Well, I've been talking about it in the chat room, now here it is. I was hoping to work on it more, but there wasn't any time to work on it because I enlisted in the Marines today. Right now, I only have three chapters. You can look forward to me making more in the future.
Without further ado, enjoy!
Chapter One
4th May, 1970
John Sobieski
I like flying. I always have liked flying, and always will. I was on a troop transport, so the flight wasn’t too comfortable, and there was no in-flight service, but flying itself is awesome. Someday I’ll have to learn to fly myself, instead of having other people take me from place to place. The only other bad thing besides the comfort of 80 pounds of equipment being spread across the various parts of my body was the destination, Vietnam.
I was on my way to a war that was supposed to be winding down. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t like it, but I always do as I’m ordered. Besides, I would know soon as I was briefed on my mission by General Abrams, at I Corps Headquarters in Saigon, the destination of my flight.
The plane descended for a landing at Saigon’s international airport, Tan Son Nhut. It taxied to a stop, and the personnel door opened. The humidity rushed in, swamping me in my own sweat. For those that don’t know where Vietnam is, it is in the tropics and is just like a tropical island, only on the mainland of Asia. There’s jungle and heat and humidity everywhere you go, unless you can find an air-conditioned building in the city.
I walked down the tarmac, past rows and rows of Huey helicopters and Cobra gun ships to the road, where I hopped into a jeep that was waiting for me and headed for I Corps Headquarters. We drove by dilapidated buildings and shacks and sometimes a middle class building here and there. The Vietnamese were architecturally primitive, but the capitalist system made living better for South Vietnamese than the Communist system did for the North.
We arrived at a squat building, that had a concrete fence around it and guards stationed in towers that were strategically positioned around the perimeter. The I Corps Headquarters had many radio antennae jutting out of the roof here and there, at seemingly random intervals. The driver flashed the gate guards our authorization and we drove on through the gate and parked near the Generals personal jeep. I got out and headed for the door. I entered into a room full of desks and military personnel of all the various branches and sub. I asked the door secretary where I would be meeting the General, and he said the General was in the back and most private room, in the far corner of the building. He also said that I should leave my equipment with the security personnel, save for a single sidearm. I complied, giving my grenades, C-4, back pack, utility belt, M-16, and extra clips to a guard, keeping for myself a nine millimeter pistol.
I entered the General’s suite, and saluted, saying, “Major Sobieski reporting for duty, sir.” The General looked like he knew what he was doing at any given time, which is reassuring to any combat soldier. General Abrams was a four star General and had command of all American forces in Vietnam. He was wearing his dress uniform, which was impeccable with all of his medals on his breast and the stars on his shoulders. He was only 55 with a full head of graying hair and a stone face. His office was quite plain. There were few things in the room, just a desk, and the appropriate office utilities to go with the desk, and a coffee maker.
“At ease, John,” he said, returning my salute, “Understand that this mission is Top Secret, you are authorized to brief your detachment staff, but no one else.”
“Yes sir,” I answered. I knew what that meant, why my unit had been tapped. It was a job that only Green Berets could handle, and the fact that a whole Green Beret Special Forces B-detachment had been tapped meant it would be fairly big.
The General Abrams asked, “Before we get started take a seat, and would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thanks, sir, I hear it stunts growth.”
“Your twenty six, if your still growing, there’s something wrong.”
“I still never touch the stuff, an old habit.”
“Well then, lets continue with the briefing,” He sat down in his office chair behind his desk, sipped on his coffee, and continued, “Charlie is hiding out in Cambodia and Laos. We can’t hardly do anything about it, and he’s been launching assaults from there, raiding and hurting our troops and the troops of our allies. There is a tribe of Montagnards called the Degar that claim the area Charlie is using is their own tribal land. You are to help the Montagnards take back the area by training them and fighting alongside them to recapture the area. This will help secure our flanks and hurt Charlie some as well. You will be given command of your Green Beret B-detachment and about 5,000 Montagnards of that tribe. You will be given all of the supplies you need to carry out the task. Do you have any questions?”
Charlie. That was the nickname of our enemy, the Viet Cong. Montagnards are tribal people that live in the mountains that have aligned themselves to the side of freedom. They are on our side because the French originally hired them as mercenaries in the 1950’s. Now, though, they fight for their survival. The Viet Cong torture, kill, and massacre all those that had ever opposed them, hired to or not.
