Chapter 19: The Tragedy at Ong Thanh 062025

     Six days after my unit was withdrawn from the Long Nguyên Secret Zone, the 2/28th Black Lions of the First Division were inserted into the same area to "find, "face off with, and destroy that same "ole nemesis" of the First Division, Vo Minh Triet. As I said earlier, Triet had been ordered north by his superiors, but he needed food, so he stayed in and around the Long Nguyên Secret Zone, looking for rice for his hungry conscripts. He had attacked my Dogface Battalion three times and gotten chewed up every time, but as I have also explained, that wasn't necessarily all bad. Those defeats also meant that he would have fewer people to feed on the trip north. Once he reached that destination near the Cambodian border, fresh conscripts would become "a dime a dozen". There was one big rice cache (10 tons) close by, which could buy his conscripts a few more days of food and also rest before making the long march north. The hidden base was deep in the Long Nguyên Secret Zone. Yes, my 1/18th "Dogface" Battalion had been able to counter Triet's every move, but now my unit had been pulled out of the field, and the Black Lions were taking our place.

      Maybe Triet would have better luck against this recently promoted Lieutenant Colonel Terry Allen, commanding the Black Lions. As bad as he wanted to annihilate an American battalion, however, it would be stupid at this point to start something that he knew he couldn't finish. Most of his conscripts were reaching the end of their six-month expiration date. You see, it was a well-known fact among commanders like Triet that six months was the average life of these teenagers before becoming a casualty or succumbing to their harsh living conditions. Dick's Battalion had devastated his ranks, and Dogface had taken its toll in more ways than one. The conscripts who had made it through this recent nightmare were in no way ready to go to their deaths again so soon. It would take a little time to reestablish cell groups and time for his NCOs to pump them up with some halfway believable lies about what just happened. What Triet really hoped to do was hide away for another three or four days, without having to fight. Everyone needed a rest. Triet, himself, needed some rest. The entire unit needed rest if they were to make the long march north. His was the best fighting unit in the Division, and he was definitely needed up north to help draw out the Big Red One away from those areas which were preparing for the Tet Offensive. It should have been relatively easy to do what needed to be done. However, it was not going to be that easy. Three other First Infantry Battalions were operating in the area: the 1/2nd, the 1/28th, and the 1/16th. On October 15, Jack Toomey's 1/2nd Infantry Battalion found Triet's last large cache of rice, and a few days before that, Sergeant Murry’s 1/16th had seen another large cache. Now, without at least some food in their bellies, it was going to be even harder for his remaining conscripts to make the long march north to Loch Ninh. It could be a good idea to thin his ranks a little more. Maybe another try at these Americans was in order after all. Another attack would surely reduce again the number of mouths he would have to feed on the march north. Win or lose, staging another attack on these Americans seemed more plausible with each passing day. What other choice did he have?

      That's when a light bulb turned on in his head. Wait a minute. Now that there were no stores of rice to be handled and transported, he could use some of these local support troops to fill in the gaps for an attack. Truth was, they knew the local area much better than his other troops, and they were still naïve enough about the horrors they would face to have any qualms about being used in a human wave attack. Using support troops was an idea of last resort, but at least the idea was worth being kicked around in his mind while he waited and watched for Terry Allen’s next move. Sure, it was a plan of last resort, but depending on how things developed with this new guy, it just might wind up becoming a plan of first resort.

     Terry Allen, the commander of the Black Lions, was a major when he first arrived in Vietnam. He was married to a beautiful woman, and they had three lovely daughters. Shortly after arriving in Vietnam, he had been given the coveted job of S3 (operations officer) for the Black Lions Battalion. It was that next step for obtaining a battalion command as a Lieutenant Colonel, and also that next step for anyone reaching for the stars. Terry, whether he reached for them or not, was well on his way to having those far-off stars come down out of the sky and land squarely on his shoulders. Our First Division commander, General Hay, knew all about Terry's famous father and his exploits as the Big Red One commander in North Africa during World War II. As a young officer, Hay had very much looked up to the man. Hay, himself, had won three silver stars while commanding combat units in the famous 10th Mountain Division in Italy during World War II. That feat speaks for itself about the bravery of General Hay. It was only natural for the fatherly Hay to feel connected to the son of another brave and "storied" commander of the "First". Yes, it looked like nothing but smooth sailing ahead for Terry in his professional career. All he had to do was keep his head down and do an average job. His life seemed to be a "storybook" life until a personal tragedy exposed the truth. Shortly after moving into his new assignment at Third Corps, his much younger wife not only started having an affair with a rodeo clown in their hometown of El Paso but also allowed the clown to move into their home with her and their three young daughters. It was a stabbing wound straight through Terry's heart.

      Shortly before Terry discovered his wife's infidelity, Big Jim Shelton took Terry's place as operations officer (S3) of the 2/28th Black Lions. Terry then went to Division for a short time while waiting for his promotion to a combat command in a Big Red One Battalion. Soon, afterward, the current Black Lion's battalion commander was fired, and Terry Allen was given that man's job. I don't believe that this commander had a famous World War II general for a father. Once again, Terry found himself back with the Black Lions. Big Jim served as his operations officer for a while but left two weeks before the Battle of Ong Thanh took place.

      Jim was happily married and had six kids. He was book smart and wore his emotions on his sleeve. He was loyal to his military superiors just as he had been to his football coaches in school. He unquestionably carried out their commands, no matter how foolish those commands seemed. Years later, in his book, “The Beast was Out There”, Jim would try to justify why he was right, and his superiors were right too. Big Jim was a socializer and a talker. He was an all-around good guy. Like so many others, he walked in the light of his own self-assured kind of thinking and not in the light of the Holy Spirit. He would never have dreamed of changing a general's order to pop smoke, as my Holy Spirit-anointed commander, Captain Caudill, had done, especially if that order had been given by the Division commander, General Hay. He may have realized the need to do so, but his fear would have kept him from speaking up. Like so many, he feared generals more than he feared the VC. He certainly would not have allowed someone named the "Holy Spirit" to interject divine thoughts into his own stream of consciousness. That would have been too weird for Big Jim. "What if he did allow something like that to happen? Furthermore, "what if" he allowed it to slip, that he was hearing from spirits in the first place? Big Jim was never going to let that happen. Jim was a herd animal, and he liked the safety of a herd. He also wanted to act in accordance with what he could see with his own two eyes. He definitely wanted nothing to do with the companionship of a Ghost, even if that Ghost was God.

      Since Big Jim Shelton was the Battalion's S3, after Terry became her commander, he was always in closer proximity to Terry than any other person in the unit. With that being the case, it was only natural for Terry to start confiding personal secrets to the very loyal, trustworthy, and family-minded Jim Shelton, who was the same rank as him until just very recently. Maybe he shared the dirty details of his home life with Jim on one of those very damp, drizzly nights, in a smelly bunker somewhere in the middle of War Zone C. Maybe he shared them because he couldn't keep the mental anguish to himself any longer. No matter how or where Terry told Jim, however, it was shared, and that was all that mattered. One black night, Terry vomited the entire smelly, rotten mess about his wife and her lover straight into Big Jim's Lap. Many years later, the then-retired Brigadier General Jim Shelton would tell the world about these shared family secrets, little knowing that he would be giving a significant clue for one of the big whys behind what happened at Ong Thanh Creek on October 17, 1967.

      On the morning of October 16, battalion commander Allen had commanders Lt. Clark Welch and Captain Jim Kasik march their D and B Companies, respectively, out of the Ong Thanh Creek NDP. They marched in a straight line due south. Captain Kasik had explored this same area the day before with his B Company. He had found enough signs of a significant enemy presence to be highly concerned. His point squad spotted and exchanged fire with three VC, severely wounding all three. Heavily traveled trails were also discovered. Lieutenant Colonel Allen did not allow Kasik to press his luck. He ordered Kasik to turn around and return to the NDP. Now, on the 16th, as Welch took the lead, it did not become evident to the two company commanders that the area had not been prepped until they were within three hundred meters of Triet's ambush. When they set out that morning, Welch and Kasik had assumed that Terry Allen had called in an air strike on that area. However, he didn't. Allen had failed to follow through with that. No such air strike was called in, and now Triet was waiting to pounce. Had the area been prepped with airstrikes, then Triet would not have been able to stage a proper ambush. When Welch and Kasik drew close to the area, they realized that it had not been prepped and the danger that that posed. They immediately requested and were given a course change.

