Master Chief (10 page)

We lifted off at 1745, flew aboard three UH-1 Sea Lord slicks to Cai Be, and picked up Chief Muoi and his four men. From there we flew to the Plain of Reeds, where we rendezvoused with the UH-1 Seawolf gunships and OV-10 Black Ponies. Once our Navy, Aussie, and Vietnamese team was complete, we headed south toward our
targets. Not counting our Navy HAL-3 and VAL-4 buddies, there were fourteen SEALs, three Kit Carson scouts, five SAS mates, and five PSB operatives headed for the targets and looking for trouble. We had carefully studied our 1:4,000 scale split vertical photographic mosaic of the VC/NVA targets, rehearsed the assault, and were ready to engage our enemy face-to-face.

The three Sea Lord slicks came in so low that the slicks’ skids couldn’t have missed the rice paddy dikes by more than a foot or two, with the target at twelve o’clock. Before the slicks began to flare, we were standing on our helo’s landing skids, grasping the sides of the doors and totally psyched to assault the enemy hootches. As the helo started flaring, we jumped from about six feet, screaming “Yaaaaaaoooooooohhhhhhhh!” As soon as our boots plunged into the flooded rice paddy, we began our assault with all weapons a-blazin’.

Dai Uy, Senior Chief Bassett, and the rest of the 1st Squad took the left hootch and promptly killed two VC. Trung Uy, the 2nd Squad, and I took the right hootch and bunker, hoping to shed a little blood ourselves. Our communist adversaries had wisely turned chicken and were heading toward the tree line on the opposite side of our hootch, with a blaze of our tracers hot on their tails. One of the Seawolf pilots, who had seen our small group of VC running toward the tree line, requested permission to make a firing run on them.

Mr. Kleehammer yelled, “Get your heads down. The Seawolves are going to make a minigun run over our position.”

There really wasn’t much cover to be had, so I continued clearing the hootch’s mats and palm fronds from its framework with 40mm HE rounds and I placed a couple rounds in the mouth of the large bunker to take care of any remaining VC who might be in there. I later tossed a mini-CS grenade into the bunker for good measure. We were
receiving some .51-caliber and a lot of small arms fire from the tree line, which was approximately three to four hundred meters at ten to two o’clock from our positions.

“There must be a fairly large VC/NVA unit in there somewhere,” I told Trung Uy as the Seawolves swooped over our heads and started returning the stubborn VC fire with their miniguns spitting out six thousand rounds per minute and a half-dozen 2.75-inch rockets. It seemed that bullets and rockets were whizzing, ricocheting, and popping all around us.

“Damn, we couldn’t ask for better support than that!” I yelled to the guys who could hear. I sure was glad the Seawolves and Black Ponies were on our side as I watched a large fireball erupt from the tree line after one of the Black Ponies had taken its dive with a couple of five-inch Zuni rockets.

After we had searched the hootch and the bunker and collected all documents and souvenirs, Chambo and Barron destroyed the remnants of another hootch near the tree line, reconning by fire for hidden VC that might still be lurking in the general area. When Barron and Chambo got bored with the hootch, they turned their M-60s on the tree line and concentrated on accurate short bursts at the sources of the green and red VC tracers. Barron had brought along enough ammo to shoot to his heart’s content.

Same and Tam were carrying as many 5.56mm rounds as Barron was 7.62mm, but without much of the weight. Same’s Stoner was set to fire belted 5.56mm at a rate of 850 rounds per minute. While Same let off a short burst with his Stoner, Waneous and Compton would cease fire, and vice versa. Like all well-trained combat troops, we always tried to maintain a steady rate of fire without lulls.

A couple of the SAS mates had concentrated their semiautomatic fire on the VC muzzle flashes from the tree line with their version of the 7.62mm FN light auto rifles
referred to as SLRs. The two PSB operatives were squatted down behind the remnants of the hootch jabbering as they went through the VC Mang documents. Our scouts were busy firing their M-16s toward the tree line where a secondary explosion had erupted. Poor Mr. Kleehammer was too busy observing the operation and coordinating with Dai Uy and the Seawolves and Black Ponies to have any fun destroying things.

