What is Your Personal Account of Serving in the Vietnam War?

2020-07-26T16:17:48-04:00

What is Your Personal Account of Serving in the Vietnam War that you will share with all of the RallyPoint Members?

This is one of those questions for all of the Vietnam Veterans here on RallyPoint to share their personal account, stories, and experiences when they served in the Vietnam War. This is important history and our brothers and sisters need to share their individual stories of a time that saw the brave heroes who volunteered, military service members deployed, or who were drafted that served in a very unpopular war in our American history. Their stories and experiences are so important to us all here on RallyPoint. They need to be memorialize here for everyone to read and thank each member for their service to this country.

Please share up to (4) pictures on your response to this question, so they are here for everyone to see. Please Tag/Mention other Vietnam Veterans here on RallyPoint, so they can share their personal accounts and stories.

You will never be forgotten. "Respect Always - Warriors for Life!"

Thanks, COL (Ret) Mikel Burroughs

Response by CWO3 Private RallyPoint Member made Jul 26 at 2020 4:53 PM

2020-07-26T16:53:38-04:00

I did not. God Bless the many that did. My memories were of body counts, demonstrations, and a brother in the lottery. Both served anyway, same as our Father and I. Welcome Home can't be said enough.

Response by SPC Nancy Greene made Jul 26 at 2020 5:02 PM

2020-07-26T17:02:34-04:00

To all the Brave Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, NG, AF, Reserves who served in Viet Nam:

WELCOME HOME

Response by CPT Jack Durish made Jul 26 at 2020 5:11 PM

2020-07-26T17:11:46-04:00

Available free of charge on Smashwords...
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/248158

Vietnam: A Soldier's Journal, an Ebook by Jack Durish

Vietnam: A Soldier's Journal by Jack Durish is a personal memoir of the author's tour of duty in Vietnam during the war that tore America's heart in half. It is a tale of his adventures and misadventures while serving in the rear echelons of the 9th Infantry Division. This telling of the Vietnam story is not politically correct, just true.

Response by Sgt Private RallyPoint Member made Jul 26 at 2020 6:54 PM

2020-07-26T18:54:37-04:00

COL Mikel J. Burroughs I served at Cau Ha Combat base in Quang Nam province. I was on two long operations, Pipestone Canyon and Durham Peak where hot meals were brought to us via helicopter about once a week when possible. I craved the bread and milk and the break from C Rations. After these operations, we went on two day in-country R&R's at China Beach. The barbed wire enclosure was on the beach and had Marines guarding it. We were issued new jungle utilities and had our fill of hamburgers, hot dogs, beer and sodas. At night they showed movies on a plywood screen will logs to sit on. These were much needed breaks. I remember the heat, bugs, being wet from sweat or rain and overall being dog tired, miserable, and angry. Sharing the misery with your fellow brothers helped. I did not like being in the rear because of work details like filling sandbags or the one time I had to burn the shitters. I will not go into details about the actual combat. The day after I left country, my best friend was killed and I heard about this while I was at Okinawa before returning to the states. When we finally arrived at MCAS El Toro, we took a bus to LAX where we were welcomed home by mostly young men and women that tried to block our way and tried to anger us. I had one woman ask me how many babies had I killed and another ask me to repent for my sins. I can't stand protesters of any kind and do not easily trust folks that have not served.

Response by Lt Col John (Jack) Christensen made Jul 26 at 2020 7:11 PM

2020-07-26T19:11:19-04:00

Lots of boring bombing missions that occasionally became terrorizing when the EWO yelled uplink over the intercom.

Response by GySgt John Hudson made Jul 26 at 2020 7:13 PM

2020-07-26T19:13:26-04:00

I caught the tail section of the war... We evac'd thousands of refugees out to the ships. We then were flown to Udorn in Thailand to help evac military personnel out of other places (!!!!). That was my first exposure to the black ops fields of endeavor. Stayed with that type of operation for the rest of my career. JP

Response by SGT Private RallyPoint Member made Jul 26 at 2020 7:50 PM

2020-07-26T19:50:00-04:00

Not in the Nam, but most of our chopper pilots at Bragg in 1972 were veterans of the Nam. How could you tell, from all the sudden swooping movements down to the LZ, keeping the skids off the ground, and the crew chief telling you to un-ass his chopper.
Good post, Sir

Response by PVT Mark Zehner made Jul 26 at 2020 8:36 PM

2020-07-26T20:36:39-04:00

They're forgotten Heroes!

Response by SGT Steve McFarland made Jul 26 at 2020 8:50 PM

2020-07-26T20:50:58-04:00

WOW! This is going to be a fascinating project, particularly for those of us who never served in Vietnam.

Response by SSG Richard Custer made Jul 26 at 2020 8:51 PM

2020-07-26T20:51:22-04:00

Response by Maj John Bell made Jul 26 at 2020 9:00 PM

2020-07-26T21:00:31-04:00

While assigned to Marine Barracks Bangor, the officers took a white water rafting trip. That night we sat around the fire, near the river, shooting the breeze. The CO was an amazingly funny story teller. He started a story out with "I remember back in 68. I was on my first tour in Vietnam..." I interrupted with "I remember back in 68 when I was in the third grade..." Next thing I knew I was swimming.

Response by SGT Robert Pryor made Jul 26 at 2020 9:53 PM

2020-07-26T21:53:47-04:00

I’m sure I must have had one of the briefest combat tours in Viet Nam among current RP members, yet my story can’t be brief. After all, I probably spent ten years of my life fighting the Vietnam War one night in 1969.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no regrets. I wanted to go to war -- any war -- when I was a kid. All my childhood buddies had fathers that single handedly won WWII, while my father never wore a uniform. I didn’t want a son of mine to experience the humiliation I did over being born to a father that never served.

I was the model wimpy kid. I knew I was not destined to leave my mark on the military. For the year 1966 -- the second semester of my junior year and first semester of my senior year in high school -- the number one selling song in the USA was ‘Ballad of the Green Berets. I had actually heard about Special forces five years earlier because my older brother had some limited exposure to SF in Germany. As one of the smallest guys in a high school of 3,600 students, I couldn’t even fantasize about becoming a “Green Beret.” Top it off, I’m a lover, not a fighter. But all the big guys in high school bragged that they were going to be “Green Berets” What a joke!

Upon high school graduation, I immediately enlisted. I was hoping to never hear a gun fired in anger. I enlisted to be a surveyor. A nice safe job where I’d be surveying school yards and roads for moms with station wagons full of kids to drive on -- taking them to those schools. I had it made. Then came Basic Training.

In Basic I learned that my MOS was to be 82C -- Artillery Surveyor. It had the potential of putting me in forward units calling in Artillery. I was not a happy camper and it showed. My less than favorable attitude made me a regular on KP. The first day of KP I got into it with the Mess Sergeant -- I learned about the grease trap. It was a vicious cycle. One day in Basic I was at my duty station (the grease trap) when someone came through the mess hall looking for those that signed up to take the Airborne PT test. Not me, I’d never even been in an airplane and I surely wanted no part in ever jumping out of one. But then they said something that was music to my ears. Those going Airborne had to fall out and go take the test. I threw down my ladle and said, “Me, right here. I’m supposed to be a paratrooper.” I barely passed each segment, but I knew if I failed it was back to the grease trap so I struggled to keep going.

AIT wasn’t a problem, but when I got to jump school I hadn’t got my hair cut in six or eight weeks. You can imagine how that went over with the Company Commander. I didn’t even have the 35¢ for a haircut. The Captain took the money out of his pocket, but never forgot me. The weekend between ground week and tower week I was at my duty station -- the grease trap -- when someone came through asking for those who signed up to take the Special Forces Battery Test. At 5’ 5” and 132 pounds, 18 years old and a slick sleeve private, I knew I was not Special Forces material. But again, someone sang the correct tune. We had to fall out and take the six hour test. I threw down my ladle and said, “Me, right here. I’m supposed to be a Green Beret.” Knowing I was too young, too small, too stupid and too low of a rank, the test was totally unimportant to me. I started to just goof off answering the questions, but soon it became fun. I was having a great time. But no matter. I would not have been allowed to go SF. But hey, it definitely beat the grease trap seven ways from hell.

During tower week I injured myself on the 34’ tower and had to have surgery. A few days later I was sitting around with a bunch of other sick, lame and lazy -- when the Special Forces recruiter entered the ward. We were duly impressed as he walked through the ward looking at the names on the beds. Then he read my name, took one look at me, and horror washed over his face. In obvious disappointment he asked, “Are you Robert Pryor?”

He proceeded to chew me out about the presentation he gave to our Jump School class and how I didn’t listen to him about SF requirements -- yadda -- yadda.” I still wasn’t listening to him. Believing that he figured out that I did not take the test seriously, It was me that looked at him in horror -- I knew they were about to permanently change my MOS to Grease Trap Technician.

One thing led to another and I finally started to pay attention to him. He told me that out of the maybe 300 or so people that took the test with me, I got the second highest score. Then he asked if I was serious about going SF. He said they could get a waiver on all the other requirements. I asked if they had KP in SF. He assured me I’d be too busy for KP. My simple response was, “Where do I sign?” I have not seen a single grease trap from that day to this. Oh sure, one or two unpleasant things happened to me while in SF, but nothing nearly as unpleasant as cleaning a grease trap.

Special Forces Training Group was difficult, to put it mildly. There were a couple of times I felt like quitting. The closest I came was when three other ne’er-do-wells and I got in trouble for something or other. A Cadre member put us in the front leaning rest position as punishment. Being the weakest and sorriest of the lot, my arms eventually started to quiver. The other guys were steady as a rock. I was the first to collapse -- face first into the sand. Knowing I was about to be told my SF career was over, I spit out the mouth full of sand and struggled back into the front leaning rest position. Soon enough, again I fell face first into the sand -- but again I struggled back. Perhaps my third time, one of the other ne’er-do-wells collapsed with me. Rather than continuing to humiliate himself the way I did, he quit. The Cadre Sergeant simply invited the quitter to stand with him. No lecture, no humiliation -- just politeness. The scene repeated itself shortly thereafter and there were two quitters standing with the Cadre. Leaving me to keep eating sand as the other guy held in the front leaning rest -- showing no sign of weakness. I had probably collapsed ten or fifteen times when the Iron Man, whose arms never once even quivered, much less collapsed, stood up and said something disparaging about Special Forces. Again, the Cadre politely invited the guy to stand with him.

As politely as could be the Cadre said to the quitters, “I want you three to look at Pryor. That's what a real Special Forces soldier looks like.” Then he yelled at the other three, “Now you three clean out your rooms and get out of my sight!” Back to being polite he said, “Pryor, as you were.”

I was home! I have had the Special Forces mindset from that day to this. It served me well, especially in Viet Nam.

I graduated from Special Forces Training Group as a 12B -- Special Forces Combat Engineer. From there I was assigned to 3rd Special Forces Group where I cross-trained as an 11F -- Special Forces Operations and Intelligence NCO. I also studied Vietnamese language in the evening. Upon completing those courses, I was sent to 5th Special Forces Group in Viet Nam. I left out of Ft. Lewis on December 19, 1968. I completed the Recondo Course at Nha Trang and was assigned to Detachment A-344 at Bunard on January 19, 1969. Having completed two of the five SF MOSs, completed a language course and on my second SF assignment -- looking much younger than my 19 years of age-- I was a bit of an anachronism. Everybody on my A-Team addressed each other by their first names. I was just “The Kid” or “Demo.” I was the only 12B on the team, so I was indeed the Demo Man. I also served as Junior Intel.

There was one adventure after another during my five months on A-344. I felt so fortunate to even sit down to eat with some of the truly greats in Special Forces, and even more so when I was privileged to stand shoulder to shoulder with them whenever the “fit hit the shan.

There are probably four incidents that really stand out about my brief time in Viet Nam. The first was when I got wounded on April 17, 1969. It was no big deal, but the other American with me ran off and left me. Skip the details but I was ready to set things right if and when I ever found him again. Fortunately for both of us, it took me about an hour and a half to settle a dispute with Sir Charles, patch my wound, and those of a 16 year old unarmed Montagnard boy that was with me. By the time I found CPT Poop-Butt, I decided to let it slide. But don't mistakenly think I forgot.

On May 11, 1969 we received a May-Day from an Armored Personnel Carrier. They were in heavy contact maybe five clicks from our camp. I was in civilian attire, but knew it was not far, so I grabbed a handful of my Montagnard boys, took the Jeep and we headed on up there. Montagnards don’t particularly like Vietnamese, and hated the Viet Cong even more. Sir Charles tried to surrender, but my boys were having nothing to do with that, in spite of my screaming at them to cease fire. The driver of the APC was the only one still alive. We took him back to our Team’s senior medic, who got him patched up and sent him back to his unit -- The Big Red One.

The next crazy incident took place on the night of June 15/16, 1969. I was doing radio relay from the top of Nui Ba Ra. I was doing a regular commo check when I was unable to raise my camp. I was starting to fret as those guys were family -- well, except the one who left me wounded and in contact a couple of months earlier. Soon other people on the net joined me in trying to make commo with Bunard. Then someone appropriately awakened B-Team Detachment Commander LtCol Mearlan ” Pappy” LaMar -- letting him know that we had lost commo with one of the camps under his command. Pappy joined the others and me in frantically trying to make commo with Bunard. After maybe three or four hours of this, Top came on the line with one of his “Top Sergeant Attitude” statements about us getting our panties in a wad. After a brief discussion between Top and Pappy, it was determined that Top just came on radio watch, having relieved somebody who must have slept through radio watch. To make matters worse, the person he relieved just got Top to deal with Pappy, rather than taking it like a man. I got the distinct honor of listing to Pappy give an ass-chewing to Mr. Sleepy-head that would have made Superman cry. But the best of all was yet to come. I got to listen as a certain Captain -- that ran off and left a wounded man while still in contact -- got relieved of command. I loved it!

That put our Executive officer, 1LT John Parda in command. I loved John and would have willingly marched through the Gates of Hell for him. Which brings me to the third thing. On the night of June 19/20 death came calling at our door. There were only four USSF in Camp -- 1LT John Parda, SFC Charles Hinson, SFC Carl Cramer and me. I hate the daring-do BS, but there’s no glossing over certain facts. There were between 100 and 200 uninvited guests trying to acquire Bunard through the right of adverse possession. Obviously, we attempted to contest their claim.

