These narrations have not been edited and have been transcribed
(more like copied and pasted) directly
from emails and other electronic media.
| From Roger Cote, probably at the beginning of our
tour (1966) |
Well my memory is not that good but I do
remember some things. It's the dates and places that I have trouble
with and names too. But speaking about beers in the field I remember
clearly that there was a time that beer and alcohol was banned in
the field. So before pulling out on operations Lt. James had
us strip the tracks in the motor pool and line up all the ammo cans
and C-rations, water can etc. on the ground behind the track. The he
would come by and inspect everything inside and outside the track.
He would open the ammo cans (we used to hide beers in there
sometimes) and look in all our personal gear. He would grin to the
driver and then order him to open the engine compartment and inspect
there (we used to hide cases of beer in there too). We were in
Bravo squad Bob Northcott was the squad leader and Lt. James really
didn't trust us so he would always inspect us last and then stand
there and watch us load everything back up and then order us to
mount up and not leave the track. So we did being the good
soldiers that we were and waited as Lt. James walked back to his
track and then we moved out. Life was tough in the field with the beer
and alcohol ban. How tough? Well after about a week in the field one
night the platoon sergeant came over to our track. He lit up a
cigarette, took a quick look inside the track and asked if we had
anything to drink. We said no that there was a ban. He said good,
that was what he wanted to hear, now just make sure that I get my
ration. So every night after we laagered someone from the squad
would have to run over to give the sergeant his nightly ration.
Then one day we broke a torsion bar and the maintenance guys had to
take the floor boards out to replace it. Now we had to deliver
rations to the motor pool track as well. Life just kept getting
tougher as we were running low on beer. But then one day as we were
beating jungle the lead track caught on fire from the brush and
vines on the radiator or something like that and none of the fire
extinguishers in the company had anything left in them except ours
and it was half empty so we had to give it up. Now we had no way to
get our beer cold. I guess it could have been worse. We could have
hit a mine and all that beer would have exploded riding there in the
frame of the track.
Another time when we were back in Dau
Tieng on a very well deserved stand down we went to the Ty 1 On and
got good and drunk. When the bar closed we went back to our squad
tents with some more beers. Then someone got hungry so we went up to
the mess hall to see if anything was happening. Low and behold it
was open and everyone was making their own sandwiches. Someone
mentioned something about not wanting to bother the cooks who had
been working hard all day so be considerate and make your own
sandwiches yourself. Well we were making these Dagwood style
sandwiches when sergeant Arisola walks in and has a shit fit. As he
is cussing and running us out of the mess hall he is making a
sandwich for himself. Well so what, we were moving out to the field
the next day on combat operations what are they going to do to
us. When I was returning to my squad tent everything was
blacked out and you couldn't see but I heard someone having a party
in one of the squad tents so I dropped in to say hello. We opened
a few beers and someone in there had taken a big tub of cheese
out of the mess hall before we got run off. So we dipped in
with our hands scooped out the cheese and ate it. I will tell you
when your drunk and hungry late at night in the middle of a war
zone a tub of cheese sure tastes good. The next day when the sun
came up we discovered that the cheese we were eating wasn't Kraft
spread but Lard! We all had the shits. I don't know if it was the
lard or the Ballantine Beer. |
| From Mario Salazar, (HHC/2/22),
just before Xmas 1966, as I remember it |
| In preparation for the Xmas truce, we arrived in base
camp. Things were starting to get comfortable. A lot of
big tents had been erected and toilet stands were all
around. After showering and having a few brews at the Ty
1 on, we had had a good night sleep and things were
looking up.
I was called to the company clerk's office
and was given orders to go to Saigon to pick up a package
that had been sent to the main (civilian) post office
there. I didn't have a clue of what this was all about,
since typically packages were sent to the APO and we
would get them through regular mail call. Armed with my
orders, I went to the Dau Tieng airfield and caught a
transport plane to Saigon.
In Saigon, I went to the main post office and claimed
the package. It was full of Xmas goodies -- candy, gifts,
a fruit cake and others. It contained a note from my
friend Jon Cristenson and had been addressed simply to
Mario Salazar, US Army, Vietnam. (I don't know why people
complain about the mail.)
I retrieved the package and noting that my orders
allowed for three days (I don't know what the Army taught I was getting in the package), I registered in a
fancy civilian hotel downtown. For the first time since I
arrived in country, not counting one RR, I was sleeping
in a soft bed, had a bathroom in the room and felt clean.
I had a ball! But most importantly, I LEARNED THAT NO ONE WAS LOOKING! In the next 9 months while I was still in
Nam, I repeated the same process at least 3 more times.
We would arrive at base camp and on the next day I would
pack a bag and tell the sargeant that I had to go on sick
call. I would report to the infirmary, but instead of
returning to our area, I would go to the airfield and
catch a plane to Saigon. I would stay there until the day
before we were to go back to the field. Fortunately we
never were called back out before planned.
While in Saigon, I learned that
as long as one acted as if one belonged, no one would
challenge me. I did a lot of drinking and HUM... other
soldiering things. I remember one night riding backwards
in a motorcycle, through the back alleys of Cholon, to
prevent being picked up for carefew violation, drunk as a
skunk and going from one cat house to the next. Talking
about stupid... |
| This is from Bill Matz. |
| I figured out a similar scam when I was at Dau Tieng. As a
medic I knew we didn't have an eye Doctor at our base. If you
complained about your eyes they had to send you to CuChi. I complained
about my eyes and was duly sent to CuChi to get them checked. My
complaint was the suns glare blinded me, and made my eyes water. The
eye Doctor told me to wear sun glasses and sent me on my way. Jeez,
not even an overnight? At the airfield they had guys signing a
manifest for the flight back to Dau Tieng. I asked what would happen
if they had more people than seats. The Flight Sgt. said the others
would have to wait until the next day. AHA! I moved to the rear of the
line, and didn't get a seat. I spent about a week at CuChi frequenting
the EM clubs. I stood at the rear of the line, and signed the flight
manifest everyday, just to stay legal. I ran into one guy in the
casual barracks who had been there for weeks! I had thought he was
dead. He was still there when I left. One day they put everyone in the
casual barracks on a nasty detail. I had learned at Fort Polk about
using my real name for these things. I always had a fatigue shirt
(Just for this sort of thing) with no name tag. I signed in as Ford,
Glenn Sp/4. As soon as the NCO turned his back, I took off for the
airfield and made sure I caught the plane. They gave me some static,
and threats of court marshall, when I got back to Dau Tieng; But I
just said "Hey! I tried. I can requisition the flight manifests
as evidence if I have too. No further static over that, but I never
was very popular around base camp. Wish I had been smart enough to
figure out a scam to get me to Saigon. |
| From
Mario Salazar (HHC 2/22 Mz) added 8/17/03 on events that took place
January 16 and 17, 1967 Thanks Gary Hartt
A 2/22 Mz. for the corrections/additions.
