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...

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..

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.

Platoon: the Real Story (see copyright at end)

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 John Eberwine, Charlie Company 2^nd Platoon 2Bn (Mech) 22^nd Inf Rgmt 25^th 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 2^nd squad 2^nd platoon 2^nd Bn (Mech) 22^nd Inf 25^th 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 2^nd 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 2^nd 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 13^th, 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 2^nd Platoon 2Bn (Mech) 22^nd Inf Rgmt 25^th 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 13^th 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 2^nd 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