It wasn’t long before Dai Uy radioed Trung Uy, telling him to move his squad south toward first squad’s position to link up for extraction. Apparently, Dai Uy was satisfied that we had gotten all of the documents that PSB Chief Muoi needed from the Mang cadre’s bodies and hootches and had determined that it was time to get out of Dodge and let the Seawolves and Black Ponies really go to it.

After we had split up into three H groups and were being extracted from the open rice paddies by the Sea Lords, the Huey gunships and OV-10s continued to strafe and rocket the tree line. We circled nearby and watched while the Seawolves and Black Ponies took turns diving into the thick of the fray until they had expended most of their ordnance on the VC/NVA positions in the tree line. After I had watched them for a while, I began to realize that our Seawolf and Black Pony buddies also knew a little about tactics. It appeared that, when they could, they made their approach by hugging the line of trees to reduce their time of exposure to the VC/NVA ground gunners.

“Give ’em hell, Sam,” I yelled out the starboard door of our slick as I watched a Black Pony take its dive toward the source of the green and red tracers that were streaking toward him. For a time, as I had watched the HAL-3 and VAL-4 guys systematically destroy the enemy positions in the tree line, I was caught up in the emotional exhilaration and privilege of being a member of a great team of Navy guys. For some reason, tears welled up in my eyes
when I remembered what some fellow had yelled: “Let slip the dogs of war; cry havoc.”

We were fortunate that only one of the Seawolves had received a few VC rounds through the helo’s instrument panel. However, the crew managed to return to Dong Tam safely.

After our own return, I inventoried my gear and found that I had expended forty-seven 40mm HE rounds, fifty rounds of 5.56mm ball ammo, and one CS grenade. Some of the other platoon guys had expended more than I. After we had finished the debriefing, everyone was famished and decided to celebrate by heading for the chow hall and getting a good, hot meal.

Later that evening our little bar’s bulkheads occasionally rattled violently between Barron and Knepper’s nipping on their favorite bottles of solace. They were taking turns trading blows with each other to see who would show or grunt any signs of pain first. Unfortunately, neither one did—hence the rattling of the bulkheads till midnight and taps.

The morning of July twenty-eighth was a spit-and-polish day. After we had finished with our barracks, the outside area, and the hot vehicles, all of us got dressed in our best set of jungle greens and stood for inspection by Admirals Salzer and Clarey. Shortly after the admirals had visited and inspected our regular Navy mates next door, they arrived aboard their beautifully waxed Saigon jeep. They were impressed with our cleanliness and the organization of our living quarters, intel room, and operational gear and spaces, while we were eyeing their beautiful jeep.

Senior Chief Bassett noticed our covetous looks and quickly said, “No way, guys! I’m already in hot water enough as it is.”

I spent much of July twenty-ninth trying to get Tuoi, one of our action agents, released from the Cai Lai district’s
subsector National Police. Tuoi was one of the agents we had hired on the recommendation of an ex-PRU agent. It turned out that Tuoi was a draft dodger, among other things, and didn’t have an ID card. I had not yet gotten a completed name trace from Saigon.

I went to 525 and discussed my problem with Al. He’d just received a written report on Tuoi, and gave me a brief rundown of Tuoi’s activities since his initial contact with the Vietnamese military. In 1964 Tuoi was an ARVN trainee in Kien Phong province’s Tran Quoc Toan Regional Force Training Center. During his stay he reportedly killed several of his fellow soldiers, took their weapons, and fled to the VC Y-4 HQ located in the Cai Lay district of Dinh Tuong province. In March of ’65 Tuoi joined the Popular Forces at the Tan Hoi outpost. During that period, a VC unit attempted to overrun the outpost and failed. Shortly afterward Tuoi took his weapon and disappeared.

In early ’68 Tuoi volunteered for service with the ARVN 11th Regiment, 7th Infantry Division. While he was serving as an ARVN, he was arrested by the upper-delta MSS. He had been uncovered as a VC penetrant. In April of ’68 MSS used Tuoi as an action agent within the VC Y-4 HQ unit. However, Tuoi passed only small amounts of general information for a short time before he again disappeared.