Stand by, keep observing
During the 1966 Xmas and New Years truce, things
had started to deteriorate. I am sure that to the outside world and
the brass in Saigon there was no problem, but..
When the clock stroke 12 or thereabouts, that December 31, 1966 a
number of people opened up with their weapons. Someone didn’t aim at
the sky but at sergeant Tate’s tent, where he would have been.
Fortunately he had been alerted and he wasn’t anywhere to be found.
His permanent transfer was implemented the next day, but that is
another story.
I think that we all felt that things would get worse in the
following days, and they did. Only a little more than 2 weeks later,
we were all in the iron triangle participating in a blockade operation
(Operation Cedar Falls) with the 1st Division, the 173rd Airborne
Brigade, the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment and other units of the 25th
Infantry Division. During this operation we would be hit a number of times and
some of our friends would be wounded and killed. There was one
particular action that has been etched in my mind forever. It happened
on the night of January 16 and the early morning of the next day.
I had gotten lucky and instead of going on an ambush patrol or a
listening post, I was monitoring the radios in the command track.
Someone had received a bottle of Uzo, I believe it had been Anatole
(Tony) Kononenko and it had been left behind the radio. Early in the
evening an officer had walked in and had seen the bottle. He asked me
to blow in his eye to determine if I had been drinking and then asked
me whose booze it was. I answered that I didn’t know. He confiscated
a good half a quart of it that was left. I had some adrenaline going
from then on, as I didn’t know if the officer would be reporting the
booze and somehow involving me with it.
In the tropics the sun goes down very fast and it turns from light
to dark in a hurry. At that time of the year, the moon does not come
out until after 8 PM. In the meantime, you can’t see you hand in
front of your face. On the other hand, I was happily reading a
biography of WC Fields that had come with the last goody box from the
Red Cross, by black out light. Just about the time when the moon came
out, the command radio, one of the ones I was monitoring, came to
life. Someone from the ambush patrol was reporting a lot of movement
behind a berm in front of our perimeter and about 200 yards away.
After the second call the battalion commander came on the line and
directed the caller to stand by, keep observing. The same
conversation was repeated at least 5 more times that night with the
same results. In one of the other radios I heard some traffic on
getting clearance from the "Regional chief" and the
"District chief". It was apparent that these officials could
not be located that night and the battalion commander decided that he
wasn’t going out on a limb and order artillery. The frustation was
evident in the voice of the RTO when a decision kept been postponed.
At first light on the 17, the ambush patrol came in and after a
debriefing with the battalion commander, a track was sent out to find
out what the activity the night before had been all about. Having
heard the conversations the night before and the certainty of the
people of the ambush patrol about the presence of the enemy so near
our perimeter, we all watched as a reconnaissance armored personnel
carrier left the perimeter and headed for the berm that we could
clearly see. As the APC arrived at the berm, it attempted to go over
it. As the track reached the highest point and continued, it rocked
forward as its front went down and its back up. Just at this point, it
hit a very large mine. The track was thrown up in the air as it
rotated clock-wise with the front of the track, that had taken
the brunt of the explosion, going up and over. As the track got to its
highest point, I would guess about 20 feet up in the air, it was
already on fire. It landed on its top and nobody got out. We all
watched for hours as the track burned and the ammunition exploded,
preventing any proximity by would be helpers. Four people died in this
ill conceived reconnaissance. I may have heard the names of the
draftees that died in this incident, but if I did, I did not remember
them for long. On August 15, 2003, in response to my inquiry, Gary
Hartt sent me the following message about the incident:
the APC you are talking about was the one my good friend,
"peanut" Yvon Hebert was Kia in along with 3 others. It
was a recon track and it happened on 1/17/67. I did not see it
blow but was told it burned for 6 hours and the only way they
could sort out the remains was by dog tags. Hebert was from the
northern part of Vermont right on the New Hampshire border and his
address of record was Stratford, New Hampshire. I found his 89
year old father and we cried for 10 minutes during an hour and a
half phone conversation. I also spoke with one of Hebert's 2
sisters and his older brother Claude. Yvon hebert was the first
soldier to die from what they call the Northwoods area of
Vermont/New Hamphire. Each year since, Tony Hebert(peanut's
father) is the GRAND MARSHALL in the local memorial Day parade.
Others killed in the APC were James Essary, Dale Schummer, and
Edward Ralph Glenn, all draftees.
The battalion commander was replaced soon after
that episode. Some of the talk was that an effort would be set up to
inform our congressmen of the horrible mistake by the brass. I guess
the battalion commander’s transfer was the way the Army handled it.
As for us and any thoughts of revenge/justice, were forgotten in favor
of instinctive survival as the situation got a lot worse. It all
culminated with Soie Tre only two months and a few days later. I think
the first three months of 1967 were the worst of my tour in Vietnam.
|
| From Lynn Dalpez (C2/22), events
that took place during Operation Gadsen on 2/10/67 |
DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY
HQ 3rd BRIGADE
4th INFANTRY DIVISION
10 March 1967
SUBJECT: Combat Operations After Action Report.
