Category: "War Stories"

Nui Ba Den

Nui Ba Den

Translated, Nui Ba Den means "Black Lady Mountain" or its other common name was "Black Virgin". Anyone who served with the 25th or in other division within Tay Ninh, Hau Nghia, Binh Long and Binh Duong Provinces knows this ancient volcano as Nui Ba Den. It can be seen over great distances due to the flat terrain in many areas leading away from the mountain. It’s a point of reference and aids in navigating around the countryside. To the Vietnamese, the mountain is the center of a myth about Ba Den, a local deity of Khmer origin. Nui Ba Ben literally means “Black Lady Mountain”. At 996 meters (3,268 ft.) the extinct volcano rises above the flat Mekong Delta jungle and farmland which surrounds it. It stands alone and commands the landscape with its presence.

The mountain is a huge rock pile, honeycombed with caves and is covered by huge basalt boulders that make for a difficult climb up the mountain. The mountain is located approximately 10 km northeast of the city of Tay Ninh and 95 km northwest of Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon.

Where I used to live in Sonoma County, California, above Cloverdale, there was a large rock along the Russian River, called “Squaw Rock”. Legend had it that an Indian maiden and her lover leaped off the rock to their death because one was not allowed to marry the other. This is the same type of legend that exists with Ba Den. The myth centers around a woman, Ba Den, falling in love with a soldier and then through betrayal or suicide, Ba Den dies on the mountain.

The mountain has had a history of military importance through the years. Back in WWII, the Japanese occupied the top of the mountain as did the Viet Minh, the French and the Vietcong. The mountain commands everything in its sight and was therefore a strategic location for both sides during the war, past and present with the Vietnam War.

In May, 1964, the mountain top was assaulted by the Special Forces 3rd Mike Force and the peak was held by the 121st Signal Battalion establishing a radio relay station, call sign Granite Romeo Tango, there in February 1966. The only way up and down the mountain was by helicopter which ferried in troops and supplies during the time it was occupied. The top of the mountain contains a number of bunkers built for defense, communications building, mess hall and operations building as well as a helo pad.

The VC attempted to overrun the allied forces at the top several times without success. Likewise, we attempted to rid them of their presence at the bottom of the mountain in January, 1969 by the 3/22nd and 4/23rd Mech without success.

The first major attack occurred the night of May 13th, 1968 when the base, staffed by 140 men, was overrun by VC, killing 24 Americans while losing 25 themselves. A quick reaction by Special Forces , gunships and artillery fire help repel the attack. That afternoon, A Co 2/12th reinforced the remnants of the signal battalion and members of the 4/9th Manchu’s who were acting as a defensive force there.

After this attack, the mountain took turns being reinforced by various units of the 25th ID to prevent any further assault on the radio relay station.

Today, part of the mountain is a theme park with a cable car lift that takes you about  two thirds up the mountain. Nearby, at the top, is a Buddhist pagoda, with two smaller ones above it. The views of the area from here are stunning. The Black Virgin remains an iconic symbol to the region it resides in.

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Year of the Rooster

Year of the Rooster
 

 This is an excert from a book called “The year of the Rooster” and was written by a guy who served in Bravo Co during 1968-69, Larry “Snuffy” Goodson but penned under a ghost writers name. This book can be purchased thru Amazon.com. The writer has an interesting style that he uses. At the beginning of the book he refers to himself as “Cherry Boy”, later Rifleman and later in the book “Gunner”. The point of view is written in 3rd person. This section was taken from a story describing a night laager site and the subsequent ground attack which occurred. It’s a brief quote, but the story line is one to have nightmares over.

“The prior 20 years of Rifleman’s life didn’t have time to flash before his eyes. What did flash before his eyes was a muzzle of a Chi-Com AK-47 assault rifle aimed at what seemed to him like straight between his own eyes. The shooter must have miscalculated by at least some inches since the steel jacketed lead bullets do not pass through Rifleman’s brain, instead, what passed once again was “just how G**Damn long can’t possibly take to move a rifle barrel from pointing left the morning right”? As the muzzle of his own weapon finally pointed someplace close to where the intruder was standing Rifleman squeezed the trigger and sent the first of his own series of tap tap tap single shots back at the little man standing in the smoke and pale light of a distant illuminating flare that was trying so hard to reveal what could become the clearest memories of this hell to the residents thereof.

The audio portion of this cartoon began with the Rifleman shouting “I’ll get you, you son of a bitch” which was remarked on and left about drink commendations and next day the rest of the show consisted of tap tap tap clack clack clack tap tap tap clack clack clack until about 20 shots were fired in each direction, Rifleman shooting single individual shots for accuracy another mistake intruder had chosen short burst on full automatic at least one thing that they both had in common was the undeniable fact that both of them had completely missed what they were shooting at.

This time passing in terror had arrived like a electrical shock through the Rifleman’s eyes causing the back of his head to chill as if ice water was forced from their down his spine and on to the tips of his fingers. Terror is like this is terror because it does arrive so said late as to shock the entire self. If the terror lingers it eventually morphs into fear and then into the rage that was required for the Rifleman to do what he had to do.

He could not see the features of his would-be killers face but in a strange way he somehow pictured him indistinctly like the kid he tried to patch up in the hamlet the day before – short, black hair, young chin quivering from fear probably called Nguyen or Tron, but for now son of a bitch, a rat bastard, Gook, such names making it possible for the Rifleman to crash through that wall separating his own right from the wrong like an airplane breaking the sound barrier. His mind like the pilot of the airplane, sharp, afraid but thinking clearly; his body like the airplane itself shaking and straining as if to rattle apart from the stress before Mach one was shattered. The Rifleman had broken a record of his own; it wasn’t understood, it was a conscious decision, but he had chosen the kill rather than be killed; he would note that about himself and would change them forever. In the months that followed he would soar passed Mach one, on the Mach 2, possibly Mach 3,. Just how does one measure hate and grief to the point of open unconcealed, maybe uncontrollable laughter? How do we weigh love and beauty to tears at something and as common as a rising sun, or is uncommon when clawing its way to presence from behind the black smoke curling clear blue skyward from a burned-out tank, announcing that the deeds in the darkness would now be revealed by the light of day.

After emptying their weapons into what must’ve been almost every square inch of empty space around each other, rifles were lowered simultaneously and what might jokingly be described as a speed of darkness, the speed of light and complete reverse, while the two of them shared a moment of acknowledgment and disbelief at what they had not done to each other. With the time warp still firmly in place the Rifleman would record this instance to recall years later as eerily similar to the bonding with survivors in his very own foxhole. After the handshake and a nod that happened in spirit only, but it surely is a physical, Nguyen, son of a bitch turned in the slowest of motions and headed for the cover of the hedgerow behind him, probably with his own share of mother fuc***, meat grabbing grass to contend with. Like a typist at a keyboard thinking words and sentences as offenders find the letters all by themselves, the Rifleman in the true form of enterprising capitalism, that he had come so far to promote and defend, automatically found a fully loaded magazine, and while operating on full automatic pilot, he emptied his rifle at the back of the disappearing Nguyen, rat bastard Gook that had so intimately shared the second just past.

Premonition in A Co.

Premonition in A Co.

This story as told by Tony to me at last year's reunion - Sarge

1LT Tony Alcaraz came to Alpha Company as a platoon leader in November 1969. On January 21, 1970 the platoon was out on an operation in Binh Duong province, parts of which lay on the south side of the Saigon River up near the Boi Loi Woods area north of FSB Pershing. That morning before the unit left the wire and safety of the base camp, one of his men, PFC Charles Russell (pictured above), who went by the name of Terry and hailed from Florence, Alabama began a bit of chatter. He started telling everyone around him that he was going to die that day. He just kept saying that over and over.