“Yes, I have a few questions,” I said, “How will we be supplied?”
“Regular river patrol boat missions to a secondary Montagnard camp. The American wounded will be evacuated the same way.”
That was going to be my second question. My third question, though, was, “When do we deploy?”
Abrams said, “You will be taken to a ARVN base up the Saigon River. Then, you’ll take your B-detachment up the Saigon River until you reach the secondary Montagnard camp. We want to keep it very secret, so you’ll be inserted into your AO at about midnight local time, the day after tomorrow,” he glanced at his watch, “That’s Thirty-two hours from now. Its sixteen hundred hours now, hop on the choppers at twenty-one hundred hours tomorrow, since it takes about three hours to get there with the complications of a flight and a connecting boat ride. Go out on the town. It will be the best entertainment you’ll have in a while; you’ve pulled a long assignment.
“As you know, we have an official policy of Veitnamization of the war. You fit into this by training these Montagnards and preparing them to bear a larger burden in the war. Bear this in mind. And also bear in mind that we have to be very careful so not to mar the reputation of the United States military any more.”
I didn’t need to know that, my unit was one of the most disciplined units in the whole army, but I couldn’t blame him for being cautious. Stressed, frustrated young boys in our army had burnt down Vietnamese villages and massacred their inhabitants. I was not about to allow such a thing happen under my command.
“You know as well as I do that the politicians back home have tied our hands behind our back and still expect us to win a war against the Viet Cong and the North. Part of the tying of hands is that we aren’t supposed to stay in Cambodia over the deadline set for the current operation. I don’t expect to pull your group out until well after the deadline, so keep this hushed up.
“Speaking of hushing up, we are doing this in complete secrecy. In fact, special forces casualty figures are going to be exaggerated for the next few months so that you and your detachment won’t be missed. You are going to be inserted by PBR to just south of the border, then go northwest 8 clicks to the main Montagnard camp. Conveniently situated right smack dab in the middle of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Your official area of operations, however, is around the secondary camp that you’re being dropped off at. That way, I don’t know you’re in Cambodia or Laos.
“If Congress and the people back home found out about this secret operation, they’ll probably tie the ropes tighter. You need to be fairly careful to make sure no one finds out so we don’t get funding taken away, or have our air support taken away and sold for scrap. I wouldn’t put it past them to even start indiscriminately court marshaling Nam war vets. So I can’t stress it enough be careful.”
“Is their anything else I need to know sir,” I asked.
“No, you are dismissed.”
With that, I got up from my seat saluted, waited for the salute to be returned, and walked out of the room. I collected my gear and then headed back to the airport to help my troops unpack.
I got to the airport and my three good friends were waiting for me First Lieutenant Joshua Cambridge, Second Lieutenant Jeffery Paul Jr., and Second Lieutenant Russell Ferqueron. Josh had been a buddy of mine since elementary, same with Russell. I’ve known Jeff since High School. I’ve always found it strange that we all ended up together.
Josh is on the lower end of average height, black hair, and brown eyes. He is as muscular as any in a Special Forces unit, but nothing special along those standards. He’s about 25.
Jeff is a little on the high side of average height. He has blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin, fairly skinny, and has a girlfriend named Amber. He’s about 24.
Then there’s Russell. Like me, he is right on the dot with average height. He is about 25 and has blue eyes, dark brown hair, fair skin, and is the most muscular of anyone in the outfit. To normal people, though, Special Forces people of any group (Green Berets, Navy SEALs, etc) all look like they could be professional boxers. We’re all trained and physically fit for trouble, one needs to be in this line of work.
We’re all decorated vets, serving previous tours in Vietnam. That’s how we got our officer’s commissions at such young ages. They were all in outfits that were fairly well mauled by enemy forces. We got battlefield promotions, and were later transferred to Special Forces units because the Special Forces needed more people like us, resourceful and experienced. Men who could fight and survive the terrible enemy onslaught.
“So, Major, what low down did the brass give you.” Josh asked
“General Abrams says we’re going to Cambodia to help out the natives fight the Cong.”
“Whoa, man, that’s a big, bold move.” Jeff said.
“Secret move, too. Don’t go blabbing it around to anyone, just be sure to get the A-Teams prepared. Oh, and no more eating any kind of food the natives wouldn’t eat.
