Chapter 22:
The Heart of Volunteers and Cost of Courage
062025
After
reading William Fee's memoirs, I replayed a video of what could be a
rather easily missed scene in David Spielberg's "Pearl Harbor". It's the
scene where Jimmy Doolittle is standing on the bridge of the aircraft
carrier, Hornet. He is looking down at the two main characters walking
together on the deck below and he says the following to his subordinate
standing behind him. " We may lose this battle, but we are going to win
this war, Jack. You know how I know?" Jack then replies, with a simple,
"No". Doolittle then responds with one word. "Them", and he points to
the two main characters walking on the deck below. Doolittle goes on to
say, "Because they are rare. At times like this, you see them stepping
forward. There's nothing stronger than the heart of a volunteer, Jack".
With those few words, Doolittle falls silent and the scene fades.
My
father was a seventeen-year-old volunteer when he joined the Navy in
World War II. He had two good reasons for becoming a volunteer. The
first reason was because it was a more exciting way of helping his
father put food on the table than working in that tree nursey in
Fishersville, Virginia. The second reason was to fight against the
global tyranny of Germany and Japan which had spawned a real fear in him
that they could acquire global domination if something were not done
about it. His reasons were similar to many other young men of his
generation. I and most of the grunts who served with me were draftees.
The large majority of us would never have volunteered to join the armed
services, otherwise. William Fee was also of my generation, but he was
cut from a different material than I. In the fall of 1966, Fee was
starting his second year at the University of Cincinnati. Unlike my
father, Fee had never experienced hunger. He had a remarkable young
woman who loved him. He also had a loving family. He belonged to a
college fraternity which had enough fraternity brothers to join him in
many of the vain pursuits of that time. Most of those pursuits had
something to do with chasing the opposite sex while getting plastered.
What could have possibly motivated him to become a grunt? Was it the
memorabilia strewn throughout that VFW hall where his frat party was
being held? Was that the needle which pricked his conscious and pushed
him over the edge? After reading his memoirs, it seems safe to say that
I don't believe even Fee knew why he did what he did. Whatever the
reasons, Bill Fee became a true Patriot. Like Oliver Stone, he quit
college and chose to serve in a questionable war at the tip of the
spear. Perhaps Fee did that for the same reason that my father and
Oliver Stone did what they did. Perhaps all three volunteered because
that was just who they were at heart. Maybe they were simply made that
way before the eroding winds of a fallen world had time to change them.
As Doolittle said, young men like this are rare but at certain times
they do show up. However, although men like these begin well and out in
front of the rest of us, a volunteer still needs a great leader, or all
that potential will soon go for nothing. Those young volunteers on the
Hornet found their great leader in Jimmy Doolittle. Bill Fee would find
his in Dick Cavazos. Maybe Oliver Stone's denigrating portrayals of
Vietnam Veterans in the movie "Platoon" was the result of him not
finding his. Would he have told that same story to audiences across the
globe, if he had served under a leader like Dick? I simply don't know
the answer to that question.
It
was November 1, 1967. South Vietnam was headed into the dry season and
the rains were much less severe and less frequent. I didn't have to take
the mess hall help home on this day or ever again for that matter. Word
must have gotten back to our First Sergeant on the particulars of our
little road trip although I certainly never mentioned it. I was mad and
wanted nothing more than to avoid First Sergeant Pink Dillard for the
rest of my tour.
As
the sun rose on me in the rubber trees at Quan Loi on November 1, it was
also rising on William Fee at Loc Ninh. Fee was sitting in the dirt to
the rear of his DePuy bunker. One of his first thoughts was in
anticipation of those tasty hot doughnuts and coffee which I would be
air freighting to him from Quan Loi. My B Company commander, Watts
Caudill, had been Fee's company commander at Fort Lewis and had remained
his commander until their ship, the Geiger, landed in Vietnam. Unlike
most Vietnam Vets, Fee had the opportunity to bond with his fellow
grunts during their training at Fort Lewis and on their trip across the
Pacific. Now, during this last month together they had also gotten to
experience some of the many horrors of war. He had first gotten to see
Dick at work during those deadly days in the Long Nguyên Secret Zone. On
the 30th, the taking of Hill 203 was even more spectacular. It was the
kind of battle that one only sees in war movies, yet Fee experienced it
all in real life. Rifleman Fee shot his way up Hill 203, with Battalion
Commander, Dick Cavazos, walking calmly along with his grunts. They
swept across that hill, using classical “fire and advance” tactics to
clear those irrigation ditches. Dick was jumping into those ditches with
his men. So much for his many talks about hanging back and letting the
artillery and air strikes do all the work.
