USMC Tunnel Rat Urges PTSD Victims to Seek Help

Building tunnels and forts with his friends in the swamps near Georgetown, S.C. offered young Earl “Flynn” Trimnal excellent conditioning for the job he would someday assume in Vietnam – that of a “tunnel rat.”
“From the time I was about six years old, I wanted to join the Marine Corps,” Trimnal said. “My dad was in the Navy at Utah Beach in Normandy and I grew up wanting to serve my country. For three years, beginning in 9th grade, I worked after school, earning money to pay for summer school classes so I could graduate early. I wanted to get to Vietnam to help my country.”
The 17-year-old high school graduate entered the Marine Corps in October 1967. His training took him from boot camp at Parris Island to Camp Lejeune and then Camp Geiger for advanced training in the 106 recoilless rifle, flame throwers, and demolition. In Okinawa, Trimnal continued his training. The day he turned 18, he was on a plane to Vietnam.

Congratulations, You’re a Tunnel Rat!
Trimnal was assigned to the 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion, 26th Marines. “When I got off the chopper, this big old gunnery sergeant kept looking at me and scratching his head. I said, ‘PFC Trimnal reporting as ordered sir,’ and he said, ‘Congratulations, Private Trimnal! You’re our new tunnel rat.’”
During the Vietnam War, Communist guerrilla troops (Viet Cong) dug tens of thousands of tunnels, using them for intelligence work, and as effective hiding locations after ambushes. American “tunnel rats” were combat engineers on underground search and destroy missions — small, thin and highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, armed only with flashlights, knives and pistols.
In the tunnels Trimnal found booby traps — grenades, mines and punji sticks — venomous snakes, rats, huge spiders and scorpions. Sometimes poisonous gases were used. “I lived in constant fear of not knowing what I would encounter or who I would meet with each foot that I crawled, knowing I could set off a booby-trap at any moment.
“They would find a tunnel and call me in. Usually they’d tie a rope to my foot, so they could pull me out if I got shot. Several times I had to throw a grenade because there were people back there. The life expectancy for a tunnel rat is about 7 seconds, but I was never injured while in the tunnel.
“A young Vietnamese boy showed me a lifesaving technique. He gave me a small glass mirror on a telescope, which could be angled in different directions. The VC would put curves in the tunnels for ambushes, or they’d dig deep holes and fill them with water, so they could hear us coming. I’d get to a turn and put the angled mirror down to see around the corner. Then lob a grenade in there. I still have that mirror. It saved my life many times.”

Out of the Tunnels to Reconnaissance
Trimnal excelled at tunnel work and was eventually transferred to reconnaissance. He and his radioman, Calvin, scouted ahead of the battalion, gaining information about enemy activities in the area, avoiding direct combat and detection by the enemy.
Trimnal has a photograph of the two men, one tall, dark and lanky, the other short, pale and compact. “They put us out in the jungle many miles ahead,” he recalled. “And while we were coming back we’d be cautious, always watching. If we saw movement, we would avoid contact, and call in artillery. Calvin and I went on many recon missions and we were pretty successful.
“One day the VC spotted us. I told Calvin, ‘let’s go,’ and we started running. They were lobbing mortars in on us. I was shorter than he was and I could get down lower. A mortar landed near us and messed him up pretty bad. Rather than leave him there, I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up behind some rocks. The radio was still on his back, so I called it in. I kept talking and firing my rifle and suddenly, I heard a tank. I knew it was ours and it was a good sound. But Calvin didn’t make it. He died. He was from Wilmington, but I didn’t even know his last name.
“After Calvin died, I went crazy. I felt that he was my responsibility. He had done his job and I should have done mine better. ‘Crazy’ became my nickname. Everyone wanted to be with me because they knew I was there for business. I just didn’t care.”

Promotion to Squad Leader
After Calvin died, Trimnal was promoted to Sergeant and made a squad leader. “One time at 1:30 a.m. we were about 15 miles from our compound when they called us on our radio and said, ‘avoid contact if possible.’ They estimated 150 North Vietnamese regulars in our area. I pulled my men into a small thicket. I could see an enemy soldier’s feet and if he’d taken one more step, he would have stepped on my rifle. He stayed there for what seemed like 5 hours but was probably about 2 seconds and then he walked on. They never saw us. We waited until they got away, and then we called in artillery. The next morning there were at least 75 enemy dead.
“Our job was always to know where the enemy was, and to call it in. Sometimes with a squad, we would engage if we had to. But after Calvin, I felt my first job was to take care of my men.”

Three Times Wounded in Action
Trimnall was wounded twice and sent back into action. “The last time I was injured my buddies and I were ambushed near an Esso plant,” he said. “We pushed them back and then pulled a sweep to pick up bodies. I came across a VC in a bomb crater, but I’d run out of rounds in my magazine. I jumped in there and we did a bayonet shuffle. A log had flopped down, and he was against the tree. I bayonetted him, and it went right through to that tree. Another VC came at me and bayoneted me in the side. I reached in for my ka-bar (knife) and got him in the throat. I don’t even remember that. When I woke up, I was on the USS New Orleans and I thought, ‘I’m still alive.’ My 2 friends came up to me and said, ‘Hey you’d do anything to get out of the bush.’”