When we’re sneaking around enemy territory, we don’t want to smell like Americans.”
“Okay, Major,” Russell said, “mind if you help us move our equipment to the helicopter park.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all, Lieutenant.” I said, “Then let’s have some fun. The brass said that it would be a long assignment.”
We started picking up boxes and bags of weapons, ammo, clothing, and other necessities and moved towards the helicopters.
Chapter 2
4th-5th May, 1970
Josh Cambridge
We found a nice restaurant to eat at; it’s called Ming Lo’s. We only ate native foods though. Even so, I think it will take a while for the smell of America to fall off. I looked to my left and said, “Hey Jake, you gonna finish that?” He said no and shoved the bowl of Beef Pho over to me. “Thanks man.” I said. Corporal Jacob Fraley is rather tall, with black hair and blue eyes. He’s also medium in musculature, along the standards of Special Forces, though. I don’t know Jake or Jeff as well as I know the others. I never went to school with them, as I had with John and Russell. I went to elementary with John and Russell, but my dad, mom, sister and I moved when I was in fifth grade. After I moved, John and I kept in constant contact.
John and Russell met Jake and Jeff in either High or Middle School in Marine City. It’s strange that we all know each other and we’re all in the same unit. I kind of feel like we’re the Sullivans, the five brothers that served aboard the USS Juneau in WWII and died together when it was torpedoed. Hopefully things will turn out better.
John was sitting at the bar, having some rice wine. Russ, Jake, Jeff, and I were sitting in a booth off to the side of the bar. The center of the restaurant is filled with tables, and on the other side of them was a dance floor. It was probably put in for American service men. The bar stretched from the dance floor to the booths. The doors were on the opposite side of the bar in this restaurant. There was a bathroom on the booth side of the bar and the entrance to the kitchen was on the dance floor side. Everything between the floor and the ceiling was made of bamboo. Except for the food, thankfully.
“I hope this isn’t like any of our previous combat tours. It seems like every time we come here, our units get screwed.” I said.
“You got that right, Josh,” Jeff said, “When I was here last, the platoon of Green Berets I was in was ambushed while on a long range reconnaissance patrol, when we were at just about the furthest point from our base as we could be. Most of us got out okay, but the only reason we did was because I set up my Stoner machine gun in a large clearing made by Agent Orange. I hid behind a muddy hill, and once they got close, I let them have it. The hill was too muddy for a good charge, and they could hardly move toward me. I had all of my ammo belts linked, so I kept up a continuous volley of fire. There were two whole companies coming after us, but they broke off after I mowed down about a third of their strength. So they sent three more companies after us. We were already ahead of them and on our way back to base, but it was the worst marathon I ever ran. They screwed my unit bad, but at least we screwed them back worse.”
Russ let out a low whistle. “That must have been pretty intense. I had a doozey of a fight myself last time I was here.”
“Tell us about it,” Jake said.
“I was one of the Special Forces aids to the ARVN in Hue during the Tet Offensive.”
There was a stony silence. There was no soldier in South Vietnam wasn’t shot at in some way during the Tet Offensive. But Hue, boy, that was one of the worst places you could have possibly been for the Offensive. It was completely overrun by the enemy in a bloody battle. The battle to retake the city was even bloodier because it was city fighting that no one had seen since WWII. Nobody was trained for it, only the WWII vets were ready in their experience. And that experience that was over twenty years old.
“My platoon was decimated to the size of a squad and we were desperate to get out. Fortunately, my squad still had the platoon radio. We got the word that a group of men about the size of a company were trying to escape in our general direction. They could take care of the resistance between us and them, but then we had to get out by going down the main road into the jungle, where we could hide. We wouldn’t be safe, but we’d be safer.
“There was one big problem. At the edge of town were two well made buildings, made of brick and concrete. Good forts, occupied by the enemy, one on each side of the road. The road made a good field of fire for machine guns. They would obliterate the escaping company once they turned the corner and ran for the jungle. We decided to clear the buildings and the path for the escaping company.
“Even though the company could take care of the resistance between us and them, it would take time, so my squad decided to take time and use finesse to take the buildings. We took those clothes lines that hang between buildings and made a good coil of rope. We made a kind of grappling hook and put it on the end of the rope. We went from building to building up on the top so’s not to be seen. We approached the first building from behind so the building would block the view of the people in the far building.