On
that thirtieth day of October, as I described in the previous chapter,
Dick and his headquarters people followed close behind his men in a
classic fire and maneuver advance, coordinated by him. There was the
blaring of the long antennae radios and sporadic bursts of automatic
weapons, as rounds popped by Dick's head. Hundreds of enemy conscripts
held the high ground, shooting from the protection of irrigation
ditches. At first, others charged down the hill toward A Company. Well
placed artillery barrages rattled them and did kill some. However, the
protection of irrigation ditches gave enough protection for many more to
live through those barrages. This meant that they had to be cleared by
Fee’s D Company grunts. Air strikes were landing over the hill in the
distance. In the middle of this, following close behind Fee's D Company
walked that “bulldog looking” figure of a man, calmly giving blow by
blow sitreps on the brigade radio one minute, and the next minute
turning to give verbal orders to his forward observer walking beside
him. As his entourage continued to move forward, he would then pause and
grab the battalion mic to fine tune the actions of his company
commanders. Every now and again, Dick made sure he punctuated those
radio transmissions with just the right number of cursing remarks, being
ever so careful to only denigrate the enemy and not his own grunts. Dick
was completely immersed in his element. The generals flying above and
listening to the action below were bedazzled. Yes, walking along, in
that online sweep, several times Fee was able to witness his commander
walking shoulder to shoulder with him. It earned Dick his second DSC,
but I can assure the reader that this battle was not about grandstanding
to earn medals. Here is what it was about. It was about a brutal life
and death struggle so outside the experience of the average American
that it forged life time bonds, never to be understood by average
Americans. Nor should they be expected to understand.
On
that same day, the 30th of October, 1967 Mac’s C Company provided
security at the NDP. While doing that, I am sure that Mac listened in on
battalion radios to the unfolding battle outside the wire. I am also
sure of something else. Mac had been with Dick as long as there had been
a Dick in the 1/18th. He was not the least bit surprised or awed by what
he was hearing over the radios as Dick advanced up Hill 203. If D
company and William Fee were just learning about Dick's prowess, it was
something that Mac had known and trusted for some time now. Mac knew
that he was part of something special. He also knew that being part of
something special didn’t mean that he could let his guard down. Oh no.
If anything, it meant just the opposite. It meant that he needed to work
harder to keep his guard up. He and his squad were not in on this fight
but that did not mean that things would not turn on a dime. Sure, it was
his turn to hold down the fort inside the wire, but he still better darn
well keep abreast of what was happening on the outside of that wire. I
am sure Mac listened intently to those radios that day, but not with
trepidation. It was just natural for him to always listen. He was an
incessant listener. His nature made him want to anticipate and control
situations before those situations controlled him. Listening carefully
to everything going on around him was very important if he were to
maintain that control. Many others, like me, had no desire to listen. We
were comfortable living in our own little world. Yes, we had good
instincts, and we could sense danger and even make good decisions on
what to do about countering that danger. Yet, fear of reproach, made
grunts like me keep our heads down and wait to be told what to do. This
propensity in Mac to listen and then act was a rare trait in a young
grunt, and it certainly did not go unnoticed by Dick Cavazos. Strangely
enough, Mac did not see himself this way. He fancied himself to be just
another grunt and so he walked point a lot. Yet, his real talent was so
much more rare. Good point men, like Tom Mercer or me had more often
than not grown-up dreaming of living in the fanciful yonder years
portrayed by Fess Parker's Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone. Mac lived in
the present tense. He wasn't much of a dreamer. He was a doer. When the
battle of Loc Ninh took place, Mac was already doing what I could only
dream of doing. On several occasions, we stood only feet apart. Yet we
were worlds apart in the way we thought. It would take many years and a
lot of hardships for the Holy Spirit to straighten me out. Mac, however,
was one of those rare few, who was already flying straight as an arrow.
The
events of the last few days was now ancient history for both men in
their fast paced life as a grunt. That's not to say that Mac and Fee
would not remember those events for a lifetime. However, on this day,
the events of two days ago had little importance in this very dangerous
world. It was the future event which killed you and not the one in the
past. On the first day of November, Mac and Fee would swap duties. Fee’s
D Company would stay behind and guard the NDP, and it was again Mac’s
turn for his C Company to go on patrol. There was very little time for
either man to process events of those last few days. the anticipation of
what could happen on this present day would consume one’s thoughts so
there was no room for those other thoughts of past events. They would be
placed on the back burner for a future time. Years later those memories
would be played over and over in night dreams, and sometimes nightmares,
but not now. For now, Fee and his entire D Company were given the
opportunity to take a deep breath and step back for a few hours. As the
sun was setting on November first, except for those chosen to go on
ambush patrol, D Company was settling down and looking forward to a
boring but peaceful night. Some started writing letters home. Others
rummaged through their ruck sacks and sundry packs looking for any
missed items which might bring them a little comfort at day's end. Of
course, cigarettes were the most coveted items in a sundry package, but
I liked Bit-O-Honeys. I would chew on them during a long watch on a dark
night, while listening to the Armed Forces Radio station in Saigon. I
had a little earpiece running from my transistor radio, which fit in my
ear. For Fee, as night closed in on this day, he was still young enough
as a grunt to be looking forward to enjoying the safety of his DePuy
bunker throughout the night. It had protected him before during an
all-out enemy attack. Why would it not do that again if necessary?