Later in the morning after arriving in the area to be patrolled , LT Alcaraz told Russell to pipe down with his language because he was bothering the men, but he just kept it up. The day wore on and the unit managed to deal with a few situationss but got through all of that unscathed. They, meaning the platoon, were maneuvering in a heavily booby trapped area near the river, not uncommon to be going anywhere it seemed without finding some armed device. Between the day's events, Russell continued to chirp to anyone who would listen that he was going to die.

Finally Lt Alcaraz called him over and said "look, we're got through it today and you're still O.K. so you can stop with the nonsense". Russell, not to be silenced, said to the LT, "well the day's not over". Not heeding his platoon leader he went on with his chirping. By now LT Alcaraz couldn't take it any more and once more called Russell over to his side and said "Enough". Russell looked at him, then said "but I still feel the same way". The LT and Russell were standing on one side of a rice dyke. Russell then stepped back a few feet from the LT and across the dyke when it happened.

A booby trapped round went off killing Charles Russell outright. The blast severely wounded PFC John C Chaves and the guy behind him, SGT Frank Viscomi, the medic and a new replacement. The LT was hit in the face with shrapnel. They were all dusted off. Chaves died three months later at a VA hospital in Boston. LT Tim Jachowski, the platoon F.O. officer wrote in his journal that it was LT Alocaraz that tripped the mine, but the accounting written here came from Tony Alcaraz. PFC Charles "Terry" Russell was right after all.............


Vietnam - Coming and Going

Vietnam - Coming and Going

My Arrival in Vietnam

by Tony Adams - B Co. '68 (notes from 1985)

I arrived in Vietnam on February 6, 1968. We Landed at Bien Hoa airport in early afternoon.  Coinciding with my arrival the ammo dump on the far side of the base was hit with VC rockets and mortars and erupted in flame.  In order to protect the civilian 707 charter plane from damage, the plane immediately took off empty.  The incoming and departing were separated by a patrician but you could see each other.  Soldiers who had already served their one year tour and were waiting to board the freedom flight to the world watched helplessly as the Boeing 707 took off without them.  Their escape from hell would be delayed for several more hours.  I will never forget the look on their face as they watched the plane take off.  One guy had beads of sweat on his forehead and a hollow look in his eyes.  I could only guess at his feelings since at that time I didn't know what he had been through.

Who do you give your money to when you leave?

Just before returning home from Vietnam, as I waited for the plane to land that would take us back to the world I bought a coke at the snack bar in the airport.  When I got my change back I realized that I had no need of the money.  We were paid in MPC (military payment certificates) while in Vietnam and the money was no good anywhere except in Vietnam at military facilities.  When the plane landed we all got ready to board but we had to wait for the plane to unload the new recruits.  Just as had happened one year before when I arrived the new arrivals got off and walked down an aisle right by those of us who were about to board for the flight home.  This was the full circle.  I waited for them to unload and then went up to one of the new recruits and gave him about $5.00 in MPC that I had left.  I told him that I wouldn't need it where I was going but he might find a use for it.

Sure it was a cruel thing to do. Sure it probably made him feel like hell.  Sure I could just as well have kept the money for a souvenir.  But after a year of hell I wanted to gloat to someone that it was all but over for me.  He looks up with a bewildered look not knowing what to say.  He probably had never heard of MPC or realized what I was giving him.  I noticed that all his buddies and him looked at my buddies and I with the same look that I had looked at those who waited to leave a year ago.  This time there was no mortar attack and we didn't have to wait long to board the plane.  I got on the plane and found a place to sit and looked out the window at hell for the last time. 

Night ambush in the Ben Cui Rubber

Camp Rainier, Dau Tieng, Vietnam

Today is June 9th,1968 and our company has ambush patrol once again.

Tonight, the company will leave the base camp and split out into three different platoon sized (roughly 20-25 men) ambush sites along a major supply route west of the village in the Ben Cui Rubber plantation.

 The company has orders to leave the “wire” (base camp perimeter) at 1600 hours. The azimuth will take us out into the rubber plantation. It will be dark soon and there is no moonlight. I have left the machine gun crew and started my new job as the RTO (radio telephone operator) for my 3rd platoon leader 1LT Chris Brown, who hails from Texas.

I change the battery to my PRC-25, turn on the radio and start the procedure to perform a commo check with the C.O.’s (company commander’s) RTO, call sign “Charlie 6 X-Ray”. Charlie 6 is the C.O.’s call sign. If it’s just the company going out, we have our own “push” assigned and we drop using “Charlie” and abbreviate our calls to numbers, i.e. ‘6 X-Ray this is 36 X-Ray’. If we were operating with another company, it would be ‘Charlie 6 X-Ray, this is Charlie 36 X-Ray’.

 We leave the base camp with 1st platoon taking the point followed by 2nd and 3rd platoons. I locate LT Brown, who has a stocky build and a pleasant smile and fall in behind him in formation. The company moves to a checkpoint where we will wait for darkness.

 Around 1700 hrs, just before we arrive at our holding point we relieve elements from R-6 at checkpoint Golf, a security bunker outside of the west gate to Camp Rainier. R-6 elements are from the 3/22nd Infantry who are assigned responsibility for that post. They return to Dau Tieng. We arrive at our assembly area around 1830 hrs.

The word is passed down from 1LT Ron Hendricks, our C.O. This is Ron’s first assignment as a company commander. He has been reassigned from Delta Co. It is time to head out to our AP (ambush patrol) sites and it begins to rain. I check my watch and it is 1917 hrs.

 Within minutes we enter the Ben Cui Rubber Plantation. There are hundreds of acres of rubber trees stretching upwards toward the dark sky about 30-40 feet. Once under the umbrella of the trees, the stars and night light have been vanquished.

It has gotten so dark that everyone in the platoon has a hand tucked into the ammo belt of the guy in front of him. Without doing this, I can’t see the guy to my front. My eyes won’t adjust to the darkness. We are in the trees and there is no starlight. It’s continues to pour now and all one can hear is the water splashing off of the leaves of the trees and striking the ground. We get an occasional lighting flash that lights up the trees.

 Tonight’s operation has us setting up three separate ambush sites. 1st and 2nd platoons drop out of formation and move off their destinations, and separate from the group. We move forward in the night, just a platoon. I am about 8-10 guys back of the guy on point and following LT Brown. I don’t recall most of the names of the soldiers I am with. We move in silence towards our ambush site. The platoon edges along in the rain, trying to navigate to the site where we are to set up the ambush.

The wind is blowing along with a constant downpour as I wipe the water from my eyes and face. The company left base camp close to an hour and a half ago. There are occasional flashes of lightning again. Everyone scans left and right keeping an eye out for anything moving. Everyone is uneasy and alert moving in these conditions. The suspense builds along with the sweat that is being created under the strain of not knowing if the enemy is out there or what he may be up to.

 Another lighting flash cuts across the sky and I think I see a group of people, 5 or 6 or more, dressed in dark clothing standing on a road to our front. The light is playing off of their rain ponchos. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Did anyone else see what I did? I am unsure and we continue moving forward, toward those figures. I am guessing they were about 100 feet away. I don’t say anything, unsure of what to do. The sky lights up again and this time there is no mistake. Shots ring out and the platoon dives for cover, each of us landing in pools of water and mud on the floor of the rubber plantation. We are as surprised as Charlie as we come face to face less than 50 feet apart.

