August 23, 1966: Second Wound Rotating Back Home After 13 Months in Combat

2nd Battalion, 1st Marines

(VN-era version)

Comrades in Arms

I want to share this story as I concluded my first year in Vietnam — it is as fresh today as it was then now 58 years ago. That is long time in history, but the event of that day is still still fresh in my mind as it happened at that time. Some memories of war fade and we tend to lose a few minute details, but overall, the big picture - the key events always linger - they never totally go away - this event never has.

Such is the case on that date when the last group of Marines I served with were killed in action (KIA) on that date, which was shortly before I was scheduled to leave after my full year there and happened to be the date I got wounded a second time.

Those three fine men *named below and who are forever listed on Panel 9E, Rows 74 and 107, and Panel 10E, Rows 23, 29, and 32 on the VN Memorial Wall in Washington, DC died on that day. One was SSgt. Ken Glaze, from Hutchinson, KS. 

He had just joined unit: Golf Company, 2nd BN, 1st Marines. He had been assigned to take my place as Platoon Commander, since we didn't have any officers for a very long time and that task fell to senior NCO's like Ken and myself and I was ready to rotate back to CONUS after a very long 13 months in VN. He had only been in the unit for a few days before he was killed. As I said, Ken had been reassigned to Golf Company only a few days before, and since I was scheduled to rotate home, I didn’t know for sure how long he had been in VN on this tour, or whether he even had come from another unit, because quite frankly I didn't have a chance to know him very well before he was killed. It was his second tour in VN. He and the two others in our company killed that day were killed by a series of landmines: two mines for sure, maybe there had been three, or perhaps even four - we weren't sure at the time how many.

The two other Marines killed beside Ken that fateful day were: 

PFC Phil Grego, from Council Bluffs, IA 

PFC Cliff Walter, from Erie, PA  

We were very lucky more of us weren't killed that horrible day. This is how the events unfolded: Ken had been out leading one of our early morning patrols around the company area, and he had just returned with a few others and a small group was behind them also on their way in. 

That small group was only a few hundred yards in front of the CP (Command Post) as they were sweeping through an old cemetery area out front. They were so close that some of guys shouted at them to hurry up and come in and get some hot chow. Then kapow, boom, boom...!!!   Two very loud explosions. Ken was the first to grab a couple of Marines nearby and dash out to the site. I followed him along with two of our Navy Corpsmen.  

Mine explosions, or in fact, any kind of explosion, tend to be really nasty. As Marines, we were trained and taught that if there was one mine, or a booby trap, be careful, you can be 100% sure there would be more nearby. That day was no exception to that savvy old Engineer Golden Rule.   

I had no sooner arrived on the scene than I saw Ken bending over the wounded helping patch their wounds. It appeared that no one was dead, but I could see we had at least three were seriously wounded.  I don't know exactly what happened next, but one of the wounded stood up and started to move away from the others. I yelled at him: “Don't move, don't move, get down!” I had no sooner gotten those words out when another huge blast hit us. 

We were consumed by the heat, metal, flames, and shrapnel. He had triggered a second mine. The air was filled with black smoke and powder and screams. The smell was awful.  Pieces of metal tore into me as well. It had been what we called a “Bouncing Betty” – that is the kind of mine that when stepped on would actually bounce up in the air some 3-4 feet and explode cutting down anyone standing nearby – they were very deadly. Apparently the VC or NVA had seen our guys burying them some time ago and dug them up for their own use. Plus, they were good and figuring out our patrol routes knew where to plant our mines for the most damage against us. 

Another thing the enemy would do was to modify the mines and make them “command denoted” (that is one or two of the enemy would lie in the brush and then explode them remotely as we entered their kill zone) then they would trigger them in an elaborate ambush.

Our dead and wounded now covered a wider radius, and sadly one or two forgot the Engineer's golden rule: One mine means another or more would be nearby. We paid a heavy price. A mere few minutes after I arrived and while our Docs were patching up the wounded, and a few minutes before the second mine went off, our Company Gunnery Sergeant (GySgt. Wilson) arrived with a few other Marines to assist.  