TO: Commanding General
25th Infantry
Division
Yada yada
1. (U) NAME OF OPERATION: Operation
GADSEN.
(I'll go to the entry for Feb. 10, 1967. Another day
that true American hero's died.)
11. (C) EXECUTION
A. Chronological Summary
(11) 10 FEB 67 (D+8):
(b) 2/22
Inf. (M): At 1330H, Co C made
contact
with 4 to 6 VC at coord WT963765. The enemy
employed
small arms and one 57mm RR destroying 1 APC and
resulting in 2 US KHA, and 5 WHA. At 1430H one
reinforced APC was destroyed by RR fire and heavy SA
fire resulting in 2 US KHA, WHA. TAC Air and
artillery were used to assist Co C in breaking contact
at 1920H, with unknown VC casualities.
My comments for now...
Five died that day. One was reported missing to his
wife and stayed in that status for four more days.
He
was Merrill McKillip and he was not missing, he was
with his Combat Brothers. Easily provable.
I remember this day. Hope Lynn has
more info (Mario) |
From Clark Lohmann 8/6/03
lynn I can attest to the riding on top of the
APC's, May 27th 68 my last duty was on the road to Nui Ba Den we hit
a mine or bomb so large that Jerry Pierce my buddy on the track
behind us said the front of the APC cleared the ground with the back
end up in the air and none of us were killed I took the worse of the
people on there shattered my left wrist, ruptured my spleen had ammo
indentations in my skin from the bandoleers of M-60ammo and woke
2days later with the left wrist and arm all casted and my stomach
wired shut like the wire I use to use on my old 55 Chevy with cotton
balls up and down the sides and tubes running out of my nose, first
thing I did when I woke was pull the tubes and catch hell for it. I
saw Jerry Pierce and Bob Price of the best company Bravo Ha Ha in
Cleveland for my first reunion and they both thought for all those
years I had met my maker, I can tell you the maker was with me many
times besides this one and thank god no one was inside the track
like you say.
Clark L. Lohmann B Co 2/22 67-68 |
Platoon: the Real Story (see copyright at end)
by Michael Pectol
Sgt. Pectol was inspired by a new television show on the Fox Channel
called Heroes. It brought to mind for him some special heroes who
are part of his personal history. He sent this letter to John Kasich
at Heroes and has agreed to having it posted here with some editing
for clarity of content. Thanks Sgt. Mikie!
John: I have been inspired by your series Heroes! That young
11 year old is a truly awesome human being! I have many Hero stories.
This one is about 2 heroes of a particular battle.
An interesting note: This story is about the battle upon which the
final scene of the movie PLATOON by Oliver Stone is based.
Oliver, about 500 other men of the Division, and I were all there that
night. I thought it might be interesting to know more details of the
story of that battle, or at least part of it. It really was a 10 hour
long battle with roughly 500 stories. I know around 10 of them. I
think you will find that the true stories are even better than
fictionalized ones. Professionals, and draftees, were doing a
soldier's job, which is essentially the same it has always been: go
into hell, raise more hell than the enemy, and get the hell back home
to the country you helped make safe.
As a side note, Afghanistan was not the only Cold-War effort that
bled valuable resources off of the Soviet Bank Book, and in the end,
speeded up their demise as a system. They spent a lot of money in
Vietnam too.
Platoon, Bravo Company, written by Bob Hemphill, details the
truth about that platoon. He commanded it as a platoon leader during
the time it was at Burt.
I am a former Sergeant, and was in one of the 2 Artillery Units
helping to defend the Firebase that night. Artillery people were used
to help the always under-strength Infantry beef up security at the
perimeter of Firebases, and to act as Reaction forces to run to
sectors in danger of being over-run and provide additional firepower.
Or, in my case, that night, I and my men were assigned to the Medical/Resupply
Reaction Force. Our mission was to go up to the gun pits, and the aid
stations, and get the wounded from up there, and get them back to the
aid station, and care. Then, from the aid station to the chopper pad
for the serious ones, so they could be medevac'd to the evac hospitals
for critical care. NOW On to the story.
Jan 1st 1968. At about 5:00A.M., around 500 men of the 3d Brigade,
25th Infantry Division noticed, almost in unison heard, Quiet. Sunrise
coming. They stood with heads and ears cocked, listening, .at first
unable to quite realize it. They stood with faces camouflaged by smoke
from burning diesel and rubber, containing the ashes of several of
their comrades in arms; dust turned to mud in their sweat; grass blown
into the mud by the rotors of choppers, the winds of hell created by
Napalm Strikes, and the Beehive rounds fired by the artillery. The
"camouflage" effect on their faces was from the cris-crossing
tracks their tears of anger, frustration, and sadness had made through
the dirt on their faces, as they realized that not only cordite or
gunpowder, but the ashes of some of their comrades in the Armored
Personnel carriers that had been blown up and onto them.
Set out during the Christmas "Truce" of 1967 as bait, the
base was only about two kilometers from Cambodia, and sat astride the
Ho-Chi-Minh trail. The 25th, at the time, was charged with a sort of
glorified Border Patrol for interdiction of supplies and troops
the NVA were trying to infiltrate to support the Tet Offensive of Feb
68. We needed a base small enough to look tempting. If the enemy moved
fast and furiously, they had to think they just might pull it off. We
needed a base large enough to hold out until all the priority Air
support reserved for our sector of the border could come on station.
Most of all we needed to be sitting astride their route, so they more
or less had to act against us or cause themselves untenable delays by
going around us. And we were going to stay. We stayed for a month
after the big battle there, performing our mission of interdiction. We
stopped a lot of men, and equipment from reaching its destination-TET
Offensive.
