Khe Sanh Veterans Association Inc.

Red Clay
Newsletter of the Veterans who served at Khe Sanh Combat Base,
Hill 950, Hill 881, Hill 861, Hill 861-A, Hill 558
Lang-Vei and Surrounding Area

Issue 55     Spring 2003

Memoirs

Home

In This Issue
Notes from Editor and Board     Incoming     Web Briefs     Short Rounds
In Memoriam     A Sprinkling Of Your Poetry

Articles In This Section
Vietnam the Sequel          Combat Engineers     Where Valor Came of Age 
  Squalls Between The Storms     Major George Quamo

Vietnam...The Sequel

by Steve Johnson

PUBLISHER NOTE: Stephen's article was slightly edited due to the constraints of space in the newsletter. If any member desires an unedited version, I will make it available to them. 

Introduction:

    Col. Warren Wiedhahn, USMC (ret), is a long-standing member of the 3rd Marine Division Association. For a few years now, he has been put-ting the word out on the tours to Vietnam that his company, Military Historical Tours, conducts. The first time I heard about it I thought, "Why would anyone want to go back there, followed by, "Why would I want to go back there?" I also dismissed it as being too expensive.

    I'm not sure when the actual decision to look into it took place. It was more of a mental evolution from complete rejection of the idea to, who knows, it could be fun. It took two years to work up the nerve to send in the reservation and even up to a couple of weeks before leaving, I still wondered if I was doing the right thing.

    A few, well-intentioned people I had mentioned the trip to gave me the old, "You need closure," accompanied by what they thought were very sincere looks of understanding and sympathy for the torment my soul has endured, for lo these many years.

    I got closure right here! The term "closure" would indicate that there was some sort of gap in a certain train of events. There was no gap. A lot of my friends were killed. That's it! I got back in one piece. That's it, too! No gaps.

    Initially, it was a matter of curiosity as much as anything. It's sort of like surviving a terrible car wreck and then going to the junkyard to look at the wreckage and marvel that you lived through it. A friend asked me, "How can you forgive those people for what they did?" "Those people" didn't do any-thing to me that I was not trying to do to them. I saw the Viet Cong as sneaky little back stabbers but where I was, there were very few of them. My opponent, the North Vietnamese Army, was a well-trained, well-equipped professional soldier trying not to die for his country by causing me to die for mine.

    This is not to say that I condone, in any way, how the North Vietnamese treated US POWs. But if you research WWII in the Pacific, or Korea, or, in fact, inter-Asian wars through history, you will see that extreme cruelty towards prisoners seems to be a basic Asian trait. From what I have read, if I was a former POW, I imagine I would have some serious hatred for my captors, but that wasn't my experience, so I cannot relate to it. I hope the following is of some interest.

    On 10 March 1998,1 began the long journey that would take me back to Vietnam, a place I never expected to return to. I arrived at the Buffalo, NY, airport at about 3:30 PM. There began the odyssey of a lifetime. Processing at Buffalo and the commuter flight to JFK Airport in New York City went like clockwork.

    I was beginning to anticipate something going very wrong because, so far, everything was going too smoothly. I must have picked just the right time to fly. After only about three minutes, the shuttle bus pulled up and I got on for a fifteen-minute ride to the other side of the airport. I got off at the Cathay Pacific terminal and got quickly checked in. When I got to the waiting area at the departure gate, there were very few people there, too. I saw a group with Military Historical Tours hats and/or name tags on, located and checked in with Ed Henry, our tour leader, and then hung out until the flight was called.

    Our first destination was Vancouver, BC, which is five hours away...two hours there for refueling and then thirteen hours to Hong Kong. A documentary film crew, Peak Moore Enterprises, was also accompanying us. Warren Wiedhahn had said that they have been involved in previous Marine Corps-related film projects and come highly recommended. I understand they are doing this on a freelance basis and have no financial backing. Their plan is to pro-duce a film on their own, then sell it to one of the cable channels like The Learning Channel or The History Channel.

    There were a number of active duty officers from the Marine Corps University at Quantico. They were young, earnest, and very respectful. Some are students, but in name only, because they are all captains, majors and colonels. Those who were not students were instructors. Many of them appeared to be keeping journals and I suspect they may be required to do papers on their return.

    Many of the young gentlemen from Quantico (hereafter identified as the YG from Q) were reading the book "Siege of Khe Sanh" that we were sent by MHT. The book also includes the actions at Con Thien, Cam Lo, Hue City, and Lang Vei.

    We landed in Hanoi on Vietnam Airlines at about 3:40 PM having lost a time zone on the way. Hanoi airport is strictly no-frills. Customs was brisk, efficient, and humorless. Virtually no attention was paid to the baggage. The weather was surprisingly pleas-ant. It was probably around 80 with low humidity. We were staying at the Thuy Thien Hotel, which reflects the erstwhile French influence. The hotel is on a side street just across from a police building and as soon as we stepped off the bus we were besieged by street hawkers selling post cards, T-shirts, pith helmets, embroidery and various trinkets. 

Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum

    At 9:00 AM we went to see the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum and museum. The mausoleum is quite imposing and, at the same time, rather stark. It faces what would normally be a very wide boulevard but it's blocked off to all but pedestrian traffic. Across the boulevard from the mausoleum is a twenty-acre park, which is sectioned off by sidewalks. Within each section is some kind of very thick, bushy grass, which is obviously not made to be walked upon.

    The museum was very modern and clean, but quite sterile. One Vietnamese explained that a lot of the displays were more symbolic than realistic. In fact, most of them were not made up of artifacts at all, but were more stylized sculptures in tribute to this or that glorious people's cause. It seemed to me that the average Nguyen could care less about a lot of it. The almost god-like respect seemed a little forced. One thing I noticed, though, was that there were no undisciplined little brats swinging from the displays or racing from room to room. Kids stayed with mom and dad and behaved themselves.

    After lunch we went to the People's Army Museum, which was shabby and tacky. Everything seemed to be overly dramatic and almost amateurishly done. Displays were very static, and, if they were lighted, half the lights were out. In the courtyard of the museum was a large pile of chunks of various US aircraft shot down in the Hanoi area. Some of the wreckage had signs describing how this very jet killed 430 little girls before being blasted out of the sky by one of the People's Heroes, or, that exact air-craft was flown by a notorious American criminal who met his miserable end at the hands of a courageous North Vietnamese air ace. There were also artillery pieces and various ordnance plus a NVA anti-aircraft gun just like Jane Fonda liked to work out on. I hit the sack about 10:00 and had no problem going to sleep.

    After breakfast we loaded up to go back to Uncle Ho's mausoleum, this time to go in and view the body, which has been on display for several years. There was a long line of locals waiting to get in. We had been told that we would have to walk in single file with our hands at our sides. No hats. Nothing in our hands. No backpacks, cameras, or belt packs. No talking, no smiling, no laughing. If you had your hands in your pockets or did anything the guards thought inappropriate, they could order you out of the building.

    I decided that I didn't want to play their game. Respect is one thing but in a communist society respect is not earned... it is forcibly required. He may be North Vietnam's Thomas Jefferson, but he was just a commie stiff to me. I stayed on the bus, and after everyone else got off the driver moved to a small side street.

    The last time I saw our people they were in their own line away from, but in front of, the civilians. My immediate thought was that our group was being paraded for the locals. Guards were walking up and down near the civilians and talking to them. Maybe I'm a little paranoid, but I can just imagine that the civilians were being told that the American criminals had come back to show their new found respect for Uncle Ho and atone for their wartime atrocities. About 45 minutes later, some of the guys back from the mausoleum said they felt hostility. The guards pulled one of them out of line and made him empty his pockets. Then, they waved him on. No reason given, and you don't ask why.

    The afternoon flight to Da Nang was uneventful until we landed. Let's just say it was about one fish- tail away from a crash. Sometimes ignorance is bliss

    In Da Nang, it felt about twenty degrees hotter with high humidity. What appeared to be fog in the distance was not; that's how thick the air was. While getting our bags loaded into the buses, we just stood around and sweated.

Not far from Da Nang we stopped at Red Beach. This is a long stretch of beautiful white sand beach where the 9th Marines made their amphibious landing in 1965. They were the first complete, tactical ground force to touch Vietnam. Girls dressed in the national costume called Ao Dai passed out leis and flowers to the Marines.

    We checked in at the Houang Duong hotel in Hue, which is very nice and very Asian. We toured Hue this morning and it was interesting, We went from point to point in chronological order as the battle for the city unfolded during the 1968 Tet offensive. Among the YG from Q are some TBS (The Basic School) instructors who have researched the battle thoroughly and came prepared to give a narrative as we moved around.

    We then went to an area near the center of the city near the Perfume River that bisects Hue. Across the bridge that was about three blocks away was the ancient Citadel that became the focal point for the NVA attack. Just around the corner from where we were all standing was the old MACV (Military Assistance Command Vietnam) compound, which became the center of US activity and which is now a Vietnamese government building. We were told we could walk down and have a look at it and take pictures but to stay across the street from it. It probably would have been OK if there were only a few of us but with about sixty people pointing cameras, it only took about thirty seconds for an army guard to come charging out brandishing his AK-47 and give us the heave-ho. The level of paranoia concerning army or other government facilities is incredible. The idea that looking at, or taking pictures of a building is a threat of any kind is ludicrous. On the other hand, I think a lot of it is based on the concept of continuous intimidation. It seems very petty. I would imagine that the guard who chased us off probably got elevated to People's Hero after his courageous action against the running dogs of capitalism.

    We stopped for lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and somebody found two American women there. One, Judith Hansen, had spent a year in Da Nang as a "Donut Dolly" with the Red Cross in 1967-68. She said she worked mostly with Marines so we stood up and sang the Hymn for her. She got quite emotional. She was traveling with her sister. It was her first time back.

    After lunch we toured the Citadel. Almost all the battle damage has been repaired. Nearly every large city in Vietnam has a citadel, which was the residence of the local king or warlord or whomever was in charge. The Citadel in Hue, however, was the old imperial capital of Vietnam and was built around 1810. Parts of the huge wall around it are now gone but it was originally almost 2000 yards on each side. The Citadel was bitterly defended by the NVA because it had become a symbol of the non-communist south and the presence of the North Vietnamese flag flying over it was believed by the NVA to destroy the Marines' and ARVNs' will to fight. It didn't work.

    By pre-arrangement, it had been decided to let the ARVNs be the first troops to re-take the Citadel even though the Marines had taken tremendous casualties getting to it. It became clear though, that the only way the Citadel would be taken was by the Marines, so they went in. Again, by pre-arrangement, the RVN flag was supposed to replace the NVA flag flying over the Citadel, but when the Marines finally blasted their way to the flagpole, the US flag was "erroneously" run up. After a suitable amount of time went by, the "error" was noticed and the South Vietnamese flag replaced the Stars and Stripes.

    Ed Henry had told General Mundy that I had, for personal reasons, brought my bagpipes to play at Khe Sanh. There was already a plan for a memorial service there during which a tape of the Marine's Hymn and Taps would be played. The General asked me if I would play Amazing Grace after that. I had not planned on playing in front of the group and told him, but I said I'd give it a try as long as he didn't expect too much. I think he thought I was some kind of ringer from Glasgow.

    After breakfast, we bussed north through Quang Tri Province. Even though I had patrolled out of Quang Tri when I was in Echo Company, 3rd Recon Battalion, there was nothing left of the huge base that had been there. It had been swallowed by a string of shantytowns and markets, except for the airstrip which is still being used.

    We piled our luggage in the lobby and immediately reloaded the busses for the trip to Khe Sanh. Its 60 Km of bad road but there is an effort being made to improve it. There is virtually no heavy equipment to be seen except a few beat up dump trucks. Everything is hand labor and much of it by women.

    As we got closer to Khe Sanh, the mountains looked bigger than I remembered. Many of the lower mountaintops are being blasted away for rock and gravel to use on the road. There has also been massive slash and burn agriculture practiced here for at least twenty years. The jungle that used to cover these mountains is all but gone, replaced by scrub brush and small trees. There still is lots of elephant grass, though.

        First, we went to Lang Vei where the Special Forces camp was overrun by NVA tanks that many in the upper echelons said didn't exist. Some of our recon teams had reported hearing noises that sounded like tanks near the Laotian border. "Harrumph," said the brass, "there are no roads that will support tanks there!" Well, the noises were coming from Laos where vehicles could be used with relative impunity. When it came time to attack Lang Vei, the NVA used the Russian T-76 amphibious tank to ford the river that makes that part of the Laos/Vietnam border, drove east on Route 9, and squashed Lang Vei.

    There was a lot of controversy then about why the Marines at Khe Sanh didn't send help, but it was the right tactical decision. Khe Sanh supported Lang Vei during the attack with all the artillery and other resources it had while under artillery attack itself, but a ground force would have been annihilated. If we had come down Route 9, there were hundreds of places to ambush us. If we came cross-country, it would have been the same. Either way it would have taken many hours and it was night. A reaction force would have lost hundreds to save a few dozen.

    We had bag lunches at Lang Vei. It was extremely hot and airless. After lunch, we headed back up Route 9 to Khe Sanh. I knew that where the base had been is a coffee orchard now so I didn't expect  to be able to see much. To my surprise, most of the trees were no taller than shrubs and they were in random patches. Not having trees overhead made it possible to "see up and out." It was the least altered of all the former bases we went to. Had it been allowed to grow over, it would have been covered with 30-foot trees and we would have seen nothing. This way, the lay of the land was clear and it was possible to get somewhat oriented.

    Nothing is left but the general trace where the airstrip was. There is a badly deteriorated monument there that tells about the 10,000 Americans who were killed or captured by the glorious heroes of the People's Army. Everybody got a good laugh out of it. In the distance to the north was the ridgeline with Hills 950 and 1015. Hill 950 was the radio relay station called Rain belt Bravo. Because of the mountainous terrain in the Khe Sanh area, we rarely were able to communicate directly with the base.

    There was a small detachment of Marine communications people there, and they often had to fend off attacks from the NVA who occupied the entire remainder of that ridgeline. It was the first thing I saw every morning as I came out of the Sergeant's hooch. Due to the humidity, it was very hazy but to the west I could just make out Hill 881 South. The other outpost hills were lost in the haze.

    The base was abandoned shortly after the Marines made a Herculean effort to keep it during the Siege. It was bulldozed flat to keep the NVA from making use of it. By using a little dead reckoning, I think I got to within 100 feet of my old company area  Bravo Company, 3rd Recon Battalion. I collected a baggie of that unmistakable red dirt that predominates in the Khe Sanh area. After I got to where I thought I was closest, it really hit me as to where I was. Standing on that red dirt looking at the 1015 ridgeline, in that heat, and humidity, and stillness...it seemed like I had been there just last week.

    The YG from Q were trying to be everywhere at once. They have studied and know  this battle probably better than those of us who were here at the time. To have the opportunity to walk this ground and see the terrain features and landmarks was literally an opportunity of a lifetime for them. I turned twenty-one again while I was here. As I looked around the area, it was like playing a video in my head. I could see every building and tent and smell the diesel and aviation exhaust fumes.

    Facing north and mentally scanning from left to right, over beyond the mess tent is the Charlie Med station just off the helicopter taxi pad. That's the last place I saw Garry Tallent. It was the day before my 21st birthday and his patrol, Primness, had just flown out on a pair of CH-46 helicopters. They inadvertently landed right on top of a NVA unit  what we refer to as a "Hot LZ" — which shot the chopper up and hit Tallent and the chopper door gunner. We were on the helo pad because we were waiting to be inserted into our patrol zone by the same helicopters. I thought the choppers were returning to pick my patrol up, but they were moving unusually fast. The lead chopper landed hard, and corpsmen from Charlie Med ran into it with stretchers. I was still thinking that maybe somebody had taken a bad fall or something but then they came out with Garry, blood all over, and I was hoping he was only unconscious.

    The immediate reaction from my team was that one of them cursed and flung his rifle down on the helo pad. I barked at him to pick up his rifle and get a grip. We were just minutes away from possibly going into the same kind of situation, and I didn't need anyone who wasn't concentrating on the mission. Tallent had been my radioman on a number of patrols. Even when things got nasty, he was always smiling about something.

    The helicopter his patrol had been on was shot up a bit so another one took us right out to our patrol zone. It wasn't until we came back almost a week later that we found out he had died. Because of the time delay involved, it didn't quite sink in. It was just that he wasn't around anymore.