I saw them and yelled at Wilson and told him and the others to get back and stay back and not come any closer and that we had the situation under control since they were getting too close.

Wilson overruled me and acted like an ass since he was senior to me and I was a newly-promoted Staff Sergeant. It didn't matter at the time, or maybe he just wanted to throw around his rank I never knew or cared at the time. His group kept coming closer. Then boom; another mine went off, and then just as suddenly, someone got up to move, and another mine went off (at that point I had lost count of how many mines exactly)!  

Ken Glaze and the other Marine, one of the three killed, apparently had triggered the mine and both were killed instantly. One of the previously wounded (I think it may have been Phil Grego) was killed as he lay there getting patched up from his first wound.  I was hit and so were several others including one of the Docs nearby. I had been hit in the forehead, right shoulder, and left thigh, but I was lucky. None of my wounds as it turned out were life-threatening, although the forehead bled a lot and hurt the most and looked the worst, but luckily it was not serious. I had been crouching down helping a wounded Marine when the mine blew so I made a much smaller target than those who were standing like Ken and the others and they were killed instantly, and they didn't suffer. One minute they were standing there and the next they were gone. We probed around for more mines and not finding any, we started to clean up the area and move the dead and wounded back to the perimeter as 'choppers started to arrive to pick up the dead and wounded.

I came face-to-face with Gunny Wilson back at the CP talking to Captain Charles Krulak (our Golf Company commander at the time) about what exactly happened. Wilson kept trying to clean up the story to fit his own agenda; whatever that was I wasn't sure. 

Once or twice, I came close to grabbing him by the throat and beating the shit out of him over what had happened because I was angry that he would pull rank on me, even when I was right when I told him and the others to stay back and not to come closer.  He was wrong and it cost us dearly. He kept trying to show that he was in control and that the others had somehow were wrong. Wilson was wrong, it was he who f**ked up but he wouldn't admit it. He was not obligated to explain to Krulak and others what had happened, yet he kept leaving out the part where I told him and the others to stay back. Although I was only a Staff Sergeant and he out ranked me, he persisted in his story version. But, in fact i was a platoon commander (an officer's position since we were short officers) and actually had more pull than he did – but, he didn't care.

That was my second wound, and I had only a week left on my normal one-year rotation,. Captain Krulak ordered me to the rear and our BAS (Battalion Aid Station). He told me to get patched up, stay there, and get ready to go home: “You stay there and get ready to go home next week, your tour is over.” 

I think he did it for Wilson's sake more than for mine. I could have gotten patched up and stayed in the field another week or so, and thus I guess it didn't matter. It was clear Krulak didn't want me anywhere near Wilson. 

I flew out of VN and returned home on September 6, 1966. My first tour of duty was over after nearly 13 months of nearly daily combat operations. However, I would be back in VN in November 1968 for a second tour with the 1st Battalion, 7th Marines, operating in nearly in the same area. Then I would be a brand new 2nd Lt. (as then Major Krulak had recommended me for a direct commission, and I got it in October 1968). So, the NVA and VC would be getting a another chance at me.

Those three Marines killed will never be forgotten. God bless them and may they R.I.P. They earned a spot in heaven the hard way. 

Thanks for stopping by.

Vietnam Memorial Day 1966: Heavy Combat & Dreadful Day for 2nd BN, 1st MARINES

We Must Never Forget

(It is our soul, our fabric, who we are)

Each year I reflect back and remember the awful chain of events on that Memorial Day in 1966. I also wrote about them in my book here Last Ride Home (Updated on Kindle). Those events follow as best I recall, and they are still as fresh as ever.

Background to the Event: There was an interlude between Operation NEW YORK  (February 28, 1966 which also was the day I was first wounded and evacuated for 45 days before returning to duty in April 1966), and Operation JAY (just South of ancient Capitol City of Hue from 25 June to 2 July 1966). 