“We fixed bayonets and went down the stairs 3 floors without running into anyone. That was as far as our luck went. A man named Dan was taking the point, leading the way down the stairs. Someone saw him and he went down, killed immediately by an AK-47. We threw a few grenades into the room below and charged. There were about ten guys down there, all downed by grenades. The guys in the last floor below heard what happened, and started shooting through the ceiling. The man with the radio went down, I never knew him. I threw a pack of C-4 onto the floor and yelled, ‘Get back up, now!’
“I got up and shot the C-4 through the hole of the stair well. It blew a huge hole in the floor. We all ran down the stairs and I jumped down the hole. There were about fifteen Cong in the room with me. I raised my M-16 and pulled the trigger. ‘Click,’ it’s jammed.”
Everyone kind of tensed and let out a mumble of anxiety. It was everyone’s worst nightmare. In an enclosed space with a bunch of Cong and a nonfunctioning weapon.
“Well, Russ, I see your still here. Heck, you don’t even have a purple heart to your name. How did you get out?” I asked
“Well, they were stunned by the explosion and surprised at my presence. I took the initiative and ran for the closest one. I put the bayonet through his heart. I slashed the next across the neck. I beat another’s skull in with the butt of my gun. Soon, my squad was pouring through the hole and the Cong had shaken off the affects of the explosion. The firefight was nasty. I picked up an AK and started mowing.
“When it was over, I was the only guy not shot, and about half the squad was dead. Only two other guys were good enough to keep fighting. We made sure the Cong were all dead.
“We started to take heavy machine gun fire from the other building. We had lost all of our heavy machine guns in previous fighting. We all took cover, when I spied a mortar tube and a few rounds. We took off the base plate of the tube to point it at a lower, nearly horizontal angle and started putting rounds into the enemy fortress. I must have hit something important, because the building imploded. Just then, the escaping company started running down the street. We joined them and booked it out of there.”
“Dang, that was bad. What did you get for it.” Jeff asked
“The Congressional Medal of Honor and a promotion, didn’t you hear about it?”
“That’s pretty good, Russ,” Jeff said, “I just got the Bronze Service Cross and a road to promotions for what I did.”
“But you’d give away all the medals if that had never happened in the first place, wouldn’t you?” Russ asked
“You got it.”
“Me too.”
“I wish we could have some American style food.” I said. “It’s going to take a while to get used to this gunk.” I shoved the bowl of whatever it was away from me, it was mostly gone. “I think I’d rather have C-rations.”
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Jake said, picked up his spoon, took a scoop, stuck it in his face and said, “You know? I think your right.”
“It’s not that bad. I hear that, as part of the ceremony to bless things like bridges, ARVN engineers drink pig’s blood.” I replied.
“I think I’d rather go back to the war stories instead of talking about drinking pig’s blood,” Jeff said, “Josh, what’s your story?”
“Well,” I began, “Two tours and five years ago, I went with the 7th Air Cavalry to the Ia Drang Valley. I was just about the best tunnel rat around, so I was sent to infiltrate the tunnels and kill as many high officers as I could. I took three hand picked men and went into the nearest tunnel.
“I went in head first, the other two guys lowering me down by my feet to be sure I wouldn’t be impaled on punji sticks. I got down, looked around, and sounded the all clear. The others jumped down and we started our way crawling down the cramped tunnel.
“It was a large, intricate tunnel complex. We almost got lost. Even so, we stuck to the mission. We took out 2 company HQ’s and one regimental before we were forced out. That’s where the excitement really started.
“We had just finished off the regimental HQ when we ran into a platoon sized group headed to the front line. They were very surprised to see us, to say the least. They froze, we started throwing K-bar knives. We had become adept at this and carried whole bandoliers with us for killing silently. A few of them fell, and the rest ran. We ran, crawled, and squatted as far as we could to get out of there. But soon, long before we could get out, everyone knew we were there.
“We heard a bunch of people coming behind us, so we headed for a tunnel with a lot of booby traps in it. We had passed through it earlier and knew what was there, so we decided to set up an ambush. After we got out of the lane with a lot of booby traps, I got down and got my special made shotgun ready. Shotguns are better in close and closed in ranges than machine guns. It had 2 extra magazines on the sides and was a fast semi automatic. I opened up with everything I had. It ripped up the first three guys, and the rest were busy charging. In the excitement, they forgot about the booby traps and ran straight into them.
