HOTEL 3/12
First, I want too thank Skip for creating and managing this
Web site. Outstanding! It took commitment, creativity, leadership and brains,
to move LZ Russell from a hilltop in Vietnam to cyberspace and from the
memories of the Marines who served there to a lasting document. I also want to
thank everyone who has contributed to the LZ Russell Association.
I
was with Hotel from July 1,1969 until a few weeks after Hotel returned to
Okinawa in December1969. My assignment to Hotel began about four months after
the February 1969, attack on Russell. This was back in the days when I was Lt.
P.H. Donahue 0106248 USMCR. When I left Vietnam I was 26 years and one month
old. I was two or three years older than most of my fellow Marines. That was 31
years ago.
The
day after I joined Hotel I was sent to be the Hotel Forward Observer (Six-one
Actual) attached to E/2/4. The attack on Russell was a subject that came up in
Echo from time to time but by the time I came on board most of the participants
had rotated back to CONUS. As a result, I was always curious but never learned much detail about the attack
until this Web site became available.
I
am sending you a copy of the G-2 translation of the
NVA battle plan for the February 1969 attack on Russell. I picked this up
from the E/2/4 company HQ in the rear at Vandergrift Combat Base (VCB) while I
was the H/3/12 FO (“Six-one Actual”) assigned to E/2/4. I’ve been carrying this
around with me for 30 years now. I had the feeling when I first saw it that it
would be important to someone some day and that it was the type of document
that might get lost. I don’t know what happened to the original. I never saw
the original. Skip told me that a Hotel Marine he knew took the original from
the body of one of the NVA attackers.
Although I was a member of Hotel for
almost six months from July 1 until a few weeks after the battery returned to
Okinawa December 1969, I was always assigned out to the infantry as a FO or LNO
until after the battery stood down at Dong Ha. As a result, I was only on
Russell twice for a few hours each time. I did, however, work in the area
around Russell most of the six months I was in Vietnam and I fired many fire
missions from Hotel. I was always pleased and felt secure when Hotel was
assigned to fire a mission I called in. Hotel was a really good battery.
My experience in Vietnam was not
very eventful. I hesitate to put it with the stories of courage and
self-sacrifice I have read here. However, I hope that by submitting this I might locate some of the others I served
with. I would particularly like any information anyone has on:
From Hotel 3/12:
L/Cpl. Bob “BT” or “Character Tango” R.
F. Trainor (FO team radio operator), Cpl. “Spot” L.J. Gazdach (FO team
scout-observer, MOS 0846), PFC “Ski” Grudinski (FO team radio operator), PFC
“New Spot” Mike? (FO team enlisted observer). Capt Ely, Lt. Tom Pace From Echo 2/4: Lt. John P. “Tracer top”
O’Connell 3rd Plt. Cmdr,
Capt. Hutchins (?) CO, Capt. Harry Baxter CO, Gy/Sgt. Powers, Lt. Mike Donohue 1st Plt
Cmdr, Lt. Pete Tharp 2nd Plt. Cmdr. S/Sgt. Jefferson, S/Sgt. Redmond, Cpl. Miller (60 mm
Mortars), Cpl. Cobb, (Cobb, I’ll always owe you for seeing that trip wire!)
Cpl. “Red” Chinivert, Cpl. Calhoun (S-2 Scout) “Squid-Six”, Corpsman “Stinky”,
Chief One and Two, L/Cpl Tom Prince,”Big-un” Cpl.Smitty and Cpl. Braswell
(M-60), the Lebanese Marine (M-60) the lawyer from Texas, Cpl. Peck, Jose One
and Two, “Hucklebuck”, and all you others whose names I can’t remember. Where are you old Jarheads now? If you’re
out there and read this I hope you will give me a call.
I
arrived in Vietnam on Monday, May 27, 1969, fresh from Artillery school at Ft.
Sill, Oklahoma.[1] I came over
with my close friend Bob Fisher of Brookston. Indiana. I remember how hot it
was when we got off the plane. I was called out for the 3rd Marine
Division and “Fish” got the 1st.
We both thought that was bad for me because the AO of the 3rd
MarDiv included the DMZ. He told me I was a “sorry SOB and that I was going to
die.” I said he was wrong as usual and that he’d go under first because he always
had be ahead of me in everything… basketball, beer and girls. We wished each
other good luck and went to our separate destinies.
Bob
was also a FO. He was with the 7th Marines. We wrote each other. He
was having it really rough. Lots of Marines were being severely wounded
and killed. He wrote that there had
been 83 casualties in his company. One was his radio operator who had a sucking
chest wound. Fish dragged him back to saftey. Then he wrote that he’d been hit
too. He said that he had a lucky wound that landed him on the hospital ship
(Repose) and out of combat. He said he was having a great time on the ship “ice
cream and round-eyed nurses.” He wanted me to write. I wrote but my letter came
back. It was marked “No Longer in
Country.” I learned that he’d been released from the hospital and was going on
to a new and safer job. Then he went up on The Wall. I still don’t know what
happened but I’ve been there a couple of times to talk to Bob and some others.
So it goes.