The uninvited guests established squatters rights to the south and east sections of our camp. With a strong offense being the best defense, 1LT Parda determined that one of us needed to leave the inner compound and set things right. As I said, I would walk through the Gates of Hell for that man, so walking through the gates of our compound did not seem to be unreasonable at all. The bottom line was we ejected the squatters and the four of us survived. While out there prosecuting the war, I did not get wounded in the face or in the left arm. That’s easier than mentioning all the places where I did get wounded -- which was everyplace else on my body. I received 30 major wounds and over 200 minor wounds that night, but at least I get to watch the grass grow from the photosynthesis side. The squatters have been forced to watch the grass grow from the nutrient uptake side. Hey, I was a farmer -- we talk like that.

Okay, for the fourth incident. It actually did not happen until maybe ten years after I left Viet Nam. I was a Vet Rep and a veteran came to me with a totally impossible story about how he hurt his back, ankle and started having hearing problems in Viet Nam. The VA kept turning the guy’s claims and appeals down because there was no evidence and they were based on pure BS. Like all wannabe tales, it started with everybody with him when he was injured being dead, so no eye witnesses. But wait, there’s more. His story was that he was rescued by some ten to twelve year old kids that killed all the Commies and took him to some unknown “Green Beret” camp for treatment. That camp’s medic did not forward any clinical notes to the vet's original unit, and that’s why there was nothing in his medical records. Figuring “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he finished up with the biggest wannabe lie to ever come out of the Vietnam War. The child that seemed to lead the Montagnard children was what looked to be a 14 year old “white boy” wearing tennis shoes, a white T-Shirt and bermuda shorts. The vet theorized that perhaps the white boy was the child of French missionaries.

When he was done with his bizarre tale I asked him, “Did this by any chance happen on May 11, 1969?” With total amazement he said that it did indeed happen on that day and asked how I could have possibly known that.

I responded, “I was twenty.”

He said, “I Beg your pardon?”

I told him I was 20 years old, looked young for my age, certainly did not look old enough to be in SF -- and when off duty I sometimes wore shorts, tennis shoes and a T-shirt when just hanging around at my camp.

He sat there speechless with tears slowly trickling down his cheeks as I wrote up the eyewitness account of what happened to him -- how the back of his uniform had been shredded by nearby rocket blasts, he couldn’t walk on his own due to an ankle injury and he had blood trickling out of both ears when I found him. I furnished the VA with the identity of the medic that treated the vet. I copied some pictures I had from Viet Nam, gave VA my VA File Number and folder location for them to use in verifying that I was indeed right there when those events transpired -- and assigned to that unknown “Green Beret” camp. It took the VA all of two weeks to approve the veteran’s disability claim and authorize a few years of back pay.

There are other parts of my story that might amaze. I was medically retired from the Army on November 11, 1969. That’s no big deal, but 81 days after I retired from the Army something really big happened to me. I registered to vote. In spite of all the things I’d been through, prior to that day I was not old enough to vote. In 2004, 35 years after we served together in Viet Nam, my Top Sergeant and I went on a Leaflet Drop to Costa Rica -- the leaflets being dollars spent on the Ticas. Four years after that operation, In July of 2008, I got married to my current wife. Standing at my side as my best man was none other than the Former 1LT John Parda, He accompanied me as I walked through the gates of matrimony. Three years later I was at his side when he marched through the gates of heaven alone. I shall always love that man. I owe my life to him. Probably one of the biggest mistakes the Army ever made was letting John get away at the end of his in initial service commitment. He was such a great leader that he made you want to do something for him, no matter what the odds.

I think it was also in about 2004 I was having dinner with John Parda, Charles Hinson and my son -- Robert Jr. I was giving Hinson a hard time about rescuing me. It had been a foolhardy move on his part, I was alone, had been up to my ass in alligators, no radio, no weapon and no one but Sir Charles had any idea where I was. With still a little shooting going on, I said it was stupid to attempt to try and find me. Hinson agreed, then pointed at Parda. I looked and John was smiling broadly. Charles then told me the rest of the story of my rescue. In the heat of battle, Parda told Hinson to go find me. Wisely, Hinson refused, saying, “You already lost one man, din’t lose another.” At this point I hear Parda start to snicker.

Then Hinson continued: “John told me that he wasn’t asking me, he was telling me to go find you.”

At this point John is laughing out loud. My son and I are wondering what’s so funny. Other patrons in the restaurant are starting to stare at us. Charles continued with how Parda yelled, ”Attention Sergeant, I’m not telling you to go find Pryor.” Then while using a finger to poke Charles in the chest for emphasis, Parda shouted. “I’m giving you a direct order -- GO FIND PRYOR!” Did I ever mention how much I love 1LT John J. Parda?

There were times back at Bunard when I was obviously starting to gnaw the grass a little close. With me being the Camp Engineer, John Parda would tell me to go to Vung Tau, a coastal resort city to pick up an eight penny nail for him so he could use it on some project in his hooch. I'd try to argue that I had plenty of them and could give him one right then and there. He’d clarify his position by saying that he did not want to leave me short by one nail, so I should go get one in Vung Tau -- and take three or four days to make sure I got the right one. Oh, then I got it. I even brought him back a nail. Man, that’s what being brothers in arms is all about.

I never wanted to be in Special Forces, but I am so glad I was.
https://valor.militarytimes.com/hero/5119

Robert Pryor - Recipient -

Response by SMSgt Lawrence McCarter made Jul 26 at 2020 10:49 PM

2020-07-26T22:49:29-04:00

I arrived at Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam on 01 Apr 68, which for whatever its worth was also April Fools Day. Iwas assigned to hte 12th Security Police Squadron. After approx three months there 20 of us were put on a C130 aircraft for an in Country PCS, (Permanent Change of Station) to the 366th Security Police Squadron at Da Nang, Vietnam which had the nickname Rocket City. The 1st Sergeant to the 366th SPS met us at the aerial Port Terminal and brought us to their hut area. My first night of work I went through My first rocket attack which was at 2135. i was in a jeep as they were showing Me around where all the perimeter posts were located. We had stopped to visit one post just inside the Main gate from outside which had a bunker with an M60 which We leaped into when the rockets starting coming in and landing around us. The last attack that morning was at 0600 and I remember one guy saying, Charlie is just telling us He is still there.

My first ground attack while I was working a perimeter post was aprox 1.5 weeks later with 350 Viet Cong coming across a rice paddy in the open which I didn't think was too smart headed toward our perimeter. An AC47 "Spooky" Gunship from hte 12th Special Operations Squadron at Da Nang took off and My boss pulled up t othe post and on a PRC 25 radio talked to the pilot and told Him where He wanted the fire. I heard what He said and heard the pilot respond. That is exactly where the fire was placed and I had a front row seat watching it. I never had to fire a shot, within approx 10 minutes there were 350 dead Viet Cong. The Gunship did a great job. That not the last time We had the AC47s on our perimeter and also had air strikes from F4 Phantoms and A1E Sky Raider's, choppers and a few other helpers that kept Charlie out of our hair. We also had our own Mortar battery's manned by Men from our unit, the 366th SPS.

One small attack We had, 45 Viet Cong snuck in through a section the 41st Signal BN, Army had and ran down the middle of the road as a group, the dummies didn't even spread out. We had just changed shifts an all kinds of guys were out that would have been before and aprox a quarter mile inside the perimeter We had a APC with a 50 Caliber and two jeeps with M60s and all of us with M16s and killed all 45 of them. Two of the dead VC were barbers that worked in our hut area during the day. We looked and looked for the third and He didn't come to work the next day. We never trusted any of them anyway and didn't talk in front of them. Not sure if We could ID Him or He just heard about the demise of His buddies. We always had guys armed in the shop and decided if they did anything We would have kied them right there. Hard to say who shot who as far as the VC went here but We didn't lose anyone but the sure had a lot of bullet holes in them . We did need three new barbers.

The picture Here, (1) Me in an old French Bunker on our perimeter with va M60, We also had a 50 caliber on hte roo bunker section and a bunker with aVietnaese guard and a 30 Caliber, WWII vintage machine gun. (2) wo of My buddies in he 366th SPS in an APC with a 50 Caliber mounted on it, (3) Me and a buddie Frank Donahue Who lived about 10 mils from Me in Massachusetts. (We are in contact with each other) and (4) one of the many rocket attacks on Da Nang Air Base.

I departed Da Nang Air Base on 02 Apr 69 to return to the land of the Big BX. I was to be stationed at the USAF Hanscom Filed, MA with the 3245th Security Police there. I had been in Vietnam, One year plus One day, 366 days most of that in the 366th Security Police Squadron, (Nine of the 12 months anyway) My parent's house was approx a 40 minute drive from the Base.

Response by SGT Philip Roncari made Jul 26 at 2020 10:50 PM

2020-07-26T22:50:31-04:00

COL Mikel Burroughs-Sir ,my journey like so many here on Rallypoint that served in Vietnam has had a lasting effect both physically and mentally,it’s something I don’t normally share with people ,even family,many of my posts even here are kind of flippant and simple ,bitchin about C rats,leeches,Red Ants,centipedes,rain,Mr. Rucksack etc,etc but underlying all that was my ten months and fourteen days as a rifleman in an Infantry Company in the Central Highlands,no stories of big battles,just day to day experiences of boredom,exhaustion,fear,seeing death and wounded young men you loved liked brothers and now can only remember their faces ,their names lost in an old man’s fading memories
but that terrible green place is never forgotten,Welcome Home Brothers

Response by Sgt John H. made Jul 27 at 2020 8:21 AM

2020-07-27T08:21:22-04:00

I remember when I enlisted, feeling that I somehow missed out. Of course I was 17. With age and experience and many, many friends that did their tours and told me their experiences, I realize that I did miss out on certain things but was Blessed by not having to experience the anguish and pain that so many of you did. Genuinely, it is good to have you back home.

Response by LTC Private RallyPoint Member made Jul 27 at 2020 9:43 AM

2020-07-27T09:43:09-04:00

Picking up the wounded in the field and treating the best that I could on the Huey as we headed in to the evac hospital. It was bloody and quite tight but we got the job done.

Response by GySgt Thomas Vick made Jul 27 at 2020 9:51 AM

2020-07-27T09:51:54-04:00

31 months of the most exile-rating, stressful, ups, and downs of my entire life. You ask if I was scared, hell yes I was scared, I've seen more dead, wounded, and amputee's than any man should ever have to bare, I have treated the wounded, and the amputee's, I've put turnakits on young men telling them all the while that they were going to be ok, knowing that they would lose the foot, leg or arm all the while, and through all the ugliness of the war there were still good times, bonds that were created for life, and with all of that I could still see a beautiful country in Vietnam. And then came the real war, "Coming Home", where we were not welcome, we were spit upon, and called baby killers, and other names that I won't mention here.
There were no welcoming arms, and I still remember to this day and probably to the day I die that war at home was 1,000 times as bad as it was in Vietnam. I was raised to put God, Country, and Flag above everything. I have done this and would do it all over again if asked, but you would have ask the first time I volunteered.

Response by LtCol Robert Quinter made Jul 27 at 2020 12:19 PM

2020-07-27T12:19:45-04:00

I served from August 1969 to July 1970 in a Marine Corps medium helicopter squadron HMM-161. The CH-46D we flew was the Corps primary helicopter in Vietnam and while our aircraft was about 30 feet longer than the UH-1, we performed many of the same missions (personnel inserts and extractions, medevac, resupplies) our additional lift capability allowed us to carry about 17-20 personnel or 6-7000 pounds of cargo, internally or externally. Due to our mission, we had a close and personal relationship with our normal infantry units, as well as the reconnaissance units.
Due to Nixon's reduction in strength, the squadron was based in Quang Tri, then Phu Bai and finally Marble Mountain in DaNang.
The thing I remember most is our closeness to our infantry; we were the ones who dropped them in and pulled them out. Many times we looked into each others eyes as those transfers occurred.
One particular mission comes to mind. Really a routine with a little dressing. Emergency Recon extract. The Recon CO specifically requested we pick him up on the way out; he sat on the radio consol between the pilots with earphones.
When we got to the area I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant since the recon radio talker was whispering. He started to give an optimistic zone brief and I cut him off, I told him I was going to pull them out but I needed an accurate brief and I assumed the enemy was so close that he couldn't talk. He clicked the mike twice to affirm. I told him there was a clearing about 75 feet uphill from the coordinates he had initially called in and asked if his team could make it up there. Again two clicks. I responded for them to wait until they saw me descending to start their sprint and I'd be waiting in the zone.
I landed in the zone and found nothing. within three or four minutes I saw the first Marine doing a run, turn and fire out of the bush, as he provided cover, others appeared. In moments all were headed for the bird. Because of our orientation to them, my crew chief opened his door as well as lowering our ramp. By now I saw a larger number of NVA chasing them and my 50 cal on the right opened up, eliminating some of them. The recon team started throwing themselves in the crew chief's door and suddenly the Recon CO turned around and started firing his rifle. My crew chief yelled "Go Go Go" and we lifted. As we cleared the zone area, the Recon CO turned, smiled and held up three fingers. My crew chief then came up on the ICS and explained that while the team was diving in his door, three NVA were coming up our ramp and the CO had taken care of them. We had successfully gotten the entire team out without casualties.
Jim Adams was my copilot, but I haven't been able to find him for years.

Response by PO1 Brian Austin made Jul 27 at 2020 2:22 PM

2020-07-27T14:22:12-04:00

I know it wasn't easy for some (or maybe all) to recount their time in Vietnam. I appreciate the sharing of your experiences.
A belated and very well deserved WELCOME HOME!

Response by SGT Robert Pryor made Jul 27 at 2020 5:46 PM

2020-07-27T17:46:21-04:00

The book was a lot better.

Response by MSG Felipe De Leon Brown made Jul 27 at 2020 6:39 PM

2020-07-27T18:39:44-04:00

My first action in Viet Nam after reporting to the Det. B-55, 5th SFGA was jumping into the Seven Mountains Region near Nui Coto. I was jumping in place of the B-Tm Radio Supervisor who was going on extension leave and could barely get on the plane. I made the jump, landed safely and established both Voice and CW communications with Group HQ. Although we did receive some minor gunfire on our jump, it was nothing compared to what awaited me. When the SGM found out that a switch had been made, he chewed me out. I had to return to our compound in Nha Trang the very next day. I did, however, receive credit for a combat blast so having my butt chewed out wasn't all bad.

