Pohukaloa Training Area….Big Island of Hawaii…Fire Point 314. The operation commenced on a blistery Monday morning. It was scheduled to last for fifteen consecutive days. Fire point 314 is a large live fire range about eight miles from base camp. It consist of a horseshoe like dirt path while it’s interior is comprised of one hundred percent dried up lava fields. It is primarily used for the firing of the 81mm mortars. So this intern meant that I would be spending the next fifteen days and nights out in the lava fields of the Big Island. An operation this long is rare. Even when it comes to the Marine Corps.

On the training schedule were plenty of live fire missions. From mortars to .50 caliber machine guns to MK-19 grenade launchers we were going to expend thousands of rounds. The grand finale on day number fifteen was to be a dog and pony show for our commanders and VIP guest. We were to perform a flawless display of our skills during a combined night live fire exercise. So with our fifteen day mission in hand the journey to Fire Point 314 began.

My gear was packed and my “extra” chow was hidden. Snacks are a must but must be hidden to avoid unwanted consumption. My pack was waterproofed and my communication gear was checked and double checked and then double checked again. My 9mm Beretta 92F pistol at my side and my frequency sheet hidden in my left breast pocket. K-Bar on hip and my leatherman tool next to it. Gas mask on body and a final stretch of my muscles. Knife on belt and chap stick on lips. Water topped off and hot sauce bottle packed. Flashlight batteries checked and secret tools of the trade hidden. Dust rag around my neck and correct time on my watch. Deuce gear ready, flak vest on my body. Saddle up..fasten belt..helmet strapped..gear adjusted..weapon present and give a final radio check and off we go. As we leave the base we must cross a public highway.

So road guards take their place to block off traffic as the Mighty 81MM Mortar Platoon walks on by. Base plates, tri-pods and mortar tubes are not hindering our movement as we cross into the training area. Our route will run parallel with Saddle Road, which basically divides the island of Hawaii in half. It’s a soft dirt road and our pace is average as we are fully loaded to last for fifteen days. Our ammunition is awaiting us which was trucked in earlier in the morning. So upon arrival no rest awaits us. The view is worth a million dollars as the sky is blue and the gigantic mountains surround us. Peaceful and quiet as the sun shines on our path to heaven.

As we pound the ground we begin to draw a crowd. Tourist began to park their automobiles and cameras begin to snap pictures. This is very common here as our road runs parallel to the public highway. It is always a special feeling when civilians respect the military. Mothers, fathers and children wave hello as we march forward. Shouts of “thanks” and “your the best” can be heard. One of the civilians asks if we are Army, and our Gunny barks out, US Marines ma’am! She apologizes and says “good luck”. Little does she know that no luck is needed. We are just that god damn good!

As we arrive at our bivouac site no one seems extremely tired. We form our rows and pitch our hootches. We dig our rain gutters and get our gear settled. This is the site where we will spend our nights. Every morning we will depart from here and march on over to fire point 314, which is about one mile due east. We begin our hump to the fire point minus our packs and we are all eager to arrive. As we round a huge Pu’ or hill we can clearly see our playground. Cases and cases of ammunitions are awaiting us. So no smoking for me or anyone else near these crates is a rule which must be obeyed. The mortar men get their orders to unload ammo and I get mine. They form a human chain and ammo begins to get unloaded. I must now set up permanent communication in what is known as the FDC or fire direct center. This is like a “headquarters” but at a smaller level and this is also where all of the fire missions will be handled.

The FDC is where the orders are given from. As a forward observer out in the “field” request a fire mission it must first go through us (FDC) and then we relay to each mortar team accordingly. So the importance of my communication is paramount. I will be responsible for three radio nets simultaneously at all times. Plus I must maintain communication to each mortar tube by running wire phones to each of them. Usually the FDC is located in the rear of a high back Humvee or in a tent. But todays location definitely comes as a shock for all of us. Our Corporal points to a mound of dirt and says “this is home for the next fifteen days”. I of course say “out here in the middle of everything.” At first I was not to happy because we would have to deal with the intense sunshine, rain, wind and always being able to be seen meant no “extra” nap times. My Corporal quickly said ” no no were going down into the dungeon”. And i’ll be damn if it wasn’t true.