    Now, in my mind's eye, I'm looking at the regimental command post with its underground combat information center. Beside it is the watchtower that is manned at night, mainly to listen for the "poomp" of a mortar, or the deeper "boom" of artillery being fired at us from the hills. Rockets were harder to hear but if it was very still they made a sharp "Ssssssh" when they were launched and sometimes at night you could see the flame of the afterburner. The sentry had a hand-cranked siren that was the in-coming alarm that sent us scrambling for the bunkers. Rockets, especially, move very fast and the screaming noise they make is a real motivator to find a hole to crawl into.

    Across the road and down to the right a bit, I see the tiny PX that never had much in it and next to the PX was the post office. Then comes our company office followed by the two rows of hooches and squad tents that house the company. The last hooch down in the row next to the road is where we sergeants lived. We have two-thirds of the hooch and company supply has the rest. The next area down is Engineers, I think. Back on this side of the road is the shower tent. A crude affair, but better than nothing.

    Going to the shower tent during the monsoon was always an adventure. There were two ways to do it. One was to go more or less fully dressed in the filthy utilities you had worn for days on patrol. The problem was that after you got squeaky clean from your shower, you had to wear the same foul rags back to the hooch unless you brought a clean uniform with you. If you did, the rain hammered down so hard that your clean, dry utilities  were soaked and mud splattered by the time you got back to the hooch. Raincoats were nonexistent and most ponchos were full of holes and offered only minimal protection.

    The other way to go to the shower tent was the Marine way. Usually we just put a towel around our waist, stepped into our shower shoes, and strolled across the road. We would arrive drenched and shivering from the cold. Some, to keep  their towel dry, just rolled it up under their arm and walked over in their birthday suit. There was absolutely no need for modesty. The best part was in returning to the hooch. Wet shower shoes are slippery and there was mud everywhere. Watching people exit the shower tent was almost a spectator sport because a large number of clean people wound up prone in the mud and rain when they slid out of their shower shoes. Of course, that meant another shower. Sometimes in the monsoon it rained so hard we just stepped out of the hooch and took a "natural" shower on a wooden pallet placed there for that purpose.

    There was quite a bit more to the base than that, but it's about all I ever saw. We were off base on patrols so much that when we were here, the time was spent maintaining bunkers and equipment and preparing for the next patrol. I can see the bunkers between the tents and I can see the one where "Doc" Miller, Scribner, Rosa and Popowitz were killed. Khe Sanh was taking a lot of in-coming rockets that day in January of 1968, and most of my platoon was in that bunker. I had, only a few weeks before, been transferred to the newly formed Echo Company, 3rd Recon, that was going to be operating out of Quang Tri.

    A Russian 122mm rocket is 4_ inches in diameter and about six feet long. Two thirds  of it is rocket  motor and the rest is high powered explosives. One of them came right through the door of the bunker and detonated inside. They weren't just killed...they were torn to pieces. One of the guys trying to dig the wounded Marines out of the bunker said later that all they found of Scribner was his helmet with part of his skull still inside. He said the rocket must have gone off in Scribner's lap. They knew it was him because he had written his name and blood type on the helmet cover. Besides those four killed, everyone else in the bunker was wounded, some of them horribly.

    I didn't know about that until a couple months later when the Siege was over and what  was left of Bravo Company was brought down to Quang Tri where the rest of the 3rd Division was. Those of us who had come from Bravo went to see them and it seemed as if there was hardly anyone left. I talked to one of the sergeants, Dennis Herb, for a while and he filled me in on who from my platoon had been killed or wounded and medevaced out. I think there were only seven or eight of my platoon left in  the company.

    We didn't stay as long as we had intended. It was too heartbreaking to stand among the tatters of the mighty Bravo Company, 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion, USMC.

    Most of the nearly 40% of casualties they took were not sustained facing the enemy. It was often due to the company's geographical position on the base. Any incoming that was fired at Charlie Med or the ammo dump that went wide either way, landed on Bravo. Any incoming fired at the regimental CP or the airstrip that went short or long, landed on Bravo. The company area became known as the V ring (as in the center of the target). After the Siege began, patrols outside the base were terminated, I don't think a Recon Marine ever fired a round at the enemy. But, that was when they took the majority of casualties. All they could do was dig their holes deeper.

    Finding out that people I thought were alive had been killed three months before stunned me. Since I  hadn't been there when it happened and hadn't seen them in quite a while, there was not the same sense of immediate loss. They were just gone and there was nothing to be done about it. I began realizing that maybe a part of the reason for making this trip was because I never got to mourn those guys.

    All of this flashed through my mind in a matter of seconds. I was glad I was alone. This was tougher than I thought. My original intent was to try to get as close to the company area as I could and,  very privately, play "Amazing Grace," the "Marine's Hymn," and then "Taps" on my practice chanter. The practice chanter is not much more than a fancy flutophone and it's used for fingering practice for the bagpipes. The bad part is that it doesn't sound like much. Just sort of a muted buzzy sound. I had debated with myself whether to bring the bagpipes themselves and I finally decided that if I had them with me, at least I would have a choice. I deliberately did not bring the drones... those three big pipes that stick up over the left shoulder. I had correctly assumed our bags would get pretty rough treatment on this trip and I just didn't want the drones damaged. It was enough that I was risking damage to the pipe chanter, air bag, and blowpipe. However, the drawback to playing the pipes instead of the practice chanter is that the pipes were meant to be heard over the noise of battle, so if I did play them it would not go unnoticed.

    Why would I care if anyone heard me? Isn't "Amazing Grace" an appropriate tune to play on such an occasion? The problem was that I had attempted to play "on the bag" only a few times and did badly to say the least. I had never gotten all the way through any one tune. Playing the practice chanter is not much more than blowing into a plastic tube. But playing the bagpipes brings several new dimensions into play. Imagine rubbing your stomach, patting your head, whistling a tune, and marching in step all at the same time, with almost no practice. Then, imagine doing all that at a very special event, in front of sixty people, with no practice at all. When General Mundy asked me in Hue if I would participate in the memorial service I was flattered to be asked, while at the same time knowing I couldn't do it. It was hard enough just being here, let alone being part of the program. After the group had some time to look around, General Mundy assembled us and began the memorial service by presenting a Purple Heart medal to Rob Sutter, a former Marine captain, for his brother who had been killed here. That was followed by comments from the General and Alan McLean, a former Marine 2nd Lieutenant who had lost both legs and is now an Episcopalian Priest.

    I was pacing around behind the group trying to calm down. I kept trying to wet my lips but I was so dry I virtually couldn't spit. A recording of the Marine's Hymn and Taps was played and, finally, General Mundy gave me a nod. If I'd had any confidence at all that I could do this, I would have just launched into "Amazing Grace" from behind the group. Remember...! had never played a complete tune on the bag and I had only attempted that in front of my pipe instructor.

    Even though I knew it would break the mood a little, I felt I had to explain that this was a maiden flight for me so I started saying something like, "I should tell you all that..." and they all turned around! With everyone looking at me I instantly felt I was going to make a damn fool of myself. This was a very personal and serious occasion for me and the enormity of it kind of overwhelmed me. I had to stop and regroup for a moment. I then went on to explain my situation and that if they would bear with me, I'd give it a shot.

    It must have been pure adrenaline, but I did it! it wasn't perfect, but it was "Amazing Grace!" Ordinarily, a solo piper plays that tune Through twice. When I got to the end of the first rendition, I didn't dare do it again. I instantly felt 20 pounds lighter. I had amazed myself. As I was putting my pipes away all the Khe Sanh veterans came over and patted me on the back or put their arms around me and said it was great. There wasn't any phoniness about it either. They really meant what they said. I couldn't see very well right then, but I think it was Rob Sutter who put his arm around me and said, "Thanks, brother." It was well worth all the mental wear and tear I had put myself through.

    I felt completely dehydrated. I bought two cans of pop from a little girl not much bigger than her cooler and chugged both of them down. That was it. I had done what I came to do and for the rest of the trip I would just be Joe Tourist. There was a drawback, however. Now everyone was convinced that I was just too modest and was, in fact, the pro from Aberdeen!

    The sun was heading down as we left Khe Sanh. My only regret was not being there at sunset so I could hear the Rock Apes hooting in the hills. Rock Apes was the generic name we gave to any monkey we saw. The most common were a gibbon-like animal that traveled in groups through the treetops as easily as we walk down the street. Every evening, just at sunset, when we were in the bush on missions, the Rock Apes would settle into their roosts and begin howling. It was a long, drawn out "whoowhooo-whooo" that gradually went up in pitch. Imagine the din when thirty or forty of them were going at it. This chorus would last about fifteen minutes, and we could sometimes hear it coming from several locations around us. When on patrol, the closer we set in at night to one of these groups without spooking them, the better off we were. The Rock Apes did not hoot if anything unusual was going on, so a lot of monkey noise nearby meant we could relax just a little.

    The return to Dong Ha was long and quiet. I checked out the room and noticed that the beds were clean and freshly made but that was the extent of the amenities. The waitresses and other staff were in spotless white Ao Dais and were very efficient. They probably hadn't seen this many people at once in a long time. The food was fair but there were a couple dishes I noticed hardly anyone touched. We just weren't sure what it was. About 9:30 I dragged myself up the stairs, got buzzed by a bat in the hall, and hit the sack.

    I decided to take the day off because the group was going to two or three locations that I had never been to when I was here thirty years ago. Just by coincidence I found out that three other people were staying back to go to the Lew Puller School in Dong Ha to deliver pens, pencils, etc. Puller was the son of Marine Corps legend General Lewis Burwell Puller who, while in Vietnam, lost both legs, as well as other serious wounds. Because of who he was, or rather, who his father was, there was tremendous pressure for him to be THE SON OF CHESTY PULLER! His wounds brought his Marine Corps career to a crashing halt and he fell into various addictions and mental problems. One thing he accomplished, though, was to generate considerable donations to an organization called the Vietnamese Memorial Association that was formed to build schools in Vietnam. Because of his efforts, the first of these schools was named the Lew Puller School and there is a bronze plaque with his likeness on it near the front door of the school.

    The other three people visiting the school had known Lew as a kid and teenager. This was a special visit for them. Ed Henry had told me that a visit to the school was planned, but I wasn't sure if it necessarily meant the whole group was going. Since I was staying back and had no other plans, I asked if I could go along. I had about ten pounds of pencils, pens, and crayons with me. After a ten minute kamikaze ride we arrived at the school. The cabs pulled into the schoolyard and right up to a flagpole. The school is a masonry, two story, L shaped building with about a two-acre schoolyard. The hallways are external, much like many buildings in the southern US.

    One of the group had the headmaster's name, a Mr. Quoc. Somehow, he thought it was pronounced "duck." Two people came out and he asked for Mr. Duck. They obviously didn't speak or understand English, and they had no idea what the word "mister" meant, so the word "duck" had no relevance either. After a few minutes of asking into the whereabouts of Mr. Duck, the desk clerk/spy came out with a lady who turned out to be Mrs. Mat, the assistant headmistress. She understood just a little English, didn't know anything about Mr. Duck, but invited us to her office. It was about ten by twelve feet and had little in it aside from two tables arranged in a T shape with chairs around them. As we sat down, a thermos of green tea was produced and poured into a china teapot, and, from there, into tiny china cups. We toasted, I don't know what. Our spokesman kept trying to explain our presence in his horrible French, which the younger Vietnamese do not speak.

    Finally, a couple of us just opened the bags of stuff we'd brought. I think it was only then that Mrs. Mat realized why we'd come. She was very happy to see the pencils and pens and when she saw the two cigar boxes of crayons I'd brought she appeared very surprised and grateful.

    Someone began beating what sounded like a bass drum and all the kids came pouring out into the schoolyard. There are two sessions, morning and afternoon, for grades one through six and the total enrollment is 374. Most of the kids wear the school uniform of white shirt and blue pants or skirt. They immediately fell into ranks. For you tactical types, it looked like battalion in column with companies on line) and began a few simple exercises to the beat of the drum. The littlest ones were in the middle and just kind of jumped around. Then, at a certain signal on the drum, they all went screaming back into the school. I had gone down the hall and around the corner to videotape them and before I knew it, my position was overrun and I was hip deep in munchkins.

    After things calmed down, they were herded back to their classrooms and we were shown the school's computer room. There were six or eight rather used looking computers someone had donated. Like our hotel, there does not seem to be any electricity during the day so I don't know what good they were. We were introduced to the computer teacher, so I guess they use them, but I don't know when. On the way to the school, we had passed a large intersection where two or three blown-up American tanks are on display. They are just rusted hulks with weeds growing up around them with a sign dedicated to the Heroes of the People's Army.

    On the way back to the hotel, the guy in the cab with me said something about stopping to take a picture. I said I would rather not because my ankle was quite sore (it was) and he said OK. In my mind, though, I didn't want to stop because I knew what our tanks look like and didn't need a picture.. It's probably just me but I think any show of interest in something like that is demeaning. It is a monument to the actions of communist forces that almost certainly resulted in American deaths. Remember, even though we are now in South Vietnam, we are in communist South Vietnam and are officially the bad guys...the enemy...the defeated enemy. Except for the South Vietnamese who know better, the people here see us as returning survivors of a beaten invader.

    Back at the hotel, I took a short nap and then went down to meet the other three for lunch. While I was lounging in the lobby talking to the desk clerk/spy, a group of about a dozen doctors, nurses, and EMTs from the States checked in. They were in Vietnam holding clinics in several rural areas. I'm not sure who their sponsor was but there are lots of groups like them working all over the world.

    About 4:30 the rest of our group came in, tired and dusty. At 6:00 we had an audience in the restaurant with a Mr. Ky. He was a company commander at Khe Sanh, an NVA company commander, that is. Now he is the 2nd to the top dog in the Dong Ha district of Quang Tri province. He arrived with a small entourage including the ever-present Political Officer who is the watchdog at official functions. The Political Officer introduced Mr. Ky to us and made some welcoming remarks. By now it was dusk outside and the electricity had not yet been turned back on so the only light was from light stands put up by the film crew.

    Through one of our two interpreters, Cheong, (pronounced Chee-ung) Mr. Ky gave us the party line about letting the past go and work on the future. Blah, Blah, Blah. About then the electricity came on. There was some lengthy discussion between Mr. Ky and Cheong but before any translation was made, Thrinh, (pronounced Cheen), our other interpreter said that Mr. Ky would now take any comments or questions about the action at Khe Sanh. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because the Political Officer immediately jumped in and there was more discussion in rapid fire Vietnamese. Then Cheong said that because Mr. Ky had another pressing engagement, he would have to be leaving soon and it would be more productive to talk about the future. Afterward, there were several people honestly wondering if we would see Trinh again. Two former Viet Cong who had been in this area were introduced. One was pretty normal looking. The other guy looked like a pretty tough nut.

    A couple of people made a few comments and General Mundy made a few comments. Then Mr. Ky and entourage made their exit. The whole thing was pretty much a dog and pony show, but I guess that's politics. We were all ushered out of the restaurant so they could set up for dinner. While we were waiting, the power went off again and the waitresses passed out candles. That probably happens a lot. After about thirty minutes the power was restored and we had dinner. Power went out again at 9:00.

    Trinh showed up for breakfast, alive and well, so I guess he didn't dishonor his family too badly. We left the hotel for the bus ride back down to Da Nang but on the way, we stopped at the Puller School. This was obviously the planned visit I wasn't sure about. They trooped all the kids out for the aerobics demonstration, but it wasn't like yesterday. That was much better. We stopped at a few sites in the Dong Ha area and then headed south.

    On the 20th, it would be Colonel Meyers' 50th anniversary. His wife was here on the trip and they will be re-married by Father McLean. Colonel Meyers asked me to play "Amazing Grace" for them at their wedding. That was also the anniversary of their son's death. Another no-pressure situation. As mentioned before, I think some people think I know how to play bagpipes. They were soon to be shown the error of their thinking.

    Tomorrow the group would be in An Hoa. I hadn't planned on going but Colonel Christy hinted that he would very much like "Amazing Grace" played there. He lost 100 Marines there in an ambush because of a screw-up at battalion HQ. He wanted me to play the "Navy Hymn (Eternal Father)" but there aren't enough holes on the chanter to cover the octaves needed to play it. Colonel Christy didn't mention my pipes for An Hoa, so I didn't bring it up. We cycled over to the Military Museum. It was sometimes difficult to keep a straight face after reading the ludicrous captions on most of the photos. I saw the same photo in three different places in the museum with a different caption on each of them. The picture was of an American GI leaning against a tree with his head down as if he was taking a breather. One caption had him "trapped in a valley," another had him "retreating before the People's Army," and the third had him, "lamenting the crimes he had committed."