From the beginning, with increasingly heavy mortar barrages at
intervals at just after dusk on Dec. 31st, it had escalated into a
full-scale barrage of the Softening up type that we all knew
was preparatory to the inevitable Human-Wave Assaults. All night long
they came at first one part of the perimeter then the others. After a
couple of feints to throw us off, the most concentrated attack for
most of the night was upon the sections of the perimeter to the South,
where a portion of the trail came in from Cambodia to meet the roads
in Vietnam.
Those sections of the perimeter were guarded by Charlie Company,
2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry, (Mechanized), Charlie Company, 3d
Battalion, 22nd Infantry (Foot/Helibourne Infantry)
Now my version, and there are many versions of Two of the Heroes of
The Battle of BURT. Some of this I found out about as I read the book
"Absolution, Charlie Company, 3/22 Infantry", By Chuck
Boyle, who is himself one of the heroes of the battle. I guess I will
write his story later. His book is on Amazon. Chuck is one of the men
from whom I was given a gift of life.A gift also from the people who
were there with me that night, who did not return!
Outside the base, there was a night patrol, I believe from
C/2/22(M). They had been out when the waves started. All night, a
young Staff Sergeant named Mark, Ridley I believe was his last name,
was spotting the in-going waves. They were trying to stay hidden,
needing to defend themselves, when they were discovered. Losing more
and more men all the time, he was calling coordinates for counter
mortar fire by the Artillery and Infantry on the base, and aiding
greatly in slowing the enemy waves down several times. If not for him
and his men, forcing the enemy back past the perimeter we on the base
would have been overrun more than the 3 times we were overrun.
We probably wouldn't have made it till dawn. They always broke
contact at dawn, as we could see them much better, and they don't
stand a chance then. I believe Mark got either the Silver Star or the
Distinguished Service Cross for that one. Well deserved too. He saved
a lot of our bacon! I don't know the Gentleman, but I heard about him
watching an interview conducted with Cpt. William "Wild
Bill" Allison, Commanding Officer of Charlie 2/22(M) the day
after BURT by CBS news
Above the battle, except when landing, there was a young helicopter
Pilot from the 187th Assault Helicopter Company (Crusaders), out of
Tay Ninh, also close to the Cambodian border.. He had started the
evening on a run to the major 25th Infantry Division Signal Relay
Installation on the top of Nui-Ba-Dehn, the most famous Mountain in
our area, the site of many of our Signal relay antennas, etc. for very
important communication stuff. While he was on that run, the New
Year's Eve party back at Tay Ninh had started without him, and he was
looking forward to getting back to the steaks, war Stories, and
Champagne, and a good night's sleep. Not to be. He and his trusted
buddy, Flight Surgeon (an Airborne Ranger type) David Warden
"Doc" as all medical personnel end up being nicknamed were
getting settled in, and the night people came to wake him up and tell
him to get to the shack right away. His C.O. had that Ominous look and
said "You're it. BURT is getting hit.” The 187th did a lot of
"Airborne Truck Driver" work for us "Electric
Strawberries" as they lovingly called us, due to the patch we
wear. It does look like a strawberry, with a lightning bolt through
it, kind of. His C.O. said "Our boys of the Strawberry are
getting hit really hard out at Burt, and you are the only sober pilot
I have. Git on it." As it turned out, Warrant Officer Wayne
"Crash" Coe turned out to be the very first Chopper Jockey
into Burt that evening, and from then on, he flew mission after
mission all night long. From mission one, he brought in desperately
needed ammo re-supply, and took out our critically wounded. Those were
the ones that needed to be taken to the hospital NOW or they would
die. Many of our wounded were bandaged and sent right back into it if
they were not serious. There was a veritable rain of gunfire and every
time he landed, he was taking hits, and it is a miracle he survived
the night! Since I was on the landing pad, emptying the ammo and
loading the wounded, I know that I was kinda choked up at the bravery
of a man who would fly into that in such a slow, incredibly big
target, and hover for even the few seconds it took us to turn the load
around so he could lift off. It was so hot that he had to come in
fast, with a fire team of gunships running cover for him on each side,
and his two gunners cookin’ their M-60 Barrels also to have even the
slim chance they had. This battle was not all that spread out, as was
the Ia Drang Valley, it was concentrated on a small circle of land
around 500 Meters in diameter at the most, to which everything the NVA
had was enroute to do us very grave dishonor! And of course, Doc
Warden his co-pilot and the man who jumped out of the chopper every
time, and "triaged" our critically wounded, in the middle of
a fire fight, with all hell breaking loose, just as calm as you
please! I am told Doc shook hands with me the first time in, but in
all honesty, I was so numb with anger, and fear, as an 18 year old
Buck Sergeant, I do not remember it. Therein lies one of the many
tragedies of the Vietnam War, and it's time. I notice that in a lot of
stories you've shown so far men do not know the name of, or don't
remember for sure a lot of important detail about things. I surely
would like to remember having shaken the hand of one of the Bravest 3
men I have ever had the pleasure to be associated with. His company
lost some Aviators in the gunship crews, and Wayne, and Doc, who
landed the morning after, had the added indignity heaped on them, of
having to go and recover the bodies of their fallen comrades. Doc had
to issue cause of death certs and I know it was a heartbreaking
experience for him just it has been heartbreaking for those of us
whowere fighting for what we loved most, our buddies and America, to
have our beloved Country break our hearts by treating us like they did
for years.
It is time the real truth about the heroes who served then be told!
For in reality, they are just the "Average run of the Mill
American Hero"that America so far, knock on wood, has been able
to come up with in the necessary quantities at the necessary times,
since what, 1776.
How does the saying go?..."Our lives, our fortunes, and our
sacred honor to the cause we now embrace." Not meaning in any way
to take anything away from them, for I love them like brothers. But
the important point I am making is…it needs to be known who they
really are, as opposed to the special, psychotic, different types
people said we were. All those heroes are just the previously standard
American Army, Marine, sailor, Airman, etc. fresh out of average
American High Schools, Junior Colleges, Universities, West Point. All
very special people, but not one single one in any different than the
Men who raised the flag at Iwo, WTC, jumped into hell in Normandy,
bled and died on the beaches of Omaha, and Utah, etc. Africa, Inchon,
Chosin, Khe-San, Ia-Drang, etc.