I
didn’t go to Hotel right away. My first month in country I was the FDO for
Mortar Battery (W-“Whiskey” battery) 2/12. This gave me a chance to immediately
use the gunnery I’d learned at artillery school. When I joined W/2/12 they were located with one of the 2/12 105
batteries on a FSB called Whisman. Whisman was on the edge of the A-Shau valley
near Laos. We were supporting the 4th and 9th Marines on
operation Cammeron Falls. Whisman was pretty hot. Whiskey was in steady demand
because its 4.2 in (four-deuce) mortars could reach hard to hit reverse slopes
and masked targets that our Howitzers could not hit. The 4.2 inch mortar is
essentially a 105 round fired high angle with a maximum range of 5500 meters
and a 40X15 casualty radius.
We
had quite a bit of incoming on Whisman. [2]
Most of it was from 82mm mortars but occasionally there was some flatter
trajectory indirect fire. The supposition was that this was from NVA gun
artillery inside Laos. One gun came in really fast. We’d hear it fire and
almost immediately the round would impact. Some thought it was a nearby
recoilless rifle. The NVA had us bracketed but the slope on Whisman made us
hard to hit. I had the opportunity to observe and direct counter battery fire
with our guns while standing right outside the entryway to our FDC bunker. I
didn’t think much of being on the wrong end of the NVA’s gun-target line. One
thing about artillery that others may not know is that when you have a fire
mission you always keep shooting. The firing battery doesn’t take cover. I
heard that right after we left Whisman the NVA scored a direct hit on the gun
pit of one of the 105s. It was occupied at the time.
Once
on Whisman, while we were receiving some incoming, I saw one of our corpsmen
sitting calmly on some sandbags. Everyone else who could was headed for cover.
I said “Doc, you really ought to find yourself a hole!” He just grinned at me
and said, “I was just sitting here thinking that it might be a good time to go
out and make some house calls.”
On Whisman I had an experience that stays with me. One of our Recon teams got in trouble. They were cut off and the NVA had them surrounded. Our battery was shooting for them. Their team leader was on the radio directly with me in our FDC. We started at danger close range (less than 200m) and kept adjusting it closer and closer to the team. Their last adjustment put it right on top. He told me we had good stuff and that I couldn’t get it too close. I think I was the last person to talk to them. I can still hear that brave man’s determined business-like voice. Except for the sounds in the background it sounded like the matter of fact communication you hear when they play back a voice recorder recovered after an airplane crash. I can’t forget those chilling sounds in the background. Then their radio went dead.
After
Whisman, the battery moved to another FSB (I can’t remember the name) and then
to LZ Henderson just outside of “rocket city” VCB. There we received orders to
stand down for return to Okinawa. I had been in Vietnam for only four weeks.
People hadn’t even stopped asking me how short I was. I knew from what I’d seen
on Whisman that I hadn’t carried my share of the workload yet. I put in a
request to be transferred so I could stay in country. My request was approved
and I was transferred to H/3/12. At the Hotel rear I was informed that the
battery was located on FSB Russell and that I was being assigned to be the new
FO for E/2/4. That was fine with me.
The
next day, July 2nd, I flew out to Russell. After some brief
introductions and a quick look at the battery, I flew out to Tien with some
other new replacements that were joining Echo. While on Russell I got a brief
tour of the battery and then I joined some other replacements and caught the
next CH-46 chopper to Tien, a hill about 1.5 km west-southwest of Russell where
E/2/4 was then located. Tien served as a company patrol base/tactical HQ for
E/2/4. A section of 81mm Mortars and a 106mm recoilless rifle section were
located on Tien under the op/con of Echo. I thought I might have some time to
snap-in with the FO I was replacing (I’ve forgotten his name) but he left the
next day. I believe he became the FDO of a 155 SP Howitzer battery at VCB.
When
I joined Echo there were only a few men that had been in Echo when Russell was
nearly overrun on February 25,1969. However, everyone in Echo definitely knew
about the NVA attack on Russell. I was told that Echo had over 50% casualties
there. Later, after Vietnam, I attended the ceremony where Capt. Hill (Echo’s
CO on Russell) was awarded the Silver Star for his bravery on Russell. The
citation described him killing a NVA in hand-to-hand combat.
Echo
had a significant combat history in addition to the battle on LZ Russell. The
most widely known event in Echo’s past was the famous action in May 1968 at Dai
Do. Echo’s CO Capt. James Livingston won the Medal of Honor at Dia Do. When I
joined Echo over a year later, a number of our Echo brothers (black Marines)
wore “Dia Do” bags. These were little bags made from a piece of green T-shirt.
The bag was worn around the neck on a short bootlace. It contained a little bit
of dirt. The dirt was from Dia Do where so many brothers had fought and died.
These were passed down from friend to friend.
More
than a few of the grunts I knew were superstitious. Other superstitious items
were wearing a hand grenade pin in your bush hat for each grenade thrown in
combat and the spoon from the first C-rat meal you ate in the bush.
Another
important Echo action had occurred April 1969 when Echo had cornered the
remnants of an NVA battalion in a cave complex. A few NVA surrendered but the
rest were taken out with flame-throwers. One of the wounded NVA Echo captured
was a NVA company commander.