Because of how we were moving, not everyone has a clear field of fire. I have a number of troops between me and the enemy. There is random and sporadic fire directed at the VC. They are returning fire as well. I can hear the crack of some AK-47’s and then “Whoosh”. I know a RPG is coming and there is a loud explosion to my right, then another one. This one sprays me with shrapnel. Nothing serious, just small fragments in the hands. PFC Juan Antu, a 20 year old Mexican kid  from Yvalde, Texas, one of our grenadiers who packs a M-79 Grenade Launcher, is hit in the exchange.

 
We have no cover other than the darkness that surrounds us. Everyone is staying put from where they have dropped to the ground. Finally, we are returning a base of fire at any muzzle flashes we can see and Charlie disappears into the darkness, the firing stops and the rain, which was pouring down, eases up but the wind continues to blow hard.

 It’s around 2100 hours. We do a quick check to see what our casualties are. Juan Antu, who was in front of me, has taken a bullet. The round hit his helmet, spun around in the helmet liner and entered his skull in the back. I try talking to him, “Juan, can you hear me? Where are you hit”, but I’m getting no response. The medic is busy with other wounded so I try to see what I can do. I’m feeling around on his chest and arms trying to feel for wounds or blood. His helmet is off and he is lying in the wet mud on his back. We can’t risk using any light because we are unsure whether the enemy has fully retreated or still hanging around.

 I continue to try and find out where he is hit. I lift him up out of the water and mud to check his back side. He is limp and lifeless. There are no wounds that I can find to his chest so I probe around on his head and it feels like a cracked egg. He is gone. A good kid, quiet, polite and someone whom I was just getting to know, is no longer. I stare at his limp figure for another minute, then radio for an immediate dust off [a Medevac chopper]. The weather is bad and the winds and rain are heavy. We are told the dust off will have to wait until the weather lifts.

 Dau Tieng “Dust off” says they can’t go up in this wind. An hour later, Dust off 77 attempts to brave the weather, then radios to us that they are aborting the mission and return to base camp. We wait and we can’t get a Medevac for several hours from anywhere. We try and make the wounded comfortable and set up a security perimeter and hunker down in the storm. There is no sign that the VC are still around.

Finally, a crew from Cu Chi volunteers to come to get us, but the team from Dau Tieng makes another attempt and braves the weather and arrives at 2240 hours. I radio to the chopper and try to talk the chopper down to our location. We have a flash light we are using to get his attention. The light is placed into a helmet so it can only be seen from above. There is a clearing that we have moved to alongside the main supply road and a quick security perimeter is put in place. We have more wounded than the chopper can take. It can’t get off the ground. Someone needs to remain behind until a second Medevac arrives. We lighten the load. There are nine wounded on board heading back to Dau Tieng.

 Our KIA is left behind and we have instructions to bring him back to camp in a vehicle. It has been a rough night. What’s left of the ambush patrol waits near a main road for daylight and we sweep the area once more. We find 4 VC ponchos, one with a lot of bullet holes, but no blood trails and no bodies. Not surprising in the heavy rain we had during the night. We report a possible 5 VC body count anyway.

As dawn arrives, a second chopper is ordered to our location, then once again the flight is cancelled by battalion and orders are issued for a second time, to get back to camp via convoy. We finally get Antu loaded on a deuce and a half. The convoy reverses direction and as it heads back toward Dau Tieng, it picks up the rest of the company at their ambush site locations and we are then trucked back to base camp.

We give a briefing and afterwards, I, along with three others, head down to see the medic to get our wounds attended to. I get written up for my second Purple Heart. After leaving the aid station, I head back to our squad tent to catch some sleep.

 The final tally is 13 WIA’s, 4 are hospitalized, and one KIA. Two of the wounded is our commanding officer, Ron Hendricks who remained with 3rd plt as we set out on our ambush and LT Brown. Hendricks is hospitalized for three weeks and we get a temp C.O., 1LT Jimmy Ford to fill in.

Epilogue – Looking back at this night patrol, and thinking about the numerous other ones, too many to count, always reminds me of how quickly a situation can turn from good to bad. No one ever felt at ease or comfortable when we were out roaming around in the dark. Bad things always happened. The whole idea was to make the enemy uncomfortable too, in his maneuvering around at night. It was a disruption tactic, occasionally effective when an ambush was set up and the trap sprung.

Night patrol was the most nerve wracking event we were asked to do. Your imagination had a field day, and you couldn’t see booby traps or other dangers as you walked. The happiest you ever saw anyone in combat was when you entered the “wire” (perimeter of a base camp) from an ambush patrol and knew you were once again “safe.”

The Noodle Shop

May 4, 2010,  By Mark Magnier, Los Angeles Times

The Pho Binh noodle cafe in then-Saigon served as a hide-out for the F100 Viet Cong cell that planned and helped carry out Saigon's part in the January 1968 Tet offensive, a turning point in the war.  

Reporting from Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam — For decades now, the Pho Binh noodle cafe, tucked behind a tangle of parked motorcycles on Ly Chinh Thang Street, has served its trademark dish — "peace noodles."

A survivor of Ho Chi Minh City's relentless real estate makeover, the seven-table eatery ladles out bowl after steaming bowl of the soup, made with strips of beef and piles of rice noodles, fresh basil and cilantro. Many of the appreciative customers are unaware of the very unpeaceful plot that unfolded long ago in the family rooms upstairs.

Nguyen Kim Bach, son-in-law of the late owner, is more than aware of the plot. He was involved in it. Nguyen, 70, is one of the last living members of the secret F100 Viet Cong cell that planned and helped carry out Saigon's part in the January 1968 Tet offensive, using the noodle shop as their base. The surprise attack on targets in the South Vietnam capital failed militarily. So, too, did the broader offensive by North Vietnam against more than 100 U.S.-supported cities and military targets in the south.

But it proved a political turning point, convincing millions of Americans watching reports on TV that the war couldn't be won. "We were beaten that day," Nguyen said. "But after that, the Americans started negotiating." Nguyen's role began in 1965, when he married the eldest daughter of the noodle shop's owner, Ngo Toai. Ngo had brought his noodle recipe from the North more than a decade earlier. He had a street stall for years, eventually saving enough money to open the restaurant. It didn't take long for Nguyen to realize there was more than noodle-pulling going on in the cafe, which was popular with both Vietnamese and American troops.

Encouraged by his father-in-law, Nguyen soon joined the F100 cell, which was responsible for ferrying weapons from northern strongholds to 13 basement caches around Saigon. A few miles from the noodle shop, one of the basements has been preserved as a museum, an artifact of the North's ultimate victory in the war. But victory was far from certain when a North Vietnamese agent named Tran Van Lai bought the building on Vo Van Tan Street and four others in 1965. Tran posed as a rich contractor and spent a year renovating the house, adding secret escape routes through the roof, sewers and adjoining buildings. A dark-haired beauty posed as his mistress to bolster his cover.

The 5-by-30-foot, concrete-lined basement hid 800 pounds of B-40 antitank weapons, AK-47 assault rifles, grenades, dynamite and C-4 explosive. Upstairs, a Sharp Multiband Deluxe radio the size of a small suitcase allowed Tran to communicate with Hanoi and with the Cuchi tunnels, a vast network of underground passageways that served as supply routes and hiding places for Viet Cong fighters. Nguyen and other F100 members helped transport the weapons to Tran and others on carts pulled by buffalo. The arms and explosives were hidden beneath fruit, potted plants and straw mats and secreted in the carved-out base of a traditional Vietnamese bed.