So, there are a wealth of stories coming to you, I am sure. I even
have more. I have a recent reunion of the loved ones of one of our
Artillery Heroes, who received the Silver Star Posthumously for his
heroic deeds. For 30+ years, the pain and anguish of watching him die,
and taking his last confession was carried by his friend, a friend of
mine, who just recently "found" the soldier's family through
our web site, and they were able to "meet" and achieve some
"closure"
What were his final words? Thoughts? Yes, they were of you, his
loved ones, and his buddies he died protecting
Alrighty, then. Keep up the good show. This sort of thing could
last a long time, with all the stories you get and it is really good
for America to realize that there is still a lot of strength here in
this Country. As a side benefit, as Osama and his cronies watch, and
don't think they don't, they like to find out all they can about their
enemies, they might take pause, and say geez, did we ever peg these
people wrong! Maybe they will think twice; ..not to mention the fact
that though I don't hear it mentioned that much and I feel it is
important, so I will mention it here. Man of the people who are out
there bravely fighting our countries battles right now, today are the
sons, nieces, daughters, even younger brothers in some cases, of the
Vietnam Generation, the very same people who still love America, and
taught that love to their children, even with their hearts broken by
their beloved country. They continued to love, and hope, that someday,
some fine, sunny day, their country would realize how deep was their
love, and how badly they broke our hearts, and cut our souls with
their treatment of us, and that the healing could really begin. In the
last few months is the only time when true realization is starting to
break through.
Mikie Pectol
focus11b,
K
http://277arty.tripod.com
All contents copyright Remy Benoit or their respective
authors. The advice on this site should not be construed as
professional advice. If you are in a state of crisis, you should seek
professional aid in your area.
From Bob Price 2nd
battalion, 22nd infantry 9/67 to 9/68
To All Don't know how many of you
remember the events of 3/13/68; I'm sure that Clark Lohmann &
John Eberwine do. Hard to believe 37 years have past, many of the
details still appear vividly in my memory. The day started out
uneventful but certainly didn't end that way for Charlie & Bravo
companies. I was with Bravo Co. so the following is my
account of the days events only from Bravo Companies
perspective. We were informed that Charlie Co had hit a bad ambush
somewhere in the jungle not to far from our basecamp in Dautieng.
They had suffered 3 KIA'S and a number of wounded and were forced to
extract themselves without recovering their dead to avoid even
further casualties.The KIA'S were, Dave Ditch, Todd Swanson
& Lytell Christian three of the many members of the Triple
Deuce who died heroically in Vietnam. Bravo co. was called upon to
go back into the jungle to try and recover our dead brothers. We
went into the jungle in our normal three column alignment; I was
walking point on the right flank when all hell broke loose. We had
ran into the same ambush setup and I saw a number of our guys in the
center column get shot up. We all hit the ground immediately ; the
NVA had set up perfect fields of fire and were raking us with
machinegun fire and appeared to also be setup in the trees in front
of us. We couldn't see them but they sure as hell knew where we
were. I was trapped out front and was screaming at Clark Lohmann to
cover my ass with his M60 machinegun to cover my withdrawal to the
rear ( otherwise known as a retreat). I couldn't understand why
Clark wasn't firing until I turned around and saw that his face was
bleeding; his machinegun tray had been hit by the first incoming
rounds rendering it inoperable. Movement was almost impossible;
there was withering machinegun fire coming inchs over our bodies
covering us with leaves & tree parts. Clark raised his head
slightly only to have his helmet shot off. I tried to inch back
toward Clark and took a piece of splintered bullet in my left
arm. We had know idea what was going on with the rest of the
platoon, we were trapped out on the right flank.It seemed like an
eternity then all of a sudden our crazy platoon sgt., a Sgt Chaney
came up behind us snatched us up and told us to pull back behind our
APC'S which had pulled up in the jungle a short distance
behind us. Sgt Chaney patched us up & told us we were
going back in to extract our wounded brothers. At that time the
firing became intense once again and we were forced to stay
undercover behind the APC'S. It was getting near dusk at this time
and the NVA decided to disappear into the jungle. I heard later on
that Alpha CO. came in from another direction forcing the NVA'S
decision to fade away. Don't know if this is a fact, maybe someone
can verify it. Unbelieveably Bravo Co didn't suffer any KIA'S &
I'm not sure exactly how many were of us were wounded.
Unfortuanately we didn't recover Charlie Co's KIA'S that day but all
three were brought back the next day without further incident.This
was just one of the "fun" days of the 365 days that most
of us spent in Vietnam. Its been a long time but the memories are
still fresh. The three heroes mentioned above are only three of the
312 members of the Triple Deuce who died in Vietnam. Lets hope that
none of them are ever forgotten.
I'd love to here from anyone else who was there that fateful day and
hear there personnel recollections. Pass your replys onto all of my
friends & relatives above as I'm sure they would like to hear
your accounts.
Bob Price
2nd battalion, 22nd infantry 9/67 to 9/68
|
From
John Eberwine, Charlie Company 2nd Platoon 2Bn (Mech) 22nd Inf Rgmt 25th Inf Div Sep 15, 1967 to Sep 14, 1968
March 13, 1968 -
Republic
of
Vietnam
After so many years, the details may be somewhat cloudy, but
I’ll try to remember the important issues.
