12 August 1967
The Battalion sweep up to the Saigon River was coming to a conclusion later that day. I made my trip into Cu Chi to visit the men in the hospital. It took all the strength I could muster to get through it. Some of the men had been badly hit. I don't like hospitals anyhow, so I didn't stay longer than I thought I should. Six or seven would probably be out of the hospital in a week to 10 days; the other 13 would take longer to heal. Two were shipped to Tokyo and, as I'd hoped, Fig was sent home to Guam. The doctors did a great job saving his arm. He wouldn't have full use of it, but it was better than losing it.
The operation that the Battalion ran along the river should have taught us a harsh lesson. I lost a great deal of respect for the officers out of Battalion and Brigade who designed the "River" plan of operations. Hindsight is great 20-20 when you look back on it. I had my doubts about its success even before they went out. I wasn't pretending to be a tactical genius, but I wondered if the brass just didn't send Charlie Company down that river to be used as bait. Our losses would be acceptable as long as the overall success was worth the risk. I guess all we could hope for was that it wouldn't happen again.
The next few days were spent continually shoring up our perimeter defenses. The Battalion as a whole was in reserve for an operation the 22nd Infantry was conducting. We stayed on alert status for back-up for the next two weeks. I went on two patrols, one at night and one during the day, with the men we had left from the mortar section and the men we had left from the 106 section. We scraped up just enough to run a patrol. The men were getting bored and that bothered me, so I took them out on patrol to sharpen them up. They didn't like it, but I told them "tough."
If they were unhappy, that was just fine with me. They weren't supposed to like it; we weren't on a Sunday picnic. I told them the guys in the hospital didn't like being there either, but that was the way it was.
"Sarge, why are you always pickin' on us for these dirty jobs we've been getting?" asked Johnson.
"Because you are the only guys around this shithole that can really do a decent job," I told him.
"These other assholes who think they're tough-shit can't compete with the likes of you guys."
"Gee Sarge, I never thought of it like that," he said.
"You wouldn't want us to get the reputation around here that the weapons platoon couldn't handle the tough-shit, would you?"
"Hell no," he said. "Hell no!"
Mantley spoke up, as he always did. "Hell, it don't take no creative genius to be able to burn shit."
"Burning shit is a creative art," I told him. "You don't see the Vietnamese burning their shit, do you?"
"No, but we're not using ours to grow rice either," he said.
"It's a shitty job Mantley, but somebody's got to do it," I said.
"Yea Sarge, very funny. I like that one."
"You guys break me up," laughed Sawyer. "Don't you realize the importance of everything that we do over here? It all has a purpose," he said.
"Uh-oh," said Johnson. "I got a feeling we're about to get in some deep shit here ourselves. The philosopher is going to give us a lecture."
"Screw you Johnson. I'm surprised at you guys. You should be volunteering for all these details to show your strength of character," he said.
"Strength of character? What the hell does character have to do with it?" asked Mantley. "You got no character in the infantry; you're just a `dumb-assed grunt'. Nothing much to character there," he said.
"Yea, but how many grunts do you know that can go out and meet Charlie head-on, fire him full of holes, walk ten miles, track him in the dark, and come back in here and burn shit all in the same breath? Now that takes strength of character," I told them.
"Jesus, I don't believe this crap," said Mantley. "Sarge, you're just a friggin incorrigible!"
"Incorrigible! Me? No way."
That night we took a break to unwind. Johnson and Cunningham got drunk on some of Johnson's home brew. Sgt. Sawyer and I got involved in a poker game with some guys from headquarters section. We both lost our shirts. I got out while the gettin' was good. I was scheduled for some "R and R" to Hawaii in a few days and I needed to save for that.
The trip to Hawaii was just what I needed to relax. I visited all the local sites. Went to see the "Don Ho Show" and a few other attractions on Oahu Island. Stayed close to the hotel along the beach most of the time. I took some pictures of the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor, but for some reason I had bad film in the camera and nothing came out. What a disappointment. I spent seven days in Hawaii and returned to Vietnam via Hong Kong. Now that's where I should have gone on vacation. That place was really something else. I thought maybe someday I'd make it there, but I never did. I returned to Cu Chi on September 4th.
I hitched a ride from the airfield to our company's CP. After spending the night there I caught a ride out to the rubber trees.
Half the men who had been wounded on the boat were back and many of them were fit for duty. Only three of them still had light duty. I was really glad to see them. Sgt. McDonald, Simmons, Gerard, Fisher, Collins, Morales, the new guy Franklin, and Jennings were all back. I heard that three other men would be released shortly. They would also still be on light duty.