    Many items on display were nothing more than propaganda posters showing smiling NVA distributing rice to the oppressed people of the American- backed puppet regime of the South. There were large maps of battles where the NVA killed "thousands" of Americans. Oddly enough, Khe Sanh and Hue did not appear on any map and there was no other mention of either place. One photo showed two US medics obviously treating a Vietnamese heat casualty and one of them was holding a canteen to the victim's mouth. The caption explained, "Two American criminals were administering water torture to a brave patriot." Yet another showed a number of NVA looking over several bodies lying on the ground. The caption read, "Our brave warriors examining some of the 1000 Americans killed in May 1965." In May of 1965 I'm not sure there were much more than 1000 Americans in all of Vietnam, let alone that many killed in one action. The best part was that all the bodies in the photo were clearly Asian! The photo contradicted the caption. I guess it must be a case of "don't believe your eyes, believe what you're told."

    I took a nap and then hung out in the lobby until 6:30pm when I went with Father McLean to the hotel restaurant to help him set up for Colonel and Mrs. Meyers' wedding. Alan suggested I pipe them in to the "Marine's Hymn" and then at a certain point play "Amazing Grace." Despite how things turned out at Khe Sanh, I didn't have any more confidence in myself and was rapidly getting very nervous. I had not previously learned the Hymn and had taught it to myself on the practice chanter only over the past couple of days.

    The restaurant was not air conditioned. My hands were very sweaty. My fingers kept sliding off the holes on the chanter and I messed up both tunes. I was probably trying to hold the chanter too tight. Later, the Meyers' and others said I did a good job and the missed notes didn't mean a thing, but it didn't make me feel much better. I didn't plan on doing any command performances. With my nearly total lack of experience as a musician, to have my first two gigs be a 30th anniversary memorial service and a 50th anniversary repeating of the vows was like a passenger trying to land a 747 after the pilots both have heart attacks.

    The Meyers' wedding was held under "field conditions," but otherwise went well. The hotel provided two huge flower baskets and a cake and had made up a sign congratulating them on their anniversary. The English spelling was very creative, but they tried hard. The hotel and restaurant staff was there for the service and knew what was happening, but they all looked a little confused at our bizarre rituals. Tomorrow we'd fly to Saigon.

    Only two more nights in country after that. We stayed at the Saigon Star Hotel. Another very nice hotel. Saigon is very different than any city we've seen so far. Except for the signs in Vietnamese and the obvious Asian population, you would think you were in a typical large European city. Wide streets and boulevards, relatively clean with a lot of space devoted to parks.

    During a farewell dinner that night, there was a single table set with a black table cloth, a plate with a little bit of rice on it, and a vase with a rose. The chair was tipped up as if it was being saved for someone. It represented the missing man.... those dead or unaccounted for. After dinner, there were several toasts and General Mundy was presented a marble plaque. The floor was then opened for any remarks and several people made very moving comments.

    All in all, it was a memorable trip and MHT did a flawless job. I would highly recommend it to anyone and even if you weren't there during the war, it's a tremendous trip into a significant era of Marine Corps History.

Steve Johnson

Top Side

*****

Marine Combat Engineers 
At The 1968 Siege of Khe Sanh
The 35th Anniversary of the Start of the Siege

Story by 
Bill Gay,     Bruce Bell,     David Critchley,     Frank Kledas,     
Terry Parr,     John Pessoni, and      Gerald Traum

    This is a history of the part that 1st Platoon, A Company, 3rd Engineer Battalion (Combat), 3rd Marine Division played in the North Vietnamese Army Siege of Khe Sanh during the 1968 Tet Offensive. We had a great platoon. We are proud of what we did. 

    We paid heavily as many units did. At least eight members of our platoon were killed. So many were wounded that none know the final count. Several are disabled today from wounds and from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). 

    We write this history for each other, our fallen comrades, our families, the Khe Sanh Veterans Association, at the urging of an older VA PTSD counselor who uses this history to train younger counselors when someone says they were in the Siege. 

    As our reasons for writing this history increased, so did its length. We added background to help all families understand Khe Sanh. As each of us remembered more, we added more details. Skip over the background information if you already know it. Smile with us as you read the personal stories. We decided that the only truth that is absolute is that each of us remembers the truth differently.

The Khe Sanh Tactical Area of Operations 

    What Khe Sanh was can be succinctly defined by the titles of historical works authored by Chaplain Ray Stubbe of the 1st Battalion, 26th Marines ("The Valley of Decision" and "The Final Formation"); by writer Robert Pisor ("The End of The Line - The Siege of Khe Sanh"); and combat photographer David Douglas Duncan ("I Protest"). 

    The Khe Sanh valley and surrounding mountains were beautiful, settled by the Bru mountain tribes, Vietnamese villagers and French coffee plantations. Located in the northwest corner of Vietnam about ten kilometers from North Vietnam and Laos, the valley was an important logistics and invasion route for the North Vietnamese Army when they invaded the South. 

    Hundreds of US fighting men died and thousands more were wounded, as Stubbe states "because of Khe Sanh." Thousands of Bru and Vietnamese citizens and tens of thousands of NVA soldiers were killed and wounded at of Khe Sanh. The French had a combat base at Khe Sanh before 1954. Army Special Forces started operating in the area in the 1960s. Marines arrived in the mid-60s, building a combat base and defeating the NVA in the vicious fights to control the hills surrounding the Khe Sanh Combat Base (KSCB), what were later known as "The Hill Battles."

    The US presence reached its peak in late 1967 and early 1968 when the 26th Marine Regiment held the KSCB and the Hills against attacks by two NVA Divisions. The NVA attackers probably outnumbered US defenders about 4 or 5 to 1, even though the 26th Marines were reinforced by the 1st Battalion, 9th Marine Regiment, all types of Marine units including l/A/3rd Engineers, Army, Air Force, Navy units, and a South Vietnamese Army Ranger Battalion. 

    Route 9, a single lane road, connected the larger Vietnamese cities and Marine bases in the east to Khe Sanh. It also connected Khe Sanh to Laos. The Viet Cong and NVA damaged the eastern length of the highway beyond use sometime in 1967, denying US forces the benefit of being supplied or reinforced by road. The western length of Route 9 to Laos remained open, enabling the NVA to supply and reinforce their units from the Ho Chi Minh Trail. With Route 9 cut, the Marines at the KSCB and on the Hills had to be supplied by air.

    That was not too difficult when the Marine garrison numbered only about 1,000. US planes could airdrop supplies on the KSCB using radar controls from the coast near Da Nang, even when visibility fell to a matter of a few feet during the Winter Monsoon season. Supply by air became a real challenge when our strength grew to over 5,000. Supplying the Hills was a tougher job. The Hill defenders, and those who risked their lives supplying them suffered greatly. 

The Siege Begins

    The fiercely fought 1968 Tet Offensive started at Khe Sanh at the height of the Monsoon season. Close Air Support by fighter-bombers and helicopter gunships, and medical evacuation aircraft often could not help the defenders of Khe Sanh in those early days. 

    NVA artillery hit the main KSCB ammunition dump the very first time the NVA unleashed what became almost daily massive shelling attacks. The Lang Vei Army Special Forces camp near Laos and the few Marines with the Vietnamese militia in Khe Sanh village were quickly overrun by large NVA forces. NVA tanks, never before used by the NVA against US Forces, smashed through the wire at Lang Vei.

    The Marines on the Hills defeated violent NVA attacks. The KSCB was also probed by NVA ground forces. With the Hills and the KSCB undefeated, the NVA used its overwhelming troop strength, artillery and rocket resources, and logistics capability to create the Siege of Khe Sanh. 

    The NVA relentlessly punished defenders of the hills and the KSCB with mortars, artillery, rockets, recoiless rifle fire and direct rifle fire for 77 days until early April, We all knew we could be hit at any time or crushed when an explosion collapsed a bunker or trench. Our normal human senses took on animal-like acuity. We moved like cats from one protective cover to another to minimize the chance of a being hit by a round we did not hear coming. But we heard most of them coming and tensely waited to find out if that round would wound or kill us, a friend, or a nearby stranger. 

    In April, the Marines broke out of the KSCB and the Hills, attacking the NVA. Many more Marines were wounded and died in these fights, part of Operation Pegasus. The 11th Engineers broke all records building about eighteen bridges and bypasses to enable Army and Marine ground forces to flood into the Khe Sanh area by road, and overland. More Marines were killed and wounded in engagements in the following months until the Marines departed in the summer of 1968. This departure permanently ended the US presence at the KSCB and on the Hills. Marine, Vietnamese,  Army Special Forces and Army regular units continued to operate around Khe Sanh on a temporary basis inflicting great damage on NVA units while continuing to suffer casualties themselves. 

    Lightly equipped Combat Engineers such as 1st Plt A Co 3rd Engrs were always fighting alongside the Marine maneuver units. More heavily equipped Force Engineers, such as the 11th  Engineer Battalion, were always working somewhere to keep supplies flowing to the Marine maneuver units. 

Few Knew The Magnitude Of The Siege

    From official government records, we know that more US bombs were dropped in defense of Khe Sanh than were dropped in some major theaters during all of World War II. Courageous Air Force and Marine cargo plane and fighter-bomber pilots and crews, and helicopter pilots and crews from all services kept our supplies, replacements, and close air support coming no matter how much NVA anti-air-craft fire was directed at them and no matter how many aircraft and men they lost. 

    Special US intelligence units in Thailand listened to NVA movements on sensors that a Special Navy anti-submarine warfare squadron, diverted from sea duty, dropped around us. That information helped Marine and Army artillery Forward Observers and Air Force Forward Air Controllers direct devastating fire on NVA units night and day when the NVA prepared attacks. 

    We recently learned from an article in Red Clay Newsletter, the Khe Sanh Veterans Inc.  Magazine, that the Navy flight crews  who dropped the sensors had to fly so low and slow they were decimated. Most of us crawling in Khe Sanh's red clay never knew these brave men were sacrificing themselves to help us survive. 

    The Joint Service effort and US technology that helped us win the Siege was impressive, but in the final analysis it was the individual Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines at Khe Sanh that held firm, enduring the worst artillery and ground attacks the NVA could deliver. Human costs were high for everyone. Stubbe recorded the names of about 600 US confirmed killed in action. The Charlie Med surgeons log shows they treated about 2,500 wounded in action. 

    Those numbers don't include all the wounded, and may not include all the dead evacuated directly off the Hills to the rear, the Navy fliers who perished dropping sensors, the pilots and aircrews from all Services shot down, the Special Forces and CIA operatives killed in Laos and North Vietnam while directing fire on NVA reinforcements heading for Khe Sanh, and others that we are just learning about. If we knew who all of those warriors were, the total of US warriors lost at Khe Sanh would be much higher.

    Additionally, thousands of innocent Bru mountain tribe members and Vietnamese civilians were murdered by the NVA when the NVA swept into the area. US firepower probably killed many more of those that could not escape the area when we started bombing, or chose to stay in their ancestral homes. Official estimates of NVA casualties around Khe Sanh are about 15,000. Thousands more NVA died on the Ho Chi Minh Trail carrying supplies to the two reinforced NVA Divisions surrounding Khe Sanh.

    The once green landscape around Khe Sanh became a barren moonscape from US bombs and US and NVA artillery. Huge amounts of Agent Orange herbicide was sprayed and has ruined the lives of many fighters and civilians on both sides. We've learned that tactical nuclear weapons were positioned for use in case US forces at Khe Sanh were in real danger of falling. Anyone who knows the terrain at Khe Sanh knows that everyone in the area on both sides would have suffered badly if tactical nuclear weapons had been used. 

Presidential Recognition 

    Khe Sanh was declared one of the most significant battles of the Vietnam War. We now know that President Johnson had a scale model of Khe Sanh in the White House and was briefed almost daily on our ability to hold. It would be years before we personally understood the significance of having survived Khe Sanh. Khe Sanh was mostly just red clay to us. We saw it from a few inches off the ground. While we were there, we doubt any of us thought of Khe Sanh's strategic significance. For their dedicated efforts the defenders of Khe Sanh were awarded the Presidential Unit Citation, which is equivalent to the Navy Cross, if it were an individual award. 

    After the fall of South Vietnam in April 1975, the NVA erected a victory monument at Khe Sanh attesting to the importance of Khe Sanh to their side. Today, the NVA monument is viewed by international tourists visiting the battlefields. Tourists unfamiliar with the many battles at Khe Sanh may believe the NVA victory claims. The US and Vietnamese forces who fought there know the truth: We won. 

The Engineer Build Up

    By military doctrine, one Combat Engineer Platoon normally supports one Infantry Battalion. We contribute our expertise with demolitions. We also have pioneer tool chests with axes, shovels, and chain saws. Marine Engineers normally leave these at a base camp. 

    Combat Engineers carry the same weapons and ammunition as the Infantry. Every Engineer also carries two or more twenty-pound Satchel Charges of explosives. The joke is that a Marine Combat Engineer is really only "a grunt with a satchel charge."

    Our Combat Engineer Platoon, l/A/3, supported the entire Khe Sanh Combat Base. By doctrine, this mission normally would be assigned to a reinforced Combat Engineer Company, a force about five times larger than our platoon and much better equipped. 

    We were faced with doing the best we could with the meager resources we had. We radioed our company in Dong Ha once a day to report our dead and wounded and plead for replacements and supplies, but few came. We became more exhausted as our casualties mounted, but we never stopped working. 

    Exhausted men doing a great deal with few resources was the normal state of most support units at Khe Sanh. None of us were going to let anyone down on the KSCB, or on the Hills. In late Fall 1967, our platoon had less than twenty members. We sent teams on 1/26 operations, did mine sweeps and civic action projects in the village, blasted rock for the Seabees to use to improve the runway and roads and operated the KSCB water point. Life was not very dangerous, then.

    Battle-weary Engineer veterans such as Cpl Gerald Traum, who fought in the fierce 1967 Hill fights, completed their tours and left for "The World." The rest of us recording this history were arriving. After Thanksgiving 1967, our platoon strength increased to over forty. We knew a big fight was coming, but we had no idea that fight would become the Siege. 

    Another Combat Engineer Platoon from C Company, 3rd Engineer Battalion arrived about the time the Siege started. We were so busy, we seldom saw them, and strangely, none of us recall what they did. We hope someone records their story. We know they must have been as busy as we were. Captain Bert Ranta arrived to coordinate all Engineer work with the regimental staff. Ranta lived with our platoon in a bunker with 2/Lt. Bill Gay and our platoon sergeant, S/Sgt Ronald C. Sniegowski. 

    From then on  we cleared acres of fields of fire, built hundreds of meters of barbed wire fences, planted hundreds of booby traps and mines, retrieved tons of air dropped supplies that drifted into the minefields, cleared many dead NVA from the minefields, built bunkers, and miraculously kept the water point flowing. We also served as listening posts and reinforced perimeter positions at night. 

    We worked every day and almost every night in small teams. We seldom knew if our teams had a good or bad day until we returned to our bunkers. That is when we found out about our losses for the day. Some evenings were joyous and some sad. We were only with the units we supported for a short time before we moved on to another mission. Some units never realized we were Combat Engineers. This is why it is so important for Engineers to stay in touch. We were not part of a big family support group like an Infantry Company. 

New Fields of Fire and Protective Fencing

    In the fall of 1967 most of the perimeter around the KSCB did not have cleared fields of fire or good protective barbed wire fencing. In December 1967, Lt.Gay was talking to 1/Lt. Tim Reeves on the regimental staff about how the perimeter could be improved. Reeves took Gay to talk to Col Lownds about what could be done. Within a day Lownds ordered the Seabees to provide earth moving equipment to help us clear fields of fire, and ordered several Infantry Platoons to work with us to build new barbed wire fences. 

    The new fences, looking from the enemy side inward, consisted of a high double apron, then a wide empty space to prevent NVA Sappers (i.e., their combat engineers) from breeching more than one fence at a time. An extra wide belt of tangle foot fence, another wide empty space, a triple concertina fence, and another wide empty space before reaching the Marine trenches. Everyone worked hard. The Seabees welded pipes to the sledge hammer heads to replace the broken wooden handles we broke at record rates. We placed empty artillery shell canisters over the fence pickets to create a bigger target for the hammers. Everyone innovated. This Infantry, Engineer Team effort dramatically changed the KSCB perimeter in a few days. The vegetation that once came up almost to the old broken wire was removed. In its place was bare red clay and formidable fencing. The new perimeter protected most of the KSCB and the Special Forces FOB trench lines before the Siege started.

    After the start of the Siege, it was too dangerous to clear fields of fire with the Seabee equipment. We did it by hand, burning grass with unused artillery powder bags, and cutting down trees with demolitions. We continued to help the Vietnamese Rangers, 1/9, and 3/26 improve their perimeters while they did a lot by themselves. We wanted very much to help the Hills, but there were not enough of us to be sent there too. We were proud of how much our efforts improved the KSCB perimeter. 