Earlier,
on this day, it had been Mac’s turn to patrol outside the wire. Just
before leaving the perimeter, Mac got to experience the downside of
being favored above other grunts like me. The euphoric feeling which
came from being promoted was instantly turned into a "slap in the face"
feeling when he was told that Dick wanted his squad to walk point. It
didn't take the quick-witted Mac McLaughlin two seconds to realize that
not a single grunt in his squad was going to give him a standing ovation
when he announced that news. They had already done more than their fair
share. Now, they were being singled out to do even more. Never mind that
it was because leadership favored them. The average old grunt, like me,
knew that doing more in the Army meant that more would quickly be
expected. We never wanted to be singled out for anything, no matter what
the reason, good or bad. There was considerable complaining when Mac’s
squad got the news. Nevertheless, Mac's men buckled under and got ready
to go. Fortunately, they encountered only one "hairy moment" on patrol
when Mac spotted three VC trying to lure them into giving chase. After
making sure Mac and friends saw them, they disappeared over a small
rise. Dick, who was tagging along with the patrol knew immediately that
they were being lured into a trap. He directed the patrol to change
directions. Other than this one tense moment, the patrol was a quiet
one. Still, just the stress of leading a patrol in this dangerous area
left C company in no mood to join D Company people in their letter
writing at the end of this day. When they returned from their patrol,
maybe a delicious can of peaches would have been in order but no
letters. Not today. Fee and his D Company were rested and more apt to
think of home, but Mac and company were worn out, or at least his men
were. Mac still had things to do and people to see. Worn out or not, he
still had to help O Be's squad get ready for ambush patrol.
To
further discourage a night attack on Dick's perimeter, defensive
measures had been greatly improved. These recent battles of Operation
Shenandoah II had been the heaviest ground fighting of the war so far,
for The Big Red One. Regardless of that much heavier fighting, with Dick
in charge, my Dogface Battalion was losing fewer and fewer men. The
communists were losing more and more. Huge numbers of enemy conscripts
had been recently slaughtered, but the communist leadership didn't care.
They were more than willing to sacrifice millions more if that's what it
took for them to stay in power. Westmoreland was blinded to this fact of
life. History records that the Vietnamese communists, even after winning
South Vietnam, did indeed cost millions more Vietnamese to lose their
lives. Here is why that happened. It happened because no flavor of
totalitarianism can exist without the enslavement of all those who live
under its control. This is an unbending law which follows hard after the
fallen nature of mankind. That fallen nature assures us that no
government, totalitarian or even democratic, can handle the reins of
absolute power for long, without a continuing influx of believers in
Jesus Christ to serve in that governance. Corrupt resistance will always
arise to war against the most just governance and eventually win if a
continuing influx of believing leaders can be choked off. A
constitutional form of government protects us better and longer from the
encroachment of corruption than a communist government. The reason for
this is because it's division of powers provides more avenues for
believers in Christ to pursue power. Plus, that division provides checks
and balances as tools to be used by these believers against ungodly
leaders who share that power to govern. However, a populace must have a
large pool of believers to draw from for even our democratic government
to be able to ward off corruption which breeds tyranny. This is why it
is so important for believers to focus on making disciples of others,
starting with their own children.
Additional
trip flares and Claymores were strung out in front of every position.
The irrigation ditches to the front of Fee's bunker were also laced with
additional claymores and flares. Some trip wires were set to go off when
the wire was cut rather than when it was tugged on by one's foot. Ground
flares were hoarded in each bunker because they could be thrown by hand
to provide light under the rubber tree foliage. You see, the artillery
flares, which popped open high above the rubber trees, were shaded from
eliminating the ground beneath those trees. However, hand thrown flares
could be used to light up the perimeter. Dick had walked that perimeter
several times. On his first walk, he had made several men reposition
their DePuy bunkers so they would provide better coverage. A pit was dug
on the right side of Fee's bunker to store the newly arrived 90 mm
rockets. They had recently been flown in on the resupply chopper, but no
one really knew quite how to deploy or store them. I am sure that Dick
was aware of their arrival, but I know that he certainly did not realize
that they were being placed in an open pit next to Fee’s bunker. They
also had no overhead cover to shelter them from mortars or RPGs. An
enemy mortar or an RPG round landing amongst them could be devastating.