“We were out of the tunnel five minutes later, and headed towards our own line. It took all of our escape and evasion skills to get to our own lines.
“Man Josh, that sounds like a tough assignment,” John said. He had come over from the bar and pulled up a chair to the end of the table.
“It wasn’t quite as tough as the battle afterward. About half of the people airlifted to the valley were killed or wounded.”
“Afterward, I was given the chance to pick people for a special platoon for tunnel ratting for the 7th Cavalry. I was also promoted to Command Sergeant Major and recommended to be made an officer. I was never decorated for the assignment because it was classified, and the Defense Department only recently declassified the action.”
“Well, Josh, you’ll have to wait to get back to be decorated, since we’re leaving tomorrow night,” John said, “I’m sure they’ll have plenty of medals waiting for you.”
“You have a good, decorated war story for us Sobii, Sobee, Soberr?” Russell was flummoxed, “We’ve known each other for a long time now, why don’t you tell me how to pronounce your name?”
“I do every year, at least twice. Can’t you remember?”
“Hey, it’s Polish, they seem to make names for the sake of tongue twisters.”
“Fine. It’s pronounced So Bee es ski,” John said, “Any way, I have a war story for you, and it’s rather epic too.”
“I was in command of an infantry battalion stationed in a base near Dak To. It’s right on the Ho Chi Minh trail, and our job was to help cut that supply line. In the reverse, Viet Cong and NVA were trying to take Dak To and make the Trail more secure.
“Everyone here knows communist combat tactics. They spend soldiers like a millionaire addict on cocaine, just waste it all. I used this to my advantage. I knew they would attack, and I made them attack where I wanted them to.
“We dug bunkers, and kept about half the garrison of the base underground at all times, so the enemy would think we had less than we really did. Out of sight is out of mind, you know. Then we made oversized defenses for what they thought we had, so it looked like we couldn’t properly man the whole perimeter. We made an outer wall, an inner wall, and a last ditch redoubt, and we were ready for the attack.
“They attacked our base, trying to work through the apparent weak spot to Dak To. My extra men got in position in hidden machine gun pits and the inner wall so’s not to be seen, the rest of the men on the outer perimeter were ordered to fire a few more rounds and then fall back. Just when Charlie started using the outer wall for cover, we blew it up with implanted C-4 charges, taking out a bunch of the enemy, and they had no more cover. They charged the inner wall, yelling like idiots. They had scaling ladders with them to make it over the wall, but that took time. And when they were trying to get over, they were bunching up. We had a secret weapon for this; long poles with 2 or 3 claymores on them. We would stick them over the crowd of enemy soldiers and blow them from above in a massive shotgun effect. The claymores cut down whole swaths of men, and the hidden machine gun pits took off their covers and started mowing. We had a sharpshooter team on the top of the above ground HQ blasting away, and artillery and mortars zeroing in on the enemy. And they were in a previously prepared killing field. Just cows in a slaughter house.”
“That was a harsh move John, I like it,” Jeff said
We were all intrigued by the immense carnage such volleys would have on a massed infantry assault. I said, “So what happened then? They wouldn’t just leave and quit, it’s not they’re style.”
“Ah, but they had to,” John said. “I had Green Berets all over the place, camouflaged into the jungle calling in artillery and air strikes on particularly dense infantry formations. Just to confuse the enemy some more, my Green Berets would ambush enemies on the way to attacking the base, using captured weapons. The enemy would think it was they’re own shooting at them, they’d try to clear up the mistaken identity instead of shooting back.
“The tactics were very successful. About five thousand VC and NVA died on the defensive matrix. Then we had a free reign to patrol the Ho Chi Mihn trail, because the all the man power in the area was wiped out or deserted.”
“Sounds like a success, John, so why is there still a trail?” Jake asked.
“They took a detour through Laos and Cambodia. Nothing I could do about that, unfortunately. So tell me, Jake, what did you do when you were here.”
“Well,” Jake said, “After Tet, the government added more city counterterrorism units to stop the bombings and prevent more embarrassing things like the US embassy episode. I was put on one of those units and learned how to tell when something was going down, I can’t really tell a story about it or explain it, but it developed my sixth sense. If a bomb is going to go off somewhere, I usually start having fishy feelings about a half hour before hand, and ten minutes before detonation, I can usually have the bomb defused, and suspects in custody.”