Echo’s mission at that time I joined them
was to provide early warning for any NVA incursions from the north, across the
DMZ or from the west and to provide additional security for Russell. We were to
make contact with and destroy the enemy. We did this by putting patrols and
ambushes on the NVA trails throughout our AO. We kept one platoon-sized patrol
out at all times and we ran ambushes every night.
A “platoon-sized” patrol usually consisted of
about 14 to18 men including attachments. Our patrols were from four to eight
days long. This went on for the next 56 days. I went on about one of every
three patrols. Patrols had multiple missions but the main mission was to find
and take out the enemy. Our patrols always encountered enemy sign but contact
was light and intermittent. The patrols I went on were lucky patrols.
Joining
a Marine Rifle Company in combat as their new FO was a pretty lonely experience
for me. At first, it seemed like they thought I had leprosy. It wasn’t
personal. It was simply that FNGs…and especially “brown bar” FNGs, couldn’t be
trusted until they’d survived long enough without any major screw-ups to earn
the right belong. They cautiously checked me out on land navigation and safe,
long distance, practice fire missions. It seemed like every grunt in Echo had a
“short round” story to tell. They were not enthusiastic about using artillery.
I
will never forget the day that I was accepted into the Echo brotherhood. One
night I was awakened by some friendly H&I fire that was coming in really
close to us. I didn’t know what was going on but I knew it was not right. I
“check-fired” that mission right away. About that time Gunny Powers, came over
to my hole. He was nearly in a low crawl. He asked me anxiously if I could “get
that shit stopped.” I told him I already had. The next morning he actually
seemed to be smiling at me. Later he gave me a brand new K-Bar. I belonged. I’m
as proud of that career advancement as any I have ever had.
We
had a variety of patrol assignments. On one patrol, for instance, we were to
call in TacAir to destroy a company sized NVA bunker complex that one of our
earlier patrols had found. Another was to disable a large NVA bunker complex by
exploding long-lasting CS gas powder inside the bunkers. On another we were to
burn out a stand of elephant grass along the S bank of the Cam Lo river using
81m Mortars firing WP. The grass gave the NVA good cover after crossing the
river and for setting up their ambushes. Once we were assigned to insert and
recover a Marine sniper team. Another time we dropped off a Marine Force Recon
team.[3]
On
one patrol we had two South Vietnamese army scouts with us. They were convinced
that we were going to be hit so they began digging a hole in the middle of the
jungle in the middle of the night! The noise they were making wasn’t helpful if
that was the situation. Since we couldn’t convince them to stop digging without
resorting to methods we weren’t allowed to use on our allies, the platoon
commander and I resolved to try out their new foxhole if we did get hit. We
flew them out the next morning and continued our patrol. We were glad to see
them go. We later heard that they wanted us to kick them off our patrol because
they had some complaint about their pay.
On
another patrol we had two Kit Carson Scouts (former NVA) named Moc and Sim with
us. They were Montanyard tribesmen. They were very dark and as small as primary
school-aged children. We later learned
that they had not actually been NVA but had been forced to dig trenches for the
NVA around Khe Sanh. They had endured our bombings and NVA abuse and they hated
the NVA. We had a lot of respect for these primitive little warriors who were
as gung-ho as any Marine but they were treated as second class citizens in
their own country. They were disappointed that we weren’t finding more NVA.
They were really impressed when they each got to fire one of our “bloopers”
(M-79 grenade launchers). They smoked some Cherry Blend pipe tobacco we got
them from a SP pack in their little hash pipes. They kept after us to get them
more. They ate a “NVA” snake one of our squads “ambushed.”
One
of the more unusual patrols I went on with was an eight-day bomb damage
assessment patrol. Someone higher up had decided to deny the NVA the use of a
ridgeline running north-south to the west of Tien. A “Mini Arc Light” had been ordered to precision bomb the area.
Bombing by A-4s and Phantoms dropping 500 lb. “snake eye” bombs some with delay
fuses went on for several hours. The next day our patrol was lifted into the
area-or what was left of it. I could not believe the thoroughness and precision
of the destruction. It was almost like using an eraser on a chalkboard.
The
whole target area looked like a picture of the battlefield at Verdun during
WWI. The destruction went right down the eastside of the ridge from the top to
the bottom…and nowhere else. There were giant craters of red-brown Vietnamese
soil everywhere and not much remaining vegetation. Tall jungle trees had
vanished. Big pieces of jungle had vanished! The clear stream that always ran
at the bottom of a ridgeline was completely covered with dirt. What should have
been at the bottom of the stream was now on top of this dirt. I remember seeing the strange sight of a NVA
A-frame bunker still intact on the side of a 500 lb. bomb crater. We wandered
in and around this amazing wasteland for most of the eight days. Although
artillery damage is impressive this was incredible.
On
this patrol I had my only negative experience with our air wing. I was the last
man out of the CH-46 helicopter after it had already made two previous flights
to insert our patrol into the bush. The chopper crew was eager to get away.
They didn’t like making repeat landings in the same unsecured spot. As I
lumbered to the rear ramp carrying about 60 lbs. of gear[4],
the ramp started closing and the chopper started to lift off. When I got near
the ramp I could see we were already off the ground and rising rapidly.