Even so, only so many precautions could be taken. There would always be
loose ins left undone by any unit, no matter how well prepared that unit
was. That's just a given in war.
Over
in the command bunker for C company's Lima platoon, Sergeant John May,
who had started his tour in my platoon, was probably the only guy in the
battalion who wasn't wishing for some down time. John really didn't give
a flip, because tomorrow morning he would be getting on that first
supply chopper and heading for our main base camp at Di An. Once there,
he would be processed out for a seven-day R and R in Hawaii. John's wife
was already on the way from their home in Chicago to meet him when he
arrived in Hawaii. Mac, on the other hand, had long since filed his
pleasant memories of his Australian R and R into the far reaches of his
mind. While Platoon Sergeant John May was just going through the
motions, and dreaming of Hawaii, Mac, was still running at full speed,
like the Eveready Bunny. Not only did he need to help O Be get ready for
his squad's ambush patrol, but he would also be required to spread his
squad out to cover empty bunkers, left behind by O Be's men. That task
was easier said than done. O Be's grunts would go about 500 meters north
and set up a perimeter in the middle of some rubber trees. There, they
would have a good view out to about two hundred meters. However, that
view would only last until the sun went down. After that everything
would become as black as black could be. Still, that was okay with O Be.
They weren't new at this. They had experienced enough pitch-black nights
to realize that the enemy would also not be able to see a thing. They
were also smart enough to take a bearing on the row of rubber trees
which they would use as guideposts just in case they needed to get the
heck out of Dodge fast. A and D companies also sent out ambush patrols,
but Fee would get to stay home tonight. The members of all three ambush
patrols gathered their gear slowly, at first, but sped up their efforts
as the sun sunk lower. Most knew that they needed to be in their
assigned positions on the map before the moonless night closed in around
them. Maybe they would reposition after dark, but probably not. That was
a decision which they would make on the spot and not now. Dick and his
handpicked subordinates gave us a lot of leeway on how we wanted to play
things after we left the wire. By this late date in the year, the heavy
rains were subsiding and on this night everyone would be able to stay
dry. Hopefully, they would also be able to stay alive, because soon they
would have hundreds of enemy troops warming over each of their ambush
positions.
It
was around the third watch on A Company's ambush patrol when they heard
noises further south, coming through the rubber trees and getting closer
to them by the minute. By now, everyone in the patrol was already wide
awake and ready for the order to make a break for the NDP. They had been
awakened about twenty minutes earlier when they heard the thumping of
mortar rounds leaving the tubes farther south of their position. Many of
those enemy mortar rounds landed around Mac's side of the perimeter. The
enemy was obviously trying to take out the 105 mm guns located just
behind C Company's perimeter. Soon after that, everyone in my Dogface
Battalion was wide awake and getting ready for an all-out attack on
their perimeter. Fee's D company was covering the east side of the
perimeter. That position was shaded by rubber trees, but Mac's position
was in the open outside the rubber trees. There was also a deep gorge
running parallel and in front of the positions manned by Mac's
platoon. Cam must have had good maps because he did not attack Mac's
side of the perimeter, where he would have had to cross that deep gorge.
Also, his troops would have had no rubber trees to shade their advance.
Cam split his main force and had most attack from the south first, then
from the east and the northeast.
Dick's
three company commanders performed superbly during the night. A major
reason for that was because they weren't micromanaged by Dick. They also
knew that they would have his support in any decisions they made. Dick
had already put in place company commanders who knew how to make
sensible decisions. The company commanders of A and D companies quickly
gave permission for ambush patrols to blow claymore mines and come home.
Those two patrols were followed hard by swarms of conscripts of the
273rd regiment, who could hear the claymores explode but could not see
the Americans. The ambush patrols were relatively safe in the pitch
black night as long as they moved fast and followed their predetermined
azimuth home. No, the enemy would not have been able to follow them in
the dark, but they were going the same way and there were hordes of
them. Each company commander was told by Dick to hold their fire until
they were sure that the enemy was pressing it's attack at the wire. He
knew that we grunts had a habit of blasting away uncontrollably in the
heat of the moment. He needed to give those ambush patrols time to make
it home before that happened. Dick also did not want his men to run out
of ammunition in the middle of an assault.
The
mortar attack lasted for twenty minutes and soon afterward Fee heard
several explosions to the front of his DePuy bunker. It was the
listening post blowing their claymore mines and returning to the NDP.
Fee's friend, Steve Diehl was one of those three men in that listening
post. He became disorientated in the darkness and jumped in Fee's bunker
instead of his own. Now there were four men in Fee's bunker. Our DePuy
bunkers were designed for three men, not four. Two men would man the
ports on each side, shooting through them at roughly a 45-degree angle.