Right after I returned to Nha Trang, I was assigned as an advisor to the 6th Co, 5th MIKE Force. I would soon experience my baptism under fire. The 6th Co trained for two weeks for the operation and at dawn on Friday, 13 December 1968, I was boarding a "slick (UH-1B)" at Nha Trang Air Base to participate in an air assault in a valley of the Dong Bo Mountains. There were supposed to be six slicks in the first flight but only two actually flew into the valley. We started receiving fire as we approached the LZ and it was starting to get real hairy when a gunship arrived on station just as we were landing and preparing to jump off the slicks. We continued to receive fire for a while longer but eventually it stopped. Love the M-60s that the slicks carried.

When our slicks lifted off there only two of us Special Forces advisors and 14 Montagnards on the ground. The gunship stayed on station for a while longer before it too was heading back to Nha Trang. My teammate directed me to set up security on one end of the LZ and he would take care of the other. We could hear movement but for some reason, we were no longer being fired on. One of the strikers with me had a very minor grazing wound but didn't seem to mind. In fact, the only thing he had to do was put a band-aid on it after we arrived at our security site. It was at that moment that the gravity of what I had just been through hit me. What the Hell had I gotten myself into?

The strikers had already pretty much adopted me as another of their own and they knew that I was another FNG. They laughed at me as I nervously took my cigarettes out and tried to light one up. I was at the point of almost crapping on myself. The laughter calmed me down and those seven Montagnards helped themselves to half of the smokes that were still in the pack before one decided to keep the rest. I learned several things that day. First, it was alright to look fear in the face but still do what needed to be done. Second, that a Huey Cobra is one bad mojo. And three, I could trust the Montagnards who were with me. I knew, just knew, that from then on things would work out. Like my former classmate from Training Group, SP4 Robert Pryor, I would never forget the Montagnards with whom I went into battle.

Response by MSG Felipe De Leon Brown made Jul 27 at 2020 6:53 PM

2020-07-27T18:53:33-04:00

Thanks for the invite Mikel.
We VietVets welcome all positive comments. Some of us are still healing and we would prefer that no one pulls off the scabs, Agreed?
— Felipe

Response by MSG Danny Mathers made Jul 28 at 2020 12:07 PM

2020-07-28T12:07:56-04:00

I was too young to realize that I was mortal. I went there at 18 and was lucky to return at 19 as a 11B SGT. I lost 37 Brothers during my tour which it didn't affect me until many years later after I retired from SOF. I lost a half dozen more while in SOF. I do have a lot of Vietnam stories that I post on occasion. Vietnam was a shit sandwitch in simple terms.

Response by CSM Bruce Trego made Jul 31 at 2020 7:46 PM

2020-07-31T19:46:49-04:00

Fifty years ago, June 10, 1970, I was peacefully sleeping in our bunker at Phu Loc District HQ. I was a Ground Surveillance Radar man with the 2/327th 101st ABN with a rare night off. I was woken up by RPGs and rockets landing in our compound. A lot of RPGs! We went to our fighting positions on the bunkerline while putting on protective masks. A CS storage bunker had been hit and was on fire.
Then, one minute I was standing looking out to the front, the next I was flat on my back with another soldier on top of me along with some of the bunker. I dug out, got help for the man that hit me and started looking for my helmet as well as any Gooks inside the perimeter. There was none yet.
We had been hit with what was suspected to be a 122mm rocket. It had a delayed fuse on it. That is why I am here today. The rocket went off about 15 yards from me. The delayed fuse sent most of the explosive power up instead of out. The hole was about 6 feet deep and 8 feet across. I received minor shrapnel (mostly rocks) and burns from the ashes off the burning CS bunker. Plus both ear drums were gone.
I spent the rest of the night as an assistant gunner on an M-60 machine gun and using my Thumper when I had a target. It turns out that all of the Fire Bases along QL 1 from Phu Bai to FB Los Banos was hit by ground attack as well as Phu Loc. Only one US soldier was killed. He was on FB Tomahawk. It was an exciting night. I had 30 days left. Three of those I spent in 85th Evac plus 10 in a rehab area somewhere around Saigon. With 15 days left and most of the Battalion in the rear doing training, they let me drift around and see friends before I left for the WORLD!

Response by LTC John Griscom made Aug 1 at 2020 8:35 AM

2020-08-01T08:35:34-04:00

I was assigned to the 24th Evacuation Hospital at Long Bihn from September 1971 to 1972 as the Chief of Supply and Services. I was able to watch the doctors, nurses, and medics as they took care of the sick and wounded patients and the impact it had on them if they lost one.
We started closing down the hospital around July 1972 and had all the equipment turned in by the first of September.
The only attack that there was on Long Bihn while I was there was when some VC sappers tried to blow up the fuel depot. We went to get our weapons out of the arms room and found out that the armorer had taken the keys to the arms room with him to Saigon.

Response by SFC Greg Bruorton made Aug 1 at 2020 11:11 PM

2020-08-01T23:11:41-04:00

I was assigned as the S-3 NCOIC in the 12th Signal Group headquarters located in Danang and one of my jobs were to travel by Huey or truck to the Group's Tactical Communications Centers. Soon, I was tasked to inspect the major relay station in Danang and I had written them up strong.

A month later, unknown to me, the OIC of the relay station convinced S-3 to transfer me to his relay station and help with the gigs I gave them. I became what is called a Trick Chief and through time, I was able to correct the deficiencies I had brought to them.

One evening I told the operator of the AUTODIN communications device to take a break and I'd cover for him. When I heard the machine kick out a message, I turned to log it in. The precedence was Immediate (which was unusual) and was from the Red Cross and addressed to me. I read that my youngest son was hospitalized at Womack Army Hospital at Fort Bragg because of Apnea (choking).

I called the OIC and was on a plane the next morning to the States--a month earlier than my scheduled rotation date.

Response by SFC William Farrell made Aug 2 at 2020 2:19 AM

2020-08-02T02:19:24-04:00

I served in Vietnam from Feb 71 - Jan 72 with the 1st Signal Bde, the 23rd Infantry Division and the 101st Airborne Division. While it wasn't my primary job, I flew as often as I could. Kept requesting transfer to a full time door gunner position but someone was trying to keep this naive 18 year old kid alive. I was two months past my 18th birthday. My twin brother went there at 17 as an infantryman, had a rocket attack first night there. Told the Sergeant he was 17 so they shipped him to Okinawa til he turned 18. I would have avoided Nam completely but I knew he was going back so as soon as I turned 18, I reenlisted with station of choice Vietnam. I was up near the DMZ in Korea at that time. Retention NCO thought I was crazy and refused to sign the paperwork for a couple weeks. I made it to Vietnam before my brother. When he arrived in country, he borrowed five bucks for some comfort from a woman one of the Sergeants was pimping out! Still hasn't paid me back! lol
Pics are (L-R) my twin brother and I when he arrived, him on left and me on right with my pussface. Still cant smile for the cam! A Shithook carrying a broken down Huey, Camp Eagle at sunset, flying gunner somewhere, the flightline at PhuBai, me in a Cobra, one of the ones I never did fly in, and my unit the 16th Aviation Group of 23rd Infantry doing a flyby when we stood by with my airfield jeep in the background, the Jolly Green Giant on PhuBai airfield. I thought I had a pic of that one carrying a Shithook. The larger ones carried the next size down, a my personal helicopter, the LOH (Light Observation Helicopter)

Response by 1LT Peter Duston made Aug 2 at 2020 8:54 PM

2020-08-02T20:54:04-04:00

I was in the Army Reserve and working at a University after graduating in 1965. My job goal was to work for the State Department or one of the intelligence services but those were not working out so I volunteered for Active Duty and Vietnam. I got turned down as I was a Russian/German linguist and not Vietnamese/Laotian/Thai proficient. I was a Russian Linguist attached to an Active Duty SF Group at Ft. Devens, MA when I was called in to an "unmarked" office and asked if I would have a problem collecting "information" on civilians at the university where I worked. "They" were interested in tracking down the Weathermen of the Weather Underground - a "student" terrorist group that had blown up some college buildings and done a couple of bank robberies to raise money for their Anti-Vietnam War cause. The University where I worked was the site of regular and large anti-war demonstrations. I was a fixture around the area and fit in easily. When I said "yes", I was direct commissioned as an MI officer in about two weeks. I basically hung out at the demonstrations and where the student leaders hung out in the student union to "I-D" potential weathermen, not the student leaders but the behind the scene instigators. I would make contact with plain clothes operatives from ?? at demonstrations to point out probable instigators behind the student on the soap box. I never knew if any Weathermen were ever found and as the War slowly closed down, the operation to find them slacked off. By this time, I was disillusioned with the War, the military and my role so resigned my commission and quit, joined the hippies, dropped out of Grad School and went off to Maine with the "back to the land" movement. 10 years later while teaching school in New Hampshire, I was recruited into the Army Reserve at 47 years old as an E5 Infantry Instructor. 13 years later, I retired at West Point where I was Task Force NCOIC of Cadet Basic, better known as "Beast Barracks". While there and in conversation with one of my instructors, found out that he was one of those plain clothes operatives at the anti-war demonstrations as a CIC Agent way back in the the early '70's in Boston. Finally got confirmation of "who" some of the contacts were. Of course, as it was established later, the Army's operation collecting files on American civilians was totally illegal.

Response by CPT Gurinder (Gene) Rana made Aug 6 at 2020 10:49 AM

2020-08-06T10:49:48-04:00

Vietnam was a war we can't forget because much of our lessons learned date back to Korea and Vietnam. It was not the patrols; it was not any operation and; it was not victory that ironically highlights the Korean conflict or the Vietnam war, because both conflicts ended in stalemates with peace accords; the Armistice Agreement and the Paris Peace Treaty. Many were martyred from both sides before the agreements were reached and many were fatally wounded in action. A count of 1246 Warriors are still missing in Vietnam and another 48 in Cambodia. The count of MIA from the Korean war is 7800. I ask, "What cause, other than the spread of Communism, did the Korean conflict and Nam serve for the USA and its People?

Response by SFC Kenneth G. made Aug 6 at 2020 4:02 PM

2020-08-06T16:02:21-04:00

I was too young for any service in Vietnam but I thank all of you out there that served in that war. I was in high school at the time and did not join the Army until right after high school in June of 1979. I served with a few soldiers that had served in Vietnam and some talked of it and some didn't. I just respect all that did. Welcome home to all of you.

Response by A1C Riley Sanders made Aug 8 at 2020 9:55 AM

2020-08-08T09:55:29-04:00

Coming out of Vietnam Shaken,and in shock with PTSD has resulted in a shut door which was opened by VA Psychologist, sorry I'm unable to share .

Response by SSG Samuel Kermon made Aug 9 at 2020 8:55 AM

2020-08-09T08:55:37-04:00

I grew up with the war. My dad served three tours with USAF Air Rescue. My family lived in base housing for two of those tours and grew up understanding what it meant when we saw the official sedan stop at homes along our street. Fortunately this happened only once but knew it happened at a few homes on other streets. My mom worked as a volunteer with Family Services so we kids really got an understanding of the cost of each visit. Don't have pictures just memories.

Response by Penny Tucker made Aug 10 at 2020 5:15 PM

2020-08-10T17:15:45-04:00

was too young for the Vietnam war, but I do remember my oldest brothers looking at the draft. My biggest regret is I never did serve in the military (my parents opposed it and when I finally decided to try to join I graduated from the wrong veterinary school and too old for another duty) Tried twice to get in. I thank you and honor you all for your service.