“That’s pretty good,” Russ said, “I bet it’s come in handy quite often around here.”
“You got it Russ, helps to keep people -including myself- from being a smear on the pavement,” said Jake, “I’m ready to get some sleep,” he looked at his watch, smiled a bit, “its tomorrow already, and two o’clock in the morning.”
That sent a jolt through me. I looked around, and saw that the restaurant was deserted; only the bartender was here, sitting, waiting for us to order something. We had gotten into each other’s stories so much, we had completely lost track of time. “Well,” I said, “The General probably wants us back soon so we can wake up and get ready to go, let’s get back to base and hit the sack.”
“Sounds good to me,” John said. “Let’s get gone.”
The others all nodded their agreement. We all got up, left a tip, and left out the front door.
We walked a ways, making our way to the base. The streets were just about deserted, and there were buildings and alleys all around. Then, quite suddenly, four guys jumped out from behind a parked armored car. Three had AK-47s, and one had a K-bar fighting knife. We knew they must have been Viet Cong to ambush American soldiers like this, in the capital of a friendly nation. We all started running, and sprinted into an alley to our left, the VC coming in after us. The alley hooked right, and Russ, who was in the lead, took the corner at full speed. He close lined himself on a low fire escape ladder, and flopped onto the pavement. He was out and down for the count. Jake, Jeff, and John all picked him up and kept on running full tilt towards the dead end down the alleyway. “I have an idea, you guys keep on going.” I said
“Josh, don’t get yourself killed,” John said
I made a funny face and said; “Now why would I do a stupid thing like that?” and I took off up the fire escape.
The VC turned the corner and heard the creaking of the fire escape. They sent one guy up after me, and I went up even faster. I got to the top, and saw some concrete cinder block lying there. “Perfect,” I said. I picked it up and peeked over the edge of the building down the fire escape. I got a good bead on the VC, and threw the block, it ricocheted off his head and he dropped like a stone. I went back down and picked up his gun, went up again, and ran along the edge of the roof towards my friends.
They had reached the dead end and the VC were fast approaching. They did like on the Army obstacle courses and went over the wall. Jeff was on top offering his hand to John when the VC started shooting. John ducked behind some barrels and yelled, “MOVE Jeff, you’ll get shot!” Jeff bit his lip and went over the edge.
One VC said in heavily accented English, “Get up Joe, and stand against the wall.” John did, but I knew he wouldn’t ever surrender; he was just drawing them closer so he could attack. They would get closer if the hostage is in the open. I got into a good position, and the VC stopped to talk about what to do with John. An Army Major would be a good source of intelligence, and worth a lot of money two. The enemy has bounties for US servicemen based on their rank.
I checked the ammo in the AK clip, “Damn,” I mumbled under my breath. There was only a single shot. What kind of a moron went into combat with only a single shot?
I got ready to make my move, it would need good timing. If I didn’t take them both out at the same time, one of them would shoot John. So, I threw a cinder block. Then I got my AK quickly, before it hit. Time slowed as I got ready to decide the fate of my friend. I took aim, watched the block arc through the air.
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
NOW!
It made contact with the VC’s head and I shot the other one. He fell to the ground, and the other’s head burst open between the block and the ground. The third VC rushed John, knife going down on him like a dagger. All John did was punch the man just below the heart. The man dropped like a sack of peanuts, and I was just amazed. “Good job, Josh, I owe you one,” he yelled up to me.
“How did you do that?” I yelled down from the rooftop.
“Old ninja trick I saw on TV once. Punch the man in the right pressure point and it will deliver a shock to the heart and stop it.”
“That’s awesome, you got to teach me that some time.”
“I will, maybe tomorrow. Now, let’s report this to the MP’s and hit the hay.” We went to the barracks and slept off the excitement.
Chapter 3
Russ Ferqueron
5th-6th May, 1970
I had a bad headache today, though that wasn’t too much of a surprise. To my amazement, I didn’t even have a concussion. This was good, because, I still got to go on the mission with my friends.
“Hey, Russ,” John said, “Take some aspirin and keep moving, you’re gumming up the works.”