Most were moved during holiday rushes to avoid suspicion. The open peasant carts, unlike trucks, were rarely searched. "We never lost a shipment," Nguyen said proudly. "When we started in 1965, we didn't know the exact date of the offensive but figured it would take a few years," Nguyen said. "Secrecy was so tight, we rarely met.... Most communication was by secret message."

Finally, in late January 1968, the unit got word that the long-awaited offensive would begin in three days. Nguyen and his father-in-law closed the noodle shop, stocked up on food and held strategy sessions in a second-floor back room. Over the three days, more than 100 Viet Cong fighters passed through the noodle shop, some picking up their orders and moving on, others hiding in the attic, where space was so tight that the men slept sitting up. They barely moved and never talked, sustained by steaming bowls of soup.

At 11:30 p.m. on Jan. 30, they got orders to attack designated targets, including the U.S. Embassy and Independence Palace, the seat of the South's government, early the next morning. Fighters fanned out across the city. Shocked South Vietnamese and U.S. troops managed to rebuff the Viet Cong. A few days later, police arrived at the noodle shop and arrested 13 people, including Nguyen, his wife and his in-laws. When the captured North Vietnamese agents were frog-marched to police headquarters, enraged South Vietnamese officers summarily shot the first two.

Nguyen was third in line, a pistol at his temple, smoke curling from its barrel, when the order came to stop shooting. This would seem to have been the luckiest moment of his life. "It was the unluckiest," he said. "The torture that followed was so unspeakable. I wished I'd joined them," he said, referring to his executed comrades.

Scout Dog

Scout Dog

In 1965, both the Marines and the Army initiated scout/patrol dog programs. The Army first deployed IPSD teams In June, 1966 at Tan Son Nhut AFB.  In 1968 10 more teams were added and the last teams arrived in January of 1969. There were two IPSD’s (Infantry Platoon Scout Dog) that we worked with, the 38th located in Cu Chi and the 44th located in Dau Tieng. Two other IPSD’s operated within the 25th Div, the 40th in the Central Highlands at Pleiku then became part of the 4th Division and the 46th in Tay Ninh which joined the 25th after serving the  11th Armored Calvary Regiment sometime in 1968 following the Tet Offensive. There were also a number of Tracker Dog units. These units used Labrador's because of their ability to focus on scents and were used to trail and track down the enemy. The 66th Dog Trackers out of Cu Chi were such a unit.

   Trained to use their keen senses of smell, sight, and hearing, the dogs provide an "early-warning" system for the infantrymen.  They are able to sniff out guerrillas, booby-traps, punji pits, and other potential dangers. To achieve the close rapport necessary between handler and dog, they are paired off at the start of the 13-week training period and are seldom far apart.  They must learn to understand each other's moods and actions, for in combat conditions, each will depend upon the other for survival.  Only if the handler is too badly wounded to continue, will the dog be taken over by another man.


 Arriving in Vietnam, the dogs are given 20 days to adjust to the weather.  "About the worst discomfort our dogs face over here is the heat.  They have two coats of fur, and needed the adjustment period to shed their outer coat," explained 2nd Lt. Ian Jones of Houston, Tex., a IPSD platoon leader. Where scout dogs have been in use in Vietnam, they have proven so effective that the Viet Cong have standing orders to shoot the dog before engaging in any fight with the unit.


The dogs even have their own equivalent of C-rations.  While in the field, they are fed "dog" burgers, which are relatively compact to carry.  In base camp, they eat a mixture of dry meal and horsemeat.  KP is pulled by the handlers, who feed, groom and clean up after the dogs.  Grooming alone takes up two hours a day, but it's all a labor of love.  The men of the scout dog platoon know the worth of their "four-legged friends.

A request for a dog handler and scout dog was almost a daily request by Flame 6 (Battalion) when we were stationed in Dau Tieng and working in the rubber plantations to the east and west of Camp Rainer. The underbrush which grew in some areas of the plantations was ideal cover for enemy movements and excellent cover to hide in from aerial observation. The scout team would always be up front of the column on point working the area ahead looking for those telltale signs or scents of the enemy. One of the dogs we worked together with was “Ringo” a big German Sheppard. The Sheppard’s were the primary dog used for this kind of work using both their eyes and nose to spot danger. There were other dog units, known as Trackers that used Labradors for their keen noses, to pursue and hunt down the enemy.

When Charlie Company was OPCON’d to the 2/22nd in May of 1968 to Trang Bang, we continued to work with scout teams, but less frequently. On May 13th we are engaged in a heavy firefight in a village south of Trang Bang. In the melee of the fight, SFC Charles H Sandberg, from Philadelphia, PA. , 44th Infantry Platoon (scout dogs) is killed accidently along with his dog, Buckshot by a LFT (light fire team) gunship. Jerry Suitor who was with the 38th IPSD, was working with C 2/12th 2nd Plt a few days later when there was another friendly fire incident. Andy Wahrenbrock, one of our medics was hit by a LFT when the pilots got a wrong read on identifying where the enemy was that they were to engage.

During the Vietnam War 1960-'75, about 4,000 American war dogs were employed in various capacities, of these a few died early on in the war from food contamination;  the Vietnam sub tropical climate killed several hundred more...according to the Army Veterinary Corps, 109 war dogs died from heatstroke in 1969 alone; and from June 1970 thru to December 1972, 371 dogs were euthanized as being noneffective in combat, and a other 148 died from various causes; during the entire war 288 were officially listed as killed in action...along with 285 handlers.

More than 9,000 Army, Navy, Marine, and Air Force handlers served in Vietnam during America's involvement. Were the dogs of Vietnam effective? Our military experts and "armchair Generals" will probably be debating that question for the next hundred years.  But any Vietnam combat veteran, that happened to be part of a patrol, that was saved from an VC ambush because of a scout dog's alert or prevented from walking into a mine field...will tell you, the answer is definitely yes! The Viet Cong though so too.....they placed bounties on both, the American handlers and their war dogs!  Estimates vary, but some state that the dogs may have been responsible for the saving of at least 10,000 lives in Vietnam.

Some of the story is from K-9 History, the Dogs of War at  http://community-2.webtv.net/Hahn-50thAP-K9/K9History6/ and another story reference is http://vdha.us/ Vietnam Dog Handler Association.

OH-6A Cayuse

OH-6A Cayuse

I was on the phone talking to Bill Comeau from over in Alpha Co the other day. After some chit-chatting, we got around to talking about helicopters. According to Bill, who arrived in Nam with the first deployment back in ’66, he said during his time with the 4th Division, they rarely used choppers. Matter of fact, he said he never got into one during his entire tour. Apparently all that changed rather quickly with the 2/12th moving over to the 25th Div officially on August 1, 1967. After that date, the utilization of air transport dramatically began to change along with the tactics being used by the Brigade.

Arriving in March of ’68, I was introduced to air flight early on and often. Among the helicopters that we saw coming and going, was the Hughes OH-6A Cayuse, used mostly by the Battalion commanders. The Brigade and Division officers preferred to use the Huey Slicks, primarily for space needs. The amount of radios that were packed into the back of the chopper in the passenger area took a ton of space. All those frequencies that the command needed to monitor or contact was vital to the C&C structure (command and control). Back to the battalion officers and their use of the Cayuse, a very nimble and fast moving chopper, they reminded me of a large bee. There were several versions used, mostly the OH-6A, but there was an “C” model and it set itself apart by having 5 rotor blades.