We were told to continue conducting small unit patrols (squad and platoon level) to  “sweep the villages” and keep our edge sharp and basically to fill the gap between those two operations as we continued to move more and more northward towards the DMZ and eventually that led to Operation HASTINGS (the biggest of the war at that time) during July-August 1966.

On one of those “sweeps” that ended for me and my platoon was on that Memorial Day in May 1966. We had just finished a couple days of patrolling in a nearby village east of our battalion temporary HQ located along Highway 1 just North of Hue. This highway led right into the most-northern provinces, which further led into the DMZ, and then into North Vietnam.

We were packed up and were ready to pull out of the village and trade places with another platoon on their way to relieve us and also from Golf Company (Platoon Sergeant, SSgt. John Gaines, who was a very good friend of mine). I had been in radio contact with Gaines over the company radio net all morning briefing him. We exchanged information about the village and what was going on back at battalion. I told John what we had done and what we had seen and had not seen, namely no NVA and not much else to report for him.

Then I told him to be careful moving in from the direction he was moving in from because our look out had seen some movement up and around our positions earlier in the morning, but that I didn't know what to make of it, but be careful and remain alert. Gaines said Roger, thanked me, and said he would relay the info to his Lieutenant. That was that.

My platoon had no officer, so I was acting commander and had been since January 1966, right after Operation HARVEST MOON when we came ashore for permanent duty for the rest of that year. 

We had just pulled out of the village and started up a long dusty road leading back to the battalion perimeter, which was some 2,000 yards ahead of us. Then once again, as before, my point Marine spotted a group of NVA moving across our path what looked like the same path Gaines and his platoon would be coming down that led into the same village we had just left. I got back on the radio and called for artillery and mortar fire on them. 

The fire was effective because after we reached the spot where our rounds had hit, we found numerous body parts and some NVA combat gear - but that was it. I initially thought we had spoiled their plans, so I passed that information along to Gaines. I told him we had hit them but that I didn't know if it was the front or rear or any size unit. Then I reminded him one more time to be very alert. I told him where we had seen them and the direction they were heading, but didn't know much beyond that.

He acknowledged my advice and again said: “Roger, I'll tell the actual (his lieutenant), thanks, out.” His radio went silent. We continued on our route back to the battalion CP.

We had no sooner returned to the perimeter and started dropping our gear, when a call for help came across the battalion radio from Gaines' platoon.

Almost at once, we could hear mortar and machine fire coming from the village we had just left.  It seems that our Battalion's Echo Company, that also had been moving back to the CP, was ordered back to to the same village to assist Gaines and his platoon in the village who appeared to be in deep trouble.

One of Echo's platoons was led by Staff Sergeant (later promoted to Gunnery Sergeant) Jim MacKenna. Off they charged into the village from the southwest side as Gaines was on the northeast side.  I don't know exactly what happened in between the two platoons, but it turned out to be a mess. While all that was going on, my platoon was ordered to saddle up and get ready to move back into the area and provide support.

We did end up going back in after things seemed to have settled down, about two hours later. Then the battle damage assessment started coming in over the radios. 

It was awful news: Echo Company had eight Marines killed, including Jim MacKenna, with half a dozen wounded. 

In Golf Company, John Gaines was alive, but he had lost 13 in his platoon. Included in his count were many left over from the original Fox Company that I had served with and knew quite well.

One of those losses was especially hard for most of us. That was the loss was Lance Corporal Billy Joe Holt (Cameron, TX). He was probably the best machine gunner in Fox Company who had been trained by Frank Pruitt.  

Also killed along with Holt were:

·   Dave Brandon, Lake Oswego, OR

·   Gordy Briggs, Seattle, WA

·   Jim Briles, Portland, OR 

·   Tom Britton, Great Neck, NY

·   R. B. Marchbanks, Moriarty, NM 

The other seven killed were new and had just joined Golf from other units that I hardly had a chance to know them very well. 

With those losses it just about wiped out the original Fox Company ever since we had arrived in VN from Camp Pendleton back in September 1965.  