Word was out that another mission was in the works. The timing couldn't have been worse as far as we were concerned. I didn't think we were ready.
14 September 1967
Charlie company had a change of command ceremony. We were introduced to a new company commander. His name was Cpt. Osborne. He replaced Cpt. Phelps who had been moved up to Battalion staff. He'd had his six months in a combat unit (a requirement). Cpt. Osborne was on his second tour in Vietnam and supposedly well-experienced in infantry tactics. I'll reserve judgment on that subject until we reach the field. It seemed strange that he would volunteer for this kind of duty. He was either nuts or gung ho. Whichever the case, it didn't set too good. Both set up conditions for getting people killed or wounded needlessly. My first impression of him was not a good one. He had that certain look about him that I didn't like. Mac saw it too. Not much to worry about now. We'd have to wait and see.
Sgt. McDonald and I attended the final briefing for the operations order. This "search and destroy" mission was sending us back to war zone C. This time we would be close to Tay Ninh City, north of Cu Chi, and close enough to the Cambodian border that you could spit into it. We'd also have the 1st Infantry Division along our eastern sector to protect our flanks in toward the Saigon River. The ARVN forces would be positioned to our west to protect that area.
Mac suggested that both of us take control of a squad and use only the 60mm mortars on the sweep operations. We'd have the 81mm mortars sent out at night on the resupply helicopters for the internal security. I agreed that it was a good idea. We had done the same thing back in the Spring operations at Dau Tieng. Sgt. Simmons and his men would be with Sgt. McDonald. Sgt. Sawyer and his men would be assigned to me. Sgt. Cline and his men were to stay here with his 106 section to provide support. We were supposed to be airlifted out in the morning. We were told that the LZ was already secured by some LRRP (long-range reconnaissance patrol) patrols sent out earlier. They were a specially-trained squad of men designed to be dropped off behind enemy lines. They would try to avoid contact with the enemy so they could gather pertinent information. Once their mission was accomplished, they'd call in to request removal from their location.
M19 60mm Mortar
On the morning of September 19, at 0500 hours we moved out to the airfield to catch the airlift. At 0530 the choppers came in to get us. I was able to get all my people on the first two choppers assigned to us. Mac got his men on the other two. The flight out to the objective took about 30 minutes. No matter how many times you get on one of these Hueys, you always imagine someone shooting you in the ass from below. It's always on your mind until you reach your destination. This trip was no exception.
When the choppers arrived at the LZ, it was still very dark. We could barely make out the ground features below us. With all the tall grass around we couldn't tell how high up we were either. The pilot kept hovering over the same spot. He didn't want to go any lower than our present height. We were told to jump out, so that's what we did. We jumped, right into four feet of water, mud and muck. When I landed, it was like somebody had just slapped me in the face. The water was freezing and our boots stuck in the muck. We had a hell of a time getting ourselves free, just to move our feet. Finally after struggling for awhile, we were able to move to the edge of the swamp and get to higher ground.
"No wonder this friggen LZ is secure. Not even Charlie would come out in this shit!" I screamed.
We pulled our butts up out of the water, all the while mumbling certain expletives at the chopper pilot.
"I think those bastards dropped us off in this shit just to make us infantry guys look bad," said Johnson.
We reached the higher ground and Johnson was still complaining about the drop-off.
"Bastards," he said. "I can't believe that friggen pilot. All he had to do was drop us off 30 more feet to the right. I can't believe that son-of-a-bitch did that to us."
"Calm down, Johnson," I said. "We're all pissed."
"Wait'll I get back to Cu Chi," said Cunningham. "I'm going over to the airfield and personally piss in that pilot's gas tank!"
"Yea, let me know when you're ready," said Johnson. "I'll just tag along with you."
After we got everyone together, I made a quick head count, just to make sure nobody had drowned out there. Everybody was accounted for.
"All right you guys, let's move out away from here," said Mac.
"Mantley," I said, "where the hell are you?"
"Right behind you, Sarge. Can't you tell?"
I looked behind me, took one look at Mantley, and started laughing. He was covered from head to toe with mud.
"Go wash some of that mud off you. I can't tell who the hell you are," I teased.
"Hell, I thought it would give me some good camouflage, looking this way."
"It does. But you also stink to high Heaven. Go wash it off."
Mac got hold of the CO to find out where he wanted us when we moved out.
The CO wanted us to wait until everyone checked in. He told us to follow up on the heels of his section and just ahead of 2nd Platoon. I told Mac the CO would get back to us. So we waited. After everybody got set in their positions, we started moving.