     Since early morning, Triet’s watchers had continually made him aware of the direction and time it would take for Welch and Kasik to reach his ambush site. In the last few days, the walls had been closing in on Triet. While waiting for his support troops to bring him rice, the Americans had discovered two of those large caches, which he desperately needed. Shortly afterward, Allen had landed on his front porch. Triet realized his plans to lay low for a few days while gathering supplies were coming unraveled. The Americans were just too close. He had no choice but to stage an ambush on Allen’s troops and hope for the best. He couldn't just sit around and let these Americans, as dumb as they were, stumble across his base camp because they would then run over him like a steamroller with their air strikes. Fortunately, Terry's recon patrols had failed to find his base camp and bomb him until now. So, on the morning of the 16th, as the Americans moved toward that exact spot which Kasik discovered the day before, Triet hurried his depleted force into place for an ambush. The closer these Americans came, the brighter things began to look for Triet. According to their intercepted radio chatter, these dumb Americans did not seem concerned enough to bomb the area where Kasik had discovered those trails the day before. Now, Triet felt comfortable moving his conscripts into that undisturbed area to spring his ambush.

     Things were starting to look promising, but there was still no reason to smile. However, that furrowed frown which Dick had put on Thiet’s face several days earlier was starting to fade. That's when everything suddenly changed for the worse. When these American fools were almost in his grasp, he was handed a telephone. The voice on the other end of that line brought back the Triet's frowning face. The Americans were changing directions. Not only were these fumbling idiots changing directions, but they were now heading directly toward Triet's most recent hideout. Triet would now be forced to regroup his deployed forces and rush them back to this base camp in time to recover their meager rations, weapons, and other items before the Americans arrived and blew it apart. Otherwise, his conscripts would be made homeless with absolutely nothing to eat that night, while facing a long march to the next available hideout in War Zone C. They were in no shape to do that. So, Triet ordered his conscripts to start double-timing from the present ambush site toward the base camp. He hoped they could make it before the Americans. Triet had no other options. That base camp was soon to become toast when the Americans discovered it.

      The Americans arrived at Triet’s base camp before Triet's conscripts could arrive. A firefight broke out between the Americans and the support troops just as Triet's conscripts were coming from the foiled ambush site. They had no time to man their fortified bunkers. Welch was able to maneuver his men in and amongst some of those unmanned bunkers. Their berms provided excellent cover from the increasing volume of enemy fire. More and more of Triet's troops kept arriving at first. However, Welch was able to call close-in artillery support as well as mortar fire from his own NDP. He also did an excellent job of maneuvering his men to occupy positions behind the cover of more and more bunkers. His grunts used standard fire and advance tactics to push the enemy out of the camp altogether.

      Triet's men had no opportunity to choose their ground and quickly broke and ran under the withering fire placed on them by the Americans. The fighting started at 12:19, and by 13:10, it slacked off. Terry called down from his bubble helicopter and ordered Clark and Kasik to withdraw for the day. I believe Terry planned on having the enemy base camp bombed later. I don't know whether that happened. Not a single one of Clark and Kasik's men was killed, due mainly to their bold and decisive initiatives, but also because they made a "last-minute" course change, which had put a kink in Triet's plans. Triet's troops had been put in too much of a rush. To make matters worse, they were tired and weak from hunger. They could not respond as fast as they usually would have been able to do. Triet couldn't change ambush sites and reinforce an understaffed base camp in time to properly prepare for the arrival of Welch and Kasik.

      This happenstance created a very successful morning for the Black Lions. However, the two inapt senior commanders, Coleman and Newman, failed to see that. Instead, they overreacted to what they thought Terry Allen had done wrong, although neither man knew enough, in the first place, to judge right from wrong. They were not savvy enough to realize that the course change was actually a smart move. Much less were they able to contemplate what Triet might have been up to next. Instead, as evidenced by Newman's later interaction with Terry, Coleman and Newman likely read the course change as a squeamish desire born out of Terry Allen's fear of "closing" with the enemy. Nothing could have been further from the truth, but the truth had very little to do with it. Also, Allen's radio communications from his Helicopter to his men on the ground only reinforced senior command's negative feelings about Terry. It seems, from remarks made later by other soldiers, that Terry's communications did not give his senior commanders the "warm and fuzzy" feeling which they were used to hearing. Also, on both days, Allen had called the missions off too early to suit Coleman and Newman. Pressured by these perceived concerns, Newman's next move would now cast the die of destruction.

     Here is a truth for the taking. Whether operating a combat battalion or a tech company, the boss will almost always be less adept than their subordinates at running day-to-day operations, even when that subordinate does not have their head fully in the game, as was the case with Terry Allen. That's why a boss needs to ask at least ten questions for each mandate issued in trying to correct a perceived problem. Coleman and Newman didn't do that. Most Senior commanders in the First Infantry Division didn't do that. They approached their jobs from a particular kind of all-knowing perspective. Here is what I mean by that. It's a perspective where the person may actually know that they don't know everything, but they also think that they must pretend to understand it until they make it. This destructive attitude is really quite common in any large organization where leaders are continually promoted beyond their original skill sets. The only way to avoid this destructive dynamic from occurring in larger organizations is to appoint only senior leadership that the Holy Spirit leads. Yes, I realize the disconnect that this statement may have, for many readers, but I would have to “write a book” even to come close to explaining the in-depth truth behind this statement.

     Coleman, who was second in command of the Big Red One, was under the gun to make a good showing while General Hay was away in Saigon. The big question for him was whether Hay's boy, Terry, was going to mess things up before Hay returned. Coleman was definitely swayed by the same concerns that Newman had perceived in their new commander, Terry Allen. He, like Newman, definitely felt that the job had not been finished and that Terry had called the operations off way too soon. Now, they would definitely have to go back to that same area tomorrow. That was very disconcerting to both Coleman and Newman, since both these men were still trying to learn how to spell "jungle warfare". If things went wrong, Coleman may never get that next star. From the looks of things today, Terry didn't have a handle on his business. The blame for a mess-up tomorrow, however, would definitely implicate Coleman, and he knew that. Something needed to be done. His career could be at stake. Yes, it was time to do something, but what?

     Terry was the First Division's "fair-haired boy". How would he ever explain to General Hay that he had to fire Terry Allen? Obviously, that was out of the question. As Coleman and Newman's fears fed on one another, something else happened. It was the same thing that happened a lot with senior commanders in the Big Red One. They got mad. Now, Newman was more mad than Coleman and was also less personally involved with Terry. So, it was decided between the two men that Newman would have a "face-to-face" meeting with Terry and, in no uncertain terms, point out his perceived failures. Sadly, this judgment was made from their own misreading of events.

     Nevertheless, a furious Newman ordered Terry to land his Helicopter beside the Full Bird Colonel's, so they could have a heart-to-heart talk, in private. That wasn’t a good move. Newman then proceeded to lay into Terry. He shouted straight into Lieutenant Colonel Terry Allen's face with an anger directed toward him that no field commander should ever have to endure, from a superior. The gist of it was that Terry might have gotten a bigger body count today if he hadn't called off the operation so soon. Secondly, he might have had better communications with his men if he had been on the ground with them instead of up in the air in his Helicopter. Both these critiques, within themselves, were okay, but it was the angry way in which they were delivered by Newman that cut Terry's legs out from under him. 

      However, tracing destructive factors, contributing to the fiasco at Ong Thanh Creek, only as far as Coleman and Newman would not be far enough. That entire tragedy can be laid at Westmoreland's doorstep. He owns it. Although it would require a whole book to explain that, let it be enough for me to say this. Had Westmoreland's war of attrition not been initiated by him in the first place, many of the tragic events in Vietnam would not have occurred. Yet, at this point in the war, if senior commanders had not followed his wishes, then they would have been removed from command. It was just that simple. If removed, then their careers would surely have been damaged. Yes, it would be easy to say that Brigadier General Coleman and Brigade Commander Buck Newman were as dumb as a box of rocks, and let it go at that. However, it was pressure from above that sealed the fate of so many. When the leader at the top is convinced that God and biblical principles have no value and simultaneously becomes convinced that they are the most intelligent person in any room, then that leader can no longer be trusted to win, regardless of the endeavor. Westmoreland was that kind of leader. A godless fear of him set the tone for his subordinates.

      Here is another contributing factor to the impending Ong Thanh tragedy. A properly trained senior leadership would have immediately realized this. You see, the Army had been betting its money on the wrong horse in the first place. Terry Allen was already exhibiting signs of stress, causing him to fall behind in his duties. This horse was never going to be able to win a race, anyway, and there was one very overlooked reason for that. Terry Allen was not a horse in the first place. He had no aptitude for the job. On this last day of his life, from things I have learned that others said, Terry, himself, was beginning to realize this. He would have liked nothing better than to have stopped the madness. From oblique comments I have learned he made to others, I believe that his heart desired to resign his command, get on a plane, and fly home to a restored marriage, his daughters, and also a completely different career. However, only God can put Humpty Dumpty together again.