    Before the Siege, the only type of mines protecting the perimeter was the highly effective Claymore placed by the grunts. But they would not have been enough if wave after wave of NVA attacked. We added hundreds of "Bouncing Betty" and "Shoe Polish Can" anti-personnel mines, anti-tank mines, and innovative booby traps. Our booby traps were made to look like fencing material we left behind in the typical manner of US troops who had too much material. However each of those partially used rolls of barbed wire or abandoned steel stakes was booby trapped and set to explode if an NVA tried to crawl or charge through the fencing. At first, we were able to use the cover of the monsoon fog to hide us when we placed mines. When the weather cleared we had to crawl around in the daylight, or, wait to place the mines at night to avoid NVA fire. 

    We were often shot at by NVA recoilless rifles and mortars. We never understood why NVA snipers did not kill us one at a time. We expected they would start picking us off one by one any day, which made placing the mines even more stressful. We recorded many of the minefield layouts on cardboard C-ration case covers because we did not have minefield recording sheets. In many cases we paced off the distance between mines by moving on our hands and knees to avoid being shot at or mortared while standing.

    We did all this with only one compass that we guarded carefully. When Lt. Gay was wounded he held tightly to that compass even while being treated at Charlie Med, until he could pass it on to Sgt. Sniegowski. If that compass was off, anyone entering the minefields with another compass was at risk. Over the years, we've had the chance to talk to Marine and Army troops that used our minefield recording sheets. We are proud to say that whenever the sheets could be found they were found to be accurate preventing US casualties. Sadly there were many situations where the recording sheets were not found and troops were wounded in our minefields. 

    We had lots of close calls in the minefields. Once, one our squads found themselves in a maze of grenade and trip wire booby traps the ARVN Rangers placed without telling anyone. While extracting themselves, they crawled through the human waste the Rangers routinely left in front of their positions. We decided that pushing Bouncing Betty mine detonation prongs through a piece of human waste was another good way to fool NVA Sappers, so we added it to our list of camouflage tricks from that day forward. 

    Many other close calls came as we armed hundreds, if not thousands of mines. We found many old ones from World War II and the Korean War to be in poor condition. We tried to "get the word out" every time we found a problem or a solution because we knew the grunts on the Hills were placing their own mines. Other terrifying close calls came when air dropped supplies would miss the drop zone and land in the minefields. Sometimes we only had to carry the supplies out of the minefields. Other times we would stand frozen in a partially finished minefield as parachutes with tons of palletized supplies came rushing out of the fog. It was a miracle that those pallets did not set off a mine near us or crush any of us.

    Many NVA Sappers were surprised and killed by our booby traps as they tried to infiltrate at night, especially in front of the ARVN Rangers. The NVA would have taken heavy losses if our artillery and air power did not stop all of the full-scale attacks they tried to mount against the KSCB.  It was gruesome and scary going back in to our minefields to get the NVA bodies out because they were mangled and we knew any mine near the one they set off was now super sensitized. But going in to get their bodies out became a regular task.

Taking the NVA Prisoner That Told Us About The NVA Battle Plans

    Shortly before the NVA ground attacks started and after much work on the new fields of fire and protective fences was finished, an NVA recon patrol, including senior officers, risked taking a personal look at the new perimeter. They were discovered and killed trying to escape. As they retreated, one NVA Officer stayed behind and hid. After a few days, he surrendered to the Engineers as we placed mines on the perimeter. We turned him over to the grunts and kept working. His information caused Hill units to attack the NVA while the NVA was moving into position to attack the Hills. A good part of the NVA  battle plan must have been changed by the Marines taking the initiative and attacking first.

    Imagine what would have happened if the new perimeter had not concerned the NVA so much that they felt they had to try their daring reconnaissance patrol, enabling an NVA officer with so much knowledge of the coming attacks to defect and warn us? Also imagine what would have happened if the few ground attack probes the NVA did try against the KSCB were not so restricted  by all the new fields of fire, fences, and minefields? 

Opening the Runway on 21 January 1968

    When the NVA artillery attacks started on 21 January 1968, the Engineers immediately went to work clearing shells blown out of the ammo dump onto the airstrip. It was a hectic morning filled with CS tear gas, confusion from enemy fire and secondary explosions. We know there were EOD personnel on the KSCB, but we can not remember working with them that day. There was just so much to do that everybody just did what was needed without formal coordination. We did our part to get the airstrip opened, to get casualties out and keep supplies coming in.

Building Bunkers

    Before the Siege, many units at the KSCB lived in tents on wooden platforms surrounded by 55 gallon drums filled with dirt and topped with sandbags to create protective walls. After the first day of the Siege, everyone wanted to live completely underground in bunkers. Fortunately, we always lived in bunkers. Before the Siege, friends from other units joked about our damp, dark, cramped bunkers. After the Siege started, everyone envied us. Throughout the Siege, we built some bunkers  but mostly, according to military doctrine, we trained people to build them themselves. That was a way to get everyone building.

    The Fire Direction Center (FDC) bunker we built for 1/13 was the biggest bunker we built. It is an amusing story. None of us were trained to build large bunkers. We were trained to blow up bunkers, tunnels, and bridges. After brainstorming we ended up using the Seabee equipment to dig a large slit trench over which we built a bridge strong enough to carry a tank. Then, we covered it.

    We put empty artillery canisters upside down on the bunker to create a "burster layer." A burster layer detonates a round above an empty space, dissipating the explosion instead of focusing it on the bunker structure. In this case, the NVA rounds exploded when they hit the canister tops, dissipated the blast into the empty shell casings. We got the word out about this use of empty 105 canisters. Soon, almost everyone was making their bunkers stronger with "burster layers." That saved a lot of lives.

    Our burster layer solution was real personal. One of our bunkers took a direct hit. Thanks to the burster layer only a support beam split. The bunker did not cave in — that could have killed or wounded many of us. We emerged shaken but alive and started building double and triple burster layers.

The Water Point Miracle

    Our success in keeping the KSCB supplied with water was a miracle. We can't believe the NVA didn't target the KSCB water supply. They probably never thought that a reinforced Regiment would depend on a water source located outside of its perimeter and not under its control all the time. The water point was set up sometime in early 1967 outside the eventual KSCB perimeter. This was probably done when the Marines thought they would just be there temporarily.

    We had to pump water up from a stream located in a gully on the north side of the perimeter. The NVA could have diverted or contaminated our water source since the stream flowed from terrain the NVA held. The pump had to be hauled down to the stream to pump water up to fill storage bladders.

    We drew a lot of mortar fire doing that. They could have ambushed us and destroyed the pump every time we rolled it down the hill to pump water up. To our amazement, even though the NVA routinely hit us with recoilless rifle fire when we worked in the minefields, they never ambushed us when we hauled the pump out. They never had a sniper take us out, even though we had to haul the pump out once every few days. 

    We may have survived because we hauled the pump at such great speed that we surprised everyone. One day we narrowly escaped a napalm drop by the Air Force near the pump site, because the FAC didn't know we were out there. The pipe from the pump up to the bladders was often punctured. During one especially long afternoon and night, we had to figure out how to create a whole new pipeline from damaged pieces. How we solved that unique problem is hilariously funny to explain now. It wasn't funny then. We were being mortared almost the whole time we were crawling around fixing the pipeline. The bladders and purification equipment were damaged daily. We could write a book about the innovative ways we repaired them. Before long, we were patching the patches.

    An Engineer Lance Corporal (we think his name was Shipman) kept the water point operating. He is one of Khe Sanh's many unsung, unglamorous heroes. He was always working in wet torn  clothes. He also always sported a few bandages from small shrapnel wounds for which he didn't feel he should receive a Purple Heart. Shipman is one of many that deserves an award but never got one. We all just thought we were just doing our job. If Shipman's name was Christman, he died with one of our other platoon members, PFC Emmett Stanton, when the chopper they were on was shot down on 28 February. Stanton and Christman are both listed as "unit unknown" on the KSV Memorial List. Being killed and unidentified was the lot that befell Engineers, since we were attached to larger units and not always accurately counted in the confusion of combat.

    Most of us at Khe Sanh didn't even know Stanton was killed until years later. Until we hear otherwise, we will place Christman among our honored fallen, rather than leave him listed as "unit unknown." He had an MOS that was related to the 350 GPM fuel pump that was cleaned and used to pump water to the KSCB.

    PFC Delano arrived to replace Christman to keep the water point going. He was soon killed by shrapnel. Who would have ever thought running a water point could be so dangerous? Imagine what Khe Sanh would have been like if we had to run patrols down to the stream to get cans of water instead of pumping it up at 350 gallons a minute, or worse yet, if we had to fly water in because the NVA diverted the stream or simply dumped a few of their decaying dead in the stream everyday?

Bunker Rats

    Ray Stubbe in a recent article in Red Clay quoted World War II studies that found that as many as 90% of combatants exposed to continual combat for over 60 days suffer some form of battle fatigue. That wouldn't surprise us, especially when you add the effects of our horrendous living conditions to our constant exposure to danger. Our normal physical condition was one of continual stress from being exposed to danger and to the loss of our comrades, sleep deprivation, hunger bordering on malnutrition, and incredible body filth because we had only enough water to drink. 

    Our bunkers were alone at the northeast end of the airstrip, across the road from a 1/13 artillery battery. Being alone was good because we could keep our area clean thus controlling the never ending battle with the rats infesting all the bunkers on the KSCB. 

Other units had to evacuate personnel because of rat bites. That never happened to us. The bad news about our bunker locations was the incessant artillery fire directly over us night and day. The out-going, added to the constant enemy incoming, made it hard for those of us not helping the grunts man the perimeter at night to get any sleep. 

    Our isolated position at the end of the airstrip also made it necessary for us to man guard positions around our own area. It would have been easy for an NVA Sapper to drop a satchel charge in our bunkers if one had ever penetrated the perimeter. Between the physically exhausting workload everyday and the perimeter or guard duty we had every night, we probably were much more severely sleep deprived than we ever imagined. Getting basic supplies was also a challenge. Engineers, like other support units at KSCB that operated in a quasi-orphan status without a parent organization often had to scrounge what we needed. Some of our exploits sound like they were written for MASH, the TV Show. 

    We would trade C4 plastic explosives, which could be burned to heat C-rations, for canned fruit and other goodies that we couldn't get as an independent platoon. Finding an onion was always a special treat that resulted in us all combining our C-rations in a large can to create a "hobo stew" which broke the monotonous taste of the C-rations. We would position a few daring souls to pop up as soon as NVA incoming stopped to go over the fences into the food storage areas and throw out a few cases of fruit or something else good to eat. Most of us lost ten pounds or more before we left Khe Sanh because we only received one, maybe two rations a day even though we worked hard. We suffered varying degrees of malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies. We were just young men, almost all of us under 21 and still growing. We were always hungry. 

    Our clothes or boots  rotted off our bodies, or were torn to shreds in the barbed wire, so we posted an Engineer at Charlie Med to bring us clothing or more M-16 magazines thrown out by the corpsman after they evacuated the wounded and dead. Having to haul heavy loads of mines and other materials was always a problem. Due to constant exposure, it wasn't long before all of our equipment and our only truck were hit so many times by NVA shrapnel that they could not be repaired. This led to our biggest  "heist" — a jeep and trailer. We jumped in and drove off with it after the occupants of the jeep jumped out to take cover during incoming. No one remembers the rightful owners ever reclaiming the jeep. We hope that occurred only because of the confusion at the KSCB and not because the original occupants were wounded and evacuated. Life was not easy for anyone at the KSCB. It was hard for us as an independent unit, but we had it many times better than the Marines on the Hills. We'll never forget them. We worked harder on the KSCB, because we knew we were indirectly helping the Hills. 

Our Losses Increased

    Our platoon was exposed every day and most nights to some type of direct or indirect NVA fire. We tried to be careful and not draw attention to ourselves. We also were fanatical about wearing our protective flak vests and helmets. We tried desperately to get protective shorts but couldn't. Most of our causalities occurred one at a time, but we had a few days when we took heavy losses. One day laying mines for 1/9, four Engineers and five grunts were wounded by recoilless rifle fire. Cpl Claus Berg heard about the losses after working all day on the 1/26 perimeter. His squad immediately came out to help us finish the 1/9 minefield. We all made our way back to the main KSCB together under cover of darkness. On 8 March, Lt. Gay, LCpl Clyde Phillips, and our doc (we think his name was Johnson) were standing by our bunkers talking to Jurate Kazickas, a freelance female reporter working for WOR Radio. She was interviewing Marines from New York City. The NVA got lucky that day. Random NVA artillery rounds wounded all three Engineers and Jurate. Moore was killed a few days later, while attempting to bring hot meals up to our platoon. 

Our Personal Experience Were Intense

    Each Engineer, like every other person at Khe Sanh, could write a book about their personal experiences and how those experiences shaped their lives. LCpl John Pessoni came to Khe Sanh after going through the worst of the Con Thien battles. He stood out because he was very tall and because he always helped everyone. Pessoni, Phillips, and LCpl Oilie Olsen were part of a team that never stopped working. One day, a Marine tank crew saved Pessoni and Phillips. They were pinned down by an NVA recoilless rifle who caught them working on a forward slope where they were helping a unit booby trap fugas. Fugas was a mixture of jellied gasoline in a barrel that was pushed out from behind by a shaped charge when fired. It is harrowing being pinned down anywhere. It is especially harrowing being pinned down while rigging a booby trap. 

    Another day Pessoni, Phillips and PFC Upton, who usually supported 1/9 and 3/26 found themselves in a firefight in the 1/9 area. The grunt Gunny Sergeant showing them what he wanted done was wounded. They helped evacuate the Gunny as the jets swooped close in dropping napalm on the tree line from which the NVA were firing. It was Pessoni who later evacuated Lt. Gay, Philips, Doc Johnson, and Kazickas to Charlie Med. PFC Hewlett was killed standing next to PEC Terry Parr as they walked across the base coming back from a mission. Parr wasn't scratched. Such unexplainable events happened daily filling us with fear, relief, and guilt. 

    Parr was a Fire Team leader even though only a PFC. Everyone who could promote him was wounded and evacuated before ordering the promotion. In April, Parr was promoted on the spot by Capt. Bill Nye, the A Company Commander, who was finally able to get to Khe Sanh for the first time. Like so many others, Parr always did his job — and then some. He knew that everything the Engineers did affected many lives. PFC Patrick was killed when our last vehicle was hit transporting supplies. LCpl David Critchley, who normally drove the truck and operated the radio, was spared that day. As our driver and radioman, Critchley was a critical member of the platoon and always on the move. This resulted in him giving much unplanned support to units he encountered. David Critchley and Bill Gay ended up in a Life magazine photo taken during one of Critchley's unplanned assistance stops. They pulled two injured Air Force pilots out of a smoldering observation plane that crashed inside the KSCB. On the day Critchley left KSCB, he dove onto the cargo ramp of one of the last C-123s to land and still be able to take off from Khe Sanh. The crew chief dragged Critchley inside as the plane lifted off through a hailstorm of NVA mortar rounds. 

    Sgt. Sniegowski and Lt. Gay were with Doctor Ed Feldman and HM2 Tilletson from Charlie Med when he removed a mortar round from the stomach of a wounded Marine. They examined the Marine with Feldman and advised Feldman on how to handle the round. Feldman and Sniegowski went in alone to remove it, to minimize casualties in case it exploded while being extracted. Feldman became a close friend that day and remains one today. Ski was a great Platoon Sergeant. For their heroic actions, Ed Feldman received the Silver Star and Ron Sniegowski, the Bronze Star. 

    Sniegowski and Gay only argued once. Ski believed it was important to have "green" Engineer replacements clear the NVA bodies out the minefields. He believed this battle hardened them so they wouldn't panic when they got into their first tough situation. Gay felt that was too gruesome for new arrivals to do. After seeing the positive effect of that tough training, Gay decided Ski was right. Not everyone could take the stress. We've struggled to remember the names of more members of our platoon. We recall LCpl Kilroy, who replaced Critchley as radio operator. We also remember Lance Corporals Hrbrich, Lincoln and Fontez, Corporals Bell, Blankie, Ice, and Williams, and a Sergeant Hudson, who after serving two tours in Vietnam, died years later auto racing. 