We had one of the division scout dogs with us this trip. The dog's name was "Bootsy." If Charlie was within smelling distance, that dog could alert his presence. The dog handler looked to be young, about 20 or so. I think his name was Marshall. I only talked to him once about the time I almost jumped in the foxhole with his dog.
The 3rd Platoon was spread out to protect our flanks and the 1st Platoon was leading the movement up front. The dog and handler stayed with the 1st platoon. We moved by leaps and bounds the first few hours of the morning. Nothing stirred; it was too quiet to suit me. I didn't like it at all. Finally we reached a clearing in the jungle. It was the size of two football fields. We stopped, set out security, and took a break for a C-ration lunch.
The CO had a resupply chopper called in to drop off some needed supplies. I don't recall exactly why he did that. Some of the radio batteries had gotten wet earlier. Maybe that's why he called him in. I didn't see what else was dropped off. Maybe some extra water.
"I've got this funny feeling that Charlie knows we're sitting in his back yard," exclaimed Johnson.
"Why's that?" asked Cunningham.
"Cause we just got through tellin' him, that's why. That chopper landing here a few minutes ago? Very intelligent way to send messages."
"Better than sending a wire by Western Union," said Sgt. Sawyer.
"Maybe that's what the CO wanted to do," I said. "Maybe he's letting them know on purpose."
"Why would he do a stupid thing like that, Sarge?" asked Gerard.
"Who says it's stupid? What other way to draw Charlie out into the war? Just advertise a little."
"Instead of us finding him, let him make the first move," said Mac.
"They just better keep their eyes and ears open is all I got to say," added Johnson.
After we finished our chow we were given the word to move out. Mac wanted us to split up as we moved out of the clearing. His squad on one side of the woods, mine on the other. After we finished moving away from the clearing, we would hook up again on the other side. Once we entered the woodline, we found ourselves in dense jungle brush.
About 15 minutes later, the main element in front of us decided to move 90 degrees to the right. It was about 100 meters into a right turn when it happened. The 1st Platoon had run headlong into Charlie. They got hit with automatic weapons and then with rocket fire. Headquarters section, which included the CO, had not yet made the turn to the right. The 1st Platoon was alone and isolated in an open clearing. Charlie had them pinned down from a bunker complex to their front. The 1st Platoon leader told the CO via radio that contact with the enemy had produced casualties to his point and members of the scout dog team. He said he was trying to maneuver his platoon to neutralize the enemy's fire.
The CO stayed where he was. He couldn't move without exposing himself. Our platoon was directly behind the CO's section, about 25 meters. The enemy's fire was still concentrated to the 1st Platoon's front.
I called the CO on the radio and asked him if he needed any mortar support. He said that he'd get back to me and let me know. After he cleared it with the 1st Platoon leader, he came back on the radio with me and permitted the support of the mortars. I cleared an area about 25 meters back from our location. I found that we could get a clear shot up and over the trees from there. I needed to know the range to the target. I couldn't get an idea how far it was from my position. I told Mac that I needed to get as close as I could to find out the location and the range. He said okay, he'd hold up until I got back. I told him I'd be back in less than five minutes. I crouched low and moved forward. I traveled about 70 meters toward the direction and sound of the firing. I then approached the clearing where the CO was located. He was down in a depression with his head and shoulders sticking out. I walked up and looked down at him in the hole. None of the firing had come into this area as far as I could tell, so I wondered why in the hell he was in that hole.
"You'd better get your head down sergeant," the CO cautioned.
"Why?" I asked.
"There's snipers firing at us from up ahead."
"Where?"
"Right over there," he said.
"Bullshit!"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing sir. Where's the 1st Platoon's front located?" I asked.
"About 50 to 75 meters right up that clearing. Just beyond the first run of trees," said the CO's RTO.
"Thanks. I'll check you guys later," I said.I walked back to the platoon. I hadn't been gone but a couple of minutes. When I reached Mac I plotted the location of Charlie on the map.
"Mark the elevation out to about 200 meters and walk the rounds back in every 25 meters," I told him.
"How far do you want to come back in?" Mac asked.
"Walk it in only 50 meters and then fire for effect."
Sgt. Sawyer and Sgt. Simmons had their tubes ready to fire. We fired two rounds for each gun and then called 1st Platoon for a correction. They told us that the rounds hit right on target and to go ahead and fire for effect. So we let loose with a barrage. It took only about five or six minutes to fire what we had. Just as we finished the barrage, we heard the gunships coming in. The CO had the 1st Platoon leader coordinate the gunship firing on the target. The CO was about to call in an artillery strike. When I heard that, I got on the radio to him.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I don't think you should call in the artillery right now. Wait and see what the gunships do. We're too close to call the artillery in. That's why I suggested my mortars, sir."
