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The title, The 3rd Herd, may sound strange even to military types but it was an affectionate term for what might be called a bunch of misfits. Not misfits in what one would term as social outsiders but rather a group of ten men with definite personalities. Men who thought for themselves, were openly opinionated, often out of step with military protocol much to the chagrin of our superiors. We often wore the wrong head gear or foot wear, had too long of mustaches or carried non-issue weapons, were found to be carrying too much money or the wrong type of currency. Those infractions of military rule and many more were part of our everyday existence. Members of the 3rd Herd were stubborn and hard headed, men who disliked taking orders from anyone other than E.O.D personnel and sometimes not even from them. We were willing to roam around a war zone in two-man teams with little regard for our next meal or where we were going to sleep that night but those things were more important than personal safety. Our goal was to work with explosives and trying to outsmart the Viet Cong’s booby traps. It was and is an exciting and rewarding field that we all miss once we are deprived of it.