I had a chance to meet up and talk to John Gaines later about what had happened. He told me he had relayed my info to his lieutenant and my warning, but that the lieutenant didn't seem to have cared or didn't believe our report. John said that his Lt. always did things his own way and seldom listened to the NCO's. Unfortunately, the lieutenant paid a heavy price for that style of arrogance. He was shot two or three times in his back and buttocks, but he lived. 

As best as we all could piece together what happened was this: A larger group of NVA had slipped into the village from another direction and were unseen by anyone, even as my platoon was heading the other direction. They apparently were not part of ones I had called fire on earlier. 

The NVA managed to set up a very elaborate “Horseshoe shaped”  ambush in and around the village and along the trail that Gaines was entering in on. When Gaines and his platoon got in the center of the ambush site, the NVA opened up and hit them from three sides. There was no escape. The NVA had a turkey shoot. 

Then as Echo Company entered from the rear of the horseshoe ambush and unbeknownst to them, they too entered the trap and were cut to ribbons.

Not only was the day bad for the number of our losses, both killed and wounded, but the fact that it was on Memorial Day, and after a thorough sweep of the village area we found only one dead NVA soldier. Whether there were more that had been dragged away or hidden we never found out - that was the NVA's style: To never leave traces of their losses.

We did find plenty of NVA machine gun cartridges and different firing positions all around. That indicated that they had had a large and strong force. Most of them slipped out just as easily as they slipped in during the mass confusion. The NVA won a big victory that day. They lost only one soldier that we knew about, but we had lost 20 Marines. 

The lesson was simple: One young Lieutenant didn't listen to his seasoned sergeant and they paid a heavy price.

In the whole mess, one hero did stand out, however. That was Lance Corporal Paul McGee, also left over from Fox Company. Paul was a classic Marine, great in the field and in tactics but a real clown in garrison, and everyone liked him despite his clowning and other shortcomings because he was just plain likable. 

Paul was shot three times that day and each time the NVA shot him, he got madder and fought harder especially after he saw Billy Holt killed since they had been the best of friends. Gaines said McGee went nearly berserk when he saw Billy Joe killed as he fired on the NVA. 

McGee was wounded pulling Holt back from where he had fallen. No one could confirm for sure, but indications are that McGee alone killed a dozen NVA by himself while being shot in the leg, chest, and thigh. The NVA were notorious for not leaving any of their dead on the battlefield as I said so that count remained unknown. I figure that day they employed their best plan that included removing or hiding all their dead - and it worked.

Paul McGee was awarded a Silver Star for his actions that day. I wish I had seen his acts so I could have written him up for something higher. I'm sure he deserved it. As I have said before, the Marine Corps was very stingy on their awards in the early days of the war. That stinginess would stay with us for years. We all knew it, but accepted that fact of life nevertheless as we did our duty.

We moved on a few days later - going towards the DMZ and Operation Hastings (as noted above) which would be worse – far worse. 

Our losses on that sad Memorial Day, Sunday, May 30, 1966 (* VN time zone) are listed on the “Vietnam Wall” in Washington, DC. Their names are there forever. 

Full Name; Rank; Age; Hometown: 

ALDON ASHERMAN, (Navy), HM3, 20, Towanda, PA

DAVID BRANDON, PFC, 19, Lake Oswego, OR 

GORDON M. BRIGGS, PFC, 19, Seattle, WA

JAMES W. BRILES, PFC, 20, Portland, OR 

THOMAS BRITTON, PFC, 19, Great Neck, NY 

ROBERT A. CORKILL, LCpl, 20, San Benito, TX 

RICHARD E. CROWE, LCpl, 20, Long Beach, CA  

JAMES R. HEATH, LCpl, 19, Bala Cynwyd, PA 

BILLY J. HOLT, LCpl, 21, Cameron, TX 

DAVID W. JOHNSTON, PFC, 19, Tucson, AZ 

JAMES J. MACKENNA, SSgt, 37, Denver, CO 

R. B. MARCHBANKS JR, PFC, 23, Moriarty, NM 

JERRY L. NOLAND, LCpl, 19, Houston, TX 

ERNEST G. PAUL, PFC, 22, Concord, NH 

RONALD RALICH, PFC, 19, Lorain, OH 

ROY J. RICHARD, PVT, 19, Lafayette, LA 

EDWARD C. SEXTON, PFC, 23, New Buffalo, MI 

WALTER B. STEVENS, Sgt, 25, San Diego, CA 

JAMES H. STEWART, PFC, 19, Columbus, OH 

CHARLES E. WALKER, LCpl, 22, Magnolia, AR

KENNETH W. WICKEL, Cpl, 21, West Lawn, PA

Thanks for stopping by and never forget. 