Response by CCMSgt Steven Grant made Aug 11 at 2020 3:40 AM

2020-08-11T03:40:59-04:00

The new corps is like the boy scouts

Response by CCMSgt Steven Grant made Aug 11 at 2020 3:46 AM

2020-08-11T03:46:14-04:00

Welp, my father was busy bombing Khe San into dust

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 12 at 2020 11:23 AM

2020-08-12T11:23:47-04:00

I'm willing to give it a try. Some of it will sound too incredible to be believed, but that's OK. Some mornings when I wake up, I don't believe it either. I'll submit this in pieces, fully expecting an editor to make substantial redactions (like maybe 90% of this first part).
Part 1.
I arrived in-country on 15 Nov '67, a 2Lt 1542 (now 11A). Came in on a chartered DC-8 from Oakland, having taken 23 hours to make the trip; had to refuel at Hickham, Anderson and Clark en route to Tan Son Nhut. As we neared Saigon, the pilot put us into a steep corkscrew dive from 25,000 ft to minimize our exposure to ground fire, and that was enough to scare the bejeebers out of us! From the airport, we were bussed over to Bien Hoa , to the "Repot Depot" - the 90th Replacement Bn. I think there three bus-loads of troops, and we had MP jeeps mounting M60s in the lead and bringing up the rear. The buses had their windows down due to lack of AC and the windows were covered in "Cyclone" type fencing, as a deterrent to a hand grenade being tossed into a window. The drivers pushed those buses hard without regard to any speed limit, again trying to minimize our exposure. We got to the 90th in late afternoon, just in time for evening chow. The admin guys took our travel packets and pointed toward the one story barracks that was filled with double bunks. We tossed our duffels onto empty bunks and moved on to the mess hall. The food was passable but unremarkable.
After supper, we went back to the barracks, grabbed a shower then hit the sack by about 2000 hours.
I was awakened about midnight to the sound of someone shouting my name: "2Lt Smith, V.G.!"
Here, Sergeant! I shouted back. He shouted "I've got your assignment! You're being assigned to the First Cavalry Division! Get dressed, grab your duffel and go out to the bus that will take you back to the passenger terminal at the airport. You'll be flying out on a C-130!" At the mention of the Cav, the guy in the bunk below me moaned, "Aw, man! They might as well shoot him now, 'cause he's a dead man, for sure!" Yippee. It's hard to forget something like that.
Back at the airstrip, we found our bird and walked up the loading ramp, where the crew chief instructed us to walk forward as far as possible and take a seat on an aluminum cargo pallet. We sat cross-legged clutching our duffels as the engines revved up, then we took off. We were only airborne for a few minutes when we felt the descent begin, and pretty soon we were landing again, and rolled to a stop at some unnamed Army unit. The ramp went down and the crew chief walked among us with a passenger manifest, shouting out names as he went. Those whose names were called were motioned to stand uo, pick up their duffles and move toward the ramp. When the last man had cleared the ramp, it was raised again and we began rolling toward the takeoff line. Pretty soon, we were airborne again and flying to another Army post. The same drill was repeated at least six time as we flew further north. Finally, the aircraft reached Camp Radcliff near the village of Bong Son, where the headquarters elements of the First Civ were based. When we had landed and stopped rolling, a young troop in a 3/4 ton truck came out to greet us and called out our names. We were taken to the G-1 shop, where we handed over our travel packets to an assignments clerk. He quickly scanned my orders, saw that I had come from Ft Bragg and noted that I had a secondary MOS of 9305, Psyops Officer. He said, "Hey, Lieutenant, I was about to send you to the First Bn, 8th Cav as a Platoon Leader. But your secondary MOS might change that. We just had our only school-trained Psyops Officer KIA a couple of days ago, so I'm going to send you to see the G-5, and see if he wants to hire you." With that, he returned my packet and instructed me to walk down the row of plywood buildings until I came to one that had a small hand-painted sign in front that said G-5. I walked in the door and introduced myself and handed my packet to the nearest warm body and informed him that I had been sent to visit the G-5 and ask about an assignment to his shop. I was informed that the G-5 was at the division's forward command post, near the village of Bong Son, and if I wanted to see him, I should go out to the helicopter pad and ask anyone there for a ride up to LZ Two Bits. I was told to leave my duffel and I could pick it up later. So that's what I did: walked over to the pad and found a UH-1 that seemed about ready to depart and asked the pilot if I could hitch a ride to Two Bits. He said, "Sure, hop aboard!" And off we went. I was struck immediately by how low and fast we flew: I could see the pilot's instruments over his shoulder, and we stayed within 10 feet of the ground, with an indicated airspeed of about 100 kts. We followed a narrow gauge rail line through the palm trees, rolling left and right as the tracks weaved among the trees, sometimes lopping off palm fronds along the way. It was a white-knuckle trip for me! When we finally caught sight of an LZ, the pilot climbed so the folks on the ground could get a good look at us, then dropped back down and flared over the landing pad.
We touched down gently as could be.
I jumped off the chopper, still wearing my Class "B" khakis with nothing in my hands but the travel packet, and looked around for some indication of which tent belonged to who. Finally asked somebody if the G-5 had an office tent there, and was directed to one in a row. Walked up and stepped inside and found an officer, a Major, standing in the middle of the tent. I reported to him and explained that I was looking for the G-5 and wished to speak with him. The officer turned out to be Major Joseph Heuman, the Assistant G-5. He said "Stand at ease for a moment and I'll ask him if he can see you." He came back shortly and said the G-5 would speak with me and directed me to go behind a screen in the back of the tent where the G-5 would be waiting for me. I did that and found LTC Joseph Wasniack, who rose from his field desk and greeted me. I reported to him and explained that I had been sent from the assignments officer at Division Rear to ask if I could join his staff as a Psyops Officer. He had me sit down and briefly describe my background while he perused my travel packet. He saw that I had been employed as a civilian intelligence analyst at the Air Force Security Service (AF equivalent of ASA) before joining the Army and going to OCS at Ft Benning, and attended the Psyops Officers' course at the Special Warfare Center at Ft Bragg, then served as an analyst, Battalion S-2 and Group S-2 before receiving my orders for USARV. He gave me a thumbnail sketch of the duties of the Assistant Psyops Officer: work under the direction of the primary PO, a Captain, but that position was currently vacant after the death of the previous incumbent - until it was refilled, the Assistant would work under the direction of the Deputy G-5, Major Heuman; the APO would target enemy forces with leaflet drops and loudspeaker broadcasts from the PO team as well as supporting missions from USAF fixed-wing aircraft of the Special Ops Squadron supporting Second Corps out of Nha Trang; the APO and his team would install palletized loudspeakers on a helicopter and toss out handfuls of leaflets when airborne, and conduct missions both on the ground with a "line battalion" and in the air, using division rotary-wing assets; the APO's team would include a couple of E4-E5 11Bs, as well as an ARVN NCO who would serve as interpreter; the APO would interview enemy prisoners of war and defectors from the division's Area of Operations, in order to obtain feedback on the effectiveness of his Psyops campaign; upon completion of a mission, the APO would brief the G-5 and his deputy on results with emphasis on enemy engagements , and those would also need to be briefed to the Order of Battle Team in G-2. The interview lasted less than five minutes before he stood up and extended his hand and said, "I'l give you a chance. Go back down to Camp Ratcliff and collect your gear, and I'll have someone take you to Supply and the Armory and get you equipped for combat." So that's what I did. When I got back to Camp Ratcliff, I was met by CPT Juan Colon, a short-timer on the staff who only had a few days left in-country. CPT Colon showed me around and took me to Supply, where I was issued two sets of BDUs, two pairs of jungle boots, web gear, sleeping bag, survival knife and all the rest of the normal issue; then we went to the Armory, where I was issued an M1911 pistol and M16 rifle, with mags and ammo for both. He showed me how to configure the M16 for optimum carry: disconnect the sling and reverse it, and clip one end to the rifle's front sight and put a loop in the other end, and slide that over the stock all the way to the pistol grip. Then he had me open the clasp on the sling and extend its length so that it could loop over my right shoulder and hang about waist-high at my hip. In that position, it was easy to bring the weapon up to firing position, or to employ it from the hip, simply by flipping the selector with my right thumb to go from "Safe" to "Semi-Auto" to "Full Auto". He instructed me to keep the weapon on "Safe" until I expected to use it, then flip it straight to "Full Auto". He also informed me that the weapon functioned most reliably if I were to only load 18 rounds in the 20-round magazine. He said there was some sort of glitch in either the receiver spring or the design of the magazine that gave it a tendency to jam on "Full Auto" when loaded with 20 rounds; but if I were to load only 18 rounds, I shouldn't encounter any problems. He also said I should make every third round a tracer, to enhance the accuracy of my fire; and that I should discipline myself to fire short bursts of only three to four rounds, rather than "fire-hosing" the complete magazine. (After about my third engagement, I began using all tracers in my magazines, due to my poor eyesight. It had been measured at my induction physical as 20:400, meaning extremely near-sighted. It was corrected to 20:20 with eyeglasses, but I only had one pair, and they weren't compatible with the steel helmet; so I usually kept them in my flak jacket pocket, and only put them on when I drew fire.) CPT Colon also said I should clean the weapon each evening, and use mosquito repellent throughout each day to flush off the grit kicked up by the choppers' rotors. The mosquito repellent came in little soft plastic bottles, and it was easy enough to carry one of those behind the elastic band that held the camouflage cover over my steel helmet. CPT Colon said the three-pronged flash suppressor on the rifle was useful for breaking the baling wire that bound a case of C-rations; simply insert one prong under the wire and twist the rifle to the right, and the wire would snap. Back at the G-5 hooch, I was introduced to others on the staff, including CPT John Foley, who was completing his tour and about ready to go home, as well as MSG Adams and an E4 driver for the shop's M151 jeep. A CPT John Taylor worked Civil Affairs, and he was up forward at LZ Two Bits. CPT Colon showed me the single-wide trailer that served as a BOQ, and said I should stash my khakis in the duffel bag, since they wouldn't be needed again in-country. He showed me the bunk I was to use, a steel-framed rack with a deck of springs and a four-inch thick mattress. No linens or pillows were provided, but supply had issued me a poncho liner and an air mattress to use with the sleeping bag, so I was happy with that. Meals were available in the plywood chow hall three times each day.
Camp Ratcliff had a small Officers' Club, another plywood shack; drinks were $.25 and a beer was $.20, Ballantine's was the only beer available, and it was pretty bad. The only women in the club were three Red Cross workers who visited occasionally; they were known as "Doughnut Dollies" in polite company or sometimes by other names. I was only at Ratcliff for a few days before being summoned to Two Bits.
End of Part 1

Response by MSG Felipe De Leon Brown made Aug 13 at 2020 10:46 AM

2020-08-13T10:46:07-04:00

Several aspects of my service in Viet Nam have remained with me always.
First, the smell of Nu'óc mâm (fermented fish sauce), the odor of a rice paddy, the smell of the jungle, the odors that permeated a Rhade Montagnard community and the smells of the dead, dying and wounded during and after a fire fight. The acrid smell of smoke grenades and munitions.
Secondly, the sounds of incoming Hueys and Cobras, incoming mortar rounds and artillery, rifle and machine gun fire, claymore mines being detonated and the suffocating quiet after an engagement. The sound of the munitions from a Shadow gunship (always welcomed).
As a Special Forces Communications Sergeant, I spent a lot of time in front of a SSB radio (usually an AN/FRC-93 or an AN/PRC-74). Most of my daily communication was with Morse Code but I also had to monitor voice (AN/PRC-77). I don't think that I will ever forget the constant static that preceded and followed any radio communications. Going on an operation, any operation, was like going on vacation from the incessant noise from the radios in the Commo Bunker.
Third, would be the beauty of Viet Nam as a country. It continues to be, for me, one of the most beautiful places to ever know. It reminded me so much more of where I was born (Panamá) than I could ever express.
Is there any more related to my personal account? Yes. The aforementioned, however, remained with me for more than half of my military service. SGT Robert Pryor

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 13 at 2020 2:37 PM

2020-08-13T14:37:26-04:00

This is Part 2 of my response:
LZ Two Bits was aptly named - not much there. I can imagine MG Tolson chuckling when he gave it that moniker. In my memory, its salient feature was a small mountain only a few clicks away that gave a commanding view of the surrounding countryside and as a result, changed hands frequently. When the VC held it, our supporting artillery pounded the pee-waddly out of it, especially by a battery of M42 "Dusters", twin-barreled 40mm cannons that were mounted on a light tank chassis that were in direct support. Those "pom-pom girls" put on quite a show and were fun to watch. especially when their HE rounds kicked off secondaries from Charlie's munitions. I learned to sleep right through that stuff.
I spent some time doing homework - reading up on operations conducted recently in the local area, enemy units engaged, salient facts about the local population, locations of allied forces (ROK, NZ or Aussie), local militias (Regional Forces/Popular Forces - RF/PF, or "Ruf-Pufs" in the vernacular), NPFF garrisons (National Police Field Forces), US Army SF teams, USAF Air Liasion Officer... there was a lot of info to absorb. I also noted the types of leaflets and loudspeaker broadcasts that had been recently employed. The most commonly used leaflet was the NSCP - the National Safe Conduct Pass. It was about three inches high and six inches long, had English text on one side and Vietnamese on the other, printed against backgrounds of the Repuplic of Vietnam yellow and red flag and Old Glory, respectively; the text explained the Chieu Hoy ("Open Arms") program, by which Viet Cong and North Vietnamese troops could defect to the RVN side. It was to be waved above one's head while shouting "Chieu Hoi!" to get the attention of a GI; the English text instructed GIs to treat the holder with respect and turn him over to RVN authorities as quickly as possible. Those leaflets were printed by the 6th Psyops Bn in Saigon and billions of them were dispensed from the air by US and allied forces. VC leadership would immediately execute anyone found to be in possession of an NSCP. Cassette tape recordings of propaganda messages were also available from the 6th Bn for use in loudspeaker broadcasts.
Loudspeakers issued to the PO were 250-watt units, each with its own power supply and amplifier, mounted on backpack frames, so they were man-portable. I would later group four of those on a sheet of plywood and hang it in the door of a Huey, and obtain power from the helicopter's own bank of batteries, using cables with alligator clips. Instead of a tape recorder, I would later prefer to use a defector with a microphone to broadcast directly to his buddies on the ground.
Defectors were highly prized assets. Known as "Hoi Chahn" by the Vietnamese, they were traitors to the Communist cause. The VC had a saying: "it was better to kill one GI than three puppet soldiers, and it was better to kill one Hoi Chahn than three GIs." "Puppet soldiers" of course were South Vietnamese troops, whether regular ARVN, militia, NFPF or what have you.
I settled into a routine pretty quickly: roll out of the sack by 0500, get dressed in OD jungle fatigues with pistol belt, 1911 pistol, mag pouch for two mags, suspenders, aviator's survival knife, canteen if I intended to go to the field, poncho rolled up and tucked under the belt, and at least one mag pouch for M16 mags. In garrison, the pistol would be loaded with a full mag of ball ammo but would not chamber a round until leaving the LZ. I would throw a bandolier of M16 mags over my shoulder and grab the rifle and helmet before leaving the hooch. The helmet was a steel shell over a fiber liner covered with a fabric camouflaged cover, held in place with an elastic band. There was a chin strap for the steel shell, but we weren't authorized to use them; they had to be stretched over the forward lip of the helmet. There was breakfast in the chow hall at 0600, followed by the Generals' morning briefing at 0630, which I often attended to hear the G-2 staff's description of overnight events and the G-3 staff's description of operations planned for the day. The G-3 briefing would include descriptions of any air operations conducted overnight in our Area of Operations (AO) by USAF, USN or USMC aircraft. All three general officers would normally attend: MG Tolson, the CG; BG Richard Irby, the ADC-A (Logistics); and COL Oscar Davis, ADC-B (Operations). (COL Davis was a BG-select.) . COL George Putnam, the Chief of Staff, would also normally be present. The briefings were short and to the point and typically delivered by a Major from the respective staff. With a short Q&A they might last 10 minutes, after which the CG would call out "Alright, then! SI!". That was the signal for most of those present to depart since only those with SI clearance could stay.
After the briefing I would return to the office hooch and receive my instructions for the day from MAJ Heuman. Usually that would be a confirmation of discussions the evening before, but sometimes those would be modified by developments overnight. Regardless, I would then strap on full battle-rattle, check my weapons and assemble my team and brief them on the plan for the day. Then we would board the jeep and drive to the chopper pad, find our bird and climb aboard. If our mission was to be on the ground, we would meet up with the commander of the rifle company we were to join, receive his instructions and move out in the direction of the target village. Most ground missions were Cordon and Search and would be conducted with the VN District Chief present and be conducted with elements of his local militia. It was also common for a small number of NPFF to participate. The rifle company would fan out by platoons: two platoons would set up defensive positions around the perimeter and the other would take positions forming a cordon around the viile. The District Chief and the Village Chief would then walk up to a hooch, and order the occupants outside while a couple of NPFF went through the hooch, turning over baskets and blankets, looking for contraband of any sort: weapons. enemy propaganda, anything that would suggest disloyalty to the Saigon gov't. If anything was found, it would be confiscated and the occupants turned over to other members of the NPFF for interrogation. Those sessions usually involved the suspect squatting on the ground with his arms bound while being questioned. If the questioning resulted in an arrest, the suspect would be moved to a holding area for later transfer back to District HQ.
While all of that was going on, I and my interpreter would question adult occupants after they had been cleared by the NPFF. I wanted to know about enemy activity in the are, if the adults had seen any VC and if they had seen or heard the messages delivered by leaflets and loudspeakers. I wanted to know if they knew about the Chieu Hoi program and how it worked and how to use the NSCP. And I wanted to give them the chance to ask questions about it.
One indicator about the loyalties of the villagers was the presence or absence of military-aged males: if the population seemed to consist of only women and children and old men, it was likely that the military-aged males were off with Communist forces.
Occasionally such operations produced windfalls of information, but usually results were quite meager and seemed hardly worth the time and energy to conduct them.
It was rare to engage in a firefight during those operations. A VC sentry might get off a rifle shot as the allied force approached to alert VC in the area of our presence. That would slow us down as our lead squad advanced to check out the source of the sound.
This ends Part 2