    We worked hard. We made a difference. All we could think about was that everything we did on the KSCB also helped the Marines fighting on the Hills. We were not about to let anyone down. Our efforts, the improved perimeter, the minefields and booby traps, the bunkers, the water point, and the help we were able to give to what seemed like a million units, saved lives and helped win the Siege. When the Marines started going after the retreating NVA in April 1968 on Operation Pegasus, the Engineers were again attached as demolition teams. Cpl Kledas and LCpl Richards were wounded while 1/9 was getting ready to move out. They disregarded their wounds and went on the operation as scheduled. A few days later, Pfc Phelps stopped an NVA assault on their position and was KIA while helping wounded Marines. For his galantry, he was awarded the Bronze Star Medal. There is a wing of  the combat engineers Instruction company barracks at Camp Lejeune named in his honor We were unaware of this until Bruce Bell was located and informed us that he had visited Phelps's family when he returned to the States and learned of the honor bestowed on Randall Phelps.

    In June 1968, the surviving members of 1/A/3rd Engrs left Khe Sanh with elements of the 26th Marines to operate further south near Danang until they finished their tours in Vietnam. We don't remember the racial, ethnic, or religious composition of our platoon. We were just young citizens that fought together, cared for each other, and went on to live our lives. Some of us stayed on active service and were able to talk about our experiences with other military men who understood. Most of our platoon went home in anonymity to a public that did not understand or respect what we did until many years later. Each of us has had to find our own way to deal with the insanity that was Khe Sanh. 

Finding Each Other Through The Khe Sanh Veterans Association

    After thirty years, members of our Platoon started to meet again because of the wonderful Khe Sanh Veterans Association (KSVA) and its successful efforts to include everyone. David Critchley, Bill Gay, Frank Kledas, Terry Parr and John Pessoni were united in 2001 through the KSVA. Most have attended a KSVA reunion. Gerald Traum was the first to join the KSVA but was only found by his platoon mates in 2002 when he placed a memorial to A/T Engineers in Red Clay. Ed Feldman found Bill Gay through professional friends in 2000 and signed Bill up as a KSVA member that very night. 

    Jurate Kazickas was also reunited with us through the KSVA. Kazickas and eight other pioneering female reporters from Vietnam have just published a book of remembrances entitled  "War Torn" Her Chapter focuses on her times at Khe Sanh and her being wounded with the engineers. Bruce Bell found her book on Jan 21 2003 and learned Bill Gay and Zazickzs had survived. He called them and subsequently found the rest of the platoon.

We are indebted to Ray Stub be for starting the KSVA and for pressing us to add our unit history to others already on record with the KSVA. We are also indebted to those Veterans who donate their time to make the KSVA, an organization that includes everyone.

Epilogue

    David Critchley served the Federal Government for 36 years. He retired with honors from the Defense Information Systems Agency. At his retirement celebration, attended by a huge number of his colleagues, his many accomplishments were summarized. When Dave made his comments, he chose to remember Khe Sanh first. Bill Gay was fortunate enough to be a guest at the celebration. Dave lives near Pensacola, EL.

    Terry Parr went home to York, PA, working for years for Caterpillar Tractor. After struggling alone, he recently sought help for post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). His VA counselor called to tell us Terry did not feel he could ask us for help because some of us were wounded and he wasn't. We are all now helping Terry. Dr. Ed Feldman volunteered too. Dr. Feldman lives near Los Angeles, CA.

    John Pessoni went home to New York City. He worked for years with Otis Elevator. Gerald Traum chose to live remotely in Northern California. They both have 100% PTSD disability. They both talk with strong feelings about the members of the platoon and the work we did to help win the Siege. John lives in Toms River, NJ. Gerry lives in Hayfork, CA.

    Bruce Bell went from Vietnam to Quantico where he was a starter of the Marine Corps football team. He returned home to Annapolis, MD where he worked as a certified fitness instructor.

    Frank Kledas completed a distinguished career in the Marines, retiring as a First Sergeant. Frank is now an instructor at the Colorado School of Trades Gunsmithing School and is a small business owner in Denver, CO.

     Bert Ranta was last heard of living in Australia, where he emigrated after leaving the Marines.

    Bill Gay saw Ronald Sniekowski once at Camp Pendleton but has been unable to locate him again and wishes he could.

    Bill Gay was hospitalized for over a year from wounds received at Khe Sanh. He was awarded the Bronze Star Medal for his heroic actions at Khe Sanh. Col. Lownds helped Bill make an inter-service transfer to the Army Corps of Engineers. Bill completed a military career dedicated to making sure young troops would never again be put in a situation like Khe Sanh. Bill works in the Information Technology business and lives in Great Falls, VA.

We Honor All Who Served

    The history of the Khe Sanh battles is a remarkable collection of thousands of personal stories of exceptional service, sacrifice and hardship. We are proud to add our history to all the others. As we find more Engineers with whom we served, we'll update our story. Until then, Semper Fidelis and God Bless America from: The Veterans of 1ST Platoon, A Company, 3rd Engineer Battalion, 1967-2003.

Top Side

*****

History of 1st Battalion, Ninth Marines, RVN 
Excerpts from a story by 
Colonel John F. Mitchell,
USMC, Ret.

Con Thien:

    On 5 October 1967, 1/9 relieved 3/9 at Con Thien. The Con Thien Combat Base was receiving heavy incoming of all types. We dug deeper and established a bunker system/trench line for individual survival. No night or daylight patrolling was being executed with night activity being limited to a few LPs at the outer wire. The specific mission assigned the resident battalion was strictly the defense of Con Thien Combat Base and improvement of the defensive posture as enemy shelling would permit. The estimate of the enemy situation at that time was the possibility of  enemy attack from the north by up to seven battalions. 

    The primary friendly offensive action at that time was using supporting weapons only. Available was a 105 battery in general support, 4.2 direct support, a platoon of Ontos, a platoon of tanks, a mixed platoon of Army quad 50s and twin 40s and organic mortars. Air was on an on-call basis, depending on the weather, as well as two 105 batteries at Cam Lo and the 175s at Carroll. I feel that under the tactical restrictions existing at that time, my predecessor with 3/9 had done a good job in holding Con Thien Combat Base. While the casualties were heavy, they were understandable considering the handicaps imposed by the physical terrain and mission imposed by higher authority. The major factors confronting me at this time in order of priority, were:

• Morale factors of the individual trooper, psychologically and physically. This type of situation was against all basic principles of Marine warfare.

• Evaluating the capabilities of supporting arms and integrating all defensive/offensive supporting arms into a coordinated plan.

• To effect a limited, positive ground offensive commensurate with my primary mission of the defense of Con Thien to include both maximum day and night activity.

• Prevent troops and facilities from becoming a target of opportunity as much as possible. This  was extremely difficult since our fixed positions were known by the enemy, who had the high ground to the north. 

• To continue the constant improvement of defenses (including the start of Dye Marker plan) while keeping casualties to the absolute minimum. 

• Finally, inflict as many casualties on the enemy as possible. 

    Analysis and action taken/accomplished above are as follows:

The enemy operated at will within 800 to 1200 meters of the Con Thien Combat Base perimeter during the day and constantly probed the wire with shape charges and bangalore torpedoes during  the night. It was obvious to me that, if possible, night and day friendly patrolling was needed.  Walking before running — a program of using a squad, then up to a company sweeps to the northwest, west, south, and east of the Con Thien Combat Base was instituted starting with the maximum radius being 500 meters. This increased up to 2200 meters by company, two company size without once experiencing an ambush. However, several heavy contacts with the enemy were encountered. In each case, many enemy were destroyed and an orderly withdrawal executed to Con Thien Combat Base prior to being enveloped by superior forces. By the end of the tenth day, it  was common to have two companies and supporting units in the field day and night on assigned missions. 

    This was primarily successful because no patrol/search and destroy mission was initiated during the hours of daylight, or, by the same route or into the same general areas. I had patrols moving in early morning hours (0300) to pre-designated jump off spots outside the perimeter. Prior to light, they were well on their way to the objective without enemy discovery. This served several purposes; Night movement became common place. Minimum troops were within the Con Thien Combat Base during daylight hours when most of the enemy shelling took place. The enemy was kept off balance and preoccupied as to where we would strike next and a true picture of my intentions could not be determined. In addition, the troops were kept busy plying their trade while concurrent training and sharpness was maintained. 

    I established a combat base at what became known as "Yankee Station" approximately 100 meters south of Con Thien. Construction was begun at about the 17th day with constant improvement during the daylight hours and three days thereafter. It was manned by a reinforced company on a 24-hour basis. This eliminated the enemy threat from the south and posed additional  friendly attack considerations on the enemy. I feel this forestalled his planned time table of attack. An added plus was the elimination of congestion and targets of opportunity within CCV. This company had only three casualties from enemy incoming while at Yankee Station (34 days). Night ambushes, LPs and OPs were immediately initiated shortly after my arrival. We averaged 12 activities a night. Practically all night probes, enemy mining activity (including banglore torpedoes) stopped. 

For the 47 days that 1st Battalion, Ninth Marines occupied Con Thien, a total of only five casualties were incurred from night activity;

    It was not uncommon to experience a delay of from 15 to 45 minutes for artillery on observed targets, which was completely unacceptable. A request was made and approved to have the 105 battery within CCB put in direct support of the commander. This resulted in the receipt of artillery fire within two to four minutes from the time of request with obvious results of more kills of enemy personnel. Although the batteries at Cam Lo/Camp Carroll remained in general support, better coordination was effected giving the CCB commander increased priority/authority.

    It was a cloudy issue as to who had the authority/control of the air space within the CCB. This was resolved in favor of the CCV commander and daily integrated air strikes were executed under the direct control of the battalion from two strategic OPs, resulting in high ratios of kills on the enemy. During poor visibility coordination between the battalion and the AO on station was effected. This was integrated into the artillery supporting program and enabled constant activity of air or artillery missions at all times. Increased offensive activity when the enemy was expected to attack, obviously upset his timetable and kept him preoccupied.

    The above efforts relieved the pressure on CCB, reduced the volume of incoming enemy mortar/rocket fire allowing a major effort to be instigated while establishing the "Dye Marker plan." Eighty percent of the wire, mines, and bunker systems planned at that time were accomplished by 1/9 prior to departure. 

    Increased confirmed kills — both enemy, destroyed, equipment, secondary explosions, due to supporting arms — resulted in disrupting the enemy Fall offensive. I feel that the above actions of this one battalion materially contributed to this end. I am proud to note that the morale and esprit de corps of the individual trooper was never as high than when this battalion left Con Thien intact with improved training and experienced night training. It was a cohesive organization upon arrival at Camp Evans for further operations. Casualties had been kept to an absolute minimum. Operations at Camp Evans was under the direct control of the Commander of the 4th Marines and his staff. This was the first time after operating under different regimental commanders, they felt the feeling of belonging. 

    This goes a long ways in morale, esprit de corps and maximum efficiency of the individual Marine. Direct guidance of this nature is both healthy and necessary to any successful attack operation. Keep battalions with their assigned regiment, if at all possible. Any success in guerrilla operations that 1/9 might have experienced while in the Camp Evans areas is attributable to the direct support, interest and tangible support received by this battalion.

We Arrive at Khe Sanh

    On 22 Jan 1968, the first contingent of 1st Battalion, Ninth Marines, arrived at Khe Sanh. Two rifle companies and a 1/9 command group were followed by a rifle company and supporting arms group. This helo lift was followed by the balance of 1/9, less one rifle company and the executive officer which arrived the following day. The helo lift proved to be interesting, as the landings were made in a hail of automatic weapons fire followed by mortar fire from the NVA as we deplaned from the helos. 1/9 received its first casualties at Khe Sanh.

    The air strip, as well as the base, was littered with live un-exploded artillery and mortar rounds. The next surprise was where do 1/9 Marines go? There were no guides or directions available to 1/9 Marines. I directed the company commanders to disburse their company as best they could, seek protective cover or trenches, and await further orders.

    It was obvious that KSCB was under constant NVA shelling. It was also obvious that no one was safe above ground. Why was I not given at least a brief message with instructions? Welcome to Khe Sanh.

    It was late afternoon when my four-man command group and I searched for the 26th Marines command post to report in to the new commander. I understood the chaotic conditions. I realized that the C/0 26th Marines was quite occupied. I was mad, and my sense of humor disappeared over the predicament of my 1/9 Marines.

    Compounding this confusing helo landing was the lack of knowledge of the tactical situation at KSCB, as well as the direct hit on the largest ammunition dump, leaving the danger of many un-exploded rounds.

    My first meeting with the Colonel Lownds was crusty and to the point. After my short briefing of the current situation by his staff, he gave me orders to assemble my battalion and be prepared for immediate deployment due west of the KSCB. It was about 5pm with not much light left.

    I suggested that due to the dispersion of 1/9 at the present time, my lack of any terrain knowledge at Khe Sanh, and darkness approaching, the better part of valor would be an early morning move from KSCB. Col. Lownds insisted that I move out now. I informed the colonel that 1/9 came to fight but not on NVA terms. After further discussion, Colonel Lownds agreed to a daybreak departure for 1/9.

    With my initial mission resolved, I left the command bunker in search of a place to stay and a temporary 1/9 command post. By trial and error, we found an abandoned 1/13 bunker equipped with sheets and cots. Since I had no idea where on the base my company commanders were, my order of march, Frag order by necessity, was done by tactical radio. Thanks to well-trained company commanders, 1/9 sallied forth at daybreak, on 23 January. I was thankful to be a whole unit again, eager for a fight, and to control our own destiny.

    Movement was slow because of 5- to 7-foot elephant grass and occasional sniper fire. The day was spent in clearing/reconnoitering the area west, southwest of the KSCB. I sought a defensive position to best block a main avenue approach by the NVA.

    I chose the "Rock Quarry' which seemed best suited for this mission. It was about 2,000 meters S/W of the KSCB. I personally reconnoitered a small hill fronting the entrance to the valley floor. This knoll was about 500 meters N/W of what became 1/9's MLR.

    I directed the acting company commander of Alpha Company to immediately establish a platoon outpost on this position, which later became the celebrated Alpha 1 outpost. Thus, the "dye was cast' for the primary positions/location of 1/9 for the course of the 77-day Siege. I was personally responsible for the selection of 1/9 unit locations.

    1st Battalion, Ninth Marines started from scratch in building defensive positions at the Rock Quarry. No trenches, bunkers, wire, mines, or building materials were available. Building defensive positions was of paramount importance. At Con Thien, we at least had bunkers, trenches and covered ammo bunkers, though all needed improvements. In addition, 5- to 7-foot grass surrounding our perimeter imposed difficulties with fields of fire.

    The building materials, wire, and mines available at KSCB were slowly sent to 1/9 when available. We were left to our own ingenuity and hard work, digging, scrounging, and utilizing whatever was available from the land. This we did  in superb fashion. The fog usually rolled in during the early morning hours, 6-lOam. You could actually eat off 1/9's trenches, they were so clean.

    I only know of two cases requiring medevac because of rat-bites. This non-battle casualty was a major factor at KSCB causing medevacs. Inspections were held on a daily basis under the supervision of the battalion medical section. In most cases, rat bites required medevac. In some cases, it was an easy way out for some Marines.

    Replacements for 1/9 casualties were difficult. I had an informal arrangement with the FOB-3 commander to convalesce a limited number of 1/9 wounded in his superbly reinforced command bunker. It would take a direct hit by a large NVA rocket. 1/9 would select minor wounded junior officers and SNCo's for this RJR reprieve. In a week or two, they were returned to duty. This required no evacuation or replacement.

    Basically, the only commands that patrolled daily, weather permitting, was FOB-3 and 1/9. This led to friendly support for each other. Army Major David Smith, FOB-3 commander and I coordinated a plan for patrolling and intelligence gathering. In order to do this, covertly, we jury-rigged a phone the enemy could not tap between our respectful operation centers. Patrol coordination and important intelligence information was gathered for the duration of the Siege.

    Initially I was not aware of any animosity between the C/0 26th Marines and the FOB Commander. Very seldom could he get Marine artillery support for his indigenous personnel who ran daily patrols. 1/9 and FOB-3 were the only ones conducting patrols on a daily basis of more than 250 meters. I would help with supporting arms, particularly on FOB patrols to the south. We shared raw in-the-field collection of intelligence information, as well as coordinating our daily patrols.

The following rewards were directly attributed 1/9's patrolling policy

1. The enemy could not probe 1/9's defense wire without facing extinction. In this regard please     note that 1/9 had wire, booby traps anti-personnel mines, outside perimeter listening posts, fighting  positions and observation posts that averaged 200-300 meters in a 360 degree perimeter  from 1/9's MLR.
   
2. This eliminated bangalore torpedoes, patrol booby traps, and ambushes.
   
3. Elimination of direct fire weapons, small arms, automatic weapons and minimum mortar fire on 1/9 positions. The NVA were forced to move or pull back the above mentioned weapons or face extinction from friendly supporting arms or combat patrols.
   
