a Marine would drop
his membership. Dues were not the problem. It cost nothing to join or belong. Hunting slots were
not the problem. I was told that rarely does a planned hunt ever fill up. Why, I wondered. ...after a
few hunts. Um. What did "hunts" have to do with it? I let the subject drop from my mind without
further contemplation.

An "arrangement" had been developed between the Army Command on the big island of Hawaii
and the Marine Command onboard Kaneohe Bay. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The
Army maintained and used the saddle between two relatively quiet although not extinct volcanos
on Hawaii for training purposes. This area was known as the PTA, short for the Pohakaloa
Training Area. It was huge. And it was rugged. Volcanic rock was the "deck" and sheer cliffs rose
straight up for hundreds of feet. The Army, over the years, had succeeded in "leveling" some of
the terrain through tank maneuvers and aerial bombardment but still, the area was no mans land.

Captain Smith or someone (hell, I didn't care who) had attempted to colonize the
islands in the 1800's and bring Christianity to the "heathens that lived here". His
party brought with them pigs, goats, sheep, and chickens when they landed on the
big island. They started a town that was later named Hilo. A hurricane had hit the
town some years after Smiths party had landed and blew down all the fences that
had been erected to contain the animals. Hence, a lot of pig, goat, and sheep
escaped into the high lands and into the PTA. Not having any natural predators,
and an abundant habitat, they thrived. Eventually the pigs, goat, and sheep
numbered in the thousands.

And these feral animals were a big problem for the Army whenever it would conduct maneuvers.
Tanks were stopped by hundreds of animals running all around. The stench of decaying animal
flesh affected the troops and Army medical authorities had come close on several occasions to
closing down the PTA maneuvers because of fear of health concerns. The Army had to get the
feral populations under some sort of control.

So, the deal was simple: fly your marines over on Thursday. Let them hunt and take what they
could on Friday and Saturday. Fly them back Sunday. And that was the cornerstone feature of The Club. There was a Marine helicopter squadron stationed at Kaneohe Bay. It's C.O. was brought into the picture and an agreement struck to fly The Club's members over to Hawaii on a CH53 Sea Stallion. Then, pick them up on Sunday and bring them back to Oahu and Kaneohe Bay.

With this backdrop, The Club made runs to the big island twice monthly. Only Club members
could go, and any game taken could either be brought back, or, given to the locals on Hawaii
near Hilo. And all this brings me to my very first hunt with The Club.

First Hunt in the PTA

Thursday, 7PM: I am standing on the tarmac with my hunting equipment and my M70
Winchester in .270WIN caliber (yeh, I am partial to the .270WIN). I remember there was a slight
rain blowing across the runway ramp. I've never been on the big island, never seen a "volcano
meadow" as its referred to, but want to be prepared for anything.

So, I have a 60 pound field pack made up and ready to go. Because we are only going to be gone
two days, I take only one pair of boots and one change of clothing. I am told that we will be
sleeping in the Armies quonset hunts up in the PTA so I need not worry about that issue.

The Club has, as I found out much later, its own "initiation" for new members. And rank is not
protector. Membership includes marines from Colonel on down to buck private. Only one will be in
charge though for this trip and he is the Hunt Master. Such designation comes not because of
rank, but because of experience in the PTA. A lot of experience. And the experience starts on
the tar mack at Kaneohe Bay. The "initiation" also starts on the tar mack beginning with the
application of the "mushroom theory". In other words, fed only s*it and kept in the dark as much
as possible. Fun and games boys. Let them begin

The Hunt Master approaches me on the tar mack and looks down at my pack and then at me. He
asks me if I think I've forgotten anything. I say, "nope. But if I have, I'll survive through it." He nods
a little and walks away, saying something I can't quite discern. I don't know his rank for I am still
the newest member in The Club. But, as was briefed to me the previous week when this hunt was
being planned out, rank does not count on these hunts.

I look down at my pack, wondering what the Hunt Master saw or did not see that caused him to
mutter something low. I shrug my shoulders.
I hear a whistle off in the distance and look across the tar mack and see the member-hunters
grab their gear and head to the ramp of the Sea Stallion. I catch up with my gear and find that I
am last in line. I look at what each of the other hunters are taking and it looks like I am a tad
over-packed. Oh well, better to have too much than not enough. After all, this ain't a combat
patrol.
I climb aboard the Sea Stallion and soon we are airborne and heading east by southeast towards
the big island of Hawaii. From everything I've been told and what I've been able to learn, this
should be a fruitful hunt. I am looking forward to it. I am in great physical condition, a
battle-hardened marine, and I am quite at home in the wild.
Arriving at the airstrip at Hilo, we dismount the aircraft. All total, there are more than two dozen of
us. I noticed that eight Marines have left their gear and are walking fast towards the main building.
As I look around it comes to my attention that I am the only one wearing cammo of any sort. I am
the only one wearing hunter orange. I am the only one wearing anything that resembles a
respectable hunting garb. All the others are wearing old, torn bluejeans, cutoffs, sweat bands
around their foreheads and several have heavy wrappings around their boots. Hell, they look like a
bunch of riffraff. And surely, one amongst them is a senior ranking officer to boot. But they do
look comfortable.

Within a matter of minutes the eight Marines I'd seen darting for the main building return but this
time they are driving 4-wheel vehicles. Each hunter takes his gear to a vehicle and loads up. In
short time, all eight off road vehicles are loaded to the max and we begin the long drive up into the
PTA and our base camp in the Army quonset huts. The drive is about 90 minutes and the altitude
is definately not sea-level. In fact, there are patches of snow on the ground near the end of our
travel, that part where the road turns to dirt, then to mud, then to volcanic ash and rock.

Thursday, 11 PM Arriving at the quonset hut that has been set aside for us, the Hunt Master
assigns the bunks. This is where I find my first mistake. I did not bring a blanket roll. Only my
issue 100 percent olive-drab military blanket. I am the only one without a blanket roll. No one told
me what I should have brought and when I asked around during the previous week, I was told to
"bring whatever you are comfortable with. But remember, this IS Hawaii". But THIS was more like
the Rockies in late summer. And that night I nearly froze to death, even with two sets of clothing
on, and the blanket. The adventure had begun. I had no idea of just how much of an adventure
this was going to be for me.