It was March 13,
1968, in the
Republic
of
Vietnam
, I was squad leader in 2nd squad 2nd platoon 2nd Bn (Mech) 22nd Inf 25th Infantry Division. We
awoke about 5:30 am somewhere in the field. I’ve never been able to
tell anyone exactly where we were, due to the fact that almost
everywhere we worked in
Vietnam
looked like the same area to me, except for the Michelin rubber
plantation. I believe this day we were North East of Dau Tieng,
possibly East of Tay Ninh. The day started about like all the others
in the field, I was hot, tired, filthy
My platoon leader, Lt
John Clemente, informed me while I was eating some breakfast
(c-rations) that today would be my last day with the Triple Deuce. He
said that I (and a few other men in the company) was to be part of an Infusion plan with a leg unit somewhere. He said infusions were necessary
because some outfits would loose a lot of men at the same time, so
they would take some men from other units who had more time to go in
Country, and swap them for men with short time left. I was originally
part of a massive replacement in September 1967 into the Triple deuce
so they needed to swap some September men for men with other deros
(projected leaving) dates. I never found out what leg unit I was
supposed to go to.
Since I was to go in
the infusion, Lt Clemente told me that my job that day would be to ride
the hatch over the lead track and guide the driver with a compass.
I don’t remember exactly what time we started out, but it probably
was by 7:00 am. We were moving across a clearing into a massive
cluster of bamboo and brush. It probably was at least a mile or more
wide and I have no idea how deep. To my knowledge, we were not told by
Army Intelligence what was expected that day.
Breaking the brush
that day to lead the men was difficult, at best. We had flank security
out left and right, (men walking on the left and right side of the
track about 20 to 30 meters off) but we could not see them because
everything was so dense. I was constantly tapping our driver on the
side of his helmet to move left or right, as he kept drifting off the
azimuth (compass heading) due to having to go around large trees and
stumps. I recollect we were at this for a few hours when all of a
sudden, I saw in front of us, running from my left to my right, a
sandy trail and brush that had been cut back somewhat. Immediately, as
soon as I saw this, I smacked the driver on the helmet to stop and all
hell broke loose. Machine guns started fired from our front and I
heard at least one RPG (rocket propelled grenade) and simultaneously I
fell backward into the open top hatch and landed inside the track.
Right away the radio
started with reports of men down.......our Platoon Sergeant, David
Ditch, and our medic, Todd Doc Swanson,
were hit immediately. To the best of my knowledge, Dave was on point
on the left flank. I heard that Dave was hit immediately and Doc was behind him and as he moved up, to tend to Dave, he got hit also.
It was mass confusion within minutes. No one could see where the enemy
really was, except to know they were somewhere right in front of our
track. Within a few minutes, I was monitoring the radio while the 50
gunner was blasting into the brush in front of us, when the back door
of the track opened and wounded men were passed inside. One was gut
shot, I believe he was Captain Cass’ RTO (radio telephone operator).
The Captain was pinned down with everyone else behind our track in a
haphazard file.
Within a very few
minutes there were 4 or 5 wounded inside the track and I was trying to
help them and yell out to Captain Cass that the men on the ground were
reporting on the radio that they were taking more wounded and we
needed to get out of there and regroup. During this time, I started
first aid on those inside the track. We seemed to be pinned down for
at least 1½ to 2 hours. I spoke on the radio to each squad leader and
confirmed they had all their men accounted for, so I told Captain Cass
we could start to pull back. He said okay, so I finally gave the order
over the radio to pull back.
Once we had pulled
back sufficiently to take head count, I realized that no squad on the
ground had accounted for Dave and “Doc” Todd. They were left up
there, but from all accounts, they were both dead almost from the
start. I don’t remember a lot of details at this time, other than
our LT Clemente was seriously wounded, his RTO was wounded, our
Platoon Sergeant was KIA (killed in action) along with better than
half our platoon wounded and they were Medevac‘d (air lifted by
helicopter) out. Someone came and got me and told me the Battalion
Commander wanted to speak with me. I was a SP4 and was the highest
ranking man left in 2nd platoon at this time. I didn’t
know his name at that time, I later found out he was Lt Col King James
Kaufmann. He was told I had been on the lead track and he wanted me to
lead an element from Bravo 2/22 back up to recover the bodies.
I remember telling
him that it was crazy to send men back up. Dave was very special to
me, sort of a father figure because he was 26 and most of the rest of us were 18 or 19. But I knew if we went
back up, we’d loose many more men and Dave and Todd would not have
wanted that. Dave and I, along with quite a few of the Charlie Company
September 1967 replacements, were alumni of Tiger
Hill in
Fort Polk
Louisiana
. I didn’t know Dave there, but we got close once we got to
Nam
.
Kaufmann told me that
I was going to take men back up, and at first, I told him I would not
go back up. I was scared to death. I had just escaped after being
pined down for almost two hours, and I did not want to go back and get
killed. I honestly do not know why, but finally I started out leading
a squad or platoon from Bravo company. Each step I took, I felt was
going to be my last. I was petrified to be going back in. Just as we
reached the area where I could see the sandy trail, all hell started
up again. We all hit the dirt and I heard men behind me cry out that
they were wounded. I yelled for the RTO to tell them (Kaufmann) to
bring us back out and I believe I was told to push forward. At that I
freaked out. I got up and ran to the rear without thinking and got in
Kaufmann’s face and started screaming that he was sending men up to
die. I really have no memory of all that I said, I received no
punishment and do not remember much else about the rest of the day
until later that night, I remember that 2nd platoon had
about 6 or 7 men left in the field to pull guard duty all night. After
fighting all day, we pulled guard duty for four hours each during the
night.
I remember, the next
day, we pounded that place with artillery for hours and hours. Then,
some outfit went up and recovered the bodies, and did not find one
single enemy body, or live ones for that matter. Somehow, during the
night the enemy had “di di mou’d” (escaped). Later that day we
were directed back into base camp. There I learned the Captain Cass
had been relieved of duty. I assumed that it was due to pulling out
and leaving Dave and Doc up
there.