4. NVA tunneling was a reality for 1/9 — but not for long. The easiest tunneling area surrounding 1/9 position, was the south parameter. Capt. Schaefer, Delta Co. reported to me in early March that several tunnels had reached his outside wire, about 250 meters away.
   
5. The remedial procedure worked out with Capt. Schaefer, was that at early light or just before the fog lifted, he was to send a unit into the tunnel, eliminate the NVA and fill up the tunnel/trench with dirt. Or, if necessary, destroy their tunnel work with satchel charges; then return to their defensive positions. The size of the friendly forces assigned this task would range from a fire team/squad to a  platoon. Whatever was necessary to get the job done. The follow-up on this procedure was to patrol frequently to 400 meters south of the rockpile to insure detecting the beginning of tunnel activity. This procedure went on for several weeks before it suddenly stopped. The battalion S-2, while monitoring the NVA radio nets intercepted the following message:
   "Discontinue tunneling activities in the 1/9 sector as it is non-productive. We can come back for the destruction of 1/9 positions after we have seized the KSCB proper." This was a compliment to 1/9's defensive posture and its success in eliminating the tunneling. Our monitoring of NVA nets also disclosed their complete knowledge of the Marines T/0 and T/E of all the Marine units at Khe Sanh. This included the names of all key commanders.
    
6. In excess of 8,000 tons of supplies, (food/ammunition were delivered by parachute and extraction). Retrieving a significant portion of the parachute supplies (lappes) was an additional mission of 1/9. These supplies landed in no man's land west of Khe Sanh and NNW of KSCB. I assigned Charlie Company the mission of recovery, supported by Alpha Company. The Marines assigned this task were subjected to constant sniper/mortar fire while in the open. They were even ambushed. The NVA were competing in this contest to recover these supplies. It was a rare incident when 1/9 Marines lost. 95% of all recoveries were successful.

    1st Battalion Ninth Marines was not adequately prepared to repel an enemy attack. Request for additional anti-tank weapons was made to Colonel Lownds. We received one tank, several 3.5 rockets, and tank mines, enough to cover one major approach into 1/9's position, the south perimeter of D company. In order to cover the gaps, we conducted school on preparing satchel charges to be attached to NVA tanks. Since we knew the vulnerability of the Russian PT76 tank, instruction was given in each 1/9 company for a group of volunteers on the what, when, and particularly the where to place a satchel charge on the enemy tank. The C/0 of H&S Company was tasked with organizing a reserve force. This group included me and my staff to corral any intruders who broke through.

    I directed B and D companies to be prepared to support the attack with their crew-served weapon upon my order. The one tank I had was moved from the daily camouflaged parking protection deep in the Rock Quarry to the top of the hill, D company's position for direct fire  support. This was the first time, during daylight hours, that the tank was sent into direct support. I joined the C/0 of D company on top of the battalion command bunker, to coordinate the supporting fires. The tank commander unleashed devastating fire power on the NVA to the S/W on the valley floor. That Sgt. earned his spurs that day with an outstanding display of marksmanship, firing at a range of 500-700 meters to S/W Alpha 1.

    Every night this tank was moved under the cover of darkness, to its defensive position facing south in the D company perimeter. Since 1/9's night outposts reported hearing the movement of suspected NVA tanks from the south, in the vicinity of Khe Sanh village, I assumed that the NVA also could hear our nightly tank displacement. The enemy may think 1/9 had a tank capability, but he wouldn't know how many.

    I have been asked in the past by my seniors why I had an Alpha-1 outpost. It was a difficult decision, but one made rapidly. An evaluation of the terrain in 1/9's sector of responsibility convinced me that an all-out assault by the NVA on KSCB would require more than one major avenue of approach. Alpha-1 outpost was selected for its potential, being astride the west to east axis to KSCB. I also needed as much warning as possible before the enemy would reach 1/9's MLR.

    According to Intelligence cited in the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines Command Chronology for period 1-29 February, 1968, a planned, heavily concentrated enemy attack against the main Khe Sanh Combat Base in early February during the Tet offensive was disrupted by friendly forces and the fact that the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines including its Company A strong point position, forward Platoon outpost Alpha One was occupying one of the enemies main avenues of approach to Khe Sanh.

    The unclassified information now available at H.Q. U.S. Marines Corps, Washington, D.C., therefore indicates that this above referred action of Feb. 8, 1968 was not only the heaviest, defensive line combat for any 24-hour period during the Battle of Khe Sanh but that this above action also marked the slackening of enemy ground troop action against Khe Sanh. At this turning point, the NVA tactics began shifting to increasing use of artillery, rocket and mortar shelling at Khe Sanh.

    Company A, 1st Platoon's forward outpost action on 8 Feb, 1968 resulted in one enemy Battalion rendered ineffective, and half the total (NVA) weapons captured for Operation Scotland. After this action concluded, two highly important documents were captured, including many other documents and a letter of prime intelligence value. One enemy POW was also taken. The Command Chronology stated that the outpost's resistance at its strong point position (Alpha One) on 8 Febraury 1968 and their supporting companies response the following day appeared to have upset the enemies' timetable. Enemy contact during the middle of the month slackened. Among the weapons captured were thirteen crew-served weapons, three heavy machine-guns, nine light machine-guns and one 60mm mortar.

    The total KIA of NVA soldiers exceeded 150 on this day. The 1/9 battalion received over 350 rounds of enemy supporting arms fire in their command perimeter.

    When possible throughout the Siege, Colonel Lownds directed that I attend his daily briefing by his staff. In order to get there, my runner Cpl. Luzon Beasly and myself used a mule (cargo cart), the only vehicle there, to make the dash through 2,000 meters of no man's land.

    This sometimes subjected us to sniper fire or incoming mortars while en route. The mule had no sides. On such occasions, one, or, the other would give the alert. We would bail out on each side until it was all clear — then continue our trip. Cpl. Beasley was killed in action March 30th, 1968 while administering first aid to wounded Marines from NVA rocket rounds. He unselfishly gave his life for his fellow Marines.

    I was unaware until after leaving Vietnam of the slogan, "Walking Dead." As I now understand, my initial situation when I assumed command of the 1st Battalion Ninth Marines was a low morale factor. This was attributed to several factors: heavy past battalion casualties, no clear established goals, objectives, or reason for being there. There was also a sense of not belonging, bouncing from one regiment to another, and a lack of desire to " win" not just survive.

    Those above mentioned qualities were revived with significant results. During my tenure, never did we as a whole cohesive, operating unit become decimated by ambush or assault commensurate with an acceptable casualty ratio of friendly to enemy. As a Junior  Officer in Korea,  I learned this while participating in the Chosen Reservoir campaign and later as an infantry platoon, executive officer and C/0 of a rifle company. I know what chaotic trauma a small leader goes through during and after hand-to-hand combat.

    Thus, it is very difficult for me to accept a demeaning title such as "Walking Dead." Not on my watch! Never was this "title' ever discussed in my Battalion while I was commanding the 1st Battalion Ninth Marines.

    On July 18, 2002,1 had the honor and privilege, of presenting long overdue awards of valor to two members of 1st Platoon, A Company, 1st Battalion, Ninth Marines. In a ceremony held at the annual reunion of 1st Battalion Ninth Marines, I presented the Silver Star Medal to Lawrence Seavy-Cioffi and the Bronze Star Medal with "V" for Valor to Edward O'Connor. They earned these awards for defending Hill 64 (Alpha-1) on 8 Feb 1968.

    When their position was attacked by a reinforced NVA Battalion outnumbering them 10-1 on 8 Feb 1968, both men, with their platoon leaders severely wounded, became the main leaders to step forward, leading the platoon in a vicious fire fight until reinforcements arrived. The attacking enemy was annihilated.

Col. John F. Mitchell, USMC, Ret.

Top Side

*****

Squalls Between The Storms

PART 1

    The time between the Battle of the Hills in late April and early May of 1967 and the beginning of the Battle for Khe Sanh in January of 1968 has often been described as the 4 silent months. Captain Moyers S. Shores II, USMC, in his book "Battle for Khe Sanh," called this time the "Lull Between Storms." This may be because there are few written accounts of combat activity in the Khe Sanh area during this period. Even Ray Stubbe's and John Prados' excellent history of the Siege of Khe Sanh, "Valley of Decision," does not dwell for long on the events immediately following the NVA defeat on Hill 881 N. Perhaps as one who was there, I can share some personal insights and observations on those difficult first 30 days at Khe Sanh for the Marines and sailors of the First Battalion, 26Th Marines.

    The first week of May, 1967 found 1/26 continuing to guard the main supply route from Danang to An Hoa. Although headquarters remained on Hill 55, on May 2 Alpha Company deployed to the far side of Liberty Bridge and into the villages of My Loc and Phu Loc. Without notice, orders arrive, and the battalion was moved within a week to Phu Bai to prepare for Operation Cumberland, a road-building attempt into the A Shau Valley. The word was changed once again and by May 10 both Alpha and Charlie Companies had arrived at Khe Sanh.

    On the day I arrived at Khe Sanh, I had commanded the Third Platoon of Alpha Company for almost four months. In those months we had been fairly successful in operating against the VC northeast and southeast of Hill 55. We took several casualties from mines and snipers and lost 3 Marines to the enemy. We had even been  "Sparrow Hawked" to Walt Boomer's Hotel Company 2/4 and after a successful night helicopter assault, chased an NVA regiment off Charlie Ridge. With many of the platoon being veterans of earlier operations such as Deckhouse and Macon, we thought of ourselves as a well seasoned experienced combat force. We were wrong; we had not seen anything yet.

    When the gate of the C-123 dropped onto the red clay of the Khe Sanh airstrip, the first thing we saw was the thick, cold, gray fog known as crachin. As the fog parted we saw them, the walking wounded from the Hill Fights. Some were standing but most were sitting or lying on the dark red clay mud. The line stretched down the road to what later would be called the "Ponderosa." We walked silently past them for several hundred yards to an assembly area where with the help of the slowly clearing sky, we caught our first glance of Hill 861. We were a very serious and somber bunch.

   The next day, May 11, Alpha Company boarded CH-34 helicopters and went to Hill 881S. It was a depressing mess. Colonel John Lanigan, commanding officer of the Third Marines, and his staff were preparing to march back to Khe Sanh. They were all spent from the fighting. We wished them well and began preparing our defenses. There were a few fighting holes and several NVA bunkers available for use, but that was it. First Lieutenant Norm Centers, the commanding officer of Alpha Company, placed Rusty Reeve's First Platoon on the west knoll of the hill complex. Larry Bolger's Second Platoon and my Third Platoon secured the main portion of the hill. It was cold, muddy and the stench of rotting flesh was overwhelming. With our blankets in storage not needing them in Phu Bai, we slept in recycled body bags to keep from getting hypothermia. Earl Hawkins, my platoon sergeant, jokingly filled out a casualty card and tied it to my bag, saying he was just trying to be efficient.

    The next several days brought 14-hour patrols and long sessions of trench digging. The engineers were forced to blow the trees because their chain saws broke on the shrapnel infested trunks. Centers evidently had promised Lt. Colonel D.E. Newton, the Battalion Commander, that the defensive fortifications could be built in no time at all. This, combined with the battalion staff's lack of appreciation for the depths of the ravines around the hill, caused the men to be worked and marched almost to exhaustion. Most chilling was our uncovering of scores of Marine helmets with holes in the crown and M-16's with cleaning rods down the barrel and rounds jammed in the chamber.

    During the next several days, our aggressive patrolling resulted in sporadic sniper fire from the west. Charlie Company, coming off Hill 881S, engaged a few NVA almost due north of 881S. The The NVA appeared to flee to the north west, behind Hill 88 IN. The only significant events for the first 10 days on the hill were the VIP visits. It seemed that every general, admiral, and photographer in WESPAC wanted to be seen on op of Hill 881S. On May 20, Centers said he had a mission for the Third Platoon. He informed me that the next morning the Third Platoon would leave very early and proceed west of Hill 881S for about 2,000 meters on a reconnaissance-in-force mission. The sniper activity had caught the attention of the Battalion Operations Officer, Capt. Ray Velasquez, the recent Alpha Company Commander. I was ordered to take two squads, each reinforced with an M-60 machine gun team and a 3.5 rocket launcher team. I would also take along a forward observer team from the 81mm mortar section co-located with Alpha Company on Hill 881S. We were told to wear soft covers and no flak jackets, as we might have to move fast. That was an omen. In addition, I was informed that once the fog lifted we would be supported by two UH-1E gunships, call signs Oak Gate 1-1 and Oak Gate 1-2. The gunships' mission was to recon by fire on targets we would mark.

    When I briefed the platoon, I was reminded that my platoon sergeant, Earl Hawkins, needed to be at the Battalion Aid Station the next day for treatment. That meant that Cpl Beard, the 81mm forward observer, would be second in command. Our platoon guide, Sgt Lopez, would be in charge of the platoon's defensive position on Hill 881S. Going out without them did not concern me very much as the mission had been described as "a walk in the sun." I did not even imagine at that time that we were, to paraphrase Sir Winston Churchill, about to march onto the pages of the New York Times.

    The next day, Sunday, May 21, 1967 at 0520, 43 Marines and two corpsman slowly moved out the west gate of Hill 881 S and into the dark fog. The fog was so thick that it took us until almost 0800 to reach Hill 821. We set in for a while for the fog to lift. Soon we could see and we moved northwest about 800 meters further along the ridgeline to a place where we could set up an observation post. Just before we got to the small crest, we heard gunshots to the northwest. Some were fairly close but others were more distant. We held up and waited for the sun to burn off the fog at Khe Sanh so the gunships could launch.

    At about 1000, Oak Gate 1-1 and 1-2 came on station. I took a hunch and ordered Cpl. Contrereas to have his gunner L/Cpl. Guererro put a smoke round into the tree line that faced us to the north, about 500 meters away. Guererro overshot and the rocket went about 200 meters further into an extension of the same tree line which protected the streambed. I told Oak Gate 1-1 to just go for the smoke. To our mutual surprise, especially Guererro's, the gunships kicked up about 10-15 NVA hidden in the streambed. We couldn't see the NVA but the gunships could and made several runs expending their ammo. We joined in with our 2 M-60's for a short bit until I got a report that the platoon had found a freshly used sniper position just behind us. It had a clear view of Hill 881S. The position was about 1300 meters to the west edge of our position on Hill 881S and the distance explained why we had received so many "spent rounds" on the Hill. We knew the position was recently used because we found a letter he had used to clean himself.

    We ceased firing down into the streambed/ tree line.

    Oak Gate 1-1 then informed me that they had another mission and would be back when we needed them.

    Soon we heard distant sporadic fire from the northwest. We set in and made sure no friendly recon patrols were in the area. A bit later, the shooting stopped and we set up a 360 degree post. We saw no movement.

    About 1030 things began to get a little strange. Lt. Centers ordered me to assault the tree line. I told him I didn't think that was such a good idea as we only had two maneuver elements and our approach down the slope to the streambed lacked cover and concealment. He suggested we use smoke. We talked for a bit as we started down the slope and I was finally able to convince him that smoke wasn't the solution, as the NVA knew where we were and what our numbers were. In addition, we had no idea of how many NVA were in the streambeds. He then told me to try to envelop the streambed by cutting further northwest. We did, but continued to hear more gunfire in front of us from the higher elevations on the other side of the streambed. Centers then told me to hold up and wait. I did not know at the time but at 1100, Admiral Sharp, CINCPAC and Major General Hochmuth, CG, 3d MAR DIV, landed on Hill 881S. The dog and pony show evidently distracted Centers as the company net went silent for a long period except for requests for our situation and spot reports. It is also highly probable that the gunships had been called back to escort these VIPs.

    We were eventually told to sit tight and register end page 55 artillery. I picked a round piece of high ground covered with elephant grass. It was marked on the map as Hill 729. It was distinguishable by several bomb craters and the burnt out stump of a destroyed tree. Both the stump and the craters would play a major role later in the afternoon. Cpl. Beard and I registered Alpha Battery, 1/13's 105s on likely avenues of approach, focusing on the tree line and streambed to the north. We were too far out for 81's to be of any use.

    At about 1500 or so, Centers came back on the net and told me to check out the streambed. I found a way to mask our movement to any NVA who might be watching from the ridge line to the north, by circling west and then north. It seemed like a good move, but it required us to travel into  some dead radio space. To solve that problem I had Cpl Fallone and two fire teams set up in the bomb craters and act as a radio relay. I didn't like splitting our small force, but I had no choice as maintaining radio contact with Alpha Company was necessary. I also did not intend to go too far as we were approaching the end of the artillery fan. We moved out slowly and  covered our movement.