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 14 at 2020 10:48 AM

2020-08-14T10:48:55-04:00

This will be Part 3 of my response:
On one occasion, as we approached a Ville in Bihn Dihn Province, we were met by automatic weapons fire from three VC on the other side of a rice paddy. We responded with M16s and the Charlies seemed to shut down, as though they hadn't expected that kind of response. While they were contemplating their sins, our lead squad attacked their left flank with small arms and an M79 grenade launcher, and rolled 'em up. Got 'em all. Once inside the Ville, search teams found several small caches of weapons and ammo, and a couple of military aged males were arrested by the NPFF. What I remember most about that mission was seeing a woman with small kids emerge from under a hooch, where they had been hiding in a family bunker. A GI might have been tempted to toss a frag into that hole, without first checking its contents. That would have wiped out the whole family. I made a note about that, so I could mention it later to classes of new guys at the orientation training in which I participated at division Hq.
Chopper missions were more fun for me than ground missions. Usually involving a UH-1, on a few occasions I used an OH-6A. Those were pretty neat! I configured two of the man-pack loudspeakers on a pair of engineer stakes and ran the stakes across the floor of the passenger cabin so the speakers were aimed straight down. The amps sat on the floor between them. That left the rear seats available for two people, so I flew those missions with just my interpreter.
The first time I used an OH-6A, the pilot decided to test my configuration's air-worthiness before we got very far from the LZ. We took off and climbed to 1000 feet, then the pilot feathered the main rotor so that we began to drop. At about 100 feet, he pulled pitch and flared the rotor so we touched down very gently. That satisfied the pilot, so we were good to go.
I also flew a couple of missions with an AF Special Ops Squadron O-2B. That aircraft has one forward-facing propeller and one aft, and had speakers mounted in the side of the fuselage. After take-off, the pilot shut the forward engine down, so we climbed out under power of just the rear engine. That raised the hackles on my neck, watching the forward propeller slowly come to a stop! I didn't much care for the O2B; its only armament was the passenger's M16.
I also flew a couple of recon missions in an OH-13, the "Erector Set" with a glass bubble on one end that was made famous in "Mash". With a top Speed of 65 its and service ceiling of about 12,000 ft, it was pretty barebones. On my first mission in Quang Tri Province, we were to fly out over the sandy stretch on the shore of the Gulf of Tonkin. As I climbed into the passenger's seat, the pilot handed me a metal box with a short antenna at one end and a toggle switch in its center. He said, "Here, hold this in your left hand and your M16 in your right, and when we go down, flip that switch straight up to tell the guys back at base camp where we are." So it was an emergency locator beacon. And the pilot had indeed said "WHEN we go down", and not "IF we go down." We didn't spot any enemy activity on that mission, but we did get shot at: by the battleship New Jersey's 16-inch guns! We were poking along parallel to the coast when we spotted a huge shadow out in the water some distance from shore. The shadow suddenly erupted in flames and dark smoke as the ship fired her big guns in our direction! The pilot pulled back on the controls and jerked us hard right as the ground below and behind us exploded. We made a beeline for home, figuring we had had enough fun for one afternoon. No harm done, except to my laundry.
End of Part 3

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 14 at 2020 8:10 PM

2020-08-14T20:10:15-04:00

1LT Voyle Smith
Part 4 of my response:
In mid-Jan '68, the 1st Cav Div received orders from USARV to re-deploy north from LZ Two Bits in Bihn Dihn Province to Thua Thien Province, and prepare to attack the NVA forces that had laid siege to the USMC base at Khe Sahn, in the NW corner of RVN. We were to establish a new base camp somewhere between Hue' and Quang Tri City. The exact location was to be determined, but was thought to possibly be Phu Bai, near Hue'. We were to deploy the division HQ elements and two of our three brigades; one brigade would be left behind in northern Bihn Dihn Province for the time being to support the Americal Division.
Most of the deploying elements were airlifted by our own helicopters of the 227th, 228th and 229th Assault Helicopter Battalions which leap-frogged from one friendly re-fueling point to another to cover the 200 miles or so to Hue'. A small contingent of headquarters ash and trash personnel and equipment would be sent overland to the port at Quin Nhon, to be loaded aboard a chartered ROK LST and transported by sea to the port at Da Nang, where they would off-load and convoy north, up Route 1 to Hue' for rendezvous with the rest of the deploying elements. I and another LT were chosen to take that group. The other LT was already a 1LT, while I was still a 2LT, so he took command and assigned responsibilities: he would lead us down Route 1 to Quin Nhon and get us loaded onto the LST; then when we reached Da Nang, I would assume the lead and off-load us and lead the convoy up Route 1 to Hue'. The group consisted of about 26 men and 12 vehicles. The LTs each got an M151 and driver with an M60 and machine gunner and each jeep mounted a VRC type VHF radio.
We formed up in a line with the 1LT in the lead, followed by two troops in a 3/4 ton truck, then a line of 2 1/2 ton trucks ("deuce-and-a-halfs"), then another 3/4, then yours truly. There were a lot of other vehicles on the two-lane dirt road, both US and RVN, as well as IC (innocent civilian) traffic. We got to within 10 miles of Quin Nhon when everybody slammed on their brake as we approached crater the road that had been carved out y a land nines. Some fellows ahead of us jumped off their vehicles and hit a crouch, staring off into the distance. I shouted to the guys ahead of us "WTFO?" One yelled back "Sniper!" just as I heard the unmistakable sound: "Bzzz-Pop!" A rifle shot went right over our heads! I had my glasses on by then, but I couldn't see anything but ICs hunched over their rice plants. Then there was another one: "Bzzz-Pop!" That one seemed to pass over the hood of the jeep. Then another: "Bzzz-Pop!" That one kicked up dirt beside the jeep. I quickly took the gold bar off my collar, figuring that might be his aim-point, and threw it in the general direction of where I thought he might be; then I shot him the finger and shouted at my driver, "Drive on!" as the road ahead had cleared. The driver gunned it and we raced ahead to catch up with the others. I used a ball-point pin to sketch the outline of a lieutenant's bar on my collar and we made it on in to Quin Nhon without further incident.
Our point man spotted the ROK LST and we parked in a double line beside the ship. The ROK skipper came out to greet us and advised the US harbor-master that he was ready for us to board.
We backed up to the loading ramp, and the tail of the convoy loaded first. As the last vehicle to board, mine would be the first to disembark when we reached Da Nang. By the time we all loaded, the sun had set. We all had C-rats and ate those cold. There were hammocks for sleeping down below decks, but I sat upright in my jeep and spent the night in that position. The ship moved off shore a few miles, far enough to be out of enemy mortar range, and we sailed very slowly all night to reach Da Nang Harbor. When we arrived at the entrance, the skipper was directed to loiter for a while so that other vessels could finish off-loading their cargo. "A while" turned into several hours, and we wound up spending a second night aboard ship. When dawn broke, we were finally allowed to enter the harbor and dock at one of the wharfs. A Marine platoon leader approached me and said his unit would be providing security for us on the road march north, until we cleared the Hai Van Pass and were picked by our own scouts. He briefed us on the protocol to be followed en route: we would have quad .50 caliber machine guns mounted on five-ton trucks near the front and rear of our convoy, and we were to maintain consistent speed on the road. As the road climbed, we would see derelict vehicles off to our right, down the cliff ; those were remnants of previous convoys that had been attacked and disabled by enemy action. He advised us to keep moving, no matter what happened; if we stopped, the vehicle behind us would push ours off the road, because there was no room for one vehicle to pass another. So if our vehicle had to stop, we were to abandon it quickly and climb aboard the one behind us.
As we drove up the narrow road, we began to see what he had warned us about: wreckage of US, VN and French vehicles littered the hillside below us. Some of them must have been there since the French-Indochina War of the early 1950's. As we reached the summit of the Pass, a sniper fired a few rounds at us from the mountainside above us, but I'm not aware of anyone being hit. When we emerged on the other side of the Pass, we were met by scouts of our own recon unit, the 1ST Squadron 9TH Cavalry (1/9 CAV) in Huey gunships, and they escorted us the rest of the way to Phu Bai.
This ends Part 4.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 15 at 2020 2:46 PM

2020-08-15T14:46:10-04:00

Part 5 of my response:
When we reached Phu Bai, we found that lead elements of the division were settling in a VN graveyard. We couldn't believe it! How the hell were we going to build a base camp in a graveyard? We were only there for a couple of hours. When MG Tolson showed up, he must have asked the same question, because he immediately ordered us all to saddle up, we were moving out. We didn't know where we were going, but we weren't going to stay there. We got back on Route 1 and headed north and soon found ourselves in the city of Hue'. The road went through the SW corner of the built-up area, and the stone walls of the Citadel were off to our right, as shown in the photo below. It was a busy place, with lots of road traffic and pedestrians everywhere. The congestion wasn't fun to deal with in a military convoy, but we made it through OK, and pressed on, up Route 1. After driving about 12 miles, we came to an MP check-point, at which we were diverted off the highway onto a dirt road going off to the west, and that led us to another MP post and the gates of a military installation that we soon found out was Camp Evans. That was to be our new base camp. It had been built by the Seabees for use by a Marine regiment and consisted of plywood buildings, sandbagged fortifications, bunkers and even a runway of perforated steel planking (PSP). There were also large tents arrayed behind a row of plywood buildings, and in the center of the place was a wired-off command complex with a forest of radio antennas covering the roof of a huge underground bunker.
G-5 was assigned one of the plywood buildings facing the Command Post. About the size of a GP Medium tent, its walls were plywood to about waste high, and screen wire above that, with blackout curtains rolled up to the tops of the walls, and had a corrugated metal roof. There were screen doors in the front and the back. Flooring was plywood laid over wooden cargo pallets. About 30 meters behind the building were a couple of GP Medium tents. and we were told to use those as our BOQs.
To the right of the building was a 2-hole outhouse of the same type construction. Inside were two toilets seats set into the wall of a plywood box, elevated just enough to allow half a 55-gallon fuel drum to fit under each one. Between the office building and the BOQs was a "piss-tube": an artillery round shipping container that had been stuck into the ground at an angle, with its open end covered by more screen wire. Much further to the right was the PSP runway with drums of JP-4 clustered at one end. A revetment was in the process of being built to protect the fuel point. Further to the left was a pole shed with a thatched roof that was used as a chapel.
We moved into our office building and set up half a dozen small wooden tables to use as desks, four in the front 2/3 of the space and two in the back. A couple of troops from the Signal Bn showed up and connected WD-1 commo wire that they had buried among the buildings. We connected two TA-312 field phones in our space, one on a desk in the front area and the other on a desk in the back. The phones were to be connected to the division switchboard ("SKY KING Switch") and enabled voice communication with any US facility in the country.
It was then about 26 January 1968.
When we had been at Camp Evans for a couple of days, a middle-aged Vietnamese fellow showed up at the gate late in the afternoon. He explained to the MPs there that he owned a laundry in the nearby village of Phong Dien and wanted to offer his services to the GIs at Camp Evans. The MPs noticed that the man only had one arm; his left one was missing. The MPs called their duty officer and within a few minutes received permission for the man to drive his truck into the middle of the camp and through an interpreter he shouted out that he was offering laundry service to anyone who needed it. He needed only a few minutes to collect a truck-load of dirty jungle fatigues. He promised to return them within a couple of days.
About that same time, we received word to expect the local villagers to engage in a very noisy celebration on the first evening of Tet, the lunar new year. It was common for the VN to set off fireworks and get pretty raucous in their celebrations, and the hoopla might go on for several hours.
I hit the sack about 2200 hours but was awakened by fireworks only a couple hours later. It took me a minute to realize those weren't ordinary fireworks. They sounded a lot more like small arms fire punctuated by very loud explosions. We were under attack! Incoming rockets and mortar rounds were making most of the noise but the chattering of AK-47s indicated it wasn't just an attack by fire, there was a ground assault underway, too. The weather had turned crappy, with fog and drizzle reducing visibility so that even our illumination rounds weren't enough for us to see what was going on. The attack lasted until dawn. It was only then that the full scope of the attack had become visible. Numerous enemy dead were found outside the perimeter and most seemed to be wearing NVA uniforms. One corpse in particular got our guys' attention: it was an NVA regiment commander who was wearing a US Army fatigue shirt. The shirt had two stars on each collar and the name tag said "Tolson". And the corpse was missing its left arm. MG Tolson was not happy at all to get that news.
The attack on Camp Evans was obviously meant to pin us down and try to keep us out of the fight that was raging at Hue'. We learned that NVA sappers had blown the city's western gate at midnight and their troops in full uniform had marched right into the city. US Marines and ARVN troops in the city were responding but were quickly being surrounded. There was also a team of advisors from MACV in there but they hadn't been heard from since the attack began.
Hue' was in the Marines' Area of Operations; the Cav was in a supporting role. We were not to attempt to enter the city, but were to focus our attention on enemy forces outside the city, especially those that appeared to be trying to reinforce the units inside. MG Tolson ordered our field artillery to begin banging on the Citadel's 30-ft thick stone walls. A battery of 8-inch field guns was brought up and began firing virtually point-blank at them but barely made a dent. MG Tolson decided to go in and see for himself what the situation was, so he flew his own Charlie-charlie into the city and met with the senior Marine present, then he ordered the most seriously wounded loaded up and he brought those folks out with him. After describing to the G-2 and G-3 what he had seen, he had a pallet of C-rats, water and ammo loaded on his bird and he flew back into the city. He repeated that drill a third time. Finally on his fourth trip, after loading wounded, he called for his artillery to fire on his own position. The man was incredible! After his tour was over he was reassigned to Ft Bragg and received his third star and the job of CG of XVIII Airborne Corps.
End of Part 5.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 16 at 2020 8:02 PM