The third man guarded the entrance at the back and helped the other two
with anything that required his help. "They're coming", Diehl said. Yes,
the enemy was coming but the scouts and guides were who Diehl heard
coming. They always went first to locate the American lines so they
could stop the main force and then position them in attack formations.
That's why Fee later heard whistles. Whistles and bugles were used in
the pitch-black darkness to help assemble those formations. Tonight, Cam
would launch his main assault on A Company's side of the perimeter
first.
Meanwhile,
on Mac's side of the perimeter, while the mortar attack was still taking
place, Johnny O'Conner abandoned his listing post, on orders from C
Company Commander Bill Annan. He had got no response from his own
platoon leader, Lt. Zima, when he tried to call him first
before talking to Captain Annan. That was the proper chain of command
protocol. Upon returning to the perimeter, Johnny joined Mac in the
entryway of their DePuy bunker and gave him the news about not being
able to reach the platoon command bunker. Johnny had used
Mac's squad radio on LP (listing post), so Mac was unable to monitor
events taking place around him, until Johnny returned from the LP. Those
first few minutes during the mortar attack, without his radio, were not
good. He needed to know what was going on around him so he could react
accordingly. Mac's radio was a piece of equipment which was second only
in importance to his M-14. He was glad to see Johnny, but he was really
glad to see that radio. Johnny unslung it from his shoulder and handed
it down to RTO Coleman inside the protection of the bunker. The command
bunker was only a few yards away. Mac could see a glow coming from the
ammo pit just behind the bunker. Enemy mortar rounds were still raining
down. "Johnny, stay here with the radio. I am going to check on the
command bunker and find out why no one is answering their radio". Johnny
made no reply. Instead, he grabbed Mac's arm to prevent him from leaving
and said, "Mac, you got a piece of shrapnel sticking out of your
shoulder". Mac calmly replied, "Well, okay Johnny. Can you pull it out?"
Johnny did, and Mac launched out into the darkness. Doc Houchins arrived
just seconds before Mac disappeared into the darkness. Mac quickly
brushed him off, as he tried to look at Mac's shoulder. He had to find
out what happening at the command bunker and why they weren't answering
their radio. When Mac got to the command bunker, he found it to be a
mess. The entrance had taken a direct hit by a mortar round. Sergeant
John May was dead, and Lt. Zima was badly wounded. The radio operator,
David Estus, was wounded and his radio was damaged. At the same time ,
Mac couldn't help but notice a fire coming from the ammo pit, behind the
command bunker. At this moment, the first artillery flare popped open
above Mac's head and since his side of the NDP had no rubber trees, it
lit up the entire area. In the light of that flare and the glow of the
fire he spotted a jerry can full of water setting beside the command
bunker. He grabbed it to pour into the ammo pit but quickly realized
that it was a useless endeavor. Rifle rounds were now starting to
cook-off. A rifle casing whizzed by Mac's head. There were also boxes of
grenades in that pit. It didn't take the genius in Mac long to realize
that he was in the wrong place trying to do the wrong thing. That ammo
pit was going to explode and there wasn't anything that he could do
about it, except save himself. Dropping the jerry can, Mac made a
beeline back toward his squad. His squad was okay, but he now needed to
give a sitrep to Capt. Annan. When Annan got the news about Lt. Zima and
Sergeant May, he quickly agreed that Mac should take over Lima Platoon.
Zima had severe wounds around his head and neck and couldn't talk. I
believe that O Be was senior squad leader to Mac, but he was still out
on ambush patrol. About this same time the ammo pit went up in a huge
explosion.
The
mortar attack ceased. That meant that a ground attack was eminent. Dick
had ordered, for everyone to hold their fire, until trip flares were
tripped. That was a definite indication that the enemy was in the wire.
Dick had long since had his forward observers drop artillery into
preregistered coordinates around the perimeter. His individual company
commanders already knew that they had his blessing to chime in and fine
tune any artillery fires during the actual attack. Sleepy-eyed senior
commanders at Quan Loi could not help but be awed by what they were
hearing over their radios. Dick's battle communications were a symphonic
marvel to their ears. He was calm, cool, and collected. His superiors
didn’t have to think. All they had to do was listen. Dick already had
the answers before they had to produce a half-baked one themselves. He
notified his forward air controllers to drop their ordinance much closer
than most commanders would have dreamed of doing. He also instructed
them to direct their bombing routes to fly parallel to the outside edge
of the line of flares marking the perimeter and about 100 meters out.
Burning flares clearly marked the boundary of the NDP as seen from the
air. Men from inside the perimeter continued to throw new flares out to
their front as the old ones burned out. It made an experienced air
controller's business of directing traffic look easy. Those American fly
boys followed that forward observer's instructions to the T. Thank God
it wasn't raining, or they would have been grounded. Most commanders
were fortunate to get air assets dialed in as close as 500 meters. Not
Dick. I had felt the intense heat from napalm several times when my
squad was running point for him.