    Once in the streambed, we found a couple of surprises. The first was a well-used trail, the size of a jeep trail. It was in great shape and had too many footprints for our comfort. The other surprise was several holes — about two feet in diameter — going straight into the ground. At first, we thought that they were tunnels but soon figured out that they were caused by dud bombs dropped at high altitude, probably by an A-6 Intruder during the Hill fights.

    At about 1700, PFC Runion, a  machine gunner, spotted the NVA standing in the open on the ridge line to the north. There were four of them and they were obviously trying to find us. Runion wanted to shoot as they were about 800 yards away. I told him not to fire as it would give our position away. I contacted Fallone who related that he couldn't see the NVA from his position, as he was staying in defilade. I decided it was time to get back together and let the artillery handle the NVA. The lead squad broke right, and we avoided the streambed on the way back. That was a good move and probably kept us from being ambushed.

    Once back at the blackened stump, we set up in a lopsided 360 in the grass with most of the fire power on the north side. We had plenty of concealment but little cover except for the craters. When I notified Centers of the location of the NVA observation post, he put the company's artillery forward observer, Lt. Chuck Willis, on the radio. I had but one radio and traffic was pretty cluttered on the company net, and it was about to get worse. Chuck informed me that the NVA position was just outside the range of the 105 battery, but he had two 155 howitzers available for a precision destruction mission. He asked if I knew how to adjust a precision destruction mission, and I responded in the negative. Chuck said it was easy and he would teach me. He did.

    The first round was short and low on the slope and the NVA didn't move. I think they knew the range of our 105s and believed that they were safe. I started moving the rounds slowly up the slope. They didn't even flinch, and one of them appeared to flash the universal sign of disrespect towards us. The next round took the top of the knoll right off. Nothing remained. We got them. Everyone cheered. I passed the word to saddle up and head home, as it was 1800 and we needed to be back and guard Hill 881 S  before it got dark.

    At exactly 1805, the NVA charged out of the tree line and assaulted up the slope, supported by mortars, RPGs and grenades. First, they went for the M-60's, rocket launchers and radios. In the initial volley, Runion's arm was torn off and Guerrero's launcher received a hit and the vibrations split both of his hands. PFC Thomas Henderschott was killed almost immediately as a round pierced his radio. L/Cpl Roger Hurd was hit and killed as he fired his M-16. The round went in one armpit and exited the other, testimony to his being in the off-hand position when hit. Dennis Thayer was knocked over by a grenade and momentarily stunned but recovered and came up shooting. The NVA ran right past him. L/Cpl Fraley spotted an NVA machine gun team coming up the slope. He took aim with his M-79 grenade launcher and fired one round into the gunners chest, it exploded and the A/gunner also went down. PFC Kemp cut down several NVA as they charged right in front of him. PFC Mike Trenholm was hit in the arm and his hand was almost lost. Both corpsman, Doc Rock and Doc Brannon were hit by grenade fragments. L/Cpl Faldutti, a fire team leader, was hit in the back of the head with a batch of shrapnel. A second wave of NVA broke out of the tree line. Fraley and the other grenadier, Russell Turner, fired continuously into the NVA formation slowing the assault. Gabe Bovenzi, recently transferred from 3/26, joined in but they kept coming.

    Due to the height of the grass, I could not see very much and with one squad radio out of commission things got a bit confusing. I knew one thing for sure — we needed help and fast. Then, the first of three miracles occurred. I called in an on-call fire mission to Alpha 1/13 and gave them an adjustment to bring it in "danger close." We were just within maximum range from Khe Sanh Combat Base and the gun target line was parallel to our position. I asked for a battery six. Just then it occurred to me that with the way Alpha Battery was laid out and the position of the marking gun, there was a great chance that the left platoon's rounds would fall right on top of Alpha Three. I called for the left platoon to check fire and to fire with four guns. The gunners did their job and the rounds landed right between the tree line and our position, stunning the NVA and killing several. I repeated the mission several times. This gave us a chance to consolidate around the craters, but we needed to counter attack to recover Henderschott and Hurd's bodies. My radio operator Bozo Worden handed me the radio and charged down the hill. Soon Cpl. Fallone followed with his fire team. For a short period of time, I was alone on the crest of the . crater with only my .45 caliber pistol and the NVA running all over the high ground. I spotted Les Faurebrac moving down the hill and ordered him to protect my rear while I called in the medevac mission. He was torn because he wanted to go help recover the bodies and help the wounded. Alpha Battery continued to fire and we were able to get the wounded to one of the craters. We began having problems with the M-16s jamming, but we solved that problem quickly by using the weapons of the wounded. Just then, the second miracle arrived.

    My radio cracked, "Pinefold Alfa Three this is Oak Gate 1-1, we are inbound." Fortunately, the gunships had been monitoring our frequency and had heard the call for the danger close artillery mission. Since we were fairly close to where we had been in the morning, they knew where the NVA's positions were and rolled right in with rockets and guns. Even with the artillery in check fire mode the radio traffic was almost unmanageable. At one point, Steve Street came up and carried the radio. Bozo Worden was now busy trying to recover our dead and wounded. Centers kept demanding information, but we were too busy fighting off the NVA. I told him we had 2 KIA and we would attempt to recover them under the gunships' suppressing fire. Centers then said something over the net that was interpreted by everyone who heard it as ordering me to leave the bodies and pull back. My response was short and to the point. We were coming out together. All of us.

    I recall the call sign for the medevac was Button Vermillion. As Button Vermillion (a CH-34) approached, the pilot asked for the location of the zone, the best approach, and if the zone was hot. I looked down the rear slope of the knoll we were on and spotted a place in defilade. I told the pilot that the north side of the knoll was hot but if he could land behind us he could make it. Oak Gate 1-1 concurred.

    Unfortunately, as Button Vermillion was making its approach, the pilot decided that the grass was too high on the reverse slope so he came in towards where I was standing with the radio handset. He must have thought that since I was standing on the crest that it was safe. He came right in. Fortunately, we had Faldutti, Trenholm, and Runion ready to go because the zone exploded with incoming rounds. I heard two large cracks and later would find that two AK-47 rounds had pierced my trousers. The crew chief got out of the CH-34, checked out the bullet holes, threw me the finger, saluted smartly, and jumped back in. Button Vermillion took off with the wounded safely aboard.

    With the gunships continuing to rake the tree line, we were able to bring the two bodies to the craters. Soon Oak Gate 1-1 said he was out of ammo. Oak Gate 1-2 said he had enough for one more run. He came in with the crew firing small arms and throwing ammo boxes on the NVA. It was a sight to see! Now we were in trouble. Our firepower had diminished considerably as a result of casualties. In addition, it would take eight Marines to carry the two bodies up the slopes toward Hill 821. If the gunships left to re-arm, we would be in big trouble moving in the open grass. Miracle  number three arrived just in time.    

    You could hear them before you could see them. Four tiny dots with afterburners. Two flights of F-4 Phantoms, pregnant with destruction, roared in from the west. Oak Gate 1-1 would control, freeing me to reorganize the platoon and convince Button Vermillion to come back for the bodies so I could free up the eight Marines carrying our dead. Coming straight down the streambed from the direction of 881 S the four Phantoms, dropped a continual stream of 500 pound bombs and napalm so close to us that we had to turn away to avoid the flash and blast. It became difficult to breathe but Oak Gate kept them right on target. Not surprisingly, the NVA finally stopped firing and tried to disperse. The Phantoms kept coming. The First Marine Air Wing was nothing less than magnificent that day.

    We had moved about a half a mile when Button Vermillion returned to pick up the bodies of Henderschott and Hurd. This time the zone was cold. I ordered Guererro to get on board also as he was useless with both hands split open. We now had the luxury of freeing up the Marines who had been carrying their brothers.

    Slowly, we made it to Hill 821 where Rusty Reeves' First Platoon had come out to help us with our walking wounded. By this time, the Phantoms had done their job and Oak Gate went back to base to rearm. It got very quiet. Rusty greeted me cheerfully, but his eyes went right past me. He said "How many tree stumps were on that knoll, John?" I turned around and looked back at Hill 729. What had appeared to Rusty as tree stumps was in reality scores of NVA troops sweeping the area picking up their dead and wounded. I called for artillery to hammer the NVA but the request was denied. I was told we were now conserving artillery in case our positions were attacked later that night.

    It was almost dark when we reached the west gate of Hill 88I S. Sgt. Hawkins was waiting for me. I thought that Street and I had been bringing up the rear but just as we got to the gate, Cpl Hinds came out of the tall grass. He had been watching out for us, just in case. Hawkins said he could account for everyone. No one was missing, so the three of us entered the perimeter.

   It wasn't until the next morning that we knew how many of the platoon had actually been wounded. Several Marines awoke the next morning to find grenade shrapnel under their skin. Evidently, the adrenaline rush had dulled their sense of pain. Out of the 45 who had left Sunday morning, two were dead, three were evacuated Stateside and twelve were treated and returned to duty. We wrote the after action reports and turned them over to Centers.

On May 23, 1967 the New York Times covered the fight on a page dedicated to war news along with an ironic report of the continuing problems with the M-16 rifles and a general denial of any problem with them by Lt. General Walt. For our part, the Times simply said: "Near Khe Sanh [sic], just south of the demilitarized zone, a reinforced Marine Reconnaissance platoon fought an enemy force for almost an hour. A spokesman said later that 25 enemy guerrillas and two Marines had been killed and eight Marines had been wounded." Captain Shores in his "Battle for Khe Sanh" simply states "On 21 May, elements of Company A, 1/26, clashed sharply with a reinforced enemy company; 25 NVA and two Marines were killed. The same day, the Lang Vei CIDG camp was attacked by an enemy platoon."

    The number of NVA killed on May 21 is an educated guess and is based on the reports from Oak Gate 1-1 and the accounts of the individual Marines of Alpha Three. Two things were clear the NVA was not reluctant to attack in the open during daylight, and the NVA was still out there, despite the good efforts of Alpha Three.

    On May 30, Alpha Company moved out in force to check out the approaches to Hill 915, an area just south of where we had made contact on May 21, but we found nothing. Low visibility canceled our air support, so we came back early. We were soon relieved on Hill 8 8 IS by Bravo Company. I spoke briefly with Captain Connell, the Bravo company commander, and told him of the danger to the west. He told me that for awhile the only patrolling done would be by a company or a larger force and not by platoons. Alpha headed off to the Khe Sanh Combat Base for showers and beer.

    Things were quiet for about a week. On June 5 Alpha Company was sent west on Highway 9 to assist in searching for GySgt Ibanez, a member of a recon team, who simply vanished into the night, leaving only a small blood trail and a dental plate. We found some NVA harbor sites nearby but we got the feeling a tiger may have got him. We spent the night in a deserted Montagnard village on the south side of the road. We heard the artillery firing all night long as Hill 950 came under attack and was overrun. Helicopters picked us up in the morning, and we were first told to prepare to land on Hill 950. In a moment, the orders were changed and we were sent to Hill 881 S.  Bravo Company was fighting for its life just SW of Hill 821. The company command group and two platoons had walked into an ambush.

    When we arrived on Hill 8 8 IS, the Alpha Company command group along with 2d Lt. Guy Pete's platoon had already departed and joined the fight. Doug Sykes, the Bravo Company executive officer, met me at the command post. We were soon joined by Rusty Reeves, but Rusty's platoon was still on the way. Centers had checked off the Alpha company net without notifying anyone and was using his radio to help control the air strikes. We had no idea what to do. We could see that Bravo was heavily engaged and that the NVA were still in the grass to the east, south and north of the company. A-4s and F-4s were rolling in dropping napalm and 500- and 1000-pound bombs. We learned that Bravo had lost 18 KIA and 27 WIA. Two of the KlAs were radio operators from A/l/13. Both platoon commanders had been wounded. Second Lt. Dennis McDonald, shot in the leg, was evacuated. Second Lt. Richard Stewart was still in the field with a bullet hole in his arm. Fourteen other Marines had been wounded. Bravo had made a turning movement to the SW off Hill 821, across a saddle known as the land bridge and was isolated by mortar and machine gun fire, including at least one .50 cal. machine gun, before the NVA came out of the low ground to the west and east in an attempt to cut the company off. The NVA had attacked in a well disciplined manner, on line with the command groups behind the assault squads.

    Not having any information or orders, Doug, Rusty and I debated what to do. Doing nothing was not in the equation. Since Alpha Three was on Hill 8 8 IS and — I am proud to say — eager to attack, I volunteered to go out to Hill 821 to cover Bravo's withdrawal. So Alpha Three went out the west gate again. We moved quickly to Hill 821 and set up our M-60's. There were plenty of targets of opportunity. We engaged and caught many NVA running to the north as the A-4 Sky Hawks continued their runs. One A-4 caught several NVA trying to run up hill away from the A-4. It was no contest. Soon, most of the seriously wounded had departed by helicopter and Bravo Co. was able to consolidate its position. By a little past 1600, Bravo passed through our lines on Hill 821. Several walking wounded were among them including Lt. Stewart. Centers, who had not communicated with Alpha company the entire time, appeared to be embarrassed when he found us on 821. He was glad that we had taken the initiative in coming out to help. We helped with the wounded and marched back to 8 8 IS.

    Although the official reports state that 18 Marines died that day, only 17 are listed in Ray Stubbe's "Final Formation." They are; L/Cpl. James L. Blaz, L/Cpl. John J. Chase, Cpl. Ronald L. Crooks, L/Cpl. Robert F. Enderby, Cpl. Edward F. Furlong, Pvt. Gale E. Gotti, PFC. Thomas M. Healy, PFC. Kenneth M. Johnson, L/Cpl. Kenneth R. Keefer, PFC. Steven L. Millet, PFC. Larry L. Morris, PFC. Wayne M. Pitts, PFC. Frank J. Shovlin, PFC. Philip A. Van Deusen, L/Cpl. Edward A. Vercouteren, Cpl. Walter L. Ward, PFC. Larry E. Worthen.

    Once back on 881 S, we consolidated the companies as there was not enough of Bravo Company left to hold the lines. The number of the Bravo fallen impacted the members of Alpha Three severely. Many began to think about what would have happened to us if not for the extraordinary performances by A/l/13 and Oak Gate a mere two weeks prior.

    A bit later that day at the Bravo CP on the crest of Hill 8 8 IS, I overheard a conversation between Col. Padley who had relieved Col. Lanigan as the senior officer at Khe Sanh, and Lt. Col. Newton, the C/0 of 1/26. They were agreeing that the firefight was the result of a chance meeting between two company-sized patrols. I could not believe my ears. Just then Guy Pete interjected and told both officers that what had happened was a well-planned and executed ambush by at least 2 companies. It was hard to argue with the obvious but for some reason the senior officers did not want to believe that the NVA were still operating freely around Khe Sanh. Guy, of course, was right.

    Alpha company spent several days with Bravo on Hill 8 8 IS until replacements arrived. I was soon transferred to the battalion S-3 section to relieve Captain Cloud who was taking over Charlie Company from Captain Dennis.

A few days later marked the end of 1/2 6's first 30 days at Khe Sanh. The next 30 days would not bring any relief for Alpha and Bravo companies, and I would soon be temporarily sent back to Alpha company to help out.

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Major George Quamo
An American Hero

by Tom Haggerty

"You have never lived until you have almost died.
For those who have fought for it, life has a special
flavor the protected will never know."
- Special Operations Motto-

    Since Sept 11, Americans have become familiar with the term "Special Forces" and the role they are playing in Afghanistan. It wasn't always that way, as the story of a young man from Averill Park, N.Y, will attest. So secret were the missions of America's Special Forces in Vietnam in the 1960s that even now, decades after the war, many "official" accounts have never been made public. Most were reportedly destroyed even before the war ended in 1973. The name George Quamo is etched on the Rensselaer County Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington.

    But few outside of the select group of men who served with him know anything about the extraordinary heroism and leadership Quamo exhibited there. "I still receive phone calls from guys who served under him," said his brother James Quamo, now of Spencerport, NY. "Some of them even cry telling me how they felt about my brother."

    Major George Quamo was a highly decorated Army Green Beret who served in MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command Vietnam, Studies and Observation Group, formerly known as the Special Operations Group) from 1963 until his death in 1968. About 2,000 people served in SOG during the Vietnam War. It was an all volunteer organization composed of some of the nation's best military personnel, Green Berets, Navy Seals, and Air Force Air Commandos.