I requested and was
allowed an audience with Lt. Col. Kaufmann. I was angry about Captain
Cass being relieved and explained that I was responsible for telling
Captain Cass we could pull out and that he should not be held
responsible. I also told him that I would
not be part of an infusion, since we had lost so many men, that I
felt that I was needed now in the platoon. Kaufmann would not discuss
Captain Cass with me, but did allow me to stay with my platoon.
For thirty one years,
since 1968, on March 13th, I remembered Dave and Doc, and I remembered those men who followed me up to the front. All
those years, I honestly believed that one or more were killed in that
instant when the firing started again. Then in
Dallas
,
Texas
, in May 1999 I met Bob Price and found out that he and a buddy, Clark
Lohmann, both from Bravo 2/22, were part of that element and they had
both been wounded. I have always felt that I ran out on them that day.
It felt good to be able to tell Bob Price this story in
Dallas
, and to tell Clark this story in
Cleveland
in October 2000. They both gave me absolution!
by John Eberwine
March 15, 2001
Charlie Company 2nd Platoon 2Bn (Mech) 22nd Inf Rgmt 25th Inf Div
Sep 15, 1967 to Sep 14, 1968
|
From
Jeff Condit Charlie Company, 2nd Platoon, 2/22 Mz.
My recall of March 13, 1968 --
Jeff Condit
A day fogged a bit by the
years but never, ever forgotten. I, too, remember us being close to
Dautieng but a good piece out. Maybe 10 kilos outside the gate. Right
after the rubber plantation ended on our right was a small
village—the one across from which we had to dig up the fresh NVA
graves one day. On the 13th we ventured 4-5 more kilometers and made a hard right into an open
rice paddy area. I remember it being an unusual operation as, at one
point, we put the APCs on line and advanced toward the woodline
directly to our front. It was pretty disorganized and we had to stop
several times for the lieutenants to hustle up to the CO’s track for
additional instructions. For a while, I thought that this might be a
light day spent practicing war maneuvers for some officer’s
enjoyment.
We then briefly opened fire with the 50s
straight into the woodline then stopped about 50 meters short. As luck
would have it the 2nd platoon (Charlie Co.) was given the
“privilege” of dismounting and venturing into the woodline. As I
best remember it Herb Mock was on point I think Charlie Loveless was
behind him. Beyond that I haven’t a clue where people were. I was
the RTO and was with LT Clemente about mid column. We (the LT and I)
had broken through the initial brush and happened upon a trail. No
sooner had Clemente asked for the “horn” to report that we found a
trail than we heard Mock holler up ahead: “There’s human shit up
here”. Within just a few seconds Mock hollered something like,
“And I see the son of a bitch” and commenced firing. After that
all hell broke loose.
I remember jumping backwards to get down
but my radio got hung up on some bamboo and I dangled there for what
seemed like an eternity. Being more interested in the integrity of my
body (over some piece of Army equipment) I squeezed out of the radio
harness and, by the grace of God, I fell next to an ant hill (about 31/2 foot high). I immediately took cover behind it then
realized that the LT was lying on the trail having been hit. I first
reached up and grabbed the radio (it was closer) and as I did a green
tracer kicked up dirt in my eyes and mouth. I secured the radio on my
left side then reached around the right side of the bunker to get the
LT. I can’t remember if I held a rifle out for him to grab or if I
just extended my arm. (Maybe he extended his rifle to me). Nevertheless, I was able to pull him behind the anthill with
me. He was shot in both legs and in a lot of pain. I remember lying there on my stomach with my radio handset on
my right ear. I was disoriented a bit having moved a bit down that
diagonal path. I, nevertheless, got on the “horn” and talked to
whom years later I found out to be Awb Norris. I think that he was
Colonel then. I remember him being calm and collected and trying to
get me to give him a “sitrep” (situation report). As I said, in
the pandemonium somewhere I had lost my bearings. He was trying to
talk with me but the shooting was so intense and loud I had a hard
time hearing him. Also, the LT was in a lot of pain and was yelling
comments like “Leave me here and get everyone out…call in air
strikes on them”. In an
effort to hear Norris I switched my handset to my left hand and placed
a finger in my right ear and yelled at the LT to “shut the fuck
up” because I couldn’t hear. As I made that movement I think the same sniper saw me again
and fired several more rounds—most kicked up dirt in my face and
eyes but I’ll always remember that one that traveled directly under
my left armpit missing both my bicep and ribcage. I resumed my
original position closer to the LT.
Sometime during this chaos someone hollered
“medic”. I didn’t know who else was hit other than the LT but
almost immediately the medic appeared to my left. He was hit instantly
and fell forward. I remember his body jerking several times from being
hit by additional rounds. He was no more than 18 inches away from me
and I felt powerless to do anything. About that time Sgt.Ditch
appeared on all fours over the medic’s body. He, too, was hit
instantly. And, he, too, fell forward and was partially on the
medic’s body. I felt powerless but remember foolishly saying, “Are you all right?” I saw him take one round then I
remember the grimace on his face as if he knew it was a serious hit.
He then reached down and pulled the medics bag out from underneath him
as if to take get some relief in that area. The bag was completely
covered in blood. And then the enemy zeroed in on him and, like the
medic, his body jerked several more times before he fully slumped to
the earth. Like the medic he was immediately to my left but was
probably 12 inches away.
I established commo with Norris and he
calmly said, “I’ll have the APC’s rev up their engines so that
you can hear where we are”. I think I yelled that out once so others
could listen as well. I told him that based on the sound they were
immediately to our rear probably 25-75 meters. He then said, “OK, I
am going to have several of the 50s start firing above your heads and,
as best you can, crawl out under the fire”. I hollered that
instruction to any of the men who could hear me and when the 50s
started everyone who was alive started low crawling toward that sound.