Vietnam Reflection: February 28, 1966 Operation NEW YORK Heavy Combat Losses

Author (left) with Sgt. Steve Feliciano 

January 1966: Phu Bai Marine Base Camp

(Home of 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines)

Background: Our Marine infantry battalion (2^nd BN, 1^st Marines) arrived in Vietnam in early September 1965. Initially, we operated from off-shore on helicopter carriers (SLF: Special Landing Force) until we came ashore in late December 1965 following Operation HARVEST MOON (USMC Historical Record 58 pages .pdf). 

This BN conducted intensive ground combat operations until April 1971 when it returned to the United States. 

The single worst day of my first tour: The date was Monday, February 28, 1966. It is still a melancholy date for me each year, and yes, now 58 years later is a long time but that day for me and I'm sure for many others still alive and as as fresh now as it was back then. It was on that exact same day that I received my first wound – the first of three wounds I would suffer during my two combat tours.

During this operation, we would lose 18 Marines and one Navy Corpsman killed in action as well as numerous others wounded (some 30 or so).

All the reports I have read regarding OP NEW YORK say that we killed over 200 North Vietnamese Army (NVA) soldiers who belonged to a “fresh unit from North Vietnam that had just arrived in our area of operation”

Phu Bai was not too far south of North-South DMZ that divided the two countries. Our battalion was in fact the most-northern combat unit at the time. The NVA had been infiltrating from North Vietnam and all intelligence reports indicated that they were planning to attack us in our area, but as it turned out, we struck first.

We were slowly moving north towards the DMZ and would end up fighting there in July 1966 during Operation Hastings – at that time it was the largest combat operation. 

After that dreadful day, the last day in February and after very intense battle, I was evacuated to the battalion aid station (BAS) down in Danang for initial treatment, and from there many of us were flown out to the joint hospital ship off shore: The USS Repose (AH-8), for more surgery, treatment, recovery, and such.  

I stayed on the Repose for about 40 days, and then I returned back to 2/1 mid-April 1966. Returning was a joyful time for me, being all healed and ready for duty, but also finding out after I arrived back to Golf Company that I had been promoted to Staff Sergeant, effective on April 1, 1966. That was a big and pleasant surprise.

Here are the honored names of those we lost on that dreadful day, February 28, 1966:

1.  PFC Roger Bulifant, Belleville, MI, age: 18
2.  Cpl Henry “Sunny” Casebolt, St. Joseph, MO, age: 24 (later awarded the Navy Cross)
3.  PFC Warren Christensen, Hooper, UT, age: 19 
4.  LCpl Bill Foran, Decatur, IL, age: 20 (died of wounds the next day) 
5.  PFC Bill Fuchs, Milwaukee, WI, age: 20
6.  Cpl Charley Johnson, Batavia, IL, age: 21
7.  PFC Bob Knutson, Norfolk, VA, age: 21
8.  PFC Jim Laird, Davenport, IA, age: 21
9.  LCpl Larry MacDonald, Detroit, MI, age: 21
10.  SSgt Ed McCarthy, Chicago, IL, age: 37
11.  LCpl Andy McGuire, Chicago, IL, age: 23
12.  PFC Jim McLemore, Knoxville, TN, age: 23
13.  LCpl Mark Morgan, San Bruno, CA, age: 19
14.  PFC Miguel E. Naranjo, Pueblo, CO, age: 18
15.  PFC Richard Nugent, Westwood, NJ, age: 19
16.  LCpl Art Pederson, Minneapolis, MN, age: 19
17.  PFC Darrell Ray, Olympia, WA, age: 18 
18.  PFC Jose Torres, Sinton, TX, age: 21

Our unit had held various ceremonies to remember all those who died that day. I knew almost every one of them dating back to our time at Camp Pendleton where we trained before deployment. They gave their all as Marines are proud to say.