     Although Terry had already mentioned changing careers, he was coming to this decision way too slowly. Perhaps it was that single strand of lingering pride that obscured his vision and kept him  9,000 miles away from his most important responsibility under God? That most essential responsibility was his family. It was not to his nation. Our priorities should be God, family, and then country, in that order. When a father gets those priorities out of order, he and his family are in for big trouble, and ironically, the nation is too. Yes, it is true. Dick and Caroline Cavazos were also separated a lot, by war. However, the difference was this. Their souls were "of one accord". Caroline supported Dick's efforts. Jean Allen did not support Terry's efforts in what he was doing. The truth is this. Not everyone can become a warrior, and there is no shame in that. However, a man with a wife is always meant to make sacrifices for his wife and be a father to his children. Living in a "land which is free” makes it a lot easier to do that, but it’s still not a “slam-dunk”. (Eph. 5:25-31)

      Let me continue to "harp" just a little longer. As tragic as the event was, on this 17th day of October, there were much broader destructive forces "at foot" than Terry Allen's messed-up priorities. It had to do with our national leaders and their growing trust in themselves. At the same time, they shunned the wisdom that comes only from God. That choice set the stage for America to become a consistent loser. October 17, and my story of Terry Allen is just a very tiny part of that losing streak. Not only turning from God but openly attacking those who did believe in God's precepts was quickly becoming the norm in the sixties. A growing hate for God actually fueled it. That hate and the placating of it not only became the root cause for what happened at Ong Thanh Creek, but it also set the stage for our total defeat in Vietnam. That defeat meant the loss of all personal freedoms for millions of Vietnamese, including the loss of their very lives.

      Crazy notions are born in an environment swayed by God haters. Our entire national policy toward Vietnam in mid-1967 was one of those crazy notions. It was a notion based solely on Westmoreland's gladiatorial strategy of attrition. Westmoreland had just told President Johnson that his battles of attrition were now winning the war, which was a lie. Our First Division commander, General Hay, had been summoned to attend a meeting in Saigon, which no doubt had something to do with "Westy" wanting to make sure every one of his division commanders was supporting his crazy notion. "Westy" had convinced himself that "winning" and "killing" more people was the same thing. Never mind that his own eyes were telling him something totally different. Is that wild? It made no sense to rational minds then, and it makes no sense to rational minds now. General Hay was on board with the part of "Westy's" plan to destroy more enemy forces in South Vietnam, but he had a real problem with seeing the numbers on our side of this tally sheet go up. Yet, Westmoreland openly admitted that he had no problem with that whatsoever.

      Unlike Westmoreland, Hay had proven himself to be a real hero in front-line combat with the 10th Mountain Division in Italy. Hay knew from "up close combat" what blood bought victories looked like, but the strategy Westmoreland was promoting, though bloody, didn't seem to be the same thing. Killing for the sake of killing and not for the sake of occupying territory just didn't make sense, even to most of us lowly grunts. Defense Secretary McNamara also doubted Westmoreland's strategy by now. His doubts were backed up by some of his top analysts at the Pentagon. James Gavan, who was instrumental in actually winning a war in Europe against Nazi Germany, was so disturbed by Westmoreland's flaky idea that he paid for his own plane ticket to visit Westmoreland in Saigon. He was Westmoreland's old boss and had a lot of pull with the public. Westmoreland spent five days trying to talk him into seeing things his way. When Gavin went to Vietnam, he went with some skepticism about Westmoreland's handling of the situation. However, when he left, he realized the handsome polo player was leading our nation and the Vietnamese people into an unmitigated disaster. He said so to the press when he returned. Westmoreland, however, remained steadfastly resolute. He had just requested more troops to throw at his thoughtlessly aggressive actions, supporting a strategy that had not produced a shred of evidence that it was a winning strategy.

     By his own words, Westy saw nothing wrong with trading one American life for every four enemy deaths. These completely avoidable deaths were acceptable in "Westy's" world, an out-of-touch world. Since the actual ratio of enemy deaths to American deaths was around 19 to 1, the reader can see that "Westy" would have been okay if the number of young Americans killed in the war was 4 or 5 times greater than it actually was. This fact does not take into account the vast numbers of Vietnamese deaths. God places infinite value on every human life. I don't believe anyone can truthfully say that Westy's values and God's values were anywhere close to being the same. What kind of mindset does it take to be so callous toward life? What kind of mind gets stuck in a place like the mind of Westmoreland? The answer to that question is easy. Anyone who believes that they can outthink God. That's who.

     Now, two young leaders, Dick and Terry, were caught up in a mess made by our nation's leaders. Ranch life had prepared Dick to face the turmoil in our country much more easily than Terry. That ranch had sheltered Dick's entire family during his formative years. Its environment allowed him to witness the realities of life as they were faced by functional people day in and day out. There were hundreds of vaqueros and their families living and working on the ranch. However, many times those workers would be on their own and miles away from any boss standing over them, controlling every action taken in the performance of their duties. Dick had no choice but to become immersed in all types of human interactions with these independently minded workers.

     Along with that exposure came the many learning experiences that naturally arose from those interactions. This varied exposure to differing personalities helped develop an ease for Dick when being exposed to a variety of personalities later in life. Life on the ranch taught him that people were just people, no matter what their status in life. Naturally, many of the most important interpersonal skills were learned early on by Dick through his continual observation of his father, Lauro. As he got older, others on the ranch and one older vaquero, in particular, played a personal role in the development of all three boys. Lauro Jr. mentions him in his book, "A Kineno Remembers". This kind of emotional development worked hand in hand with the discipline administered by their father.

      Unlike Dick, Terry had an absentee father, whom he mainly had heard about from others. He was not just "any ole" absentee father. He was a public figure whom many admired. In Terry's mind, his famous father became a fanciful hero of sorts, an imaginary role model, lacking the substance of a father who was there for him each day. On the other hand, Dick learned from day-to-day observations of his father and the constant interactions, which grounded him in real-world situations. Terry had only a glorified but imaginary image of his father, General Allen. Dick saw his father make mistakes. Terry never saw his father much at all, so how could he witness his mistakes? I say again that a glorified but imaginary image was created in Terry's mind, which seduced Terry into trying to become just like the fantasy he had of his father. Instead, he should have been learning to become a better version of himself. Since he was unable to do that, the special and unique man whom God had created was buried forever. There is no indication that either Dick or Terry had a close relationship with God, but Dick's soul was enlightened and molded by the legacy left behind by Henrietta, embodied in ranch life. Terry had no reality to draw from. Instead, his was essentially a world of make-believe thoughts which did not stand up to the harsh realities of life, much less the harsh reality that awaited him at Ong Thanh Creek.   

      As Welch and Kasik returned to their NDP that afternoon of October 16, both realized one thing. I am sure that one thing gave each a sick little feeling deep down in the pit of his stomach. They both realized that there was something wicked still brewing out there in those woods. Every old veteran in the Battalion knew it too.

      Welch was as good a junior combat officer as any who served in Vietnam. He entered service when he was seventeen and volunteered for the newly formed Green Beret Special Forces shortly afterward. He then applied for a two-year direct officer's commission in 1966 and received it. Shortly after being sent to Vietnam, he was reassigned to the Black Lions, which was a line unit. The shock of changing, from the more autonomous atmosphere of a Green Beret to a much more regimented environment, must have required an enormous adjustment. When Welch was reporting for duty with the Black Lions at their administration hut, General DePuy was also there. The general immediately chewed him out for wearing what he called his silly little green beret hat. Even DePuy, who was more tactically astute than his peers, did not understand the future importance of developing smaller, more well-trained forces that could work more independently among the grassroots of a country. By the time the Battle of Ong Thanh rolled around, however, Clark Welch had acquired an understanding of his enemy that few Americans in his shoes would ever develop. He had become one of the most capable junior officers in any American line unit anywhere. However, to really shine, Clark needed the support and trust of a savvy commander like Dick Cavazos. For one, Clark had an inferiority complex, which caused him to close off and withdraw within himself when he was in the presence of senior commanders. Dick would have spotted that flaw in a nanosecond and would have dealt with it. Dick had a gift for making talented people like Clark come out of their cocoons as the talented people they really were. Clark's first assignment in a line unit was as platoon leader of the Battalion's recon platoon. However, performing stealthy observations of the enemy wasn't his thing. His platoon got into a firefight almost every time his patrol left the perimeter.

     Nevertheless, his men loved him, and he trusted and treated them with respect. When the newly formed D Company showed up in July, her company commander was fired for some silly reason, and Clark was assigned to take over and train D Company. Assigning a lieutenant to this was highly unusual. It was a big clue, revealing to me just how much respect senior officers had developed for Welch. Actually, what they felt toward him was more "gut-level awe" than respect. In the fall, Welch took his new company to the field, while still wearing lieutenant bars instead of what should have been captain's bars. That was the normal rank of a company commander. Though he performed superbly, those skinny lieutenant bars were a constant reminder that he wasn't as deserving as those college grads who wore big fat captain's bars. At least, that's what his head said. Reality and his heart told him he was just as good, and often better, at knowing what to do in a "scrape". But Clark, like most, allowed his head to rule. Thus, a conflicted soul was born, leaving the door wide open for a lot of anger and resentment on his part when things didn't go as planned. Also, Clark's inferiority mindset, causing him to clam up at a meeting, would have a profound effect on the Battle of Ong Thanh.