    SOG took its orders directly from Washington  where a small staff operating under the acronym SACSA (Special Assistant to the Chairman for Special Activities) coordinated information and orders from the Joints Chiefs of Staff, White House, and Central Intelligence Agency. Gen. William C. Westmoreland, the theater commander in Vietnam, did not have complete authority over SOG but was kept fully informed of its missions both before and after, and often sat in on debriefings. Covert operations in Southeast Asia were entirely a CIA mission in its early years, but in 1964 it was turned over to the Department of Defense and SOG was established. To maintain secrecy, SOG's budget was hidden in top -secret Navy appropriations. SOG teams performed some of the most dangerous and heroic missions of the Vietnam War, including cross-border reconnaissance and lightning "Hatchet Force" attacks on North Vietnamese positions along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, in North Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos.

    SOG teams were also involved in recovering downed US pilots, making prisoner-of-war rescue attempts, and penetrating deep into Laos and Cambodia to lead guerrilla forces they had trained in South Vietnam. Some SOG troops were also trained for HALO insertions — high altitude, low-opening parachute jumps. The activities of SOG teams reportedly diverted some 100,000 North Vietnamese troops from the front lines, thereby, saving thousands of American lives throughout the war.

    SOG recon teams suffered 100 percent casualties in 1967, the highest casualty rate of any US unit since the Civil War. It also recorded the highest kill ratio in modern military history, 150 to one, with a high of 158 to one in 1970. Of the 17 Congressional Medals of Honor awarded to Special Forces troops in Vietnam, SOG troops received 10 Medals of Honor, the highest number of any comparable unit of its size in the history of American warfare.

    The most highly decorated soldier in American history, Sergeant First-Class Robert Howard of Opelicka, AL, was a member of SOG and received the Medal of Honor, Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star and eight Purple Hearts. Howard was nominated for the Medal of Honor three times in 13 months, a feat also unequaled in American history. Many who witnessed his heroics felt he should have won the medal all three times. His leadership and bravery earned Howard a direct commission to the rank of captain in 1970 and he retired a full colonel in 1995.

    SOG troops received more than 2000 individual awards for heroism in Vietnam, including 23 Distinguished Service Crosses, the nation's second highest award. In the aftermath of the battle of Lang Vie, 24 Special Forces members were awarded one Medal of Honor, a Distinguished Service Cross, 21 Silver Stars, and a Bronze Star.

    On April 4, 2001, nearly 30 years after it ceased operations, MACV-SOG was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation during ceremonies at Fort Bragg N.C. The Presidential Unit Citation is the nation's highest unit award and given only to those units that display extraordinary heroism under fire. It is equal to the individual award of the Distinguished Service Cross. Maj. Gen. John K. Singlaub, who commanded SOG from 1966 to 1968, said the unit was the most incredible collection of courageous and professional soldiers that has ever served our nation. "They accomplished feats of unbelievable heroism," Singlaub said. "They were just extraordinary young men."

    MACV-SOG was established on Jan. 16, 1964 and completed it's eight-year tour of duty on March 31, 1972. During that time, 10 SOG teams were lost, 14 teams were overrun and destroyed, and more than 300 soldiers were recorded as either killed or missing in action. To this day, 50 members of SOG are still listed as MIA.

    In the four years George Quamo served in SOG, he would establish himself as one of America's finest warriors. Young, handsome, and brilliant, the 5'11", 180-pound Quamo was "tough as nails" and one of SOG's most highly-respected field commanders. He spoke three foreign languages (Laotian, Vietnamese, and Thai) and was even an instructor in Vietnamese at the Army language school in Monterey, CA.

    Col. David C. "Bulldog" Smith was one of Quamo's last commanders. A tough, former Army Ranger during the Korean War, Smith served two different tours with Quamo in Vietnam, first as a member of the Green Beret "A" teams in the early 1960's and later as a SOG base commander. Bulldog took over as commanding officer of FOB-3 (Forward Obervations Base) of Command and Control North (CCN), located on the outskirts of Khe Sanh in early February, of 1968. Quamo served as his executive officer.

    "George was one of the finest soldiers I ever served with," Smith said. He was considered the Lawrence of Arabia of Vietnam. Everyone respected him — the men he served with, the Laotians and the Montagnards. He was an outstanding leader, and he led by example. He never asked anyone to do something he couldn't or wouldn't do himself. He was at ease talking with a general as he was talking to a private. "He was just a great officer."

    About a month after taking over as commanding officer of FOB-3, Smith was wounded when a piece of shrapnel from an incoming round struck him in the head. He and Quamo had been planning a top-secret mission where the pair would be inserted deep inside Laos to form a guerrilla force that would attack the North Vietnamese from the rear. After Quamo was reported missing in action in April of 1968, Smith was offered a replacement for the Laos mission. He declined, saying, "I would only go with George."

    Born in Lynn, MA on June 10, 1940, Quamo was the oldest son of Alexander and Kaliroi Quamo,  who emigrated from Albania to the United States in the 1930s. The family settled in Lynn and raised four daughters, Yilka, Tefta, Andronika and Marietta and two sons, George and James. The Quamos moved to Averill Park, NY, a small community east of Albany, in 1953. The children attended Averill Park High School, with George graduating in 1958. He joined the Army in October of that year. Quamo, a natural leader (he was president of his class in high school and a quarterback on the football team), was considered "one of the Army's brightest young officers and the "Perfumed Prince," as former SOG sergeant Charles Berg referred to him, didn't take long to earn the respect of his troops.

    Master Sergeant Charles "Skip" Minnicks, at 38, was the oldest team leader in SOG when this fresh-faced captain took over the reconnaissance teams in the fall of thel967. Quamo, 27, was the youngest major in SOG when he was promoted to that rank, on Oct 6, 1967. "I was madder than hell when he took over," said Minnicks, a highly-decorated SOG veteran  of four tours in Vietnam. "And I made no bones about it. I didn't hide my feelings at all. He looked like a kid and I resented him."

    He didn't say anything about it for a few weeks. One day we were in the jungle, he pulled me aside. He said, "We're both in this for same reason. We're both fighting the same enemy, I don't want to fight you too — we have to work as a team." Well, of course, he was right. Minnicks continued, "I really felt bad about how I had acted. But I will tell you something — I grew to love that man. I would have  crawled up inside the barrel of an enemy cannon for him. I mean that. He was one helluva an officer. I can't say enough about him. He was excellent."

    Operating deep inside enemy lines, SOG teams conducted some 1,398 reconnaissance missions. "Our exploits did not go unnoticed," Minnicks said, "Not one wounded or captured SOG operative wasever returned to us alive. None. George Quamo knew that going in. No quarter asked, none given. His kind of game. He was a man's man, a leader and one helluva soldier." Minnicks and Quamo were both members of "Special Projects," which included developing a guerrilla force to operate in Laos in the Mu Gai Pass area. Quamo commanded four reconnaissance teams including RT Pennsylvania, which ran more than 20 missions along the Ho Chi Minh trail as well as in Laos and Cambodia. The teams were usually made up of three Americans and four or five Bru guerrila soldiers.

    The Bru soldiers were part of the Montagnards or "Mountain people" and were said to have an almost magical ability to detect the presence of others in the jungle. SOG units trained Montagnards, or "Yards" as Americans called them, for guerrilla missions and they became a very trusted ally. The North Vietnamese killed thousands of Montagnards during and after the war. To this day, a number of Special Forces veterans make pilgrimages to Vietnam to bring food and medical supplies to the Montagnards. The group has also arranged housing and employment for some 800 Montagnards who have come to the United States to live, many in the North Carolina area. More than 8,000 indigenous soldiers served with SOG during the Vietnam War and many performed with great valor. Many were also killed.

    Quamo had an "intense dedication" to both American and Bru teammates. By all accounts, he was an extremely knowledgeable and forceful commander. His intensity and forcefulness are exemplified in an account of an incident written by Rev. Ray Stubbe, the Navy Chaplain during the Siege of Khe Sanh, for the magazine Red Clay. (Stubbe later formed the Khe Sanh Veterans Association and helped edit and write articles for Red Clay — stories related to the Siege of Khe Sanh. A number of theses accounts concerned Quamo's SOG teams at FOB-3. Stubbe wrote:

       Operation Pennsylvannia observed units of NVA and knew there was a huge strong force. Part of the NVA plans included the preparation of the Co Roc Massif, a boomerang-shaped mountain just inside the Laotian border. Standing atop Co Roc were Major George Quamo and Master Sergeant "Skip" Minnicks. They observed units of the NVA that had moved most of their forces in the area for the attack on Khe Sanh." Overhead, a birddog air-craft circled with its passenger, Col Harold K. Rose, the SOG commander at FOB-3. Rose radioed Quamo, "I want you out of there. I want you out of there now." Quamo, dressed in his black uniform, all his men dressed in black, simply responded, "To my knowledge, I am in command at this location, out."

    Former Marine Capt. Jerry Hudson, who served as an intelligence officer at Khe Sanh, said Quamo was "one super man." "I had heard all kinds of stories about him before I met him," Hudson said. "He was a legend." The guys in SOG used to bring back all kinds of information but because it was all top secret, the information went directly back to the higher-ups in Saigon and Washington. Then it is filtered down to the guys in the bunkers — usually too late.

    "George thought a lot of information should have been given to us right away. The North Vietnamese would move their positions or change tactics by the time we got back. So he began giving some of it to us right away. He personally went out and ran a phone line between the Special Forces guys and our bunker so I would get information fast.

    "I do not know where he got his information. All I know is you would see him go through the wire with a couple other guys with heavy packs. He would be gone for five or six days. He was really something," Hudson said. Bulldog Smith confirmed Quamo "leaked" the information to the Marines, yet did it without compromising SOG's own top-secret orders. Quamo would tell the Marine intelligence officer (Hudson) that an area was "hot." If I were in your shoes I would try that area, suggesting targets. Hudson had previously trained Special Forces soldiers at the Naval Amphibious Base at Little Creek, VA. in preparation for recon missions that were conducted from submarines near the shoreline, both day and night. Because of his background, Hudson developed  a special relationship with SF troops, Quamo in particular. We spoke from the same bible, he said. Although only a high school graduate, Quamo was a major in Special Forces at age 27. One SOG officer, himself a West Point graduate, thought Quamo so brilliant that he could have gone through college in a year and half. Quamo also commanded "Project Elephant," a SOG operation that sent teams into Laos to train guerrilla forces as well as leading insertion missions into North Vietnam. He also led other missions to Co Roc Mountain while that area was swarming with NVA.

    Sometimes he just defied the enemy to come get us, Minnicks recalled. One time on Co Roc, he had all four teams up there while enemy patrols were chasing us all over the place. He led us up a hill and then stood up and defied them to come get us. He was one tough guy. Master Sgt Robert Cavanaugh, the leader of recon team OKLAHOMA, who also served with Quamo on cross-border operations in Laos, said the officer had great leadership abilities. "I often think that if George had lived, he would have become one of the great motivational speakers our time. He had that kind of effect on people."

    Quamo's finest moment came at Lang Vei when he led a heroic rescue of the Special Forces unit that was overrun by a North Vietnamese tank attack on February 7, 1968. The outpost located some nine miles from Khe Sanh came under a surprise attack, although SOG observers had been warning of tank tracks and NVA troop movement for several days.

    Quamo was in Khe Sanh when he heard accounts of the battle over the radio. He immediately went to the commander of the 26th Marines, who had been under siege themselves at Khe Sanh, and asked for help to relieve the Special Forces at Lang Vei. Colonel David Lownds, and General Rathvon Tompkins, the 3rd Marine Division commander, both denied the request, fearing a large NVA ambush would annihilate a large relief force to Lang Vei.

    Undaunted, Major Quamo rounded up 14 Special Forces volunteers and about 30 Bru tribesman and asked them to help rescue their embattled comrades. Minnicks quoted Quamo as saying, "We may not come back, but we have to help these guys out of there." He then contacted Marine CH-46 helicopter pilots and told them to get ready to fly, that an order would come from their commander. An SOG Medic, Harve Saal, who would later write a four-volume account of SOG, said: "George just scalawaged those guys and told them, "You have to do this because your boss said so."

    Quamo's persistance saved the lives of 14 surviving Special Forces soldiers at Lang Vei. Years later, Quamo is referred to in the book "Night of the Silver Stars," as making a heroic rescue at Lang Vei. Already awarded two Silver Stars and a Bronze Star for bravery on previous missions, Quamo would be awarded the Distinguished Service Cross posthumously for "exposing himself to a tremendous volume of enemy fire" at Lang Vei.

    He was the last man to leave the landing zone, the DSC citation reads. Major Quamo's intense dedication to his men, his coolness in battle and his extraordinary courage are in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Army. I really believe he should have been awarded a Medal of Honor for getting those guys out of Lang Vei, Minnicks reflected. He saved their lives.

    Former Hachet Force platoon Sgt Stephen "Tim" Kirk, who was awarded a Bronze Star at Lang Vei, recalled Quamos leadership. "I remember him standing out there in the LZ (landing zone) like George Patton. He was totally in control of directing everything in the midst of all that incoming."

    A  month and half later, on April 14, 1968, Quamo disappeared and the mystery of his disappearance has baffled many who served with him. His last days begin with Colonel Roy A. Bahr taking command of FOB on March 25, 1968. Quamo was also Bahr's executive officer. "I was the last living person to see him alive," Bahr said. I only knew him for about a month, but he was one of the most impressive officers I ever met. "The men loved him and would do anything for him. He was so young, yet so impressive. It was a shame we lost him."

    Rev. Stubbe quotes Bahr in an article in Red Clay: "I was 37, going to be 38, and I see George Quamo. He's a major and he's 27 years old, and this guy is sharp. I mean he was outstanding. This guy, he's almost God to these people, because he's such a good man. He had gone into Laos and brought out a whole bunch of Bru just as the Siege of Khe Sanh began. He had such empathy with all the Montagnards, particularly the Bru people."

    Bahr said he and Quamo coordinated strikes and patrols outside the perimeter around Khe Sanh, which was surrounded by as many as four divisions of NVA. We then heard the Marines were going to abandon Khe Sanh, and I knew there were some 45,000 NVA in the area. We only had a few Special Forces troops (about 30). It would have been suicide to stay.

    Bahr said he drew up an evacuation plan and had the unit's intelligence officer, S2 Hammond Salley, type up the plan because it was so sensitive. Bahr said he knew Quamo had not had any R&R in some time, so he asked him to deliver the Top-Secret papers to Danang and take a few days of R&cR. He then walked Quamo down to the airstrip, and watched him get into a U-17, a fixed -wing aircraft that reportedly was "contracted" to the CIA. The plane, registered to Nationalist China so it could not be traced back to the U.S. if shot down, was piloted by two Vietnamese pilots. The plane made a single contact with a radar control central located on Monkey Mountain now Danang, and was never heard from again.

    Prior to leaving Khe Sanh, someone had discovered a strange cylinder in FOB-3 with Chinese markings. It had been discovered about February 1, but Quamo decided to bring it to Danang to be assessed. Some have theorized the cylinder might have been some sort of ordnance that might have been shot or exploded while on the aircraft. Minnicks said it was an "unexploded artillery  round that Major Quamo wanted examined.

    And then there is the story of "Bulldog" Smith and the top-secret plan to go deep inside Laos with Quamo. Both would be declared missing in action even to their families. They would then train and command a guerilla force inside Laos which would then launch an attack on the Viet Cong from the rear. When Quamo was declared missing in action, Smith became angry because he thought Quamo had undertaken the mission without him. Smith had been recovering from an injury when Quamo became MIA. "I was madder then hell, because I thought he had taken off without me," Smith said. He did not believe the report that his friend was missing in action because it was exactly the cover story they were both supposed to have used for the actual mission. "I finally went to General Westmoreland and he told me, George was really missing."

    An extensive search was untaken as soon as Quamo's plane was reported missing, including a naval search. Since Danang was near the sea, it was thought the plane might have drifted out to sea and crashed. Six years later, on June 26, 1974, Vietnamese woodcutters discovered the wreckage in a dense jungle area and the remains of Major Quamo and the two pilots were discovered and identified. The jungle had apparently swallowed up the plane on impact. Bob Donaghue, a former Special Forces radio sergeant who served with Quamo, visited the crash site years later and said the plane had crashed into a mountain on top of a tunnel that was used by the NVA.

    "George was a real hard charger and a great commander," Donaghue said. "I loved the guy. Our  C/0 was 'Bulldog' Smith," Donaghue continued. "Tears still come to his eyes whenever he talks about Major Quamo."

    "I asked my brother to be the best man at my wedding," James Quamo remembered. "He said he couldn't make it and that he felt bad, but he had to do some thing important and couldn't talk about it. I got married on April 13, 1968 and he was killed on 14 April 1968." The remains of Major George Quamo were flown back to the United States and he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery on Oct. 21,1974 as his family and several Army officers and soldiers looked on. There were no bands, no generals, and no parades.

    He died at age 27, a very "special" soldier.

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