I told the story of Operation NEW YORK in my book, (linked on this page) which is the story the fallen can never tell, so I have tried to tell it for them. This is as best I remember that day and as I described in my book.

At the time, my old company, Fox Company, had a strength that continued to dwindle right up to the end of February 1966. By mid-February, I was reassigned from Fox Company to Golf Company (1^st Lt. Charles C. Krulak Commanding Officer and later in his career he became Commandant and 4-star General). 

Fox got beefed up when Marines from Fox 2/7 joined and became part of Fox 2/1. My move to Golf was not unusual in those days due to NCO shortages, and since I was a senior Sergeant, I took over a platoon in Golf Company where they were short Sergeants and officers as well.

Operation New York was one of those famous quickly-named operations (not well-planned in advance with some fancy name and lots of units lined up). The kind that was put together in a short period of time, and usually when events went sour and employment was needed quickly. Operation New York was no exception to that rule. At any given time, there were always some major ARVN and PF (Popular Force) units operating in and around our base at Phu Bai. 

Since we were relatively new to that northern area and still learning the terrain, the ARVN units worked closely with us to help us get to know the area and lay of the land. The PF units were actually a raggedy bunch (more like local militia than first rate Army units). They were not well-armed or well-equipped, but they bled and died like anyone else. I give them credit because they tried hard, and we liked them.

Late in the afternoon, reports started coming in about an ARVN unit and a bunch of PF's who had engaged a large NVA unit just east of Phu Bai. We were put on alert, which meant to “stand by” (I hated to hear that word stand by). What it meant that we might have to go help them or block for them on short notice. All day we prepared and waited and waited and prepared all over again right until early that evening when it looked like we'd have to wait and go the next day. We started settling down for the night even as reports kept coming in.

I had actually just gone to sleep when around 2200 hours (10 pm) when I was shaken out of my cot and told: “We're mounting out.” Mounting out, oh, shit I thought - damn, it’s nearly midnight. Midnight or not, we saddled up and moved to the LZ (a huge empty sandy area where 'choppers would land, pick us up, and head off to who knew knew).  

I remember thinking that we didn't get much of a briefing except that we were told to expect more after we arrived at the scene early in the morning. We loaded aboard CH-46 choppers and took off. 

We flew for about 20 to 30 minutes, and then we started circling for what seemed like a very long time, then we started to descend into the LZ (Landing Zone). This landing as it turned out was a Marine Corps first and classic as we later learned – the first night any infantry battalion was to attack at midnight by helicopter.

The landing thank goodness was uneventful, although a bit scary. Two CH-46's and Sea Stallions (the new, twin-rotor birds that replaced the old single engine H-34's) hovered overhead with their huge landing lights shining down below on the rice paddies as the rest of the 'choppers sat down and dropped us off. That was the most part. I imagined that if there were any NVA below, we would be sitting dead ducks with all this illumination. All they would have to do is start shooting at the bottom of the light and follow it up to the waiting birds like a step ladder. There they were bound to get lucky and hit any one of us. Luckily it did not happen. Things went very smoothly, actually to the surprise of everyone. 

Maybe the NVA had seen us, got scared, and pulled out and ran away. We found out later that we actually hadn't landed very close to where the fighting was in the first place. That meant we would have to hump there and attack or block at daybreak. Here we go again – attack at dawn: The Marine Corps way. 

Ironically, our first night assault went off without a hitch, except for missing a lot of sleep!

We assembled as fast as we could before the last bird flew away taking the last of the light. It was pitch black and I mean pitch black. You couldn't even see your hand in front of your face it was so dark. All we could do was spread out, keep close as possible, set night watches, and try to grab some sleep as best we could. Daylight was not far away.