Suddenly, I was “helped” out of the chopper by the boot of the crew chief in
the middle of my Alice pack. I pitched out over the end of the ramp tumbled
over and landed on my back with a thud in a cloud of dust. “Pissed” isn’t a
strong enough word. The thought of using my Colt .45 in an anti-aircraft role
crossed my mind. After I got my breath back, I disregarded the tactical
situation long enough to express some of my profane thoughts. Finally, the
grins, and jeers of my grunt friends snapped me out of my bad mood.
As
I gained experience, I began to understand that the main reason the grunts were
afraid of artillery was that they didn’t understand it very well. I resolved to
spend as much time as I could to teaching as many grunts as I could how to
shoot artillery. Some of them really took to it. One of my best students was
killed later by an NVA satchel charge on August 12, 1969, during the NVA sapper
attack on our 3rd Platoon on Hill 715.
Sometime
in late July or August of 1969 the order came down that I was to shoot 150
rounds of artillery a day. This is rather difficult to do everyday. It meant I
had to have a fire mission going nearly all the time. This order gave credibility
to the rumors that were surfacing about a pull out. Why else would we be
shooting up so much ammo? In order to meet this requirement I was shooting
everything we had. I shot 175s, 8 inch, 155s tracks, 155 split trails and a lot
of different 105 units including one Army 105 track unit (Alpha 1st
of the 5th I think). During this time I’m sure I shot Hotel every
day. I was getting pretty good at adjusting fire. One afternoon I was firing
one of the 155 SP batteries shooting in some NPFs (Night Protective Fires) for
Tien’s perimeter. They were good and tight and I had good cover on the far edge
of our perimeter. I just kept bringing them in to about 70-80 M. You could do
that with a track gun carriage weapon but it was risky to try this with a towed,
split-trail weapon.
I
remember that Hotel was always good. I never worried where their rounds were
going to land as long as I called in a correct mission or adjustment. I believe
that Hotel enjoyed an excellent reputation throughout all of north I Corps. I
never heard anything negative about Hotel. This wasn’t true of every battery.
Once when Bob Trainor (my radio operator-a wireman by MOS) and I were shooting
another battery we were adjusting from a position about 600 M perpendicular to
their G-T line. From our position we could clearly see all their range spread
when they fired for effect. None of their rounds were close together and they
were spread out over about 600M. I told Bob to give them end of mission and
planned to take this problem up with them by the back channel.
Bob
was good at shooting artillery. He knew what was wrong so, in his special way,
he translated my end of mission into something more expressive. We were some
distance apart so I couldn’t hear what he said. Minutes later he looked at me
curiously and handed me the radio handset. He informed me that Alexander Six
Actual (the 12th Marine Regiment CO) was on the line for me. The
Colonel began with “The next time you have some complaint about one of my
batteries you will ….” It went downhill from there. I’m sure that I got one of the better
butt-chewings that ever went out in the clear over a PRC-25 in north I Corps.
Then I was given one of those “this is a direct order” instructions. It
required me to help that battery shoot in individual piece corrections for the
rest of the afternoon. They did need those corrections!
My second visit to LZ Russell occurred when I volunteered to lead a fireteam of grunt volunteers from Tien over to Russell to pick up some replacements and “Big’un” (a rifleman) who was returning from R&R in Hong Kong. I wanted to visit Russell and the grunts that volunteered either had friends on Russell or just wanted something different to do. Our replacements were late in arriving so I got to hang around and drink beer and shoot the breeze with some of the men in Hotel. Although Russell was only a little over click away on the map it was farther than that using the old NVA jungle trail that ran off the back (S) of Tien. It was indian country out there.
There were several good places for an ambush. There was an ominous clearing where there had once been an old fire base. You couldn’t cross there without being exposed. This spot made me nervous since at least once the NVA had even prowled around in our wire at Tien. I remember coming up on Russell and zig-zaging our way up Russell’s sloping SW side through what seemed like a mile of every kind of defensive wire entanglement. I think we went through three different gates in the wire. When we arrived, everyone on Russell made us feel really welcome.
The men we were sent to get were delayed in arriving. It was late afternoon when we finally got ourselves organized to return to Tien. After we got out of visual contact with Russell I began to worry whether we had enough daylight to get back to Tien. Having more than doubled in size we weren’t moving nearly as fast or as carefully as our fireteam did going over. The new guys were noisy and huffing and puffing. It was slow going. I sure didn’t want to get caught in between Russell and Tien with a lightly armed fireteam, a guy who badly needed to rest up from his R&R and a bunch of wide-eyed FNGs. I called a halt and explained the situation. I must have made myself clear. After that, we almost had to hold our replacements back to keep them from sprinting down the trail. We really had to hurry but we made it before dark.
The
good news was that we were getting replacements and I wasn’t the duty
FNG anymore. It was true. The men stopped joking about how short I was. It is
also true that by the time I went on my last op with Echo, after being with
them barely over three months that I was in fact one of the old-timers.