2020-08-16T20:02:33-04:00

Part VI of my response:
In the G-5 shop at Camp Evans, Psyops and Civil Affairs activities were at a virtual standstill. I dutifully called in nightly requests to Provisional Corps Vietnam (later 24th Corps) for AF Special Ops Sqn leaflet drops and loudspeaker broadcasts in our AO, but there were no opportunities to run ground or heliborne ops. The size of the NVA force that had marched into Hue' was unknown, but was estimated to be at least two regiments totaling some 3,000 men, and might be two or three times that number. And they had been joined by VC Main Force units and guerrillas who were already inside the city, so together they comprised a formidable enemy force.
Our 5th Bn 7th Cav left Camp Evans on foot, moving due south, hoping to close off the NVA supply line that led from the Laotian border through A Shau Valley and the jungles of Thua Thien Province to Hue'. Just west of the city, they encountered a very large enemy force that had been deployed to block such a maneuver, and the resulting battle went on for several days. Meanwhile, the 1st Bn 7th Cav had a change of command and LTC Wazniack, who had been the G-5, took over the battalion and took our Civil Affairs officer, CPT John Taylor, with him and gave him command of his Alpha Company. The day after those changes were made, CPT Taylor's company led the battalion in its march from Camp Evans to the northern outskirts of Hue' and attacked NVA forces from that direction. CPT Taylor received the Silver Star from MG Tolson at noon on the first day of the battle. (Below is a photo of CPT Taylor digging our intended shared bunker at Camp Evans less than two days prior to Tet and his departure for Alpha Company, 1/7 Cav.)
Major Heuman got a phone call from the G-3 duty officer, asking for an officer from our shop to go to a place called PK-17 where he would meet up with XXXXX who would lead him to a village called Thon La Chu. It was in that village where our troops had found what they described as a possible atrocity: there was a group of women and children who had been found dead, some of them shot in the head. Our troops wanted someone to document their find, to ensure there would not be any confusion about who was responsible. MAJ Heuman turned to me and described the phone call and said "That's your mission. Take an interpreter and our Polaroid camera and go down there and investigate what they found. Brief me when you get back and we'll figure out what to do next."
So I went outside and found SSgt Viet and SP4 XXXX and off we went in the jeep. When we reached PK-17, an old French Foreign Legion outpost on Route 1, we found XXXX and left SP4 XXX with the jeep and followed our escort on foot, along Route 1 for about a mile, then onto a track that turned south. We walked for about two miles, encountering nothing but a dead water buffalo until finally coming to a village that had a large water tower on its edge. On the ground near the tower was a group of dead Vietnamese.
An Army 1LT approached us and I greeted him and introduced us. I told him were we from the G-5 shop at the Cav's HQ and were responding to a call received by the G-3 duty officer regarding a possible atrocity at that location. The 1LT gestured toward the group of dead Vietnamese and stated that his platoon had found them the way they lay and at least some of them appeared to have been shot in the head. He was concerned that they might represent an atrocity. I approached them and looked more closely at them. I saw a young woman lying on her side with an infant boy against her breast (the child was naked from the waist down, as was the norm in that society); her head was badly injured and blood and grey matter were splattered all over the child. In front of her lay the body of a young girl, maybe two years old; she had a bullet hole in her face, just to the right of her nose. Maybe 10 feet away lay the body of an adult male, a "Venerable", judging from his white PJs; he was lying face down, and was obscured from the waist up by the branches of a small bush; any wounds on him were not visible to me. A young girl of maybe three had a bullet hole in the center of her forehead. There were other women and children in the group of 12, but one young woman stood out: she was dressed in black trousers and a blue shirt, and was lying on her right side with her face turned to the earth; against her lower body was a pile of her intestines, indicating she had been disemboweled. Her hands were bound behind her back with a braided blue and while 1/4 inch nylon cord. There were no flies on the bodies yet, and there was no odor, so the killings must have occurred very recently. I took two Polaroid photos of the scene (which is all I had), and when they had dried I tucked them away in the pockets of my fatigues. I spoke briefly with the 1LT and agreed with his suspicion that the scene looked like an atrocity had occurred; I promised to report what I had seen to the G-3 duty officer and give him the photos I had taken. We returned to Camp Evans the same way we had come, without incident. The next day a couple of Vietnamese gents showed up at the command post and asked to be shown the scene; I was tracked down and agreed to take them there, so I got a 3/4 ton and back we went. This time, the flies had found the bodies and there was the distinct odor of decaying flesh; otherwise, they were exactly as I had seen them earlier. The VN guys took lots of photos, taking care to capture the same views as had been in my pictures. A few weeks later, I happened to visit Saigon and walked past the Ministry of Information, and saw those same photos posted in a window for everyone to see. They even included the picture of the young woman in the blue shirt. I hated to see that, feeling the poor woman had suffered far too much already and didn't deserve further humiliation.
I apologize for using XXXX for names of individuals I've forgotten.
This ends Part VI of my response.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 17 at 2020 9:32 AM

2020-08-17T09:32:49-04:00

Part VII of my response:
No one seemed to know the identities of the 12 dead civilians at Thon La Chu. Local villagers disclaimed them and speculated they might have come from Hue'. It was customary for the dead to lie undisturbed until claimed by their families, so that's why they were still lying there the next day. The women were all dressed identically in long-sleeved white shirts and black trousers, except for the young woman in the blue shirt. Maybe they had been taken by the NVA for use as nurses when the NVA withdrew from Hue'. Maybe the old man had come along to try to protect the women. Maybe the young woman in the blue shirt had been an official of some sort in the Hue' city government; maybe she had been difficult for the NVA to control, and that's why she was singled out for such a brutal death. I guess no one will ever know. But her image was burned into my soul, and I've spent the last 50 years trying to figure out who she was. As recently as last week I've spent time online researching available records on the Hue' population in 1968, but there's very little information available. The VC cadre who joined the NVA in the attack and occupation of the city had arrived with detailed rosters of the people who lived there. Those rosters included names, addresses and occupations of all of the adults, so it was easy for the VC to find and identify everyone. Those individuals who had any association with the Saigon government were taken into custody, bound with WD-1 with their hands behind their backs and marched to the soccer field where a large pit had been dug with earth-moving equipment; the people were lined up along the rim of the pit and either shot or bayonetted or suffocated with rags stuffed in their mouths and pushed into the pit. Family members of the "guilty" had been brought with them and similarly executed; small children were simply thrown into the pit and buried under the bodies of the adults. The NVA occupation lasted 24 days, plenty of time to purge the population of "undesirables". No one knows how many people died there, and it's doubtful now that anyone will ever know.
This book from Texas A&M University Press is the only one that I’ve found that provides an accurate description of the communist occupation of Hue’.
End of Part VII

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 18 at 2020 3:37 PM

2020-08-18T15:37:54-04:00

Part VIII of my response
When the dust from Tet had more or less settled, units at Camp Evans began to prepare for their attack on the NVA units surrounding the Marines at Khe Sahn. We would need to stage from an old airfield to the east of Khe Sahn, which MG Tolson named LZ Stud. USAF B-52 ARC LIGHT missions had pulverized the NVA units, but we still needed to get up there and secure the area and deal with a population of Bru Montagnard tribesmen who lived nearby. The command section wanted them to be evacuated from the area, but the details of where they should go and how they were to get there were still to be worked out.
The day before we were to leave Camp Evans, our water point failed. Don't know if it was sabotage or a mechanical issue, but water purification came to a screeching halt. And we didn't know it. We all filled our canteens, brushed our teeth and drank our morning coffee with what turned out to be contaminated water. Within an hour or so, everybody on the LZ came down with stomach cramps, followed quickly by the "green apple quick-step". The meager supply of TP didn't last long, so pretty soon we were breaking into C-ration boxes to reach the tiny rolls of TP in those, and then we tore up newspapers - "Stars & Stripes", USARV NEWS, MACV NEWS... and then magazines, such as "Time", "Newsweek", "US News"... then it was letters from home. When there was nothing left, we received the order to mount up on the choppers for the lift to LZ Stud. Everybody was still crapping in their pants! There was nothing we could do about it. Fortunately, when we got to LZ Stud there was no enemy welcoming committee and we landed without incident. I think the enemy must have smelled us coming and ran for the border.
We dug in to prepare for a ground attack. There were plenty of bomb craters around, and I tried using one of those at night; just threw a poncho liner over me as I laid fully clothed against the crater wall. That didn't work well, and after a couple of hours I crawled out and laid down on the bare ground beside the crater. That worked OK, until NVA heavy artillery woke me ; I rolled back into the crater as the Army's M107 175mm "Long Tom" artillery at Camp Carroll responded. Intel said the NVA had moved Russian 130mm howitzers into the DMZ and those are what had hit us. After the M107s banged on them, they didn't bother us again.
MAJ Heuman instructed me to take our interpreter and walk down to the end of the runway and find a 1LT ZZZ who was an MP platoon leader and tell him you would help him with the Bru tribesmen who had gathered there. The Bru needed to be relocated out of harm's way and I was to find a way to do that. So I did that, found 1LT ZZZ easily enough, and told him I and my interpreter SSGT Viet from the ARVN would assist him with the Bru. An old man from the tribe was standing nearby, so I told SSGT Viet to greet him and introduce us and explain to him that we were going to help him and his people move out of harm's way. SSGT Viet had difficulty communicating with the old gent because the Bru language is quite different from Vietnamese, but after considerable arm-waving the old fellow got the idea of who we were and what we were planning to do. He turned around and spoke to others behind him and they seemed to understand what was happening. So began my relationship with the Bru Montagnards and their chief, Karum. It was to be other-wordly for me.
This ends part VIII.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 21 at 2020 10:31 AM

2020-08-21T10:31:52-04:00

Part IX of my response: SSGT Viet learned from Chief Karum that the tribe didn't want to evacuate the entire village; they only wanted to move the sick and young nursing mothers with their infants out of harm's way, the rest wanted to stay together in their home village. I informed the command section of what we were dealing with. We were going to have to accommodate them and protect them as best we could. (Some of the guys in the command section snickered whenever I mentioned Chief Karum; they said his name sounded like an elephant fart: "Ka-ROOM!")
It turned out that Karum's own daughter was one who needed to be evacuated. She had been experiencing severe abdominal pain and the tribe's shaman hadn't been able to help her. I asked one of our medics to check her out, and he came back and said he thought she might have appendicitis. I told Karum through SSGT Viet that she needed to be medevaced, preferably by helicopter. Karum was horrified and under no circumstances would he allow her to climb aboard a helicopter. So I agreed to find her ground transport. I spoke with the Marine NCO in charge of the resupply convoy that kept the garrison at Khe Sahn supplied with food water, fuel and ammunition from Dong Ha about allowing her to ride with him as far as Camp Carroll, where there was an aid station and refugee center of sorts. He agreed, so I informed Karum that his daughter would be taken to a place to the north where there were wise shamans who could help her. That pleased Karum. He said there were others who needed to go, and he called out for a very young mother with an infant to come forward. She looked to be in her early teens, and was wearing an open straw vest and had a tiny infant clutching her breast. I picked her up at her waist and sat them on the back of a deuce-and a-half. An old woman with a limp also came forward, and I picked her up the same way. We soon came up with half a dozen people to make the trip. Once they had left, Karum turned to me and told SSGT Viet that he had another problem he needed help with. He said that a "big iron god" had been flying over his village and spitting on his fruit trees, and the trees were dying. He asked if I had any medicine that would appease the "big iron god". That was obviously the RANCH HAND program, in which defoliant missions were flown by AF C-123s to spray dioxin over heavily vegetated areas near US encampments to deny enemy forces the concealment they needed. I briefed the G-5, then the G-3 duty officer and the Air Liaison Officer on the situation, and asked that the "Agent Orange" missions be modified to exclude the area in the immediate vicinity of the Bru village. Everybody agreed, so the "big iron god" quit flying over the Bru's homes and spitting on their trees.
The Bru were animists: they believed everything had a spirit, whether it was trees or rocks or streams or animals; and all of those spirits were to be honored and treated with respect, or bad medicine would befall the tribe.
The daughter who had gone to Camp Carroll returned after only a few days, and told her daddy that she had been treated well and that the "tall GI" (me) was responsible for saving her life. Good grief! In his view, not only did I have good medicine with the "big iron god" but I also had influence with some really powerful shamans! Karum decided that the tribe should celebrate with a feast at which I would be the guest of honor. The feast would feature the ritual slaughter of a water buffalo in which the animal would be killed with knives very slowly, so that it would bleed out over a period of at least a full day. And that the celebration would culminate with a wedding ceremony at which I would marry his youngest daughter. As a gesture of good faith, Karum gave me a pair of small mahogany crossbows (at least, they looked like mahogany to me). (I brought those home and kept them for a long time, before finally donating them to the "Vietnam Archive" in the library at Texas Tech University. I never attended Texas Tech, but I heard they collected stuff GIs brought back from 'Nam, so I eventually gave them the other things I had brought home: Ho Chi Min racing slicks and a Russian bolt-action rifle, the Mosin-Nagant from the NVA cache in A Shau Valley). Now what? I informed MAJ Heuman of the problem, suggesting that Karum might be offended if I declined his most generous offer. He laughed and said, "We're not going to let you "go native" on us! Tell him your chief has given you another job to do for him, and it's far away from the Bru village. Thank him profusely for his kindness and generosity and you hope you'll be able to visit him in the not too distant future." So I took SSGT Viet and we drove to the village, where we found Karum had already brought a young water buffalo to the place where it was to be killed, and Karum was setting out a selection of knives that would be used by the tribesmen. We explained the situation to him, that my chief had another job for me to do for him at a place far away. Karum was visibly disappointed but he accepted my apology without protest. SSGT Viet and I got out of there quickly.
Photos of the disassembled crossbows appear below.
I had no idea what the "other job" was going to be.
This ends Part !X.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 21 at 2020 3:15 PM