The chopper nicknamed the “Loach” after the requirement acronym LOH – Light Observation Helicopter,  could hold five people. Anymore than that and the Cayuse couldn’t lift off. Not much good, matter of fact, no good for close in support. After I had made Sergeant, about a month later, the company moved from the Hoc Mon area up to FSB Stuart at Trang Bang, along Hwy 1 and later in October up TL-6A, or 6 Alpha as we called it. One afternoon, late around 3PM, I got a call to see the Lieutenant. HQ wanted to go out to an area east of FSB Pershing the next day and use our platoon. We were told that we would fly a reconnaissance mission and check out the area before we jumped off the next day.

Out on the helipad was a OH-6A parked and waiting for orders. After our briefing, the LT and I walked on out to the pad, and climbed aboard. The pilot started the rotors turning and warmed up the engine. A minute later, we lifted off and headed east to our coordinates. Now, normally one would think, let’s not alert the enemy we are coming. I guess we tried to be somewhat inconspicuous in the process as we buzzed over the tree tops and swept over hamlets and rice paddies on our way to and from our destination. It was a blast riding in that Cayuse. For a brief moment, I had a chance to remove myself from the aspects of war while riding up there in the air. I felt free and removed from it all. The flight seemed all too short for me. Forty five minutes later we were setting back down on the pad at the base. The flight and journey were over. We got the intelligence we needed for the next day. That was my only ride in the Cayuse, but I still think about that day whenever I see a photo of one.

Delta Co's Marvin McCain

The month of June, 1968 was just plain crazy for the Battalion. During the 2nd week alone, there are two reported incidents of accidental shoots by individuals at night along the berm line at Camp Rainer. Accident or were these attempts by individuals to get out of the line?

The various companies were sent hither and yawn and spread out across the landscape. Reading back through the daily journals, it looked something like this. June 13 and 14th, Alpha Co is still OPCON’d to SABRE 6 (11th Cav located at FSB Stuart in Trang Bang). What they are doing is uncertain, but it could be to act as reinforcement of the firebase and control the surrounding terrain. On the 15th Alpha Co is released from the 11th Cav and OPCON’d to the ¾ Cav but remains in place.  Brave Co is pulling AP’s around Dau Tieng minus B26 (second platoon) which is up on top of Nui Ba Dien acting as an additional security force. Charlie and Delta companies are conducting RIF’s in the Michelin Rubber Plantation to the East making contact with a small VC force resulting in two WIA’s and calling for a LFT (light fire team (gunship)) for support.

On the 15th, more of the same for Bravo and Delta hanging around the area, but Charlie Co is airlifted to the southeast to FSB Allen and hooks up with the 101st ABN and conducts operations on the southern edge of the Michelin Rubber and the northern edge of the Boi Loi Woods. They will remain here until late afternoon of June 20th when they are airlifted back to Dau Tieng.

The same day that Charlie Co is airlifted back to DT, Alpha Co is released from the control of the ¾ Cav and also is flown back to DT. As Alpha Co gets off the CH47’s, Delta Co climbs on and takes Alpha Co’s place being OPCON’d to the ¾ Cav in Trang Bang. Later that afternoon at FSB Stuart, around 4PM, PFC Marvin McCain Jr. from the mortar platoon disappears, and as far as anyone knows, that is the last time he is seen. A missing person’s report is filed and Mc Cain is characterized as a loud mouth who speaks with a southern accent. He is 5’10”, 160 lbs, stocky build, brown eyes, black hair, from Alabama.

The missing person’s report also says: “Last seen by members of his unit at 4:00PM near unit’s perimeter. A short time later, muster was conducted for guard duty and evening men’s and member’s absence was noted. A ground search and aerial reconnaissance of area was negative”. Delta company spends the next day, June 21st searching the area with aerial assistance and help from 3/4th Cav. He is not found.

Marvin remains missing until August 17, 1973. His remains are located and later, on November 9, 1973 identified as his. It is unknown where or how his body was discovered. At this point in the war, all U.S. ground troops have returned to the U.S. and only a handful of advisors remain in country. This story is just another oddity of the war.

Task Force Oregon and the Infusion Project

Source: The Americal Newsletter July - August - September 1995

“In February of 1967, General William C. Westmoreland, Commander of U.S. Forces in Vietnam, formed a planning group to organize an Army Task Force to send to the I Corps Area.

(This was in response to the heavy pressure being exerted in the southern region by the American forces against the VC and NVA presence. To counter that pressure, the North Vietnamese Army increased it’s activites against the Marines who were holding the I Corp area. It was a diversionary tactic that drew the attention of Westmoreland. Task Force Oregon was the counter measure that was created and executed. - Sarge)

This planning group, commanded by Major General William B. Rossoni organized a multi-brigade force composed of the 196 Light Infantry Brigade , the 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne Division and the 3rd Brigade, 25 Infantry Division, later redesignated the 3rd Brigade, 4th Infantry Division. (The 3rd Brigade (4th Inf Div) was comprised of the 1/35th, 2/35th and the 1/14th Inf. Reg. at that time.- Sarge)

Task Force Oregon became operational on April 20, 1967, when troops from the 196th Brigade landed at the Chu Lai Airstrip and immediately began search operations around the base camp. Soldiers from the 3rd Brigade, 4rth Division started conducting search and destroy operations in Southern Quang Ngai Province, and in May, the 1st Brigade, 101st Airborne paratroopers arrived at Duc Pho and operations in the jungles west of there.

Early operations conducted by Task Force Oregon included Malheur 1 and Malheur 11, Hood River, Benton and Cook. On 11 September, 1967, Operation Wheeler was launched against elements of the 2nd North Vietnamese Division working in the area northwest of Chu Lai.

On 22 September, 1967, Brigadier General Samuel W. Koster assumed command of the task force, replacing Major General Richard T. Knowles, and three days later Task Force Oregon became the Americal Division, composed of the 196th, 198th, and the 11th Light Infantry Brigades, even though the latter two organizations were still training in the United States.

Operation Wheeler continued and on 4 October, 1967, the 3rd Brigade 1st Air Cavalry Division joined the Americal and immediately launched Operation Wallowa in the northern sector of the divisions area of operations. Operations Wheeler and Wallowa were combined on 11 November and Operation Wheeler/Wallowa was conducted by the 196th Brigade (which replaced the 101st Airbornes 1st Brigade in the Operation Wheeler after that organization departed for the 11 Corps Tactical zone) and the 3rd Brigade, 1st Air Cavalry.

An official change of colors ceremony was held 26 October and the Americal Division became the Seventh Army Division fighting in Vietnam. General Koster received his second star during the same ceremony.”

What brought this story to my attention was thinking back about the transfer between the 4th and 25th’s 3rd Brigade that occurred August 1, 1967. How could a Brigade that is transferred in April 1967 to this task force and ultimately becoming the Americal Division also partake in another transfer between divisions? Well, it didn’t quite happen as you have read. The Brigade was released one month earlier before the Americal Division was officially formed in September, 1967. The 3rd Brigade was replaced by units still forming back in the States.

The interesting note about this story, is that some members 3rd Brigade, 4th Div. which included the 2/12th who originally landed in Vietnam during the 1966 deployment, got tagged to move over to the 196th LIB. Whether this was to increase the size of the brigade prior to the execution of Task Force Oregon, or maybe due to losses that the 196th was reeling from, is unclear. The bottom line is that some former Warriors quickly found themselves fighting in II Corp northwest of Chu Lai. From the relatively flat lands of III Corp to the mountains of the Central Highlands, what a switch this must have been.