In
the early hours of August 12, 1969, NVA sappers attacked our 3rd
Platoon. The 3rd Platoon had been operating a platoon patrol base
west of Tien for about a week. I recall that they had one or two 81 mortars
with them. Spot our Scout Observer from Hotel was there. This was unusual
because I usually went out with the 3rd platoon. This time I was to
stay with the CO on Tien. This action was reported in the book U.S. Marines
in Vietnam, High Mobility and Standdown 1969. Third platoon had 2 KIA
(“permanent routine” Medevacs) and 5 WIA. The platoon found 3 NVA bodies. A
week or so later, when I was on a company op going through the area, we found
some graves and dug one up at the request of S-2. (The NVA always buried their
dead with their heads pointed north).
During the attack, Hotel fired illumination.
The 81mm mortar(s) on the hill fired HE. We had to interrupt Hotel’s mission so
the Medevac chopper could come in and also when Spooky (C-140 with mini-guns
and illumination flares) came on station. The NVA were so close it was hard to
use supporting arms. Spot was very experienced and always cool under pressure.
He did a great job of adjusting. Not long after Spooky came on the scene the
NVA withdrew.
My
good friend Lt. John O’Connell got the Silver Star for that action. There were
also some Bronze Stars awarded. I wrote Spot up for a Bronze Star but I don’t
know if he got it. He definitely should have it. He rotated back to the world on September 3, 1969. Spot told me once that earlier in his tour
he had had every FOs dream. He shot NGF from the battleship New Jersey’s 16
inch guns. I really hope we can get Spot to send his story in.
After
the sapper attack on the 3rd platoon, Echo left Tien for good. We
started moving the whole company at least a click a day never spending two
nights in the same location. I kept on shooting Hotel whenever I had the chance
and I tried to plan H&I targets that would keep the NVA off guard and maybe
actually catch them.
After
leaving Tien and moving as a company for 10 days or so, Echo went back to VCB.
We thought we were going to Company R&R. It wasn’t so. We had a day or two
off. I was asked to shoot in some of VCB’s plotted Final Protective Fires that
hadn’t been checked for a while. I also got called out in the rain to do a
crater analysis on a very suspicious single round of “incoming” that seemed
like it could have been from one of VCB’s own 81mm mortars.
After
this brief two-day rest Echo divided up into its three platoons. One platoon
was on call at the helopad as a ready reaction platoon (“Sparrow Hawk”) that
could be air-lifted into emergencies. Another platoon was convoy security
“Rough Rider” duty. They rode hardened trucks protecting the convoys between
VCB and Dong Ha. The other platoon was assigned to guard Highway 9 between VCB
and the Rock Pile and to set night ambushes on likely avenues of approach.
Echo’s three platoons rotated these duties every other day or so.
I
was assigned to the group guarding the road. This was the spot where it seemed
a FO might do the most good. Mike “New Spot” was with me. The NVA seemed to
know where we were and bypassed all our ambushes. However, they did manage to
set off explosives that damaged the road several times. Just before this
assignment ended the NVA let us know they knew where we were by shooting a pair
of 107 rockets at us right at first light. The rockets were dead on but just
barely over our heads. We were on a little ridge so they passed safely over and
landed behind us. I did a crater analysis and VCB shot a number of nine-point
zone and shift missions at known launch sites that matched the crater analysis
data from my Shellrep. I was told later that a patrol checking out one of these
targets reported finding some confirmed kills.
While
we were out of the bush, Echo was also assigned to guard Keh Gio Bridge for
about a week. Then we went back to the bush on a Company Operation that ended
up on Mutter’s Ridge.
I recall a couple of other LZ Russell
antidotes. We had a trooper contract malaria. He had had chills for several
days. We’d been watching his temperature all day. Finally, late in the
afternoon it got to 104 and stayed there. Our chief corpsman “Squid Six”
recommended that he be Medevaced. We were in the bush so the chopper hovered
overhead and dropped a Neal-Robertson stretcher/ jungle penetrator. When the
crew chief tried to raise the 50 ft cable it wouldn’t move. The pilot decided
to just climb straight up letting our Marine dangle from the cable. I can still
see him swinging up there about 2000 feet headed for Russell. They set him down
on Russell and put him inside the chopper for the rest of his ride to Delta Med.
While
Echo was on Tien we had watched Russell taking incoming mortars a number of
times. We could never figure out where they were coming from. Our patrols were
on the lookout for likely sites. After we left Tien, Echo was moving southeast
along the forward slope of a ridgeline just west of Russell. We walked right
into a well-hidden and well-used NVA 82 mm mortar position. I was up near the
front. The NVA had very recently been making some improvements to their mortar
pit and an A-frame bunker next to it. We found some mortar caps. We could see
the imprint of the base plate and the bamboo aiming stakes. The mortar was
gone. The NVA left behind a bayonet they had been digging with. The NVA had
cleared away just enough jungle to give them a little tunnel in the bush with a
clear view of Russell.
It
turned out that the NVA hadn’t been gone long or far. Their backdoor security
was right under our noses. While we were fanning out to secure the area and
inspect their mortar pit some of the NVA took off running to the west. I recall
that the grunts got off a few shots (“busted some caps”) and chased them for a
while. I don’t recall that there were any hits or blood trails. As far as I
know Russell didn’t get mortared again for some time.