Since
the first attack came from the south, A Company's south side ambush
patrol was the first to hear noises. Those noises were probably being
created by guides and not the main force. If their small party had been
facing the main force then there would have been a much greater chance
of them being overwhelmed, before they had a chance to get away. Those
local guides always approached the perimeter first. They would then stop
and wait to position the main force coming along behind. By the fall of
1967, the NVA had received huge supplies of RPGs. Earlier in the year,
we did not see such large numbers of these weapons. The enemy was now
using these RPGs as their mobile artillery. On this night, main force
RPG crews would be positioned just to the rear of those conscripts,
following them up to the wire and then firing their rockets over them
into the NDP. These RPG crews were naive teenagers as were the main
force conscripts. Most had never been in a single battle and would not
be in another, after tonight, because they would be dead. They were rice
farmer's kids, who had been brain washed since they were toddlers. At
this point in their naive lives, they had been told over and over that
the weapons they carried would make them invincible. They believed that
lie because they were kids and kids can be brain washed into believing
and doing anything. Their NCOs knew better. The smart ones would run to
the rear once they got their conscripts launched out in the right
direction. Once the return fire started, there would be so much
confusion that they wouldn't have any worries about being caught and
branded a coward for running away. Furthermore, these lower-level NCOs
and officers were smart chaps who had survived a lot, and they were not
about to tattle on each other for withdrawing rather than facing what
they all knew was going to be certain death. Later, as I have already
said, they could tell the story anyway they wanted to tell it, or better
yet, let the American press tell the story, and they would then be
decorated as heroes.
Soon
after A Company ambush patrol arrived safely inside the perimeter, the
main enemy force also arrived close to A Company's side of the
perimeter. They were then formed up for the attack. When the whistle
blew to signal the attack, they charged the wire, and the RPG crews
fired their rockets. Many of these were then cut down, by the immediate
and enormous amount of return fire. Within a couple minutes, barrages of
artillery rounds started exploding around the attacking force. Some
turned and tried to run. Some lay flat on the ground and hoped they
wouldn't be blown to bits like those around them. Others charged toward
the perimeter in the confusion. What was left turned tail and boogied
out when they saw that their NCOs had already done the same. Initially,
the higher ranking NVA officers had hung back several hundred meters
from what they knew would become a killing field. If their conscripts
breached the American perimeter, fine, but if they didn't, then they
would simply wait at that safer distance to regroup the survivors. These
field officers maintained wired communications with Cam, while those
killing field survivors were reassembled to move out or join fresh
troops who would attack other positions on the perimeter. The more open
ground of the rubber tree plantation allowed Cam to reassemble and
maneuver his troops much more quickly than would have been possible if
he had been fighting in the dense jungle. When the already wide-awake D
Company ambush patrol heard noise, coming at them from the east, they
blew claymores and like A Company ambush patrol, they high tailed it
home.
Fee's
D Company and Mac's C Company could do nothing but wait and listen to
the battle on A Company's side of the perimeter. They were also able to
see the big jets as they made their runs along A Company's perimeter
just a little further out than the artillery fires. Further out, than
that, green tracers from heavy machine guns were streaking upward from
the ground and red tracers from American gunships were streaking
downward toward the earth. At some point, Mac actually witnessed a lucky
hit on a bomb being dropped from a jet. At first, the midair explosion
made Mac think that the jet had been hit by the machine gun fire and had
exploded. Then he saw the after burners of the jet kick in, as it
climbed out of its dive. He then knew that the jet was okay. All this
was a sight that Dick's boys would never forget. During the lull, while
Cam's forces regrouped to attack D Company's side of the perimeter, Fee,
Diehl, Ciliberti, and Fierro hunkered down on the backside of their
DePuy bunker. There was no room inside for all four to fit. I don't
understand why Diehl did not return to his own bunker when the attack on
A Company subsided? That bunker would now be short a man. Fee mentioned
that things quieted down enough for him to eat a C-ration can of pears.
That would have surely given Diehl time to return to his own assigned
position. However, he didn't and that would have dire consequences for
Fee. Fee was the last man on the right side of the bunker when the main
attack was launched against his D Company. All four men were outside and
behind the bunker, shooting over top the sandbags roof of the bunker. To
Fee's right was another sandbag wall protecting one of those new rocket
launchers. Since there was no overhead cover protecting the rocket
launcher, an enemy RPG round soon found its mark and destroyed the
rocket launcher. The resulting explosion severely wounded Fee's right
shoulder. The platoon medic, Frank Passantino was quick to show up, but
there was not much he could do. Fee was losing blood and needed the
medical attention that only a hospital could provide. Frank, however,
did not let Fee know how bad it was. Instead, he gave him a morphine
shot and propped him up against a rubber tree directly behind his
buddies. The battle raged on. Doc Passantino moved on to another man who
had been shot in the stomach.