Company signs at Dau Tieng

 
Photographs in our collection are from everywhere, and cover every top you can think of. We have hordes of pictures of our fellow commades in arms. Pictures of places we were, of events, temporary housing, buildings, bases, cities, roads, equipment, battles. You name we, we got it, or do we?
 

This article is intended to accomplish two things as I write; bring awareness and start a search for information. IF you dig through the various photo albums you can find a few pictures of what I am talking (paraphasing here) about. Right after the Battalion was settled in at Dau Tieng, thus establishing it's home away from home, a totem pole was erected in front of the Brigade Headquarters. This totem pole was a gift to the unit given to them while on maneuvers in Alaska and was removed from Ft Lewis, Wa. and brought to Vietnam on a bet with LTC Marvin Fuller. After the 2/12th pulled out of Dau Tieng, and then out of Vietnam altogether, the totem pole never made it back to the U.S. Placed in front of the brigade headquarters, along with the totem pole, was a sign with the division emblem and the regimental crest.

So, what am I getting to, you are asking youself? Company bivouac signs, of course. Bravo company had one and their motto was "Bad Ass Bravo". Then on the other side of Bravo, was Delta with their sign and it read "Delta Devils". There is a photo of Alpha Company's guidon flag, but that's it. So, here's are my two questions to you. What was Alpha and Charlie Company's motto AND does anyone have a picture of either of these two company signs? No cheating now because there must be something. If one or two company's had signs, you can bet that ego's would be in play, and the other company's would have one too.

So, where are the company signs for Alpha and Charlie and what were their mottos? It would be great to have photos of these company signs.

Life in Camp Rainier (Dau Tieng)

There are so many places, people and events that I have forgotten about from my time in Vietnam. One of the "pleasures" of being the webmaster, has been my opportunity to exchange emails and conversations with new guys that I have never spoken to or met before. Some of these activities have refreshed my memory.

I have had a number of conversations with my wife either recalling or simply carrying on a casual conversation sitting in our family room. After she has stated some fact, I will look at her in a quizical way and her response would be "I don't make this stuff up you know" which is what I have tried NOT to do in my writings.

When the 3rd Brigade, 4th Div. composed of the 2/12th arrived in Dau Tieng along with the 2/22nd in November, 1966, they were given the task of setting up, I believe the more accurate phase should be construct and erect the base camp for the Brigade. I don't know how long this process took. From what I was told by Benson Bell, who was with HHC and the 4.2" Mortar platoon, there was nothing there except for a few buildings that the French had erected years ago; a few two story affairs, a swimming pool which everyone remembers primarily because of the diving tower that jutted about structure being an above ground pool and other miscellanous structures.

Dau Tieng had everything you could want for a base camp when it was completed. In today's terminology, they would call it a forward operating base but to us, it was DT. I can't remember anyone calling it Camp Rainier, named after the mountain in Washington state. In 1966 and into 1967, barracks quarters were built, along with a mess hall, PX, laundry, EM and Officers clubs. The battalion aid station utilized an existing French building to operate out of. Another building housed a barber shop. Ken Blakely told me that he thought one of the barbers who cut our hair was killed later pursuing his other career as a local VC.

For my brief time that I spent in DT, I have no recollection of most of any of these local establishments. Haircuts and laundry service? How about a little time spent down at the EM club. Nothing comes to mind for me. Right after I arrived, within two weeks, I learned the location of the battalion aid station, having to go down there daily to get the dressing changed on my GS wound I received in my first firefight.

I can clearly remember sitting on the wood floors of our barracks hooch upon first arriving as I was assembling my "gear" and getting ready to actually join the company on field operations. I was loading ammo into my magazines and getting my pack frame set up and adjusted after being told I was going to be part of a heavy weapons squad and I would be packing MG ammo. We had cots and even lockers to store our personnal effects. Eddie Wales or someone had a snapshot of me catching some sleep on my cot and behind me, my locker plastered with the lastest pinup from Playboy.

There were the daily sprints down to the 4 holer to deal with the diarehea. I'm sure for all of us adjusting to the water and the country climate found us spending time reading the Tropic Lightning news while sitting on the can. And, if we were lucky, there was the "sanitation duty" of burning our waste using diesel and a long stick, watching that black smoke curl up into the air and trying everything to keep from inhaling the fumes.

I have visions of the berm line and pulling guard duty, and during mortar attacks sprinting down to the perimeter looking for a safe haven. There were the times we were told to 'saddle up' and head down to the airstrip to wait for a lift to take us out into the darkness because one of our brigade units was catching hell and we were the ready reaction force. Sitting there waiting and wondering what might happen and what kind of hell would we be going to see and experience? All the while, thinking about our mortality and wondering if we would survive and be able to return home in one piece.

If I were to write about remembering these places, I would be lying to you because I don't. The early months were a blur and much of it was convienently forgotten. How many times did we walk or were trucked by convoy out of the main gates to DT and then passed by the outer checkpoints? How about crossing the Saigon River bridge on the way to the Ben Cui Rubber plantation which was off to the west of Camp Rainier? I have no vision of that. Canvas roofs and rows upon rows of rubber trees inside of the camp are very vivid. Fire barrels lining the streets and walking past the momasans who worked in the laundry on the way to the PX? That PX that never seemed to have what we needed. But, what was on that list of wants and desires? Again, me being new to the division and trying to get settled in, I was too busy trying to control my emotions and thoughts. Stay focused I told my self and watch how the veterans do it. A lesson that I totaled ignored during our first major hop from DT during Operation Wilderness, one that cost David Schultz his life.

Dau Tieng, sitting in the middle of enemy territory, and the brunt of frequent mortar and rocket attacks. Our safe haven from the battle front when we came in from the field. A shower, shave, haircut and clean clothes along with a hot meal. And, we had cots to sleep on at night. When I left DT with the batalion as we headed to Hoc Mon the first week of July, 1968, little did I know that would be the last time I would sleep on a "bed" and have a roof over me. Little did I realize that when I left in July, I would never return to that small French Quarter of Vietnam known as Camp Rainier.

The Flame Thrower

Looking back at all the experiences I had to deal with, none stands out more than the time, I believe it was in April, 1968 when I was chosen from the vast pool of available volunteers, to get trained on the practical utilization and operation of the Flame Thrower.
 

Most grunts in the field worked with the Mechanized units and most of them had a M132 "Flame Track" in the company or Battalion. You remember these beasts that sent that burning napalm shooting forward for 200 meters. We had a smaller verion of that. The M2A1-7 portable flame thrower could send a burning ribbon 50-80 meters. This was the only (yep, another one of those "only time moments") time I can recall with my failing memories of the war, that I saw a portable flame thrower. Following my Sarge's orders I went off to learn how to operate one. Bulky and awkward is one way to describe this piece of equipment. The army has serveral models, a two and a three tank version. I had the three tank version set on a back back frame along with the torch and igniters, weighing in at a lofty 60 plus pounds. One tank was compressed gas and the two outer tanks contained the jellied fuel of some variety.

The most difficult task is moving around with this weight on your back. Raising or lowering yourself to the ground is not easy and you are a prime target for enemy snipers to zero in on. Keeping your balance while running was impossible. It was more like an orchestrated dance in the middle of the battlefield.