A
day or two before we got to Mutter’s Ridge, while we were getting ready to wade
across the Cam Lo river, a NVA mortar team walked right across our front in the
clear on the other side of the river. There were about 8 of them and they were
carrying their mortar. They had just finished a successful mortar attack on the
Marine company on our right. This company had been mortared while waiting to
board helicopters. Our machine guns opened up on the NVA. I got artillery
going. I’m fairly sure Hotel was shooting. We got an Air Observer in an OV-10
on station. He took over from me while we got ready to wade across the river.
The AO spotted the NVA taking cover in one of our old deserted positions on top
of a hill. The AO kept them pinned down with his rockets and artillery. Echo assaulted
the hill but somehow the NVA slipped away.
We
continued on and ended up on Mutter’s Ridge. It really rained on us up there.
The monsoon season had begun. It rained day and night and there was a lot of
wind. We didn’t have any cover. It was cold and we were sitting, eating and
sleeping in water and mud for several days. My wrinkled skin looked like I’d
been in a bathtub for a week. Bob was in his jungle hammock. He had tied it to
what must have been the only two tree stumps still remaining on that bombed
out, barren hill. Once I remember seeing the rainwater running out the bottom
of his hammock in a stream about two inches wide. At least he wasn’t lying in
the mud. This outing was further complicated by the fact that a number of us
had come down with dysentery.
After
a few days, we were lifted out from LZ Mack back to VCB. When I arrived I was
reassigned to be the 2/4 Arty. LNO “the two-four” at the Battalion CP at the
Rock Pile. I took Bob Trainor with me because I wanted to have someone around
who had experience with a FO team in the bush and because he and I worked
really well together as a team. Hotel’s CO, Capt. Ely came down to visit us at
the Rock Pile. I was with 2/4 HQ until 2/4 came out of the field in late
October or early November 1969.
I
had been the Echo FO from July 1, 1969 to October 5, 1969. Even though I was
pretty sick with the cramps and chills that dysentery brings and glad to get
away from the rain on Mutter’s Ridge, I was really very sad to leave my
shipmates of Echo. Looking back, it is remarkable how hard these very young men
pushed themselves-always taking whatever risks were necessary to do their
difficult job. It is also remarkable to look back and know-without any qualifications- that any of these men, many of whom I barely got to know, would have
laid it all down for me, just as I would have done for them.
That
is a feeling that didn’t seem so strange then…but it sure does now. It’s a rare
kind of loyalty that puts all differences aside. It’s why I think some
Viet-vets refer to each other as brothers (“Bros”). Frankly, it’s what the
Marine Corps is all about. You don’t normally get to experience anything that
emotionally intense with any of your other co-workers or neighbors. It is
certainly a unique type of caring and very special feeling.
The
Marines I got to know in E/2/4 and H/3/12 were a fine a bunch of men. It was an
honor to serve with them. They were brave, high-spirited, mildly irreverent,
capable, resourceful and resilient. Good kids on a mean street. While the kids
at home were experiencing the “summer of love” youth culture of the late 60’s,
these young warriors had had their youth prematurely and brutally cut short by
the war… and they knew it. But they always did the job. I can still hear them
bitching about the “one good deal after another Crotch”, using the F-word like
it was a new part of speech, arguing over whose turn it was next to read the Sergeant
Rock comic book or Playboy , and bragging about their non-stop
debauchery on R&R. I can hear them joking that they were short enough “to
do a high-dive off a razor blade” or so short that they’d “have to stand on a
footstool to screw a piss ant”. I recall the sayings like “I might but I f…ing
doubt it” or “What are you going to do shave my head and send me to Nam?” or
“If I still had that many days to do here I’d just go frag myself.”
I
can remember listening late at night on hole watch on a spare PRC-25 radio to
the illegal ”bullshit net” and hearing a self-styled DJ who called himself
“King Arthur” playing Motown recordings for “all of his P’s in the bush.” I
think back how tired we got of C-rations. If anything else showed up we’d
devour it and ask questions later. “Ski” netted some minnows in a stream with
his sweaty T-shirt. He fried them up on a flat piece of C-rat can over some
burning C-4. With Tobasco sauce and some moldy Boston Cream Pies that Bob got
in the mail they weren’t too bad. I remember our mixed-up feelings of
superiority, fear, hatred and respect for our NVA enemy. A lot of Marines put
peace signs on their helmets. I saw a NVA pith helmet elaborately tattooed
inside with a peace dove and a poem. There was a tree on the trail W of Tien
where the NVA had carved “Marines on Tien die.”
I
can remember the grunts critiquing, with an infantryman’s logic and choice
syntax, the dumb ass decisions of the Pentagon or gripeing about the chow, the
bugs, the rats, the mud, the dust the heat; and complaining that the war had
become a complete “cluster f. …” and doing this while they were putting on
their packs and checking their weapons getting ready of another day at work. No
one, not even our bona fide
heroes-and we had some- thought about themselves as doing anything special. The
goal was just to get the job done, take care one another and then, with a little
luck, go home in one piece when your time was up.