As
Fee sat against the rubber tree, his three companions continued to fire
sporadically to their front but the attack soon lost steam when the
American artillery started chewing up the attacking conscripts. As white
sap from the damaged branches of the rubber tree dripped down on Fee, he
soon became mentally detached from what was going on around him. Maybe
what happened next was caused by the morphine or maybe it was the
spiritual side of Fee. I, personally, think that it was his spiritual
side. Fee looked up and saw the face of his future father-in-law whom he
had not known well, at all. The man had died suddenly in September and
yet Fee was looking into his face. In a calm voice, he assured Fee that
he was not going to die. That was it. After making that brief statement
his father-in-law's face vanished. Yet, there was an unexplainable, but
peaceful sensation, which rolled over Fee's soul, like rays of warm
sunshine. I have had several of those spiritual encounters and I can
assure the reader that they were not drug induced. We are connected to a
spiritual realm and although we struggle to understand that spiritual
side of things, it's not imaginary. It does exist.
It
was almost an hour before Doc Passantino reappeared and gathered Fee to
his feet. "Come on Fee, you are getting out of here", he said. He
explained to Fee, that he was going to catch a ride aboard a resupply
helicopter and be flown back to Quan Loi. Fee almost passed out walking
to the helicopter. It probably felt like the longest walk of his life,
because of his weakened state. Also, the choppers could only land in the
clearing on the other side of the perimeter near Mac's bunker.
Thankfully, Quan Loi was only about 25 miles away and a fifteen-minute
chopper ride at most. Dick couldn't get a "Dust-Off" (med-evac) to come
to his aid. Evidently, the rules had been changed since that rainy night
at the beginning of October. No Med Evac was now allowed to fly into a
hostile situation, especially at night. There was good reason for this
change. By now, the Big Red One had lost many incredibly brave flyers,
trying to retrieve the wounded in the midst of a battle, or a rainstorm,
or both. That had been the case with those brave flyers coming to the
rescue of Dingle on that rainy night a few weeks before. Just as then, I
am sure those Dust-Off pilots would have shown up this time too, if they
had not been threatened with a court martial for disobeying that new
standard operating procedure (S.O.P.). Such was these unsung hero's
dedication to saving lives. However, Dick knew that our resupply
choppers were not restrained by this new S.O.P. and would be able to
bring resupplies at any time. So, he ordered resupplies shortly after
Mac's ammo pit blew up. The battle was still intense when they arrived,
but Dick personally ordered them grounded, until his severely wounded
could be loaded aboard. Fee was one of those. Mac's platoon leader, Paul
Zima, was another. The man shot in the stomach, Willie Carson, was
another. All three men would likely have died had Dick not taken the
action he took. Looking back, it seems like this would have been such a
logical thing for any commander to do. However, it’s amazing how many
simple and logical actions were overlooked in the heat of battle. By the
time Fee received blood transfusions, he had lost half his body's blood
supply. He definitely would have died sitting under that rubber tree if
Dick had not personally intervened.
After
acting commander Cam's second attack failed, as miserably as the first,
he assembled the survivors together with his remaining fresh conscripts
to launch a third attack. The show went on, not because Cam's boss, Tran
Van Tra, had any hope of breaching Dick's defenses, but because he had
every hope of breaching the resolve of the American people, themselves.
Cam's conscripts were now formed up in a staging area several hundred
meters north of the last lonely ambush patrol still in place. That
patrol was Mac's second squad of Lima Platoon. Mac was now acting
platoon leader and well aware of their situation. When the battle first
started, O Be and the rest of that patrol lay low and listened warily to
the familiar sounds of a big battle. From the fist moment they heard
mortars explode inside the perimeter, their priority changed from
waiting to shoot a few VC to making sure that everyone could be ready to
run and run fast. However, they stayed put because that seemed like the
safest thing to do. The new guy, David Gilbert, moved closer to his team
leader, Ray Etherton, and kept his mouth shut. It was a long time before
they heard noises coming their way. I have no idea what kind of noises
they heard because no one said. Witnesses just said they heard noises. I
went on a lot of ambush patrols, but I missed that class where we were
in imminent danger of being discovered and overrun by an overwhelming
enemy force. I can only give a scanty report of O Be's situation, at
best. What I do know is this. Second squad heard noises. They would not
have been able to see anything because on November 1, 1967 the moon was
a 1% crescent moon. That meant that under the canopy of those rubber
trees they could not have seen their hand in front of their face.