The flame thrower used a magnesium igniter. There was a canister of 4 or 5 charges (like fuses) that slipped into the trigger assembly, and when activated, burned for a number of minutes before expending itself. During this burn time, by pressing the trigger on the wand and nozzle, the jellied gas would be released from the tanks and ignited and you then directed this burning stream of fuel at your target. Not much to it. The tanks would not explode if hit by a bullet, but mearly leak out their compressed gas or fuel. It took more than a bullet striking the tank to set off the fuel into a fireball. So, what you saw in the movie Iwo Jima with John Wayne is all Hollywood when the flame thrower operator was hit by small arms fire or tripped a booby trapped mine.

While I have some vague recollections of lugging this unit into the field, it did not last long. Matter of fact, I think I only had to use it for one operation out into the Michelin Rubber Plantation which was enough. Fortunately for me, packing this piece of hardware around was abandoned and I could return to a normal (in Vietnam?) life of packing my M16 and being an ammo bearer for the M60 gun grew.

Ingenuity - GI style

Most soldiers who served in Vietnam could offer up a variety of descriptions that dealt with their housing issues. It ran the gauntlet from assigned housing, living in downtown Saigon somewhere, barrack facilities on a base, quonset buildings, or rustic barracks like we found in Tay Ninh or Dau Tieng base camps. Then there was the other type of housing most infantry soldiers dealt with. This ran from sleeping on the ground under the stars or on rain drenched jungle floors. It was in foxholes, in bunkers, or under poncho roofed, sand bagged make shift shelters that we lived in during the monsoon season. Later on, some of us were working out of FSB's (fire support bases) which offered a more prolonged stay with slightly more elevated living quarters.

Our new living quarters were bunkers built down about three feet underground, with a double layer of polypropoline sand bags on the outside which held up two or three sheets of PSP (perforated steel plate, used to build temporary runways) and covered with another two layers of sandbags. The opening which faced inward, that is, to the center of the FSB for safety, was protected with a "splash wall" a structure about two feet wide by four feet long and three feet high. This splash wall protected the interior of the bunker from close proximity explosions, i.e. mortar rounds.

With not much light being able to penatrate the interior, something needed to be done if the GI wanted to use his bunker at night for writing letters etc. and not just for sleeping. A light of some kind was needed. Flashlights were not practical, especially the part of getting batteries for them. What was available were parts to make up a lighting circuit. The batteries from a PRC-25 radio were available since these were changed out by the RTO operators every day or so. Coming in every few days was the water trailer which happened to have tail lights. And wire was in abundance from trip flares and other items. A lamp shade was fashioned out of a "white bread can" from the C-Rations. The last thing to add to our battery, light bulb, lamp shade and wire was a way to turn the light circuit on and off. So, we would wander over to 4th platoon (heavy weapons platoon) and requisition a mortar box.  The wooden box was equipped with a metal latch which swung from a open to closed position. By incorporating that part of the  mortar box into the design of the bunker, you had your light switch. As you entered your bunker, you would flip on the "switch" and be all set.

The last step was to create a "black out" curtain across the bunder entrance to keep the light from cascading out into the FSB. Charlie would really like something like that to toss mortar rounds at during the night. And that is how we fashioned our living quarters at the Pershing Hilton Hotel.

The Intimidation Factor in a War

 

I don't know what it was like in Vietnam before I got there in March of 1968. Reading about the early years of the war from 1965 to 1967, there was a lot happening. The orchestration of the battle plan, with huge airmobile operations dominating all the action involving upwards of a full division or more, looked great on paper and yes, we did have success in sweeping through vast chunks of geography routing the enemy every step of the way. BUT, this was like sticking your finger into a pile of sand. As soon as you withdrew your index finger, the hole disappeared and so did our grip on the land we once stood on. A stark reality that everyone one of us experienced during our time there. It was a war of attrition afterall, and not one of holding real estate. Early 1965, in the Central Highlands, our high command (MACV or someone) determined that the best way to beat the enemy was not by acquiring land, but simply subdue him by forcing him (North Vietnam) to bear the burden of dealing with massive losses of life thus began our quest to "count bodies" as the equation for success. It was all about body count all the way until we left in 1972. What we failed to recognize, is that they did not care about loss of life. It was the "end" that mattered, not the beginning or the middle of the war. The enemy chose to simply "wait us out until we lost the will and resolve to continue on".

As the war accelerated to it's peak in the next few years of 1968 and 1969 when troop strength reached it high point of 550,000 troops or so, the Army was doing everything they could to demoralize the VC and NVA troops. Psycops was running hot and heavy and it even reached out to the field. If they weren't making "leaflet" drops from airplanes, they were broadcasting over loud speakers about the virtues of helping the ARVN and US forces in defeating the enemy. Unlike Robert Duvall in "Apocolypse Now", standing on the river in his "1880's Calvary Hat and looking off into the distance, saying "I love the smell of napalm in the morning", the rest of us serving in the real war, did little "crowing like a rooster".

Guessing mind you, because memories can be fragile, right after I arrived, and after the company had returned from the field, we were resting up in our hooches (quarters) in Dau Tieng. Word came down the pipe from Battalion, that LTC Charles Bauer, our commander wanted his own intimidation factor. Bauer wanted the enemy to know who he was facing. Something that they could recognize from a close distance and something, as they were getting their butts kicked would stick in their minds, that the next time they picked on the 2/12th,  they would have their hands full. Bauer was reminded of what the Battalion had first done when they arrived in Vietnam.

The order went out to the companies to assemble the men, as time permitted, and to have them fall out with their helmets in hand. Stencils were handed out to us grunts along with a can of medium blue paint and a brush. Every camouflage steel pot covering was painted with the silloutte of a splendid Indian with a feather. The "White Warriors" were now "marked" and easily identifiable to "Charlie". According to Sgt Benson Bell, who was one of the first to arrive in Vietnam from Ft Lewis in October, 1966, and served in HHC with the 4 Deuce Mortar Plt as a squad leader, this marking of the steel pot covers was started by Battalion soon after the unit set foot in the Republic of Vietnam. He said they used a black marker on their pots. I wore that pot covering my entire tour and brought it home. Just last week, in going through one of my storage boxes, I was finally reunited with my helmet cover. My old friend was looking a bit tired, but looking at it, brought back a flood of memories. I'm sure Charlie felt the same way.

Meeting up with LTC Richard Wiggins Ret.

It sure was fun meeting up with Dick Wiggins in Palm Springs this past week. We had a chance to talk about the unit and some of the things that went on during our tour in '68. Although he was leading 2nd Plt at the time, I had a chance to deal with him indirectly when I was the RTO for RW "Bud" McDaniel, 3rd Plt's leader. Dick and Bud went through OCS and Panama Jungle Training together and ultimately ended up in Vietnam and in the same company together. Who would'a thought.

We chatted about the 4th of July in Camp Rainier.

From my journal: I’m not feeling well, and come in out of the field ahead of the company on July 2nd and report to the aid station. They send me over to 25th Medical. I have cramps and diarrhea. That is nothing new since I have been feeling this way since I got here. I am diagnosed with Hookworm and they give me Kaopectate and Piperazine for treatment. I go back to the aid station the next day and I am returned to duty. The company returns to base camp on July 3rd.

From 1LT. Richard Wiggins, age 27, 2nd platoon – On the 4th of July, we had a unit party at our C Co CP area, and I remember the cooks along with the 1SG cooking steaks and we had a good bit of beer that day. Late that night, the VC attacked the airbase and we were the ready reaction unit and moved to the airfield to reinforce the bunker line there. We had a lot of incoming and when we did return to our GP mediums where we kept our belongings and slept when there, I remember thinking how lucky we were as there were many, many holes in the roof and sides of the tent from the mortars and /or rockets that hit close by. It wasn't long after that we left Dau Tieng and I went to take command of Alpha Co.”