2020-08-21T15:15:22-04:00

Part X of my response:
When I returned to LZ Stud, MAJ Heuman handed me a set of TDY orders. They directed me to travel from HQ 1st CAV DIV to HQ USARV to meet with MACV representatives regarding the high school that we had built for the Vietnamese citizens of An Khe in Bihn Dihn Province. I was to coordinate the hand-over of the school to Province officials and resolve any issues regarding the schedule of the hand-over and naming of the facility. It sounded simple enough, but MAJ Heuman said it was a bit more complicated than it sounded. He said the school was receiving nation-wide publicity, and that's why the meetings I was to attend were being held in the offices of the Ministry of Education. He said some Province officials were proposing to name the school in honor of a former citizen of the Province who had died defending it against foreign invaders. The problem was that the former citizen had been a member of the Viet Minh guerrilla army and the "foreign invaders" were the French Foreign Legion who had fought the Viet Minh in Bihn Dihn Province in the early 1950's. My instructions were to inform the Minister and Province officials as diplomatically as possible that MG Tolson would not allow a school that the division had built to be named for a Communist guerrilla. MG Tolson had told the G-5 that if the Vietnamese insisted on putting the guerrilla's name on the building, MG Tolson would come down to An Khe and personally destroy it.
So I was to hitch a ride back to Camp Evans and from there hitch another ride to Camp Ratcliff, where I was to draw some fresh fatigues from Supply and go into An Khe and meet with Mr. Khai, the local Vietnamese contractor who had designed and supervised the construction of the school. We would travel together on an AF C-130 down to Tan Sohn Nhut and catch a cab into Saigon. Mr Khai was a "Nung"., an ethnic Chinese, and knew his way around the city. He would arrange for us to stay in Cholon, the Chinese district of Saigon; I was to follow his lead, since he had the trust of MG Tolson.
So off we went. When we arrived at Tan Sohn Nhut, I saw a sign in English that had been posted by the USARV Provost Marshall that US personnel were prohibited from carrying personal firearms within the city limits of Saigon, unless they were members of the Military Police. Of course, I had my M1911 in a shoulder holster under my fatigue shirt. I just kept quiet about it and no one bothered me. A tall skinny LT with a bulge under his shirt probably didn't fool anybody. Somewhere in my stack of stuff I've got a small photo of us walking along a street in Saigon. (Looking through the stack, found card from Dong-Khanh Hotel in Cholon with my room number 222, Mr. Khai's business card, plus menu from the hotel's restaurant Pavillion de Jade where we had dinner with the Minister plus four others whose signatures are on the back; the dinner consisted of: "Four small dishes, Shark's fins with crab, Roasted suckling pigeon, Braised bean curd with compoy, Fried prawn sharp sauce, Fried noodle and fried rice, Almond jelly." Although beverages were not listed, I recall being served chrysanthemum tea and rice wine. The date of my stay there was 15 April 1968; photos below show the menu, signatures of attendees & Mr. Khai’s business card.) The same box contains my diploma from the Infantry School at Ft Benning, dated 27 Jan 1967. Will keep looking for the photo.
So we had nice genteel conversations about the school and its importance to the An Khe community and I let them know that MG Tolson was expecting it to be given a name that was appropriate for such a facility, one that would be a source of pride for both the Vietnamese and Americans who had put so much work into it. I asked the Minister to write a short note to MG Tolson, expressing his appreciation for what the Cav had done for him; and I said I would like to take that back with me when we returned to An Khe. The Minister agreed to do that, and in fact I had the note in hand when we left Saigon the next day. We all knew they would put whatever name they wanted on the place, once we were out of sight. I never knew what name it wound up with, and didn't really care.
We went back to An Khe the next day and I went on back to Camp Evans. Was surprised to find everyone already back. MAJ Heuman advised me not to get too comfortable, that we would only be there for a few days and we'd be off again, on another mission.
This ends Part X

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 25 at 2020 5:45 AM

2020-08-25T05:45:03-04:00

Part XI of my response:
The next mission turned out to be an air assault into A Shau Valley, on the border with Laos. On 19 April a team from Company E, 75th Infantry (Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrol, or LRRP) led by 1LT Joe Dilger (a classmate from OCS) rappelled from six Hueys onto the peak of "Signal Hill" (Dong Re Lao Mountain) with chain saws and C4 explosives to clear an area large enough to accommodate radio relay equipment so our combat elements of the 1st and 3d Brigades could communicate with Division HQ at Camp Evans and supporting aircraft. LT Dilger was shot in the chest by a sniper shortly after touching the ground and was close to death by the time a medevac team could reach him and lift him out. (I heard later that he survived and fully recovered and after mending, requested a transfer out of the LRRPs to the 5th Special Forces Group, headquartered at Nha Trang.) The first lift of Infantry into A Shau encountered very heavy ground fire from NVA units defending the Valley and over a dozen helicopters were shot down, along with a couple of O-1 Birddogs. I went in on the third lift, the morning of the second day. The Valley was a spooky place and looked like the Almighty had stuck His thumb in the mountains and gouged a deep trench. It was shrouded in low clouds which were thick enough to deny helicopter access on most days and was expected to be accessible for no more than three weeks each spring; so we needed to get in there, blow the place, and get back out as quickly as possible.
We landed near an old dirt airstrip which the CG had named LZ Stallion. I and another LT dug foxholes about 50 meters from the edge of the runway, then I asked for a Huey to take me up with my little team for a "Psyop recon" of the Valley, using loudspeakers to try to communicate with the NVA. We flew up and down the Valley, tossing out NSCP leaflets as we went. Surprisingly, no one took a shot at us; but at one point, just as we turned 180 degrees to head back up the Valley, a pair of F-4 Phantom jets passed over our heads on full afterburner and nearly knocked us down! We were already at very low altitude, so there wasn't much airspace to play around in. That was scary!
When we got to back to the LZ, we heard that an NVA unit had shown up at the south end of the Valley and picked a fight with our guys - got off a few rounds, then broke contact and seemed to run off toward Laos. I asked the pilot to take me up and go after them, figuring we might at least be able to spot them crossing the border. We didn't' see any sign of them, and pretty soon the pilot said we needed to turn around, because we had already left friendly airspace. So that was a bust.
Our troops on the ground started finding all sorts of goodies that the NVA had been stockpiling there. They turned up thousands of rifles: AK-47s, SKS semi-autos and bolt-action Mosin-Nagants. (I got one of the latter and brought it home with me. It’s shown below, along with copies of the paperwork that was required for it to be exported from RVN and imported into CONUS) Our troops also turned up four anti-aircraft artillery pieces: a 23mm, two 37mm and I think a 57mm. And they found six trucks buried near the runway; they looked to be about 2-ton capacity stake beds. The engines had all been removed, but one of our troops poked around with a steel rod and found an engine wrapped in oil-cloth; he measured its location in reference to the right front tire of a truck and used those measurements to find the other engines. Before long, all six trucks were hauling our cargo around the LZ, each with a big yellow and black Cav patch painted on its hood, so it wouldn't be attacked by friendlies from the air. Also found in the cache were a couple of Chinese flame-throwers and some atropine syrettes. The atropine spooked us, because that's an antidote to a nerve agent. In all, I think we found over 4,000 long guns. One night, an NVA machine-gun crew set up shop on a ridge overlooking the runway, and when dawn broke, they began raking the LZ with machine-gun fire. Their position wasn't discernible from the Valley floor, but the ALO called in a pair of F-100s to take a look, and the gunners opened up on them. The jets each carried two bombs and took turns dropping them where they thought the enemy was hiding; finally, the last bomb found its mark and destroyed the position. A rifle squad was dispatched to assess the damage and came back with their report: the gun had been in a small reinforced concrete bunker; the two occupants were fragmented, with their feet chained to the bunker floor.
There was a small stream running down the length of the Valley, with a nice pool near where I had been sleeping. Several of us thought it was a good opportunity for a bath, so we stripped down and jumped in. I had been carrying a small bar of soap in an ammo pouch, so we passed that around for everyone to use. As we climbed out of the pool, we noticed a pair of fighter aircraft to the north of us that were taking turns making strafing runs at a ground target. Don't know what they were trying to hit. But suddenly, they seemed to merge as they pulled up and one popped its canopy and we could see the ejection seat being launched from its fuselage, and soon its parachute blossomed , with the pilot clearly visible. That aircraft climbed further, then went out of control and we could see it impact the ground maybe a mile away. Two of our gunships were airborne and were alerted to watch for the pilot's parachute. and actually circled him as he fell, to ensure no bad guys bothered him. He had a perfect landing and was picked up by a couple of our troops in an NVA truck. The other aircraft turned east after the collision, and we heard that the pilot made it to the South China Sea before he baled out and was picked up by a Navy destroyer. I was relieved to hear that both of those guys had survived. I don't know what type aircraft were involved, or which service the pilots were in.
Operation Delaware, as our attack into A Shau was known, was an interesting experience, but frustrating for me due to the absence of enemy troops to see and hear my propaganda messages. I only encountered the occasional sniper. At one point, I thought I had found one, in trolling along the Valley rim. This dude stuck his head up from a concealed position and fired at a battalion CP down below him. We circled around behind him, and I was straining to keep him in sight. As we circled back around the battalion CP, I noticed someone jumping up and down, waving his arms at us. I asked my pilot over the intercom, "What gives with him?" He came back and said, "Sir, that's the battalion six! He wants us to get out of the way so he can put an airstrike on that guy!" "Roger, that!" I said, and we pulled off and returned to the LZ.
We were in the Valley for about three weeks, but we had planned to stay up to three months if the weather had turned against us. For that reason, we had gone in with a horrendous supply of ammunition, fuel, food and water for two brigades, and had to haul most of that back to Camp Evans when we left. The fuel and ammo were especially problematic. It wound up being stacked along the runway, including eight 10,000-gallon bladders of JP4 for the helicopters. We were sitting ducks with all that stuff and sure enough, on the night of 25 May, we got hit with a dozen 122mm rockets. And one of them got a lucky hit for the Commies: it hit the ammunition stockpile, and before long the fuel bladders began exploding. The shock wave generated by an exploding 10,000-gallon bladder of JP4 was horrendous, and destroyed helicopters, plywood buildings, motor vehicles, antenna arrays and everything else. And there were thousands of rounds of artillery ammunition scattered all over the LZ. A lot of that didn't explode, so the ground was littered with live rounds, just waiting to be kicked or stepped on. A live 40mm grenade landed near my bedroll, where my tent had been, and laid there for a couple of days before an EOD team could remove it. That stuff cooked off for three days. To my knowledge, the only fatality that resulted was an E8 who had taken shelter in a bunker and was hit in the head by an artillery round that came through the roof; it didn't detonate, but it didn't need to, to kill him. The JAG (a LTC) climbed onto the roof of his bunker to watch the fireworks and was blown off of it by an exploding fuel bladder. He wrenched his shoulder when he hit the ground and claimed a Purple Heart for his injury. I was able to dive into a good bunker and was unhurt. Years later, I met a retired Army chaplain who came in on a C-130 while that stuff was still cooking off. He said he was never so scared in his life, as when they landed and the crew chief told the passengers to run like hell for the nearest bunker. Camp Evans looked like a junkyard when that was over.
This ends Part XI

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 28 at 2020 1:51 PM

2020-08-28T13:51:58-04:00

Part XII of my response:
According to my mission log (Gil Smith Collection in the Vietnam Archive of TTU.edu, item number [login to see] 2 page 10) I flew on an OH-6A to Quang Tri City on 1 June to interview a Hoi Chanh who was picked up in Hai Lang, south of Quang Tri City; then on 3 June, took that Hoi Chanh up in a UH-1D for loudspeaker broadcasts directed at his NVA unit. That mission lasted 1.5 hours and resulted in four more defections and surrender of six rifles. That doesn't seem like much in the greater scheme of things, but it drew ground fire (according to an annotation in my log) so at least it had some effect. That kind of mission and response came to typify my normal routine during June 1968. When I drew fire, I usually returned it with my M-16 (as did the door gunner with his M-60) and noted the location in my log so I could brief the G-2 Order of Battle team back at Camp Evans.
The OB Team Chief was an MI 1LT and ran a low-level agent network in Phong Dien, the village near Camp Evans. I don't recall exactly when, but one evening he failed to return from a visit to Phong Dien, and when he didn't show up the next morning, a search of the village was launched; when it failed to turn up any sign of him by early afternoon, a more detailed search using NPFF was launched Finally, a large straw basket was closely examined; it had been thought to contain a small water buffalo carcass. But when the contents were dumped onto the ground, a bloody fatigue shirt with the LT's nametag was found under the carcass. Only the torso was found, the head and all four limbs were missing and the torso was blackened as though it had been roasted. Sure wish I could recall the LT's name! I've gone over division casualty lists from that period, but no name jumps out at me as familiar. He might have been assigned to an MI unit, as opposed to the division itself; that's yet another avenue for research.

Response by SGT John William made Aug 28 at 2020 2:20 PM

2020-08-28T14:20:02-04:00

Squad Leader at 20. Served during TET offensive of 1968. Not one of my men were killed but they had their share of Purple Hearts. My Platoon Sgt (Finnis MacCleary)was awarded Medal of Honor for saving my squad and platoon.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 30 at 2020 1:13 PM

2020-08-30T13:13:54-04:00

Part XIII of my response:
About mid-summer of '68, I received a call from 24th Corps asking me to take on a team of Kit Carson Scouts. Those were former VC who agreed to work with US forces in soliciting currently-active VC to rally to the South Vietnamese side. I agreed to give them a try and took SSGT Viet with a driver and a 3/4 ton truck down to a government office in Hue' to meet them and talk to them about working with us. Our CG and senior staff had already been briefed and given their approval, if we could find a way to safely use them. So we went down to Hue' and met up with them, and I agreed to take them back to Camp Evans. But good grief! They were a scruffy bunch! And armed to the teeth, with M2 carbines and at least one Thompson SMG! I recall there were nine of them. When we got to the gate at Camp Evans, the MPs took one look and said to me, "Sir, are you under duress?" I assured them I was fine and I intended to turn them over to the Provost Marshall. When we reached the command post, the Provost Marshall was waiting for us with a heavily-armed platoon of MPs. He informed me that the scouts would be disarmed and confined for the night in the "cage", the barbed wire enclosure used to temporarily house enemy prisoners of war. When SSGT Viet translated that for the scouts, they had a fit and I thought for a moment we were going to have a firefight right there! They surrendered their weapons with much grumbling and very reluctantly agreed to bed down for the night in the cage, provided it was in a secure area separate from the real EPWs. The next morning, they informed SSGT Viet that they demanded to be returned to Hue'; so we loaded them back up and took them back to the compound where we had first met them. I had some explaining to do at 24th Corps, but they accepted the outcome with only minor complaint.
In late September, I wrote a letter to the Civilian Personnel Office at AF Security Service at Kelly AFB in San Antonio, reminding them that I wanted to come back to my old job in early December, and asking what I needed to do to get my security clearance back so I could go back to work. About two weeks later, I received a reply informing me that my previous position had been transferred to the National Security Agency at Ft Meade MD and that my liberal arts BA didn't qualify me for any vacant position. So I wrote another letter and addressed that one to my previous civilian boss, Mr Loel Oldham. I had heard that my previous military boss, 1LT James Clapper, had been promoted to Captain and had moved onto another assignment, but I hoped that Mr. Oldham might be able to help.
Mr. Oldham wrote back, informing me that he had already spoken with the Director of Civilian Personnel, and had taken with him a letter that the director had signed three years earlier, committing his office to restoring me to full employment within Security Service, provided I returned within four years, as was required by civilian Personnel Regulations. The personnel security office had been advised of my imminent return, and said I would be interviewed by a special agent from the counter-intelligence staff when I showed up at the gatehouse in front of Building 2000, the location of HQ Air Force Security Service. All I had to do was inform Mr. Oldham when I would return to the States, and the date I wished to return to work. I replied that I expected to be back in San Antonio on 15 Nov '68 and desired to report for work on Monday 2 Dec '68. So far, so good.