"I'm running the show out here sergeant!"
"I know you are sir, it's your decision. I'm just trying to advise you, sir."
"Okay, I'll take your suggestion under advisement."
"Right sir."
The gunships were more than enough support for what we needed to do. I walked forward again and the CO was still in his protective little hole.
"When are you going to move the two other platoons?" I asked.
"I'm not," he said. "Our flanks would be exposed if I moved them out to support."
"Our flanks aren't receiving fire at all," I said.
"You bring up your people for a sweep!" he yelled.
"Okay sir. It's your company."
"Damn right it is! Now you move your ass sergeant. Move up into the clearing."
I walked back to Mac and told him what the CO wanted.
"What? Move our men forward? What the fuck is wrong with that guy?"
"I don't know. I think he's pissed at me for fuckin' with him. He ain't nothing but a coward with bars on his shoulders and an asshole to boot."
"He's got two other platoons to move into support. What the hell's he thinking of anyway?" Mac asked.
"Hell, I don't know, Mac. We'd better move the platoon forward."
"Shit! Alright you guys, let's get up and move it out."
"I'll take the point, Mac. I know the way up to the clearing."
"No. Let someone else do it, Shaf."
"It's okay, Mac. It's safe to move up there. Charlie has already 'diti maued.'"
"Alright. But just be careful."
"I will."
As I moved forward into the clearing, I looked back at the CO. He was still in that damn hole! I reached the 1st Platoon's front point. Rogers from the 3rd Platoon came up where I was and helped indentify some of the casualties. Two men were lying dead next to a tree. It looked like one of the point men got hit first. One of the medics came to his aid, bandaged his wound, or at least tried to, when Charlie hit them with a rocket head-on. Both were killed instantly. Rogers and I moved a little further up toward a bunker complex just beyond the trees. Charlie had done his work and took off for the hills when the choppers came in. I looked over to the left side of the bunker. It was there that I spotted the dog handler. He was shot through the top of his head. The dog lay forward, next to him, also shot through the head. Further to the left were two others lying in the open. They were dead also. I finally took a look into the bunker. Nothing there except for empty shell casings on the floor. Charlie had kicked our ass and then just took off. I turned around and walked down the clearing toward the CO.
"There's six dead up in front of the clearing sir, including the dog and his handler."
"Any sign of Charlie?"
"No sir. No enemy, dead or wounded. The area is clear."
"Good work sergeant. Where is the rest of the 1st Platoon?"
"I don't know. There's no sign of them here. They probably went forward looking for the enemy, sir. Didn't One-6 tell you where he was located?"
"No, I haven't heard from him in the last ten minutes."
"That's strange. I'll send a couple people out looking for them."
"Okay, let's secure this area. I'll call some choppers in and get these men out of here," he said.
"In a few minutes the 1st Platoon came back to our location, set up security, and helped clear the dead for dust-off. The rest of the company prepared to move out. Once the choppers arrived we started loading the dead. We started to put the dog on the overloaded chopper. The pilot shook his head, indicating to us not to load the dog.
Lt. Evans, the 1st Platoon leader, pointed his rifle at the pilot and yelled at him. "You will take this dog!" he screamed. "You're not leaving him here!"
Removal of Killed in action.
The pilot, who was a warrant officer, was outranked and he damn sure didn't want to get shot. So he relented and nodded to put the dog on board.
We moved to another clearing a short distance away. It took a couple of hours for us to secure it. Finally, we decided that we were in a good spot to spend the night. This particular night was giving all of us the jitters. We didn't like the set-up at all. It was like we knew something was going to happen. The captain we had for a CO was acting like a rookie. He was no Cpt. Phelps, that was for sure. He still had a lot to learn. For someone who was on his second tour, he was acting like he spent most of it in the latrine playing with himself. Luckily, our fears for that night were unjustified. It was the next day we should have been worried about.
We hadn't moved more than 500 meters when we ran into another one of Charlie's ambushes. He had us right where he wanted us before he sprung the trap. He waited for us to come through two bisecting woodlines. We met up with A Company on our left flank, which also had a woodline paralleling them on their right side. They moved up the left side of the woods and we moved up the right side. Charlie was hiding underground right in the middle. Just like a "jack-in-the-box", Charlie would pop up and fire at us on the right side. Then we would fire back at them. Charlie would jump back down into his hole. We would stop firing and Charlie would pop back up and fire on A Company on the left side. A Company would fire back and again Charlie would go back into his hole. About all that was accomplished from all of this was that we ended up always firing at each other. Pretty smart, old Charlie. He definitely had his shit together today. Cunningham took a round into his upper left arm. Four other men had to be dusted-off. One man from A Company was killed. Charlie got clean away. Not even a blood trail to show for our efforts. Nothing. What a waste.