     You see, there was a meeting late in the day. It was a stand-up meeting out in the open center of the NDP, only twenty yards or so from the Helicopter which had brought Coleman and Newman there. This meeting gave Welch his most excellent opportunity of the war if he had only been able to embrace that opportunity. He understood completely the extreme danger facing the Black Lions and instinctively knew what to do about it. Yet, Welch was woefully unprepared to deal with the "battle of the meeting", now being held on the evening of the sixteenth. Actually, it would have been asking too much of Welch to have expected him to speak up. His fear of his superiors was just too intense to allow him to do that. However, he was not alone. Very few, if any, junior officers in the Big Red One would have been able to speak up in a meeting like this to give honest feedback. At that time, Dick Cavazos was the only field commander in the entire Division who consciously created an atmosphere where that kind of feedback could freely flow.   

     Brigadier General Coleman, First Brigade Commander, Colonel Newman, and Lt. Colonel Terry Allen were at this meeting. Still, as I said, General Hay had been called away by Westmoreland to a meeting in Saigon. It's too bad that General Hay was not there. If he had been there, he, like Welch, would have understood the gravity of the situation. Unlike Welch, however, Hay had the rank necessary to be heard. Neither Coleman nor Newman "understood squat". They certainly did not understand their part in reducing Terry to an emotional "basket case," causing his mind to lapse into a complete fog. Hay was a "stickler" for details. If he had been at the meeting, he would have definitely probed past Terry's malaise, forcing him and the others to discuss details of their plans for the next day's operation. As I said, Welch knew precisely what to do and would have spoken up had he been encouraged to do so.

     However, Hay wasn't there to provide that encouragement, much less prevent Newman from berating Terry, in a last straw, destroying altogether Terry’s ability to focus on the job. Neither Coleman nor Newman knew how to spell the word "encourage". Besides, if nothing was discussed, then on paper, the sole responsibilities for any mess-up tomorrow could be squarely placed on Terry's shoulders alone. He was the field commander, supposedly in complete control of how the ground operations would be conducted. Coleman and Newman could claim plausible deniability, placing the entire weight of responsibility for any mess-up on Terry. Their careers would remain intact. So, it was. No questions were asked, although Coleman and Newman had witnessed Dick’s successful handling of a similar situation at the Battle of Da Yeu. That should have given them enough experience to ask some pertinent questions. Yet, they asked nothing. Terry wasn’t at the Battle of Da Yeu and was unaware of how that battle was handled. So it was, America lost one more "Battle of the Meeting", because Welch allowed his fear to make him "clam up" and General Hay was forced to have supper in Saigon.

      Dick Cavazos was the only field commander among those whom I have researched who would never have allowed rank to lord over another soldier's ability to speak his mind on tactical matters. A man could freely express himself on tactics, and Dick judged the validity of what he was saying, not by his rank, but by every word coming out of his mouth. Furthermore, when Dick was talking to senior leadership, he had no problem speaking his mind, either. Many times, it was he who hopped on a helicopter and flew to them before they had a chance to come to him, and his proven track record went with him, along with his accurate assessment of the current situation. He let the chips fall where they may, but he was also good at reading the consequences for those affected by the chips.

      Welch had been under fire enough times to know that specific general maneuvers were critical and needed to be agreed upon beforehand, or else things could deteriorate into chaos too late for even a good plan to work. However, the Army's backward culture hindered Welch from speaking up, and because deep down he felt unworthy, he was not about to break with cultural norms. Yet, as he remained silent, he also burned inside. Clark Welch probably went to his grave regretting that he had not said something during this meeting. Coleman and Newman both had just witnessed his bravery and his competence in the heat of battle and would have probably listened to any tactical suggestions that he was willing to throw out there. Coleman had often come around at Lai Khe during the summer, when Clark was training his new D Company troops and had nothing but good things to say to him on each visit. As this meeting on the sixteenth was breaking up, Coleman's aide handed him a silver star to pin on Clark's chest.

      Other tensions were affecting senior command in the First Infantry Division at this time. Coleman and Newman were well aware of it. It probably fueled some of the bullying they dished out to Terry earlier in the day. It was common knowledge that Westmoreland felt General Hay moved too slowly and was too careful with his men's lives. Though the action today was quite successful, Coleman and Newman knew that the low enemy body count would be scorned in the eyes of Westmoreland. Still, it was obvious that they had no idea what to do about it. As I said, no tactical plans were discussed in the meeting, and these two senior leaders asked no pertinent questions. In a picture taken of the meeting, Terry looks very small standing by that Helicopter, with Coleman and Newman towering over him. It's easy to see the lost look on Terry's face. Terry had no desire to be within a thousand miles of either of those men. Sadly, while Dick would never have allowed himself to take a bruising from these two "Bumpkins" in the first place, Terry just stood there and endured the humiliation of being in the presence of the two men who had just treated him worse than a recruit getting off the bus. Knowing how disappointed they were in him made it impossible for him to focus on the problem at hand. He felt emasculated, and feeling emasculated is a bad way for any combat commander to feel.  

      There was another meeting after Coleman and Newman flew back to Chon Thanh. This one was held out of the afternoon rain, inside a hex tent with real folding chairs for the attendees to sit on. The captains who were company commanders sat in the front row. Welch was a company commander, too. However, he was a Lieutenant, so he had to take a seat in the second row. It was a battalion briefing. There were about ten people at this meeting: three company commanders, Terry's S3 and S2, attached air and artillery observers, and other officers and NCOs in the headquarters company. Terry was the highest-ranking officer at this meeting and high enough to not entertain even the slightest probe into how he planned to handle tomorrow's upcoming operation. He was in command now, and he would run things as he saw fit. If there were any dressing down to be done, then he would be the one dishing it out. He had already taken his dressing-down for the day, and like any good second-year man, he was primed to pass it on. Unfortunately, since his West Point days, Terry had matured little because he had dealt with little. He had enjoyed a privileged life. In that life, he had primarily been catered to by others. There had been no reason to face the real world because his make-believe world had worked so well. Now, that entire world was crumbling. Only a desperate wish to return to the past remained.  

     Clark Welch had never been to West Point, so how could he know that Terry Allen was still trying to graduate? He definitely didn't realize that Terry was now primed to use him to make the grade. Welch did know, however, that he knew a "thing or two" about jungle fighting, and that he was frustrated because he felt he had no way to be heard. Terry seemed to be in no mood to answer questions. He removed himself even further from the meeting by having his operations officer, Major Sloan, conduct the meeting, while injecting corrections as he saw fit. Clark Welch was livid. He knew he needed to speak up before his men went back into that jungle. However, Clark was a man of actions, not words. The "entire thing" of noticing how disengaged his commander was and not knowing what to do about it left an immense sinking feeling deep inside Welch's stomach. He felt helpless and abandoned. Clark had no idea that his commander was a boy pretending to be a man. Even if Clark had known this, he would not have had the presence of mind to deal with it. Clark's concern was totally with his men and fighting tactics, as it should have been. Let me spell out this most gut-wrenching fact as simply as I can. The critical lifesaving tactical information, which the Black Lions sorely needed, was wrapped up in the mind of Terry Allen’s best jungle fighter, Clark Welch. All Terry needed to do was get feedback from Clark, who would explain what Terry needed to do in those woods tomorrow. Even a boy can unwrap things. Even a poor leader can ask questions.

      As men started walking away from this second meeting toward their positions for the night, Clark Welch, with pent-up emotions boiling over, finally blurted out a bumbling, nonsensical remark. It hit Terry squarely between the eyes. "Sir, I don't think we should go back in there tomorrow", the big man whined in a much smaller man's voice. That was absolutely the worst choice of words that Clark could have possibly uttered. Those words hit Terry so hard that they knocked the already predisposed Terry Allen all the way back to his days as a second-year man at West Point. He now saw Welch, not as the warrior he was, but as an out-of-line Plebe. Without thinking, second-year man Terry immediately responded, as he had been conditioned to react as a cadet. "You have had a hard day today, Al", he said, using the name which he commonly used to address Welch. The calming tone of his voice and his well-chosen words were the perfect setup. It was the setup that prepared the way for the zinger. All second-year cadets in those days were taught to use this standard training technique, which is still being used today. It required a second-year cadet to briefly describe to a targeted Plebe a perceived problem, which, in reality, was the setup. Then, he was taught to deliver a zinger as the solution to that problem. That zinger in the form of an offending order was designed to break the Plebe. It had nothing to do with solving real problems in the real world. Instead, it had everything to do with tearing down the soft soul of a civilian so he could be rebuilt into a more hardened version of himself, conforming better to the harsh military environment. Terry paused after delivering the setup. He then offered what he thought was a perfect zinger. "I am changing the order of the march tomorrow morning", Terry almost whispered. "Captain George's A Company will lead instead of your D Company". That was it. Welch was dismissed without being allowed to speak. Why? Because no competent second-year man would ever listen to the sniveling, whimpering remarks made by a Plebe in response to a well-delivered zinger. However, there were just two problems with what had just transpired. Welch was no Plebe, and Terry was no longer a second-year man. Welch was a great leader and decorated war hero of the first magnitude, who had dedicated himself, body and soul, to becoming that leader.