More from my journal: The VC hit the base camp on July 4th at night after hitting us with hundreds of mortars. We are all out in the bunker line waiting the barrage out. Over on the other side of the camp, the VC attack and get in through the perimeter wire on the 2/22nd side of the base which is opposite of our encampment area. We are pulled out off the bunker line and moved into position near the airfield as a reactionary force in case the VC break through. They are repelled and thrown back. Some damage is done, but the VC pay the price for their bravery. There are bodies laying about in all shapes where they fell. The next morning the area is swept and the bodies are collected and buried.

Moving forward to September, 1968, Dick writes: I replaced 1LT Christenson, who commanded Alpha Company prior to me taking command (September 1968). He's the one that handed me the .45 holster with the White Warrior emblem on it (photo of pistol cover in Wiggins’s photo album). I think I mentioned previously that we were in a firefight not long after I assumed command and I found out real quick the .45 wasn't going to be my primary weapon so I switched to a AR 15 with the collapsible stock. I did carry both for awhile but finally quit carrying the .45 all together. I also carried a lot of grenades and I was never bashful about using them whenever the opportunity presented itself.

I don't remember who my first XO was but Troy Ross was the 3rd PLT LDR for a few months after he arrived and then he became the XO. There were several platoon leaders that I remember serving while I was there. LT Jamison, LT Stanten (KIA'd) LT Placo(sp?), first name Peter, who was relieved of his PLT LDR position for good reason and I think there was a LT Tippa or Tippon, but I may be off on his name. I met Troy Ross when I was at FT Jackson, going through basic training right after I reenlisted for my second time around. I was prior service and they gave me PFC right off the bat and I was wearing jump wings. He was a SSG in one of the basic training companies on Tank Hill and was on PX monitoring duty when I walked in one day. He called me over and asked what I was doing in basic training with PFC stripes and jump wings, so I told him how that came about. We talked several more times during the time I was there and that was it. That is until the 1SG came into the Company CP one afternoon and said there was a 2LT outside reporting for duty to A CO for a PLT LDR slot. The 1SG escorted him in and surprise, it was a brand new 2LT Troy Ross. Another one of those, "It's a small world stories." But during the last half of my command, it was Troy Ross who was the XO.

There was an SFC Terry, who was the 3rd PLT LDR and when LT Placo arrived he took over as 3rd PLT LDR. When he took over the platoon, it was the best platoon in the company and he ran it right into the ground; questioned every mission assigned and then the straw that broke the camel’s back was the night he called for immediate assistance and wanted to be withdrawn from an ambush site along the Saigon River because they were hit and being overrun. We scrambled all kinds of ways to get them out, not wanting to question the validity of what he was saying and it turned out to be bullshit. The next day we went out to the site and the machine guns they left behind and the claymores were still in the same spot they were when they ran off the night before. There is no way on God's green earth that the VC would have left those weapons there had they been in the area. I wanted to get rid of him prior to that and LTC Driesenstok thought I was being too hard on him so he decided to give A Co the night ambush mission that another company was initially going to do and told me to give it to Placo. That was all it took and Driesenstok had him on his merry way out on the first chopper into FSB Pershing that morning.

LT Ross then replaced Placo as 3rd Plt Ldr and did a great job putting the 3rd back in the #1 spot once again. The guy that took command from me was a CPT Matt, who was an older guy, and I heard he was relieved after I left country but I'm not sure what the reasons were or if it was fact. The name, Renker certainly rings a bell in my mind but I can't place him. Another guy that commanded A Co several commanders before me was a Lansing T Hewitt. When I worked at the Ranger School down at Eglin AFB, FL, he was also a Ranger Instructor and we talked several times about our tours and over the years we crossed paths a few more times. I'm not positive, but I think he was a West Point grad and retired as a full bird."

December in Vietnam '68

Tonight is Christmas Eve and it is late and everyone has gone to bed in anticipation of tomorrow. A Facebook posting caught my eye as I was sitting at the computer waiting for that drousy feeling to set in. Peace and quiet is what I am feeling right now, but in 1968, December was not a good month for the Battalion and for Charlie Co.

The month started off with a bang, literally. On the 3rd of December, five guys in the first platoon were killed when Jimmy Sheffield tripped and set off a booby trapped artillery round while we were conducting a sweep east of Pershing. Ausbern, Conley, Bonner, Sheffield and Warner were killed on the spot and a whole bunch of other guys were wounded. A week later on the 10th, two platoons got into it with the VC and Lowry and McKenzie went down and R.W. McDaniel the C.O. was critically wounded and would never walk again. The company digs in and is reinforced with another two platoons from Bravo Company. The enemy tries to overrun the night laager position during the night and is beaten back losing

On December 12th, while C Co 3rd platoon was providing security for the mine sweeping team and patrolling 6 Alpha between FSB Pershing and the ARVN compound outside of Trang Bang, Check Point Alpha, manned by Lt James Merrett, SP4 Ron Stepsie and SP4 Robert Beltran were jumped by a small force of VC and overwhelmed with RPG's and AW fire. All three died in the exchange of gunfire.

Two days later, Charlie Company operating with two platoons conducts a combat assault east of Pershing and just north east of what will become Patrol Base Dees are hit with AW fire right after hitting the landing zone. The company battles for three hours before the VC are taken out. Richard Conlin leading his squad at the point of attack is killed.

Alpha Company looses Cheek, Edge, Hall Jr., Romig, Russell III, and Morrison; Bravo looses Critelli, Sugden, and Vanwey.  Echo Co loosed Dennis Wood. All told, the Battalion suffers 21 casualties during the month. It was a quiet Christmas that we spent at FSB Stuart and Pershing.

December is always a hard month for me thinking about those events. It must be hard on the families as well.

Origin of "Taps"

Where did Taps come from? How did it become THE musical piece used by the military at funerals. Did it have lyrics as well? This article I found on the internet does a lot to explain it's history. 24 Notes That Tap Deep Emotions Jari A. Villanueva Of all the military bugle calls, none is so easily recognized or more apt to render emotion than the call Taps. The melody is both eloquent and haunting and the history of its origin is interesting and somewhat clouded in controversy. In the British Army, a similar call known as Last Post has been sounded over soldiers' graves since 1885, but the use of Taps is unique with the United States military, since the call is sounded at funerals, wreath-laying and memorial services. Taps began as a revision to the signal for Extinguish Lights (Lights Out) at the end of the day. Up until the Civil War, the infantry call for Extinguish Lights was the one set down in Silas Casey's (1801-1882) Tactics, which had been borrowed from the French. The music for Taps was adapted by Union General Daniel Butterfield for his brigade (Third Brigade, First Division, Fifth Army Corps, Army of the Potomac) in July, 1862. Daniel Adams Butterfield (31 October 1831-17 July 1901) was born in Utica, New York and graduated from Union College at Schenectady. He was the eastern superintendent of the American Express Company in New York when the Civil War broke out. Despite his lack of military experience, he rose quickly in rank. A Colonel in the 12th Regiment of the New York State Militia, he was promoted to Brigadier General and given command of a brigade of the V Corps of the Army of the Potomac. The 12th served in the Shenandoah Valley during the the Bull Run Campaign. During the Peninsular Campaign Butterfield served prominently when during the Battle of Gaines Mill, despite an injury, he seized the colors of the 83rd Pennsylvania and rallied the regiment at a critical time in the battle. Years later, he was awarded the Medal of Honor for that act of heroism.

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