B Company finally was able to spring a trap of their own. The enemy tried to move across an open clearing in front of them. They ended up accounting for 11 of the enemy. So at least the day wasn't a total loss for us. It looked as if they were trying to hit and run from us. That was when B Company caught them in the open.
The next day we ran out of water. When they tried to resupply us from the air, Charlie opened up on the choppers. We called off the choppers and then tried to locate where the firing was coming from. We were unsuccessful in that effort. When we thought that maybe he had left the area, we called in the choppers again to drop off the water. Just as the choppers came in, Charlie would open up again. Finally, the choppers started dropping off the water bags, while they flew by at about 25 feet off the ground. Only two of the water jugs survived the fall. The others exploded like water balloons when they hit the ground.
"How friggen dumb can anyone be?" asked Johnson. He just shook his head. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. I couldn't believe they would do something that stupid either.
"Now what are we going to do?" asked Mantley.
"Maybe they figure we're a bunch of friggen camels or something," added Johnson. "They think we can go on forever without water."
"Don't worry you guys," I said. "Maybe we can find some water out here somewhere."
The company moved farther away from the clearing. We tried breaking contact with Charlie by moving farther into the jungle.
"We'd better get to an area soon that has water or we'll all be hell-in-a-bucket," said Sgt. Sawyer.
The CO looked on the map and located a creek running off to our north. It was only about 2,000 meters away. We decided it was our best bet to go for it, so that's what we did. We broke more jungle brush with our machetes than I ever want to do again. It took us over two hours to reach the creek. It was a sight for sore eyes to see all that water. I don't ever remember being more thirsty. Thank God the maps were up to date. I don't know what we would have done if we hadn't found it. It was getting dark and the choppers would never find us in this stuff, to resupply us. We were dehydrated to the limit when we finally reached the creek. It was a long struggle getting there, but well worth the reward.
The company decided to camp out along the creek's edge for the night. No sense moving any farther than this. In the morning we were to move to a pre-designated area for pickup to move back to base. I was glad this operation was coming to a close.
"I can't wait until we get back," said Gerard. "I'd like to give my dogs a break. I ain't never wanting to walk that far or that long again."
"Don't count on it, Bub," said Johnson. "Where I come from we used to have to walk 20 miles just to pick up a loaf of bread. By the time we got back home again, the bread would be gone."
"What happened to it?" asked Gerard.
"What do you mean what happened to it? We ate it along the way, what do you think we did with it?"
Gerard looked at Johnson with this unbelievable look on his face and just shook his head. "You know what, Johnson? You are one dumb hillbilly."
"Only a bonehead like you should take notice of it," said Johnson. "Just remember who you're talking to when you say those things. It just might get you into trouble."
"Sorry Johnson, I really didn't mean it."
"That's better. I accept your apology," said Johnson.
The next morning we spent about three hours clearing an area away for an LZ. We hacked away with our machetes at the underbrush. There was a problem with some trees. The smaller ones we used the machete; the larger ones we had to blow with detonator cord. We finally cleared a large enough area for the choppers to make a landing. We were worried about two of the larger trees in toward the choppers' approach. We were hoping the pilots could maneuver around them to make a clear landing. With a little luck they should have no problem.
The choppers came in and picked us up. We made it out of there with no additional casualties. I was glad of that. It was close to noon when we arrived at base camp. I checked on Cunningham as soon as I got in. He was doing okay. He caught a 50-caliber round just above the left elbow. It broke his arm and was bad enough that he would be shipped back home.
Later I ran into Mac in the mess tent.
"How's it going with Cunningham?" he asked.
"He's going to be okay. We'll need to replace him though. He's going home."
"Yea, I figured he would. It looked broken when we dusted him off. They send the ones with the broken bones back to the States."
"Yea, remember Figaroah? The same thing happened to him, only his was a lot worse."
"That's one day I'm never going to forget. My very first operation and I get hit."
"Yea Mac, I know what you mean. That was one shitty day."
I went over to my bunk, opened my locker, and pulled out an old bottle of whiskey I'd been saving. I was exhausted, but still didn't feel tired enough to sleep. After taking a couple of drinks, I finally fell asleep.
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