     Furthermore, Terry was now a commander of veteran soldiers of the highest order. They were no longer newbies. Terry's primary job now was to trust and then figure out ways to enable those warriors to do better as they fought against a determined foe. He was not here to destroy their fighting spirit but to reinforce it. After this last meeting, Welch and Terry would never have anything of importance to say to one another, ever. Second year man, Terry Allen, had just spoken the words, which would condemn him and two of his rifle companies to utter destruction.

      Of course, they were going to return tomorrow to that same area. That's what they were there to do, and no one knew that better than Clark Welch. What Clark almost certainly meant to say was, "Sir, I think we should stop and talk about an overall plan in case we are attacked". Terry, however, took Clark's words literally, and in Terry's shallow, immature mind, those words were misinterpreted. In reality, Welch was more the adult than Terry. Terry did not realize that Welch's terribly phrased words were nothing more than cries for help. It was Clark's way of begging Terry to take on his responsibilities and give explicit instructions to him and his men for tomorrow's operation. All along, Terry had been trying to fill his father's shoes, but he lacked the maturity and aptitude for this deadly business. He had graduated second-to-last in his class at West Point. He should have taken that ranking as a huge warning sign that he was in the wrong line of work, but he didn't. A good leader always possesses the ability to read their people, no matter what words come forth from their mouths. However, a good leader must also be able to read themselves. If Terry could not read himself or his men, with whom he spent day in and day out, how could he ever hope to gain an understanding of a shadowy and ruthless foe like Vo Minh Triet?

      War is awful. It's not a place to learn how to lead. Terry would have done just fine in some other endeavor. There are a lot of immature forty-year-olds making their way in this modern world. Besides being childish, he had no aptitude for hunting and killing his enemy. Guess what? Neither did Jesus of Nazareth. You see, not everyone is cut from the same cloth. As I have said, but bears repeating, there should be no shame associated with those who lack this morbid ability to destroy human lives. Although it is a path which God has paved for some of the righteous among us to follow, it is not a path for all.

     Simply put, Terry was never a warrior and never would be one. It was his covering of pride protected by a foreboding of shame, which led him to an early death. There are an infinite number of routes in life and many pursuits, but only one path and one pursuit designed by God, for each of us, to find real fulfillment. My previous commander, Lieutenant Colonel Denton, found this enlightened path later in life, after butting his head against a wall as a combat commander in both Korea and Vietnam. He was clearly not cut out to be a combat commander. However, he changed course later in his life and went on to make a significant contribution to his country and touch many other lives and his community in an enlightened way. Instead, Terry became one more tragic victim of the darkness. He was trapped in the shadow of his father's life, never finding that bright and sunlit road which his creator had designed just for him. Unfortunately, the men of the Black Lions had no choice but to follow him into that darkness.

      At 0800 hours the next morning, on October 17, 1967, Jim George's half-strength A Company led the march from the NDP perimeter, heading due south into the triple canopy jungle. Captain Kasik's B Company stayed behind and guarded the NDP. Welch's D Company followed behind A Company with Terry Allen and his headquarters people sandwiched in behind Clark's 1st platoon and his other platoons. Those platoons brought up the rear. According to the recorded coordinates, they were traveling on a path that was due West of yesterday's march. They stopped every 500 meters and sent out those idiotic clover leaf patrols. They did nothing but slow things down, giving the enemy more time to stage an ambush. They also made it harder to retrieve wounded patrol members when they were injured during first contact. They did absolutely nothing to prevent an ambush. Terry's men walked in a double column, which meant more noise, more effort, and twice as many people funneled into the killing zone of a three-sided ambush. Dick would have had our single column count off, numbering ourselves so we knew which flank to cover in case we were attacked. For example, the odd number would cover the right, and the even-numbered man would cover the left. Terry had "walking artillery fires" dropping shells 500 meters in front of the line of march. That, too, served little purpose. Calling for spotter rounds every so often would have been a better move. Here's why. Spotter rounds would have assured that the gun crews were readily able to provide quick fires on target, but would not have worn down the gun crews, who had to carry heavy ammo and load those big guns. The enemy could easily avoid the heavy barrages of "walking fires" because the Battalion was moving in a straight line, so they knew where the shells were going to land well in advance. Traveling in a straight line also allowed Triet to easily determine where that straight line march would intersect an ox cart trail, and every large ambush, which I researched, took place near one of these well-used ox cart trails. Incredibly, our leaders never seemed to "snap" to the importance of knowing this. Triet could not only predict the best place to stage an ambush, but also accurately estimate his enemy's arrival time at his chosen ambush site. These slow-moving search and destroy operations always gave him more than enough time to place his sappers, tree snipers, and guides in position. The guides would then direct the main force into position. When commanded, NVA conscripts kept at a safe distance could be "herded" over a mile on one of these trails in less than 15 minutes. One of the reasons Welch and Kasik fared so well in the battle on October 16 was that they had turned east from their straight-line march just 300 meters before crossing this same ox cart trail. Triet had been waiting for them to reach that trail. By switching directions, Clark and Kasik had unknowingly foiled the ambush. Today, on the seventeenth, the Americans did not switch directions before intersecting this well-maintained ox cart trail, and it had taken them two hours to get there. That was plenty of time for Triet to prepare a large ambush, using primarily support troops to kick things off and keeping his weakened and starving NVA conscripts in reserve.

      Yes, captured documents and later captured prisoners revealed that Triet was initially ordered to leave this area around Lai Khe and join other forces for a planned attack on a place named Loc Ninh. He wasn't supposed to hang around the Long Nguyên Secret Zone, but this location was nearer those caches of rice, which we Americans captured. This storage of food forced him to wait a little longer, while those support troops scrounged up what they could find for his long march north. His special support troops had been hustling to reach those lost caches when the boys in the 1/2nd and 1/16th Infantry Battalions captured them first. Many of Triet's conscripts would now starve on that long march north with no food. It was at least 50 miles as the crow flies. However, his conscripts were not crows and they couldn't fly. Their route wound through thick jungle and was much longer. The further they marched into this virgin jungle, the harder it would become to find food. Also, far from being the legendary fighters that communist propaganda portrayed, these conscripts were still growing children, requiring more sleep and more food than an adult. In 1967-68, my analysis shows me that these brutally victimized youths had a life expectancy of not much more than six months after arriving to live in the deadly jungles of South Vietnam. Now, time was running out for this particular batch.

     To make matters worse, they had just been mauled in three major engagements by my Dogface Battalion. Triet was a ruthless sociopath, but he was no fool. He understood everything I had just said. Like all who rose to Triet's level of authority under the communist ideology, he was very good at ruthlessly exploiting the hard work of others for his own benefit. At the same time, he was also good at lying to himself, telling himself that the end justified the means. His dehumanized logic said to him that he could either march north and have many of his conscripts die on the way, with nothing to show for their deaths, or he could make one more stab at overrunning and destroying an American battalion. Since there was no rice to transport, he could use support troops to shore up his lines. They were fresh and easily motivated to get involved in the fighting, partly because they had no idea what kind of mess they were fixing to get themselves into. Their plight in life had always been the monotonous job of transporting resupplies. The Phu Loi battalion was also nearby and just chock-full of communist sociopaths who could also help. They did know what they were getting into and loved killing us almost as much as cutting out an uncooperative village chief's guts while his family was made to watch. Triet also knew that Terry Allen had just been newly promoted. He could tell already that Allen was nothing like that other "old battle axe", Dick Cavazos. This guy moved more slowly and quit sooner. He bombed targets in the middle of nowhere, and in so many other little ways, he didn't seem up to the task.

     On the other hand, that Dogface guy seemed to know every trick in the book. Triet was probably still scratching his head and wondering how Dick was able to pinpoint his hideout and bomb it the day after the Battle of Xom Bo II. The communist spy ring in Saigon provided Triet with general updates on all American battalion commanders, but by now, he had come to realize that there was just something about Dick that they couldn't tell him.