A small wooden opening leads the way into the earth of Hawaii. Our home was a bunker underneath the dirt. It was roomy and cold. There were five of us with radios, plotting boards, deuce gear and other communication equipment down in the hole. Very limited light and the smell of cold earth was around us. We each claimed our turf and quickly set up shop. From the out side all you can see is a pile of dirt with my antennas sticking out and wires running to each gun. I got my radio checks and called in the appropriate reports and from a communication stand point I was good to go. We had enough room to stretch out our legs and nap time was going to be fun. Now I made an attempt to spruce up our new domain. I spruced up my area by stacking batteries as arm rest and a line made from 550 chord made a perfect holder for my handsets.

My notebook and writing tools were organized and maps quickly decorated our dirt walls. I covered my pistol so it would not get filthy and my K-Bar became my toy. The kitchen quickly grew as each Marine and Sailor contributed his favorite spices. We were going to be underneath ground from approximately 0600 to 2130 each day for the next fifteen days. I must admit it was a whole lot more comfortable than I had anticipated. I sealed any holes to keep out the unwanted rain and waterproofed our front door. At our hatch’s exit was our spare water and other extra non essentials. I posted a sign which read FDC ONLY… We ate chow, joked around, pelted each other with toilet paper, made fun of our “doc”, told exaggerated war stories and reminisced about prior operations while living sub terrain. As the days went by I was now going to experience the life of a Marine Corps mortar men first hand.

Out of the cellar I came with only my flak vest and brain bucket. Nervous but calm my demeanor was as cool as hell. It would now be my turn to drop live 81mm mortars. After a quick class in which I did not pay attention it was my turn. To panic and do something wrong could lead to an unexpected explosion. Which intern would result in other nearby ammo and removed “charges” to ignite or explode. So I was not the least bit nervous. It is rather simple, just palm the round from the top, half load when told, and release. Be sure to swing hand downward, NEVER upward! Then you simply continue to move downward facing away from the tube and then you hear a gigantic BANG! Off goes the round, then you repeat as the mission requires.

If for some reason the round does not go off, then you must yell “MISFIRE” to alert everyone and no one. Then proper procedure will result in the tube being tilted and a round being delivered as if it were a new born baby. After about a dozen rounds I surrendered my position and let the grunts play with their missiles. I also got plenty of fire time on the .50 cal and the MK-19 grenade launcher. Any time a Marine gets to send rounds down range he is in heaven. One of the good things those two weeks was that I did not have to clean any of the weapons I fired. But my radio equipment was another story.

Humping back and forth each morning quickly got old. Our Lt’s goal he later told me, was to get our blood flowing by “double timing” it for one very long mile. This was the most horrible part of the operation. Worse than not showering, worse than not eating a non-mre meal, worse than living in a hole and even worse than no soda pop for fifteen days. It sucked the big one. Waking up at 0530 and within minutes we were off and running. Cold, rainy, and half asleep it’s a miracle we made it every day. Remember I had a radio on my back and they did not. Not an excuse just reality. But we had fun and plenty of character was built during that op.

As the end neared it was time to put on the show. The base General was present along with his staff and countless civilians. Heck even my platoon (comm.) came out to visit. It was a flawless display of night fire. Tracers zooming through the night and ricocheting off of the lava. Grenades being tossed and mortars lighting up the night sky. Parachutes high in the night sky illuminating the lava field that is Fire Point 314. Flashes from the spectators and cheers from all.Noise, explosions, dirt, and controlled chaos, just another glorious day in the life of a 1/3 Marine. Semper Fi Lava Dogs..GET SOME!