I, of course, had the LT next to me, a
PRC-25 (Radio) and an M-79 grenade launcher. I decided to take the LT
and leave the rest. He was still awake and still had upper body
strength and was able to assist the crawl by holding on. I initially
tried first moving my body a few feet then reaching back and pulling
him by the shirt up with me. I
did that for what seemed like a half a mile (in reality it was
probably 10 feet) then remembered something we were taught in Basic
Training—I think it was called the “Slow man’s crawl” or
something like that. What I did was straddle the LTs body with all
fours and had him interlock his fingers behind my neck. In that
position I was able to crawl slowly but steadily and get us back to
where the tracks were making the noise. I remember Loveless waited for
us right outside a tree line that obscured my view of the tracks. He
signaled for me to come in his direction, which he did. It seemed like
it took forever but we finally made it to the tree line.
I thought that our worries were over but
inside of the tree line was a small area of trampled bamboo where the
APCs had been maneuvering in place to pick us up for evacuation. Crawling through that bamboo was probably the hardest piece of
the journey. It was like
having a giant pile of “Pick-up-stix” (the kids game?) and, as I
crawled, parts of the LT or me would drop down two or three feet.
We’d have to stop pull the body part out then move another few
inches. I think that one of the drivers sensed that we weren’t
progressing well and decided to back his track up closer to us. As he
did he swirled around on his tracks and placed the left rear corner of
the APC directly over our bodies. I was sure that after all of that we
were going to be squashed to death by an APC! Others and I hollered,
as it was impossible to tell if the driver saw or heard us. Thank God
he stopped and the back of the track door opened. I finally was able
to stand and the guys helped me then the LT inside the track. I
remember we sat on the right bench and I rested the LT’s head in my
lap. I remember that because so. That naturally caused a loud yelp
from the LT. I then remember feeling an incredible sense of relief and
safety as the APC noise increased and I could feel us APC rumble and
bounce our way back to the rear.
My next memory was sitting on the ground
next to the liter that the LT was on. By now I think he was delirious
with pain and morphine and he told those around us that I should to be
put in for the Congressional Medal of Honor! I don’t think that
anyone there—my self-included—thought that he was rational by that
point. I helped put him on the medivac then went to a track where
Loveless and others were gathered. I remember that that was the only
time that I cried in Vietnam. I don’t know if it was because of Doc
and Ditch’s death or from the physical and emotional exhaustion I
felt at that point. But I cried and it felt right.
I was vaguely aware of people off to my
side arguing about going back to get Ditch and Doc. I think that it
was an officer who came over to me and asked how sure I was that the
two of them were dead. I told him of the bullets riddling both of
their bodies and how motionless and unresponsive both of them were. In
my opinion both of them were dead when the LT and I crawled out of
there. He seemed satisfied with that and I think shortly thereafter
the napalm strikes started. I have absolutely no memory of the rest of
that day and night.
I work at a VA and part of my job involves
evaluating veterans for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. One of the
better questions I have found to separate the “real thing” from
the fraud is “What was your worst day over there?” The legitimate
cases usually don’t have to stop and think. They know THE day that
changed them more than any other. Like everyone else in Charlie
Company and the hundreds of thousands of others who saw the real
“stuff” in Vietnam they know. I went through the Battle of Fire
Base Burt and other horrific events during my 12-month tour but THE
date for me has always been March 13, 1968. Thirty-seven years and one
week past.
May God rest the souls of Doc, Ditch and
the many, many other great, young guys we were privileged to know over
there. And may their families gain some small comfort in knowing that
in such a short period of time their boys became true heroes who
touched and helped the lives of so many others.
Jeff Condit
03-20-05
|
OCTOBER 12, 1970 SOMEWHERE IN VIETNAM
THE MORNING BEGAN LIKE SO MANY OTHERS
. WE WERE LEAVING OUR NIGHT DEFENSIVE POSITION AND OUR SQUAD WAS LEFT
BEHIND TO POLICE THE AREA AND LEAVE BEHIND A SUPRIZE FOR “CHARLIE”.
A MECHANICAL AMBUSH. THIS WAS DESIGNED TO ELIMINATE “CHARLIE’S”
EFFORTS TO RUMMAGE THROUGH OUR TRASH IN HOPES TO FIND ANYTHING HE
COULD TO USE AGAINST US. WE HAD BEEN SUCCESSFUL IN THE PAST WITH THESE
MECHANICAL AMBUSHES AND I HAD NO REASON TO BELIEVE THAT ANYONE OTHER
THEN “CHARLIE” WOULD BE THE ONE TO TRIP THE AMBUSH. SO WE
COMPLETED OUR TASK AND PROCEEDED TO JOIN THE UNIT AT THE NIGHTS
DEFENSIVE POSITION. AS WE WERE PULLING IN TO TAKE OUR POSITION I HEARD
THIS LOUD EXPLOSION. I LOOKED BACK TO SEE THE SMOKE RISE ABOVE THE
TREE LINE. IT WAS STRANGE . MOST OF OUR MECHANICAL AMBUSHES WEREN’T
TRIPPED UNTIL AFTER DARK BUT IT WAS STILL DAYLIGHT. AND AS WE WERE
RETURNING TO THE SITE TO INVESTIGATE MY MIND STARTED LISTING THE
POSSIBLE REASON FOR WHY SO SOON. IT WASN’T TILL WE ARRIVED AT THE
SITE THAT ALL MY THOUGHTS OF WHAT TRIPPED THE AMBUSH TURNED TO THE ONE
MOST TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCES THAT STILL INVADES MY DREAMS TODAY. IF YOU
CAN IMAGINE WHAT A STICK OF C-4 AND A CLAYMORE,FROM A DISTANCE OF TWO
FEET OR LESS, WOULD DO TO A HUMAN BODY I’M SURE YOUR IMAGINATION WON’T
COME NEAR THE ACTUAL IMAGE OF WHAT I HAVE TO DESCRIBE AS ONE OF PURE
HORROR. AS A STARE AT THESE TWO LIFELESS , HEADLESS BODIES OF THE TWO
CHILDREN MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS WHAT IN THE FUCK HAVE I DONE.
MIKE POUNDS BRAVO
COMPANY TRIPLE DEUCE 1970 |
|