      It was 0958 hours when Jim George's point men arrived at that well-worn trail running generally from the southeast to the northwest and about 1000 meters from the NDP. It was the same trail that Welch and Kasik would have intersected the day before had they not changed directions before they got there. George's point men spotted seven VC near the trail, who immediately ran off when they were sighted. It should have been evident to Terry Allen at this point in his tour of duty that this was a setup. It was a common trick, played over and over by the VC on us Americans to draw the more naïve commanders into what was usually a three-sided ambush. The VC were already in attack positions, waiting for a signal to spring the trap. The point men of A Company started firing away at the seven VC, but these Black Lions were veteran jungle fighters who were not foolish enough to chase after a few VC. They waited for orders on what to do next. The entire Battalion was now halted and standing in place while Capt. Jim George talked to Terry, and Terry spoke to Col. Newman, and I am also sure that Brigadier Gen. Coleman got in on the conversation, too. General Hay was still tied up in Saigon. Everyone talked to everyone except Clark Welch, the one man everyone should have been talking to. However, Clark was not in the lead. The compliant and inexperienced Jim George was leading the column. Clark was in the rear, so all he could do was listen to the radio chatter. No doubt, the first thing Clark would have advised Terry to do if he had been in the lead would have been to allow him to immediately withdraw and call in a wall of artillery on that ground fifty meters to their front. That was the only sensible move to make. However, Terry had "knee-jerked" at Clark's terribly misplaced remarks at that last meeting the night before. Terry changed the line of march. That change in the line of march placed Clark's D company in the rear, which meant that all control of the battle that could have come from Terry's most experienced company commander was muted. Clark and his men could only listen helplessly on their radios as events unfolded up front. No one in Clark's D Company, however, could believe how "hair-brained" Terry Allen's next move would be. Even 18-year-old D Company PFC Peter Miller thought that this plan was the most "scatterbrained" idea he had ever heard. The point squad of A Company was being ordered to set up an ambush on that ox cart trail.

When I read David Maraniss's excellent account of this detail, I too was dumfounded. It spoke volumes about Terry's lack of understanding of this type of warfare. Ambushes in Vietnam were stealthy affairs, carried out by a small force, and usually at night. An ambush was the last thing in the world that should have been considered here. Terry Allen was commanding a large, noisy force trampling through the jungle like a herd of goats. Ambushes were supposed to take the enemy by surprise and usually required a lengthy waiting period to achieve this. Who, in their right mind, would ever think that the enemy was going to be taken by surprise, at this location, when an entire squad had not only discharged their weapons, but over one hundred other grunts behind them had announced their presence, by stomping through the area, to the cadence of marching artillery fires. Besides, what was the rest of the Battalion going to do with themselves while waiting on this ambush patrol to spring their trap? Did they bring their dominoes or a deck of cards with them? The question which most disturbed me, however, was why in the world did Colonel Newman or General Coleman not countermand this crazy idea? They were there when Capt. Watts Caudill had demonstrated the proper tactics during the Battle of Da Yeu. Even my grandmother would have known that this ambush was a ridiculous tactic.

      Triet's watchers had been sending him real-time reports on the progress of the Black Lions since the Americans left their NDP. He gave the order to spring his ambush just as George's lead squad was moving into their ambush positions along the trail. When Triet gave the signal, the point man's body was immediately ripped open by massive volumes of fire coming from multiple heavy machine guns. Some were in trenches on the right flank, and others were firing from directly to the front and south of the trail. If I had been assigned to the 2/28th, with Terry as my boss, I would have had no choice but to do precisely what this veteran point man had done, which was to obey Terry's foolish commands and walk to my death. Within no more than a couple of minutes, things descended into chaos. The men of A Company were soon cut to pieces by a hail of heavy machine gun fire, which could easily rip through smaller trees and kill men hiding on the other side. Since sappers and small groups of those enemy supporting troops did not receive any organized return fire, the signal was given for heavy machine guns to cease firing, and small teams of support troops, guided by sappers, were allowed to rush into the "kill zone" piecemeal. Scores rushed forward and quickly stuck claymore mines down, detonating some so soon that some blew themselves up with the back blast from their very own mines. The ragtag RPG teams did the most damage. They literally blasted A Company apart. These guys, who carried extra rockets to the ambush site, were in good shape because their job up until now had been to carry heavy bags of rice. Now, instead of rice, they took numerous resupplies of munitions and weapons. Those RPG rockets were a very effective mobile artillery, but the tactic only worked because Terry was not using his own artillery as it should have been used.

      I found documentation indicating that at least 200 local support troops joined Triet's main force, NVA, just before the battle. Let me say again, these support troops were not there for the fun of it all. They were there to fight, and they fought much more aggressively, but also much more piecemeal. They also brought along some captured M-60 machine guns and several M-79 grenade launchers, which conscripts in the regular NVA battalions would not have had. However, local support troops would have most certainly obtained a few of these at this point in the war, because they had more dealings with the black market. I mention these facts because they indicate that this battle was fought differently from most other battles fought by the First Division in 1967. These local support troops were less disciplined in their maneuvers but much better at improvising than their NVA counterparts. They were also more familiar with the area and jungle trails than conscripts, who only knew to follow the person in front of them. It's sad to think that our Army intelligence guys never used us old grunts to do in-depth studies of these battles and then develop better tactics. Job security may have been a concern. However, if they felt their competence was threatened by us grunts, they could have hired a PHD to join us so that they could have taken all the credit.

      Heavy machine guns, fixed to shoot six inches off the ground, opened up first. There was no escaping death at this point for many members of A Company. To counter this, withdrawal tactics would already have had to be in place as a standard operating procedure. That would have allowed an immediate withdrawal before the shooting started. Terry's broken mind could not go there, but what about Newman and Coleman? Quite frankly, it would have been better if they had joined Hay in Saigon for lunch. When Terry's people failed to withdraw but called for more people to advance, that was Triet's cue to cease firing machine guns and send RPG teams into the fight.

     I found no evidence that Triet used his conscripts to make human wave attacks for good reason. As I have mentioned, they were "on the ropes" after being decimated in those last three demoralizing battles with my 1/18th Battalion. Not only were they starving, but the psychological fabric that held conscripts together was their three-person cells. These cells had been torn to tatters by my Dogface Battalion. Surviving members of these cells suffered significant emotional trauma from watching their fellow teenage comrades being ripped to shreds by my B Company boys. They were human. I assure the reader that the horror these conscripts experienced at the hands of a very professionally led American unit like the 1/18th did not make them want to say things like, "Yippee! That was fun. Can we do that again"? I say all this to say that the preponderance of evidence from the 1/18th battles and the one Terry fought makes it reasonably easy to see that Triet was predisposed to hold most of his NVA (not all) in reserve on this day and instead use those local support troops the way he did. It's not beyond the realm of possibilities to think that most of his NVA conscripts were already preparing and possibly withdrawing from the area as this battle was winding down, since they already had orders to march to Loch Ninh. This ambush was a desperate gamble by Triet, which just happened to pay off. I believe the outcome was as much a surprise to Triet as it was to Coleman and Newman. Terry's woefully lacking tactical ability was the only reason Triet won. I really don't think he expected to win. He was trying to cause some damage and then get away. Those support troops, like many "backwater" support troops, were itching for a fight, and their morale was high. They were in good shape mentally and physically. The records say 200 of them showed up, so the real number was probably at least double that. They were the ones who did most of the fighting, and that made this battle unique, compared to the others, which the First Infantry Division fought during 1967.

      Soon, enemy sniper fire was coming from three sides. They were high up in big trees, shooting down on people who exposed themselves in the sunlit patches of open jungle. Americans became distracted by the screams of the wounded around them. Many others, not yet injured, knew they would be haunted for the rest of their lives if they turned their backs on their hapless buddies. So, they stopped fighting and started helping. The stupid deployment of the A Company ambush just put men deeper into the jaws of Triet's much bigger ambush. When the shooting started, it allowed the number of wounded and dead to rise much more quickly. Others further to the rear just naturally rushed forward, becoming helping soldiers rather than shooting soldiers. To make matters worse, initially, Captain George himself led the charge for the entire company, moving forward toward the shooting, instead of having them make a tactical withdrawal.

     In contrast, he still had troops who were able to fight. Soon, a homemade claymore mine took out most of Jim George's key people. George, himself, was severely wounded by it and had to turn his A Company command over to First Sergeant Valdez. In those first critical minutes, more and more A Company soldiers continued rushing forward, running to their deaths, either because they were ordered to do so or were motivated by their own feelings of letting their buddies down if they did not do so. As is always the case with a situation like this, order quickly broke down, and too many actions no longer had anything to do with killing the enemy. The importance of that task was obscured rapidly. However, it was still the most critical task at hand.

     In a firefight, everything needs to be secondary to killing the enemy. I realize that this is a very gruesome reality. It is so gruesome that it is no wonder that so many lost their ability to wrap their minds around such a thing. It's especially sickening to the Christian soul. Most young Americans caught up in the slaughter, on this day, were the offspring of parents who had raised their sons to make helping an injured person their priority. It just wasn't in their makeup to ignore that person and continue looking for someone to kill. A few weeks of military training had not altered that humane way of thinking. Guys just wanted to save their buddies, and that was a decent thought. It was a righteous thought. It was a thought that wins medals, but it was not a thought that was appropriate at this moment. Instead, it was just the kind of thinking that turned even more living young men into dead ones. At this point, the fearless but totally clueless Terry Allen had finally allowed his lack of mature forethought to catch up with him.