While
I was with Echo our casualties were really “light” considering where we were
and what we were doing.[5]
“Light” that is, unless you were one. The Echo tradition was to split up the
gear of those we lost. Friends just claimed their gear (except for personal
effects that were sent to the rear). It was done on an honor system. After Hill
715 a couple of grunts form the third platoon handed me a state flag from the
pack of one our KIAs. It belonged to a grunt Marine I that had been teaching
how to shoot artillery. His squad thought I should have it…and after 30 years I
still do. I believe we also lost two Marines to non-combat causes. During a
storm, a tree fell on one Marine and crushed him. We lost another to heat
stroke. There were some showing signs of PTSD. There were some non-combat
injuries also, After my first few days on Whisman I thought it would just be a
matter of time until I was wounded. But I was lucky. I never got a scratch. I
still have a little bit of survivor’s guilt.
Next I was reassigned be the Arty LNO for 3/4 at Dong Ha. 3/4 was responsible for screening our withdrawal along the north bank of the Cua Viet AO and for defending Dong Ha Combat Base. Everyone else was non-tactical and getting ready to leave. The base was filling up with Marines and equipment but our defenses were really pretty thin. My job was to keep us connected to some source of indirect fire support while everyone was standing down. I worried that the NVA would take advantage of our situation. There wasn’t any book to go by.
After
just a few days there weren’t any more Marine artillery units available. We
still had one company coming in from the bush and another on our perimeter. I
found an Army battery that briefed me and set us up with direct radio
communication and priority fire support. They were great guys. This really made
me breathe easier. I only had this job for 10 days then 3/4 stood down too. I
am proud of the job I did during this strange and hectic period. A 122 rocket
hit one of 3/ 4’s hooches during this
time and killed several Marines.
I
requested to be transferred to the 1st Mar Div. Compared to the work
done by others I knew I was still feeling like a slacker. I also wanted to try
to become an Air Observer and I hoped that by staying in country I could get
into the school. I was on the list to go to the school. This time my request
for a transfer was not approved. I rejoined Hotel. I didn’t know anyone there.
I only knew the other FO teams and them only by their voices on the radio. I
enjoyed being reunited with the artillerymen of Hotel. They were a great bunch
of Marines.
On
Thanksgiving Day we boarded LST 980 the Meeker County at Cua Viet for our
“cruise” to Red Beach at Camp Hansen Okinawa. A storm broke out in the South
China Sea. It was a rough ride. I found it exciting to be on a ship in the
storm. It seemed like everyone was seasick. I’d been seasick before but for
some reason I never did get sick on this trip. I never missed a meal even though
the ship was bouncing like a cork. There were some others from Hotel who did
not get sick. It seemed like those of us who felt OK were rather permanently on
guard duty. A couple of our Hotel Marines spent enough time at the helm of the
LST to become qualified as helmsmen.
My
tour with Hotel ended a few weeks after we returned to Okinawa when I was
transferred to Golf 3/12.
As look back on Vietnam the daily things I remember most clearly are the things that get overlooked in most of the movies. I remember sleeping and eating in the rain, the weird feeling you get on “hole watch”[6] in the jungle at 0330 when everything around you starts to move. I remember the night a tree lizard fell out of the tree I was sleeping under. It landed right in the middle of my bare chest just as I was beginning to doze off after coming off my watch. He was heavy and had scratchy little toenails and beady eyes. The lizard went one way and I went the other. We were both pretty scared. Then I heard the safteys clicking off all around our perimeter. Everyone instantly went on full alert. I had to crawl around and pass the word for everyone to secure. I was hoping I wouldn’t get shot while crawling up to the platoon CP. Some of our grunts we were rather quick on the trigger. The next morning I had some explaining to do.
I remember how we slowly learned to put “the world” on the brain’s back pages. We quickly figured out that the fury of war was totally random and completely unpredictable. It was like a Greek play. Fate was in complete control. You could get more safe or less safe but you couldn’t get safe. “The shit” could happen anytime to anybody anywhere. We knew the NVA always knew where we were but we were never sure where they were. They seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. After a while, home began to seem like a confusing dream you wake up from and can’t recall clearly. I carried my girlfriend Betty’s picture. I watched it fade away and fall apart. The same thing began happening to my ability to connect to my former life.
I remember the disarming, steaming green splendor of the jungle, the chronic loss of sleep, jungle rot, the thorns on every plant, giant red centipedes, the smell of the diesel fuel “burning the shitters” in the rear, being afraid of letting others down, being afraid of being afraid, the operational screw-ups, trying to remember what day of the week it was, wondering if there was anyone who had actually seen a USO show, the Catholic priest with the nice tenor voice who came out to the bush and gave us a good sermon, the peace signs, the “black power” hand shakes, the humor, friendship, brotherhood, moments of profound loneliness, warm Carling Black Label beer, frustration, bugs, heat, sweat, dirt, emotional stress and physical exhaustion.
We were conscripts and volunteers, hard chargers and slackers, combat hardened short-timers and FNGs, school drop-outs and college kids, believers and atheists, hippies and preppies, blue collar and white collar, lifers and reservists…we were a racial, geographic and ethnic melting pot. We were in a war no one seemed to want or know what to do with. The common denominator was that we were Marines and we were there. We had our duty and we had our responsibility to each other, to family and friends, to all the Marines who had gone before us and to the country that sent us to Vietnam. When the chips were all down, this responsibility always came first. Some had to take so much. Others had to give too much. Some had to take leave of us too soon. I am proud to have had the privilege to march behind their Colors. My wish is to never forget their sacrifice.