Response by SP5 Michael Barczykowski made Aug 30 at 2020 5:00 PM

2020-08-30T17:00:15-04:00

My personal account of the war is that we won and our politicians threw it away. Never trust a politician where honor or money is involved.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 30 at 2020 8:07 PM

2020-08-30T20:07:36-04:00

Part XIV of my response:
It was already September, and I still hadn't taken an R&R. Decided to try to meet up with WATT (wife at the time) in Hawaii and began trying to coordinate that by mail, knowing that an exchange of letters took at least eight days, since it all traveled by sea. Was finally able to get through with a MARS call but was only allowed three minutes of conversation. Finally settled on early October, so I applied for the period 4-11 Oct. I knew I had to get it done prior to 15 Oct (30 days before my DEROS) or it wouldn't happen at all. So we decided to meet in Waikiki and stay at the Outrigger Hotel.
I left Camp Evans for Cam Rahn on 2 Oct (don't know why I was allowed to leave early) on a C-7A. The same flight the next day collided with one of our CH-47 Chinooks off the end of the Evans runway and killed everyone aboard both aircraft, 24 people in all.
So I met up with WATT in Honolulu and checked into the Outrigger. Found it to be a very nice place; there bars all over the place, including one underground, at the end of a large swimming pool. The wall behind the bar was glass, and patrons could watch hotel guests cavorting underwater; in one instance I witnessed, without their swimsuits. A few blocks from the hotel was Canlis Restaurant, which had wonderful food; we went there twice.
When I returned to Camp Evans, I was introduced to my replacement, another 1LT. The G-5 instructed me to take him with me whenever I went. Then he gave us a special assignment: he said he was trying to convince the CG that the division should mount a waterborne operation on the My Chahn River that flowed west to east out of the mountains to the South China Sea. The river was the dividing line between Thua Thien and Quang Tri Provinces and was known to experience heavy traffic by small boats as the VNs used it transport people and rice between the villages that dotted its shores. He wanted us to go up there and count the boats that we saw on the river, so he would know if there would be enough to transport men and equipment for a battalion-sized force to launch an effective cordon-and-search operation on those villages.
So we visited the G-3 (Air) scheduling officer in the DTOC and made arrangements for a Loach - an OH-6A - to fly us up there the next afternoon. The next afternoon at about 1700 hours, we met the bird on the pad behind the DTOC and took off heading north, then turned west parallel to the river, and began counting boats as they emerged from the treeline.
(stopping now to take care of business; got to post this before it disappears, as happened earlier today when I put the computer to sleep without saving text)

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Aug 31 at 2020 10:26 AM

2020-08-31T10:26:26-04:00

Part XV of my response:
As we swung back around to the east, we saw the boats become more numerous and the pilot slowed his airspeed to help us count them. As daylight began to fade, we had to drop lower in altitude, and at the end of our run were probably at about 100 ft above ground level. I made note of the way the people in the boats appeared, and the cargo they seemed to be transporting. As we climbed back up in altitude to return to Camp Evans, I remarked to the pilot over the intercom that I had seen a Cobra gunship (AH-1G from the 1/9 Cav) above us, and he replied that the 1/9th had been providing us escort the whole time we had been over the river.
When we got back to Evans and set down behind the DTOC, we went straight to the G-5 hooch to report our results. I saluted the G-5 and said, "Sir, we saw a lot of boats on the My Chain this afternoon and I think we got a good count of them for you." He said, "Wonderful, Lt Smith! How many did you see?" I told him, "Sir, we saw 847 two-man canoes on the water. They were each occupied by two military-aged males wearing pith helmets, and each boat had two large bags of rice between the occupants, and there was an AK-47 laid over each bag. If we want to commandeer those boats, we'll probably have to fight for them." The G-5 had turned kind of pale by this time, and he finally said, "OK, LT Smith. Good report. Thanks." I was glad I was a short-timer and wouldn't have to work for that guy much longer.
In fact, the division soon received orders to re-deploy south to Tay Nihn Province to re-enforce the allied troops east of Saigon, to defend against enemy forces who were infiltrating from Cambodia. I was informed that I wouldn't have to go, since I was short. I would stay behind and help clean up the area until time for my departure for Cam Rahn. So that's what I did, and in only a couple days, I was out of there and headed home to "The World".
The trip home was sweet, on a DC-8 charter from Flying Tiger Airways. The stews took really good care of us and we decorated them with combat awards we had received before we left. We landed at SeaTac Airport, where I made a collect call to my parents to let them know I was back in the States. Then we were bussed to Ft Lewis for out-processing. We were offered a steak dinner at the Officers' Club, but I declined in favor of some sleep. The next morning, we were bussed back to SeaTac, where I traded in my government travel request at the Braniff counter for a first class ticket on a Boeing 727. (I had lived like a dog long enough, thank you very much. Had enough of that.)
My parents and the WATT met me at San Antonio International, and the welcome home from my parents was wonderful! But from the WATT, not so much. She turned away when I tried to kiss her and seemed cold as ice. When we got to my parents' house, we were assigned the guest room, which had twin beds. The next morning, the WATT said she wanted us to go car-shopping, so on my first day home we visited a Ford dealership and bought a 1969 Mustang fastback, for which I paid $2800 in cash. We returned to my parents' house and retrieved my duffel bag, and then she drove us to a neighborhood near Lackland AFB, where she had rented a small house. When we got out of the car and opened the door, she turned to me and said "Thanks for the car! Good-bye!" and jumped back in the car. I asked, "Where are you going?" She started the engine and said, "I'm leaving you, Gil! Don't try to find me, I'll contact you in a few days about collecting my things!" And with that, she was gone. A couple of days later, I answered a knock on the door and there was a short guy in a constable's uniform standing there, and he had some kind of papers in his hand. He asked, "Are you Voyle Gilbert Smith?" I said I was, and he jerked open the screen door and slapped me in the chest with the papers, and said "Mr. Smith, you've been served!" He ran back to his car, jumped in and took off. And I had just been served with a divorce petition that had already been filed in the 150th District Court in San Antonio.
That's a summary of my Vietnam experience. There were more details I could write about, like the "sundry packs" that the G-5 office received each month, that contained multiple cartons of cigarettes, chewing gum, razors and razor blades, cigars, all sorts of good stuff. I especially appreciated the carton of short Camel cigarettes that were in each pack; I had been smoking Camels since Basic Training, since they were the only smokes I could taste through the mud in my mouth. And they were easy to field strip with one hand. I sometimes chewed a cigar when in the field, but had to quit that when I got home because a wet chewed up cigar butt looked too much like something a dog would leave behind. I kept a pack or two of Camels in a magazine pouch (along with the bottle of Tabasco sauce and bar of soap). Finally quit smoking "cold turkey" the night before my first angioplasty in Jan '91.
My personal life has worked out beautifully. Met Debra in a restaurant in San Antonio while TDY back to my home office at Kelly AFB. We dated furiously for a month, then she returned to Germany with me and we were married in London on All Hallows Eve (Halloween) in 1975. She's an incredible woman! I'm the luckiest SOB on the face of the earth! Wishing the same for all the folks here on RP!

Response by CW3 Kenneth Henderson made Oct 28 at 2020 6:37 PM

2020-10-28T18:37:47-04:00

I was in those days, a hard-chargin' SP5. I came in dedicated, and left the same way. I was in MACSOG; a highly respected unit that was also highly classified. My problem? I lived with 30 years of shame because I was an admin soldier; that's right - a real "Remington Ranger". No one in my family knows what I really did in the war. ONE DAY, I attended a convention of the American Legion and saw the SOG logo on the cap of one of the fellow Legionnaires. Wearing my own SOG pin, I struck up a conversation with him - then confessed my shame. The man replied, "Do you know how many of us came back alive because of you? Look at your watch. Imagine that you can take out a wheel from the inside; ANY wheel, large or small. You see, it takes every wheel for the watch to accomplish its mission." Just like that, thirty years of shame disappeared, thanks to a fellow MACSOG vet.
When I taught elementary school, I was always careful to welcome EVERY veteran; postman to pilot, cook to colonel. All raised their hand, and all served. God bless you, every one.

Response by MSG Danny Mathers made Dec 16 at 2020 1:10 PM

2020-12-16T13:10:27-05:00

Ambush damn rear every night and when I wasn't on ambush I was 50 to 100 meters from the night defensive position conducting LP/OP, listening or observation post. Being on ambush and OPLP was miserable. The blood suckers were constantly buzzing around your ears. You were either hot and sweaty or wet and cold. The ground was either hard or muddy It seemed all you ever got was a couple of hours of restless sleep. I was assigned to weapons squad armed with M60 machine gun and on a few occasion the 90mm recoiless rifle. My unit would go out for weeks and return for one night to resupply, wow the Infantry life sucked as it has in all wars. I did see combat on several occasions which was not ambuses or being ambushed; I am talking about full blown firefights. The fear of combat is before the fight, not during the battle. The guilt is realized after the fight which you wonder why you survived and your budy didn't. 1/61 Infantry, 5th Mech Sep 68-69.

Response by 1LT Voyle Smith made Dec 18 at 2020 4:34 AM

2020-12-18T04:34:08-05:00

Response by LTC John Griscom made Dec 19 at 2020 2:52 PM

2020-12-19T14:52:57-05:00

I was with the 24th Evac Hospital; at Long Binh when there a sapper attack at the fuel farm. We went to get weapons at the arms room, but the armorer was in Saigon with the keys.
After that, I had weapons in my room.

Response by SgtMaj Robert Burke made Dec 24 at 2020 8:51 AM

2020-12-24T08:51:05-05:00

A quick story. In an MP unit and we had the I Corp Bridge as one of our responsibities. We also ran ambushes and sweeps of the area. Well one of my younger brothers enters country( also USMC) and I get a call to come get him at Danang A.B. His orders gave him a couple days to wait till he went to his unit.
I had an ambush that night but was able to switch with a buddy and I took his spot in a tower on the bridge. My brother did not want to stay in the hooch by himself and I decided to take him with me. That night, his first in country we get hit with a s/load of rockets and mortars and we had to get under the tower into a bunker.
The look on his face said it all. He signed a waiver to come over since I was already there and he was trying to figure a way out of it. All ended well, we had a nice visit for a day or 2 then he went to his unit already a combat vet!

Response by SFC Terry Wilcox made Dec 29 at 2020 8:28 AM

2020-12-29T08:28:54-05:00

Being the LUCKY ONE! Having woke up in May 1967 - on the operating table at the 106th General Hospital, Yokohama, Japan with severe head injuries - and NO MEMORY of the entire tour. Being the lucky one.

Response by Cpl Vic Burk made Dec 29 at 2020 7:00 PM

2020-12-29T19:00:27-05:00

My personal account? I would like to forget that entire year I was there and just make it disappear.

Response by Amn Vernon Allen made Dec 30 at 2020 11:14 PM

2020-12-30T23:14:11-05:00

i help load weapons on b-52 at minot afb and they drop them on vietnam they then landed
at gaum . we here, on the ground at minot never got resinize.

Response by CPT Dennis Stevenson made Dec 31 at 2020 9:22 AM

2020-12-31T09:22:17-05:00

The National Archives has a program to video vets telling stories of their experiences. I have done so. Please check with the Archives next time you're in Washington.

Response by SP5 Wilbert Jennings made Feb 20 at 2021 11:07 PM

2021-02-20T23:07:29-05:00

One of my duties I was assigned to MACV headquarters in Saigon with Payroll and disbursement and were to protect the replacement of MPC with new and improved script and we were not allowed to have a M-16 but were given a M-14 with no firing pin and empty mags. Same night many locals committed suicide due to what they were now holding was nothing more than toilet paper. I had a opportunity one time to attend a restaurant in Saigon with friends on an evening pass and I left to walk back to the barracks I was picked up by a jeep with 4 Cong pretending to be RVNS. I had drank a couple drinks with my meal, figured I could walk it off by the time I got back. We were not allowed a weapon it was suppose to be a friendly restaurant. While being offered a ride back to my Hoche they began to hit me with a lot of questions that they should have known the answers ,so I played along and when we got to the gate I asked them to wait I wanted to pay them and I asked the guard to hold them I was suspicious and as it turned out they weren't friendly.

Response by MSgt Currie C. made Mar 1 at 2021 12:25 AM

2021-03-01T00:25:58-05:00

I was with H&S 1/9. I lasted till 07/06/67, then med evac to Dong Ha.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Buffalo_(1967)

Operation_Buffalo_(1967)

Response by AB Timothy Ursch made Mar 10 at 2022 12:21 AM

2022-03-10T00:21:35-05:00

My Dad served in Vietnam with the Army Security Agency all of 1970 in the central highlands, Pleiku and DaNang.

Response by Sgt Dale Briggs made Jul 12 at 2022 1:07 PM

2022-07-12T13:07:19-04:00

31 months is in human, especially for a place like Nam where there’s no rear area to be safe in.