     When Clark Welch tried to warn him, he not only wouldn't listen, but he demeaned his young subordinate commander in the worst way possible. If Terry had listened to Welch, then a plan would have emerged. Then, as soon as those first VCs were spotted, the formidable Welch would have been leading the Battalion instead of the inexperienced Captain George. There is no doubt that Welch would have known what to do. He would already have coordinated a plan with Terry to respond to just such an event as the Battalion was now facing. A plan was all that Welch wanted to put in place the night before. He didn't know how to articulate his thoughts properly to get through to his commander, Terry Allen. Terry was too immature to realize that.

     If this fight had been Dick's fight, he would have already had standing orders in place so he and his subordinate commanders could be on the same page. At the battle of Da Yeu, Watts Caudill already knew beforehand what Dick wanted him to do when contact was made. They were on the same page. If a young commander like Jim George were not told what to do beforehand, he would not automatically give a withdrawal command. He would have been too afraid that a withdrawal would look too much like cowardice under fire to his superiors. Yet, a withdrawal, by necessity, had to be the first tactical response made to ensure the integrity of one's firing lines so those lines could effectively respond to an ambush attack. Dick made sure that his company commanders understood this beforehand. That didn't mean that we were going to stop fighting and run away. It simply meant that our commanders were going to be smart about the way they fought. Dead soldiers can't fight. How hard should that be for a general to understand?

      More than the usual number of weapons failed to fire. Radios were smashed by shrapnel and bullets. Even a usually very reliable M-60 machine gun and an M79 grenade launcher malfunctioned when they were brought forward to help gain fire superiority. Was this just a "freak" occurrence, or was this due to Terry's lax battalion policies toward the proper care of these weapons? I don't have an answer to that question. The M-60 was a very robust but complicated weapon. It required a man to pay close attention to the disassembling and reassembling during cleaning. That man, handling this weapon, on this day, should not have had to wait until he was engaged in a firefight to discover that his gun was malfunctioning. This incident was just one more clue, indicating that Terry was not focused on his business. Though I doubt that Terry thought much about routine matters, I have no proof of that. However, I cannot stress enough the importance of certain everyday routines in a combat unit. Cleaning and maintaining weapons was routine, but of paramount importance. I cannot remember a single report in my unit of an M-60 that failed to fire. The M-16 was a separate issue. Many of them jammed on this day, due to no fault of the individual soldier. Even when firing okay, the lightweight bullet and the use of tracer rounds made the weapon a lot less efficient than it needed to be.

      Also, artillery fires were halted just when they were needed the most. The halt was to accommodate the Air Force, which had arrived to drop its ordinance. By now, even Terry had learned a thing or two about the effective use of these two assets. Correctly, he wanted to continue using artillery, but Colonel Newman countermanded him and shut it down. Certainly, Brigadier General Coleman and Colonel Newman should have known better. However, this counters what was said otherwise. It proved that they had no understanding of what their role should have been, much less how artillery and air strikes should have been used to complement each other instead of working against each other. Like a child at play, Newman had just yanked these assets out of his ground commander's hands, dumb to the fact that he was now taking responsibility for winning or losing this battle. Newman was making precisely the wrong move for so many reasons, I hardly know where to begin. As I have said, Terry had not been at the Battle of Da Yeu, but Coleman and Newman had watched the whole thing from above. They saw Dick establish coordinates for a demarcation line so that the Air Force could keep bombing on the outside of that line and the artillery could keep blasting away up close on the inside without risking an artillery shell striking a plane. Yet, Newman countermanded Terry. Also, at Da Yeu, Newman and Coleman had witnessed Captain Caudill's continual adjustment of artillery barrages, bringing those fires in ever more closely, and they also saw his withdrawal tactics. They should have been able to learn from this real-life display of how things should be done.

     Yet, the duo seemed to have a learning disability. At the Battle of Da Yeu, Captain Caudill was on the same page with a strong field commander (Cavazos) and had very little interference from above. This arrangement freed him to better focus on communicating with his forward observers and maneuvering his platoons. Without Caudill's specific orders, those forward observers would have been too afraid to adjust fires as close as they needed to be. Why? Because they would have feared harming friendly troops and receiving the associated blame that would have come with that. Caudill's mathematical brain took that responsibility away from them and took it upon himself. Still, he would not have been able to do that if he had not been backed up by an already established understanding between him and his boss, Dick Cavazos.

     Furthermore, the general (Hay) flying around above the battle that day knew enough to keep his nose out of it. That was also extremely important. These factors working together produced a very formidable fighting force, even in a very messed-up war. Caudill knew his stuff, but Dick also knew when he should step in and assist, with the emphasis on assist, instead of countermanding. Flying above it all, General Hay had the wherewithal to let the entire 1/18th have their head and run with it. It was not required of General Hay to understand every move made on the ground. His job was to make sure his ground commanders understood those moves beforehand by continually putting tactical training and SOPs in place, which fell in line with any new insights gained from veteran fighters on the ground. Looking back, it's a crying shame that Hay did not have the right boss backing him. Nevertheless, Hay struggled to do what he could do. It's too bad that he became somewhat of a "lone ranger" in this effort and got no proper support from Westmoreland. Still, I am proud now to have served under him, as I was also proud to have served under the more cantankerous DePuy.

      It bears repeating that Newman's calcified brain should have at least taken away one or two lessons from Da Yeu. With a different mindset, he could have become a great help to his ground commander. For one, Terry desperately needed help lining up light fire team gunships to cover the flanks. Still, there is no indication that Coleman or Newman put their weight behind such a call, and there is no report on the log that gunships ever showed up during the entire battle. Also, since the B-52s could not be scheduled to pulverize the area around the base camp the night before, why didn't they call for the Canberras to make a bombing run as Cavazos had done, after my squad located that enemy base camp on June 18, just after the Battle of Xom Bo II? Obviously, the ground commander (Terry) had his hands full at the onset of the battle, but what good is a senior officer at a time like this, if he can do nothing but belittle, countermand, and request "sitreps" (situation reports) every five minutes, while his ground commander is struggling to stay alive? Maybe someone saw these same incompetent traits in Colonel Newman, which I am seeing, because he never received another promotion after this battle. Here is the truth concerning competent leadership. It's not so much about knowing every detail of the job as it is about enabling one's people to learn and perform those details of the job for themselves. It's also knowing who to call to get help for them when they desperately need that help. Above it all, however, outstanding leadership has its roots in the enlightenment of the Holy Spirit, either through one's newborn spirit or by proxy through some other Christian's legacy.

      This same morning, before leaving the NDP, Terry's disorganized brain made another significant slip-up. He didn't bring along his recon platoon. These were his best fighters. If he had brought them along, he very well may have died of old age. "Most of those boys" carried the M-14s, which could do almost as much damage in the right hands as an M-60 machine gun. However, Terry changed Recon's marching orders in the meeting the night before, sending them to the West on a "wild goose chase". I can't help but wonder if brigade commander Newman's harsh treatment of Terry, on the previous day, had something to do with him making that change. In response to Newman's thrashing, was Terry trying to make some passive-aggressive move by leaving Recon behind? Was he thinking, "I'll show Newman how brave I am. I won't take any extra men with me"? In any case, this was another poorly thought-out command decision made by Terry. Nothing Terry did, however, indicated that he was stupid. Instead, his entire manner had been screaming out to anyone who had ears that his heart was not in his job. Whether Terry was trying to prove something to himself or to Coleman and Newman doesn't really matter.

     I do know this. Outstanding leadership means never having to prove anything to anyone. It just means, "Do the right thing" and "Damned the torpedoes". Dick Cavazos did that early on, as a young Lieutenant in Korea. He was able to do the "right thing" because his upbringing had conditioned his subconscious mind. And yes, he was torpedoed very quickly for doing it. Here is what happened. When his position was overrun in Korea, he did not wait for orders to safely withdraw his men from a hill that they were occupying. He then went back, himself, with a few volunteers, and led the wounded, who were left behind, to safety. A superior wanted to torpedo him with a court-martial for withdrawing without orders. Instead, when the dust settled, Dick received a silver star. Years later, Dick was presented with a well-deserved Medal of Honor, after he died in 2017. I am sure Dick would say that doing the right thing should always trump blind obedience. Here is why Dick was able to make those tough choices. He was already conditioned to follow Godly principles long before he joined the Army. Godly motivated acts are synonymous with doing the "right thing," but where did this motivation come from? It didn't originate from inside Dick. It didn't originate from his father or Army training either. The root source of his selfless motivation came straight from the strong influence of his Christian Grandmother and the moral underpinnings of ranch life, established by Henrietta King. Sure, it takes specific job knowledge to be materially successful. Still, without the proper moral underpinnings to motivate us, the fruits of any material success, although grandiose, will produce nothing more than a big, beautiful Tower of Babel.