I put the box of C-4 explosives in the PBR and took his advice. We were nearly done loading up the boats and we were going to be leaving in about fifteen minutes. I was pausing once in a while for the pain. The throbbing lump in my head was delaying things. He was right; I shouldn’t gum up the works and slow things down. Keeping schedules straight helps to keep missions from failing. That, and if schedules get tangled, the logistical efforts to support the mission could get really wacked up and we would end up without much of our equipment and weapons.
“Okay,” John said, “Those in the first wave, hop aboard.”
The first A-Team plus the HQ started moving toward the boats. The rest of the unit would sit here and wait until the boats returned for them.
Our unit was a regular B-detachment. The A-Teams were groups of 12 highly trained men. Three A-Teams made a B-Detachment, so we had 36 combat soldiers. Plus the headquarters, which was the major, two other officers, and nine NCOs, making a total of 48 men. All were Green Berets, all very smart and resourceful. Considering that a special forces unit of any branch usually operates in small groups of about 30 men or less and still carry enormous firepower, this unit could take out just about anything.
PBRs were 32 feet long and had a beam of 11 feet and 7 inches. It had a twin .50 caliber machine gun turret in the front, an M60, and a Mark 18 grenade launcher. We had ten boats, and two of them even had 20mm cannons. These things could really fight. They would be good protection on the way there. find out about boat carrying capacities so you can make an accurate estimate on how many they would need
I hoped into the boat with the A-Team. We would unload the team and the whole detachment’s equipment when we landed, so everyone else could come in the second wave. We were leaving early, it was about twenty-hundred hours now, 8 o’clock and night was falling. We were leaving early so that the whole detachment could be at the insertion point by the appointed time of midnight.
We went up the river, taking a long time to get there. The sight seeing was good, though. Riding a boat up a jungle river is always beautiful. The jungle went right up to the river and stopped, there was no beach. There were the occasional villages, huts, and cities. There would be Vietnamese paddling by in canoes with those funny cone hats on there heads. Probably fishermen, though some were undoubtedly shipping weapons for the VC. The people in the weapons stations would point and track on anything in the boats or on the shore that looked slightly suspicious. We were a small fleet going by, it would definitely be noticed by the VC. By the time the second wave made landfall, we probably would be fighting a welcoming committee, or at least we would be under hit and run mortar fire.
Wow, that aspirin must be starting to work. Earlier, it was hard to even do some light thinking with my splitting headache.
We made landfall in the dark of night at the Montagnard village. It was a bunch of thatched roof huts in a clearing. There were trenches around the perimeter of the village, with barbed wire in front of them. There were machine gun nests and people on obvious sentry duty. The forest had been pushed back some ways for a clear killing field, and punji sticks (bamboo sticks that are razor sharp for slowing and impaling attackers) guarded all approaches to the camp. (look up what Montagnard fortifications and villages were commonly like)
There were two makeshift docks made of bamboo, presumably for the fishermen of the village. Four of our boats moored to the docks and the soldiers onboard began unloading. The rest of the boats just beached themselves. I jumped into the water with a splash and slogged my way ashore. I met up with John, Josh, Jeff, Jake, and the rest of the HQ. “Well,” John said, “Lets go meet the Chief.”
We walked through the village to the center of it. Children shied away, the men looked at us with eyes full of suspicion. These people obviously didn’t trust us, which was a problem we would fix. We were trained and oriented for Hearts and Minds operations. Special forces missions usually meant a few good men would be operating in extremely hostile territory, so we would need to enlist the support of the local population for our survival and the good of the mission. That’s why the rest of the war effort was failing, regular soldiers weren’t concerned about the local populace, and wouldn’t get their support. That meant that the enemy would.
I took note that all of the weapons the Degar had were Charlie’s. AK-47’s, AK-57’s, etc., find some more. “Hey, John,” I said quietly, “I think we might have some good luck with these guys. Sure, they don’t trust us now, they’re definitely not in line with the VC.”
“How do you know that?” John asked.
“There aren’t any American units near here to fight against, and they can’t have known we were coming because of all the secrecy, so all those weapons must be off dead VC.”
“Sounds good to me, but let’s not jump to conclusions.”
The Chief was waiting for us in front of his house in the center of the village. It was obviously his house. There was a large thatched roof hut that dwarfed the rest in the village. There was a garden circling all around it. Obviously for beautification, not for food. There was a dirt path through the garden to the entrance of the hut, where the chief was waiting. He wore some rather extravagant clothes (compared to the rest of the village people). They were robes with stripes of white, blue and deep purple. He wore a matching turban on his head. It was all nearly black in the night, of course. These people lived in squalid conditions, and they didn’t have much, not even in the way of clothes. The Montagnard Chiefs, though, were people of importance and were treated as such.