Over the years my perspective has become more global. Overall my feelings for the war are feelings of sadness and regret for all the destruction and pain it caused and still causes to so many both here and in Vietnam. As a lawyer, I’ve had clients who still suffer from the emotional side effects of too much war…a war that still controls their lives and prevents them from moving on. I have friends who have visited Vietnam. I am glad to know that the Vietnamese people seem to have put it behind them in an exemplary way. This is a fitting tribute to the courage, determination and sacrifice of their brave fighters and to all the soldiers on both sides. To me, it fits with the little Vietnamese kids that smiled and waived to us when we went by them on the road. In our own country, where so few had any real contact with the war, Vietnam is vanishing even more quickly.
My two sons think all this Vietnam and Marine Corps stuff is very strange. How does anyone explain it? I get confused. I saw a bumper sticker a while ago. It said “I’m no desert hero, I’m just a jungle grunt.”[7] There it is!
Thanks for your interest. Greetings to all and best wishes.
SEMPER
FI
Lawrence,
Kansas
June 1, 2001
[1] In 1964, in my junior year of college I dropped out. I needed to earn some money. I enlisted in the Marine reserves. I went to boot camp at Parris Island, to ITR at Camp Lejune and then to communications school at LFTU, Coronado Island (San Diego). When my six months active duty was up, I worked for four months then I went back to college. I finished my degree and got a master’s degree. I was in the active reserves for 3 1/2 years (the 101st Special Rifle Company later L/3/24). I went to three summer camps. I was a corporal and a machine gunner, training NCO and a radio operator. When I finished school, I decided to go back in the Marines. In February 1968, I entered OCS at Quantico. I broke my leg in OCS. This interrupted my training. I’d probably have been in Vietnam six months sooner if I hadn’t broken my leg.
[2] A day and a half before I arrived there had been a NVA ground attack on Whisman by the 5th and 6th
Companies of the NVA 24th Rgt. G/2/4 had the perimeter. Golf company lost 4 killed and killed 14 NVA. They captured two of the RPDs the NVA used in the assault. The NVA were still probing. My first night on Whisman our listening posts had so much enemy activity that they threw their frags and ran back behind the saftey of our wire not long after dark. The first Vietnamese I saw was a NVA Chu Hoi prisoner. He was tied to pole by our CP bunker. He looked pretty harmless to me.
[3] This might have been later on a company-sized op. The common method for inserting our Recon teams was by helicopter. A chopper landing in the middle of nowhere however was certain to arouse suspicion. The NVA developed specially trained counter-recon teams that used dogs. Inserting our teams by dropping them off from a larger unit was a remedy that worked.
4 On our patrols I carried up to eight C-ration meals (2 per day sometimes if we were lucky we could get some of our meals in Army MREs “longrats” we only took what we really wanted to eat and left the rest behind), six canteens of water, spare battery for the PRC-25 FO radio, a CS gas grenade (for emergency use in breaking contact), yellow smoke grenade (for bringing in choppers), two or three fragmentation grenades (I preferred the baseball type to the regular M-26 “lemon” fragmentation grenades because I could throw them better), map, compass, rain suit, pair of 8x50 binoculars, 2.5 lbs of C-4 plastic explosive, poncho, poncho liner, notebook, K-Bar, flashlight and spare batteries, M-16 with 10 magazines of ammunition (my TO weapon was a .45 pistol. It was not reliable. I often borrowed an M-16 to lend more firepower to the patrol. I would leave the .45 with the Marine that loaned me the M-16). Later I acquired a civilian Smith and Wesson K-38 and a box of ammo from one of our machine gunners who was rotating home), small ditty bag of personal gear, gun cleaning kit, Swiss Army knife, large wound bandage, bottle of insect repellant, malaria pills, pencil, grease pencil and pen, gas mask (the NVA had initiated an ambush on the 3rd Marines using a bag of CS gas hidden overhead in the branches of a tree), bush hat, neck scarf (for wiping away sweat), steel helmet, flak jacket (25 lbs), two pop-up parachute flares, P-38 can opener, Catholic prayer card (I’m not catholic but a friend gave it to me) and my lucky Buddha necklace. (We wore our dog tags laced in our boots because a leg would usually be found.) The result was that you were really loaded down when you started out. The load got lighter as you ate up the food. You could also cut back on the water once you learned it was going to be available from the streams in the patrol area.
[5] I am not certain of Echo’s combat casualties while I was with them. I could have overlooked some. I think they were 2 KIA and 6 WIA, with all but one of these occurring on Hill 715. The other I remember was a WIA shot through the neck on one of our ambushes. Casualties were expected and handled in a very matter of fact manner. On the radio, the request to Medevac KIAs was to Medevac a certain number of “permanent routines.”
[6] There really wasn’t any “hole” unless we were in a stationary position.
[7] This is not to disrespect our servicemen in Desert Storm. The contrast I am emphasizing is the response of the American public and our government. I think all of you Viet-vets will understand what I mean. It is worth noting that the senior leaders of our military operations in Desert Storm were Vietnam veterans.