In ’70 Tuoi decided to take advantage of the Chieu Hoi amnesty program and change sides. At that time, MSS reported that Tuoi was deeply in debt to the VC and several South Vietnamese government organizations. Supposedly, he had stolen three ammo cans full of VC finance and economy tax money. Tuoi, not to be discouraged by his past reputation and to establish his bona fides, then led an ARVN unit to three caches that contained 82mm HE and 61mm HE mortar rounds, B-40 rocket rounds and
7.62×39mm ball and tracer ammo. He had been working for us for several weeks. Not surprisingly, his information reports were general in nature. Fortunately, I had submitted all required forms through our chain of command for a background investigation. Nothing was lost or compromised and a valuable lesson was learned.

The next two days were spent working on intel files, OB (Order of Battle) maps and overlays, barracks improvements, future op planning and coordination, and so on. The five SAS Aussies, Hayden, Waneous, and Compton, left for Nui Det, where the Aussie Diggers (regular army) and the SAS unit was headquartered. Hayden, Waneous, and Compton were planning a ten-day LRP (Long Range Patrol) with the SAS folks during their stay.

While I was at the Embassy House visiting Jake B., Dan, the Company PIC (Provincial Interrogation Center) adviser and Chieu Hoi Center observer, asked me if we had any agent reports or other information about sightings of U.S. POWs near the infamous Route 66 canal in the northwestern portion of Sam Giang district. He also asked if we or any SEAL platoons had operated in that area. Sadly, I had to tell Dan that November Platoon hadn’t operated in that area and we didn’t have information about any POW camp in that area, nor did I have access to our Barndance cards of past operations. However, I did assure him that we would be very interested in such information. Dan made no comment and left the room.

I looked at Jake, shrugged my shoulders, and said,
“C’est la vie.”

Shortly after breakfast on August second November Platoon was given its warning order. I was to carry sixty-three 40mm HE rounds, two concussion grenades, 145 5.56mm ball ammo, two quarts of water, four minifrag grenades, three mini-CS grenades, two mini-smoke grenades, one survival radio, pencil flares, a T panel, a strobe light with a blue lens, mosquito repellent, a first-aid kit, a Swiss seat, an M-16/XM-148 with Singlepoint, a penlite, a flashlight, two MK-13 day/night flares, four pop flares, a 1:50,000 scale map of our op area, a Silva compass, and a knife.

At 1500 Dai Uy gave his PLO. Our op was to insert by Sea Lord slicks and assault two hootches with Seawolves overhead for support. Interestingly, that day’s targets were near the hootches we had assaulted in Cai Be district
on our two previous missions. Inspection was at 1700, followed by rehearsal until 1800, when we loaded the slicks and flew to Cai Be subsector to pick up Chief Muoi and his two male operatives. Chief Muoi also brought along a very pretty and well-built Vietnamese woman of about nineteen years of age. She was originally from the area of that op and had recently Chieu Hoied. Some of her family members had been tortured and killed by power-hungry Communists. There was no doubt in my mind that her primary motivation for coming along as our guide was to settle a few scores. A few weeks later she was ambushed and killed while riding her motorbike on QL-4.

At 1835 the two Sea Lord slicks swooped in low, side by side, with the targets at twelve o’clock, and flared within fifty meters of the hootches. While our helo was still moving forward at about ten knots, all of us jumped out the side doors, screaming “Yaaaaaooooohhhhhh,” à la
Kelly’s Heroes
.

As soon as my boots hit the deck I sprinted into one of the hootches and had an old man and a young boy out before most of the guys had a chance to offload. We carefully searched the area and nearby hootches for the enemy and found nothing. Surprisingly, we didn’t receive any enemy fire from the tree line. We threw concussion grenades into the canals to force any hidden VC who were underwater and breathing through air tubes to the surface, but had no results.

It wasn’t long before we learned from our Seawolf buddies that there were friendlies in the tree line. We knew that a unit of the ARVN 7th had an AO adjacent to ours cleared. However, they had strayed into our AO and were within six to seven hundred meters of our location. Needless to say, there were no VC/VCI in the area. We extracted before zero dark thirty and returned to Dong Tam. After our debriefing, we sat around and discussed
the problems we were having with some of our Vietnamese allies.

The next two days were spent working on agent dossiers, information reports, plotting VC/NVA Order of Battle on our 1:50,000 scale situation map overlays, OB organization charts, agent handling and recruitment, and piecing together mosaics.