      Now, during what had quickly turned into a fiasco, Clark Welch tried to do his best. He was the very archetype of the American soldier, but this time being the best was not going to be good enough. He needed a commander who could enable him to become the incredible soldier that he already was. However, Terry Allen was never going to be that commander. All by himself, Clark could not perform miracles, and the Black Lions needed a miracle. Since Captain George was severely wounded and had turned what was left of his company over to First Sergeant Valdez, Terry Allen now ordered Valdez to withdraw north toward the NDP. However, that became extremely hard to do because of the large number of wounded who needed help. Still, Sergeant Valdez did his best to rally his tattered company, leading his men in the direction of the least amount of incoming fire. That path was not due north toward the ranks of D Company, because D Company people were returning fire in the direction of anyone retreating north toward them. How messed up was that? Instead, Valdez was forced to take his wounded men and the ones who were able to carry them almost due east. He traveled about 100 meters before stopping and setting up a fighting perimeter. Now, Valdez's men were in a world unto themselves. They were so weak that they would never have been able to fend off an assault, nor were they in a position to provide reinforcements for Clark Welch's D Company. There was a lull in the firing for about thirty minutes, while Newman's two useless air strikes were taking place. Those air strikes were dropped in the middle of nowhere, but they did serve one vital purpose: to aid the enemy. Their off-target location signaled to Triet that whoever was orchestrating these air strikes, as well as calling off the artillery fires, had just become his newest best friend.

     Additionally, Triet's diversionary sniper fire on the NDP was now working beautifully to draw gunships to the NDP instead of coming to the aid of Terry Allen's beleaguered A and D Companies. It was an "almost too good to be true" situation for Triet, so he rushed more reserves down the ox cart trail on D Company's left flank, where they spread out and wreaked havoc on Clark's left flank. They hit Clark first with a devastating machine gun attack, followed by multiple RPG attacks. Welch was wounded a total of five times while trying to turn himself into a one-man army.

     Even the operation's officer, Major Sloan, joined Triet in the act of "Gee, let's see how I can help kill more Americans". When Triet rushed in more reserve troops on Welch's left flank, Sloan cancelled Welch's call for his own unit's mortar fires to be used to suppress this new attack. Major Sloan later said he believed that using those mortars in triple canopy jungle would be a violation of First Division SOP. General Hay supposedly issued this order. Sloan explained that the order was issued because of the danger of "tree bursts," which could injure friendly troops. I know of no such order, and I served in the field under Hay for a long time. I also know from firsthand experience that those mortars could have made all the difference in the world.

     According to the log, Terry was killed around 1220 hours. Just before he was killed, the "several times wounded" Clark Welsh ran over to him and begged him to do something. "Either call in artillery or give me permission to call in artillery", Welsh screamed. Terry responded by saying that he couldn't call in artillery because it would fall on his own wounded people. Welsh grimaced and watched as Terry pulled out a picture and started staring at it. While holding that picture in his hand, an enemy machine gun round took the top of Terry's head off, and he fell forward, dead. Clark looked at the picture that fell from Terry's hand. It was a picture of his three little girls.

      The fight was primarily over about thirty minutes after his death. Most of Triet's support troops heeded the call to withdraw. A few didn't. There were a few crazed diehard support troops lingering, combing the woods for souvenirs and a chance to kill one more American. Clark Welch's last memory of the battle, before passing out and waking up in the hospital, was his "first sergeant", Barrow, shooting at him. Welch found out later, while in the hospital at Long Binh, that Barrow was actually aiming at a VC trying to lift him to his feet. Was the VC trying to take him prisoner? Who knows? At 1230 hours, Buck Newman landed at the NDP and took command of the Battalion. Initially held in reserve, C Company was now being "choppered" into the NDP from Chon Thanh. Med-evac "dust-offs" were on the way to evacuate the wounded. From what I can tell, Buck did an excellent job of organizing things in the aftermath of the attack, but he did make one more fatal mistake. While leading a rescue party several hundred meters south to coordinate the landing of "dust-offs better", he failed to corral his young operation's officer.

      Thirty-two-year-old Major Don Holleder had been a star football player for the Army and was a national sports celebrity. Senior officers loved having him around. He was a go-getter with a physically commanding presence. As more and more stragglers came out of the jungle and crossed paths with Newman's work party, Holleder begged and got permission from Newman to turn some of these grunts around so they could lead him back south to search for more survivors. In other words, he wanted to enter a "still active combat site" with a few "spent grunts". Well, okay. That was a perfectly normal request, coming from a man like Holleder, but Buck should have known better.

     "For goodness' sake", occasional rifle shots were still ringing out in the direction where Holleder wanted to go. Medic Tom Hinger was one of those stragglers picked to go with Holleder. Tom had already been exposed to the worst of the fighting on this day and would be one of thirteen guys who later received a silver star. Once Tom and this little group of men started retracing their steps for Holleder, Don soon outpaced everyone. In other words, he became his own point man, a job he was woefully unqualified to perform. What was he thinking? Was he thinking that this would be like the time he ran onto a football field and saved the day for the Army? Years ago, that had actually happened. Holleder had gotten his picture on the cover of "Sports Illustrated" when he led the underdog Army to a victory over Navy. Is that what he thought he was doing now? I have no idea, but whatever his thoughts, I find his actions very disturbing. I can remember seeing my own officers do things that they should not have been doing. It always made me "cringe", while the same two thoughts would always flash through my head. The first thought was, "Sir, how in the world am I going to work those confounded radios if you get yourself killed?". The second thought was, "Sir, why don't you trust me to do my job, and you take care of your own job?". Running ahead of one's people, in any endeavor, but especially in war, is not the way to become a great leader. Good leaders need to live so they can help their people not only live, but win. Now, once more, Holleder would make the news, while his three girls would grow up without a father. One burst from an enemy AK-47 and a bullet cut a main artery in his chest, maybe the heart itself, and he was dead before "Doc Hinger" reached him.

      Finally, as darkness fell, Triet moved off to the West and then turned north to "force march" his conscripts toward Loc Ninh. My B company settled into another night of pulling security around the perimeter of Phuoc Vinh. My entire Battalion (4 companies) had arrived at Phuoc Vinh on October 13, 1967. I convoyed in from Lai Khe with the rest of the support troops, or was flown in by a Chinook. I cannot remember which. A, C, and D Companies left us, B Company folks at Phuoc Vinh, and were flown to a place north of Quan Loi named Song Be on October 15, 1967. That was just two days before the Battle of Ong Thanh. I never made it to Song Be, but I did enjoy Phuoc Vinh.

     I ran errands for anyone who needed wheels. I watched reruns of "Combat" projected onto a bed sheet, sometimes in the rain, and slept on a cot in a tent, protected from the rain every night. Sometimes, I went to my favorite little restaurant in town, which served the most delicious “rice patty shrimp”. I did this for lunch every chance I got. I usually arranged those lunches to meet up with other grunt buddies who could wiggle free from pulling patrols and perimeter guard. "The crazy VC", who took pleasure in harassing Phuoc Vinh's perimeter, did his "thing" about once a week. It just so happened that I got to experience his little show one night just after dark. For about fifteen minutes, he sprayed tracers from his AK-47 toward the perimeter, and that was it. There was no encore. Yet, when he did this, it would require the entire post to stop what they were doing, grab their weapons, and man their assigned combat stations. Big Jim Shelton had experienced this display while he was operations officer with the Black Lions. Jim got mad at his battalion commander because he would not allow him to call for an "all-out" response from the perimeter with everything they had. This would have included blowing claymores, dropping mortars, and artillery, as well as opening up with blind rifle and machine gun fire on at least that one affected side of the perimeter. When I read about Jim's account of this many years later, he was still blaming his battalion commander for not allowing him to do such a thing. I cringed. Returning fire in that manner would have given away every position on the perimeter, and that was just one of several reasons why this would not have been a smart move. Jim's battalion commander made the right decision. As the crazy VC's wild firing continued, those support troops like me, who didn't have an assigned combat position, found a bunker anywhere we could, until the all-clear was sounded.

     We support troops received no news of the disaster at Ong Thanh. That had something to do with Phuoc Vinh being in a totally different war zone (D). The battle was fought in War Zone C. Other than that reason, I really don't know why the grapevine got no word of it. Westmoreland quickly allowed a lie to be spun as the cover story for what really happened. The world news organizations were told that the Black Lions had headed off and prevented a planned attack on Saigon. It's always better for a leader to say nothing than lie.

  
 THE MEETING on Oct. 16 1967: From right to left, 1st Lt. Clark Welch (wounded 5 times),
  Brigadier Gen. Coleman, Major Don Holleder (killed), Lt. Col. Terry Allen (killed),
 Col. George (Buck) Newman (The photographer, Verland Gilbertson, was also killed.)

    
Here is a link to very informative video about the battle.
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYhKbBrRHHo