(
This
was first published as text for the photo lay-out in the "Garry Owen" Newspaper
and the "First Team Magazine" in March 1972. The cover photo as well as some of
the others on this site were official US ARMY PHOTOS from that story layout.)
The huey "Slick" hardly
seemed to stop in its descent on the clearing before Ranger Team 75 was on the ground and
moving rapidly to the edge of the jungle. As I lunged through the underbrush I glanced
back long enough to see our rear scout, Sp4 Kenneth (Snuffy) Anderson backing out of the
clearing in a crouch, ready for any signs of the enemy. I wanted desperately to stop for a
chance to shoot a picture, but now wasn't the time. We had to get to cover before the
enemy had a chance to locate us. The pictures would have to wait.
Once the team was concealed in the brush, Sgt Paul "Blinky"
Morguez, Team Leader (TL) for 75 motioned for us to sit down. It was a relief to drop my
heavy pack and relax in the brush. Some where a bird began to sing, and it was almost
possible to forget that you were hiding in enemy infested jungle, just a handful of men
and their weapons.
Sp4 Jaime Pacheco, RTO for the team, unsheathed his radio. When the TL
began to make his report to the rear he spoke only in a whisper. No one made any noise.
Quietly I unsnapped my camera, focused it, and pushed the button to release the shutter.
It sounded like a bomb dropping in a sound proof room and everyone turned quickly to look
at me. A little embarrassed, I put my camera up and resolved that my pictures would have
to wait a little longer.
After about 20 minutes the TL felt confident that the enemy had not
noticed our insertion and had not come in our direction. We hitched up our rucks and began
moving through the brush. There were no trails, no paths, we just walked and crawled where
we could, never making a sound. No one spoke, not one vine was cut from our path, and so
well hidden was each man by the heavy brush and camouflage jungle fatigues and face paint
that often I would lose sight of "Stubby", Sgt Lynn Morrison, who was walking
just ahead of me.
My ruck was beginning to give me pains and sweat poured off me. It was
rough on me, and try as I might to hide it, anyone could see I was tired. I started
glancing at the other members to see how they were taking it. They were sweating too,
which made me feel a little better. That is, all except "Blinky" who I was sure
by now could outwalk a horse. Someone once said that Rangers don't have to shoot the
enemy, they just hump them to death. I was beginning to believe that was the truth.
There were times I wished I had packed a little more, though my ruck
was more than heavy enough for me. But a five-day log of supplies to a Ranger seemed awful
meager to me. Three LRRP meals won't last the average grunt a day and a half, and I was
expected to make them last for five days. And six quarts of water, a two day supply for
most grunts, had to be stretched out over that same five day period.
Finally we paused for a few minutes. It was getting well along into the
afternoon and the heat seemed to be reaching extremes. I lifted my canteen to my lips,
rationing myself the barest amount of water, and settled back to listen. There was a
crackling of brush that made my heart beat a little faster. I strained my eyes and saw two
chickens strutting about. They walked within 20 feet of me but so quiet was the team that
they never realized we were in the area.
Twenty minutes later we were moving on again. We were reaching an open
area and "Stubby" stopped beside me. "When we cross this area," he
said, "make sure you step on the branches and not on the ground." It seemed
strange to me, but Stubby explained that in the open area if the enemy were near they
would see us, so the sound of a breaking twig made little difference. Now the important
thing was to insure that we left no footprints for the enemy to find. Later Sp4 Pacheco
explained that the Team tries to leave no evidence of its presence after it has passed.
"We even eat the plastic containers our LRRPs come in so the enemy can't find
them," he said with a laugh.
We finally stopped in a small clearing and I decided to chance a few
more pictures. Muffling my camera as best I could with my towel, I took a few shots, then
helped myself to a drink from my canteen. We'd been in the jungle for about four hours and
yet my canteen was practically full. It was surprising.
It was getting dark as we
moved on, though it was still early in the evening. Then the Team stopped. Blinky was on
the point and had broken onto a trail. While we waited he scouted the trail with Sp4
Melvin Mullis, the assistant TL who had been walking "slack". Then they motioned
for the team to move up. I was just breaking through the under- growth when the world
exploded. Dropping to the ground I worked out of my ruck and alternated between shooting
pictures of the elite team in action, and talking back to the hidden enemy with my AR-15
rifle.
For Blinky it had been close. Breaking from the trail and into the
open, he had heard a man to his left shout at him in Vietnamese. The enemy soldier had
undoubtedly mistaken us for NVA or VC troops. He had been no more than 10 feet from Blinky
when he spoke, and the TL had answered with a burst from his AR-15.
"Make sure you cover our rear," I heard Blinky yell, and then
from back on the trail I heard Snuffy yell back, "Yeah, I've got it." "Frag
out," yelled 1Lt Lynn Moore, the Ranger operations officer who was along for the
trip. As he stood to throw his grenade the team covered with a burst of fire.
"Someone pass me a cigarette," yelled Blinky, crouching now and firing from the
hip. Then Pacheco, talking into the mouthpiece of the radio, "Xray, Xray, 75, 75.
Contact! Contact! Contact!"
Then all was quiet again save for the sound of Blue Max waiting
overhead. Blinky took two men and scouted the area where the enemy had been. All that
could be found was a thick trail through the brush where he had "duffed".
Pacheco and I sat back drawing long gulps on our canteens. We could drink all we wanted
now. We had a contact and would be pulled out.
When all was clear we moved into the open and popped smoke for our
bird. While the skids were still well above the ground I felt the other members of the
team boosting me in. Then I turned to haul them aboard. The door gunners opened fire on
the area and we left with tracers tearing the brush in case any enemy had followed us to
the PZ. As the chopper circled we could see Max diving in on the position we had just
left, tearing the jungle with his rockets and minigun. We were on our way back to the rear
for a hot meal, a cold soda, a shower and a good night's sleep. My job was finished but
for Team 75f there would be tomorrow...another day, another mission, and perhaps another
contact.