Time
sped up as soon as O Be radioed Mac about noises to their front. The
patrol was immediately given permission by Mac to blow claymores and run
for their lives, although he didn't say it quite that way over the
radio. Mac in turn had already been given permission by Captain Annan to
do what he thought best. In a similar situation my squad would have used
our red lens flashlights to help us stay together in the darkness. I
assume this is what they did too, although I don't know for sure. The
enemy's green tracers initially flew in every direction when the patrol
popped their claymores, but that was okay. In the darkness, those wildly
fired enemy bullets were not their greatest threat. Getting separated in
that darkness was. The next greatest threat was being shot by their own
men when they approached the perimeter. However, everything was going
good. They were halfway home. The point man was doing a good job of
following the return azimuth, which lined up closely with the distant
glow of artillery flares lighting up Mac's open side of the perimeter. O
Be was rear guard covering their backside. Then it happened. Perhaps it
was a reflex action coming from O Be. Perhaps O Be believed that those
enemy soldiers, following them, were getting a little too close. I can
only guess. However, if that was the case, O Be was no novice. He was a
gun slinger, and he was not about to let an enemy come close enough to
get the drop on him. Whatever the reason, O Be opened up with his M-14
spewing red tracers to their rear into the darkness and toward the
sounds. He got an immediate response of green tracers coming at him and
the squad from scores of enemy automatic weapons. O Be kept returning
that fire. Finally, after Etherton screamed at him to stop shooting, he
realized that he was giving away their position and stopped. O Be
stopped firing, but the return fire did not die down. It became so
intense that one in a thousand of those blind rounds pierced one of the
men's straps on his web gear and another went through the stock on an
M-16. Americans inside the perimeter saw the muzzle flashes and green
tracers and started returning fire. Now the ambush patrol was caught in
a crossfire. Fortunately, the terrain dipped about ten meters lower than
the terrain around the perimeter so the fire from the perimeter went
over the patrol's heads. Mac was horrified at what he was seeing. Tom
Mercer and Johnny O' Conner later agreed that it looked like hell was
chasing behind the ambush patrol as they ran toward the perimeter. It
was a miracle that every man returned without a scratch. It was also a
miracle that the young grunt, Mac McLaughlin, was saved from that most
gut-wrenching experience of command, which would have been the loss of
those men in less than an hour after taking over. Fortunately, Mac was
spared dealing with that for the rest of his life. That most terrible
weight of command was lifted off him, like a mill stone off a drowning
man's neck, as he watched each man's smiling face trickle through the
wire into the relative safety of the NDP. Dick was busy when he got the
news, but not too busy to look up toward the night sky and say, "Thank
you".
That
third assault was launched shortly after O Be's men made it back to the
safety of the NDP. That attack was repelled quickly. The attack lost any
element of surprise when Cam's conscripts opened up on O Be's retreating
ambush patrol. After this third attack, Cam was running low on naive
teenaged conscripts to throw at my Dogface Battalion. However, that was
okay. It was even expected. There were millions of other warm bodies
where these came from. Cam would simply hold up in a jungle hideout
somewhere in War Zone C and wait for his ranks to be replenished. Those
replacements would be marched down a spider web of ox cart trails to
swell his ranks again within a matter of days, not weeks. While he was
waiting, those conscripts, who had lived through these recent horrific
engagements with Dogface would be turned over to communist Svengalis.
There would be medals. There would be promotions. There would be dope
and sex provided by that same gigantic human trafficking ring which
brought them here. There would be half lies spun about the recent
events. Those lies would be so skillfully woven that no conscript could
come close to unraveling truth from fiction. One might ask, "Is this
true?" However, a discerning believer in Christ has only to listen to so
called liberal podcasters of today to realize that what I am saying is
absolutely true. Truth is, all who base their core beliefs on the
messages of this world, placing that messaging above God's holy word,
become liars. They quickly come under the influence of powerful
supernatural forces persuading them to not only believe lies over the
truth, but they, themselves, become the lie. When this happens, these
wretched creatures expect others to not only believe what they say, but
to become who they are, as a false sense of godliness takes shape in
their souls.
As
the sun came up on November 2 1967 the battle of Loc Ninh could be
chalked up as one more Victory for the Big Red One. Actually, we
Americans were two steps closer to losing the war. My Dogface Battalion
continued to camp in the rubber trees until the 6th of November and then
returned to Quan Loi for what most considered down time. Never mind that
my fellow grunts were pulling perimeter guard and sleeping on the ground
while I was sleeping on a cot in the mess hall tent.
Mac
survived Loc Ninh. He completed his tour of duty in Vietnam in January.
After completing his service to his country, he went home and finished
college. He then obtained a law degree. Early on he also found a
wonderful partner in life when he found Christine. In the 1980s, Mac
served his country again when he was appointed to the office of federal
prosecutor for the Northern District of Ohio. Next Chapter (Last Chapter) |