We all spoke Vietnamese, though not fluently. John bowed in the oriental fashion and said, “I am glad to be in the presence of a great man.”
“I am glad to be in the presence of a great warrior,” The Chief bowed in return. “We need your help to rid the revolutionaries from our lands.”
“That is why we are here, we wish to be of service.”
“Your services would be most appreciated. They would be most valuable in the city of the High Chief. But before you go, we ask one thing. In return for your safe passage to the High Chief’s city, we ask that you leave behind a group of your men to protect us from the aggression of our common enemy.”
“That can be easily arranged and will be done. In fact, we will also leave here some equipment and several of the warrior-boats (what did Montagnards call PBRs) as a gesture of our goodwill.”
“Thank you, may Buddha keep you safe in your travels.”
Find out something on Montagnard culture, and put more detail in body language into the conversation.
We walked away back to our boats to help the unloading. “John,” I said, “You can’t order those PBRs to stay here, they’re not under your command.”
“Well, they’re going to stay because General Abrams will say so. I don’t trust these people yet, haven’t gotten to know them. Those PBRs are going to stay to back up our A-Team that’s going to reside here. If there is a betrayal, the PBRs can rip the place apart.”
“Ah, that’s good security. And with that firepower right up next to them, they won’t betray us on the way there. If we don’t come back, the guys here would have a fit and the Montagnards would regret it. Good thinking, John.” The A-Team and the PBRs here wouldn’t kill the women or children like Communists or rogue American units. Nor would they demolish the place, but if there were to be a fight, we would win it.
The boats were rising in the water now, they were emptied except for the crew. John asked them to get their new orders and sent them back to the rest of the men.
“Russ, take the A-Team we have here now and make a sweep of the woods. The welcoming committee should be here soon,” John said.
“You got it. Team ___ (think of an appropriate and accurate designation). Move out. Patrol formation. Follow me, we’re making a sweep.”
We went out along the shoreline in the direction the boats had come from. We moved silently, stealthily, weapons ****ed at the ready. Our eyes could have punched through steel, but they couldn’t pierce the jungle night. We relied on our ears and our noses, and we trusted that the Degar hadn’t let the enemy set up any booby traps in the area.
“Pass the word,” I said, “hook left.”
We went left after we had gone about 300 yards away from the village. We would keep going left until we reached the river round about 300 yards on the other side of the village. If there was any trouble, we our radio man was ready to request illumination rounds of the mortar in the village. Fortunately, it didn’t look like we would need it.
My foot caught on something, and there was a hollow THUNK! We kept on going, but we all knew what was there. After a little bit, I ordered, whispering, “Get out your night flares. Bundle them with tape, and throw them there,” I pointed to where I nearly tripped, “on the count of three. One, two, three!”
We ripped off the caps to our flares and they ignited. We threw them onto the suspect enemy position and went for cover. They were still there, about twenty of them, but we could see them, and they couldn’t see us. We all opened fire and it was all over in a split second. They were all dead, we had taken the element of surprise from them. We collected their equipment, including mortar and completed our patrol of the area without another incident.
We walked back into the village. “Roll call, sound off!” I said. It’s the worst nightmare of any commander to lose men needlessly. If we had lost men, It wouldn’t have been needless, but it would still have been bad. They finished the call, all twelve of them were there. I let go a small sigh of relief. No one was missing.
John came walking up. “Any excitement out there Russ?” He knew there was, he would have heard the guns, but he tried to be casual about such things. We all do. It helps to deal with the stress of it.
“Yeah, we took out a mortar team. No friendly casualties.”
“Good, good,” he said, “now get some sleep. The others have just arrived, the Montagnard guides will take us to their capital in the morning. So the Cong can’t zero in on our tents with more mortars, the Chief has offered us the hospitality of sleeping in their homes. Good night.”
I moved off to find a Montagnard willing to let a stranger sleep in his own home. It shouldn’t be too hard, they’re very hospitable. I heard John putting together the night watches as I rolled out my sleeping bag. I just laid down on top of it, and fell into a deep sleep.