At first light, we wolfed down some C-rations; dry brushed our teeth, pissed, and started saddling up. Then came our new orders: “Sweep forward and help the ARVN and PF units as needed. They would do the heavy lifting, we would support and block. End of orders.” Well, that sounded simple enough. 

We would block and shoot VC and NVA as they were pushed toward us. Hey, no sweat, now maybe we could get revenge for Harvest Moon. It all sounded easy enough, but I also knew these things sometimes turn sour quickly.

I thought that the fighting this time would be on our terms and not on their terms. But, wouldn’t you know it: Murphy dropped by and decided to screw up things only as Murphy can. He dropped off one of his famous Murphy laws and totally whacked us! Murphy as everyone knows always had plenty to say about changing events. Things like, “If it can go wrong, it will go wrong.” Damn, you Murphy. At the time, I hated remembering Murphy and for all he stood for. 

We had moved about a thousand meters or so without any resistance and without hearing any gunfire. Maybe the ARVN and PF units were still asleep, or maybe the NVA and VC slipped away overnight. But, at the same time, I kept thinking, where in the hell are the ARVN and PF units anyway? Maybe the NVA and VC didn't slip out at night. Who needed so much help in the first place? What's really going on here? We kept spread out and kept moving forward. We were on line and just stopped facing a huge tree line 300-500 yards ahead on the edge of the fairly dried out rice paddies. 

Left to right we had Echo Company, then Hotel Company, and then my Golf Company, and anchored on our far right flank was my old unit, Fox Company. 

So, on that line we had four Marine rifle companies with about 400 Marines lined up neat ready to block and kick some NVA ass as I’m sure we all thought as the VN units pushed them towards us – the plan we had been told. Lying there, smoking a cig and waiting for a very long time or so it seemed at the time. Still nothing, not a damn thing. Where were they? We heard no air or artillery fire – nothing – eerie to say the least I remember thinking. We were just 400 Marine “grunts” waiting on God only knew what.

We were enjoying that smoke break when a single rifle shot rang out up ahead. Everyone hit the deck. Then we looked around at each other with the same question was on everyone's mind: “What the hell was that? What did it mean? Who shot at whom?” Many of our eyes asked each other that same question. What did it mean, if it meant anything? Was it a misfire, an accidental discharge, or some kind of signal? No one said anything, we just wondered collectively and stayed alert. 

Slowly we got up and started to move slowly forward when the whole damn place opened up in a hail of bullets. Well then knew where the enemy was! Some of us hit the deck and started firing straight ahead, others started running for cover. Many others just fell dead right where they stood. It looked like another mess in the making. Marines all around were running and falling, some dead, some wounded, others taking up firing positions. No one was counting, but the numbers of those not moving seemed to be growing fast. I raced forward only a few meters. Marines were falling all around me. I stopped, hit the ground again and continued to fire straight ahead not knowing if my fire was effective or not.

The enemy fire was intense and from all accounts, very effective. I saw our choices go from slim to none in a flash. In retrospect, we had several options: stop, get down and hope for the best; or get down, lay there and probably get killed; or continue charging onward and die while taking some of them with us; or, finally run like hell towards the enemy hoping not to die, and if we made it, take as many of them with us before they took us out. 

None of those choices were good ones, but there was no time for debate. All these thoughts went through my head in about one minute. Any choice, either way, life and death looked like the only choices following any course of action we chose. Thanks goodness, I didn't have to make a choice – it was made for us. 

Lying there for only a few minutes seemed like a lifetime, and then I heard my Lieutenant, Terry Moulton (from New York City), shout over on my left side.

Moulton leaped up on a paddy dike, pulled out his pistol and K-bar knife and started screaming something at the time I wasn't quite sure what. Then his words rang clear. “Fuck this shit, let's go. Charge!”  

My first thought was Moulton, you asshole, what the Hell are you doing? But, it didn't matter what I thought, or what his words were.

We all seemed to be motivated about our predicament at the same time. We leaped up and started charging and screaming at the top of our lungs as we headed straight for the tree lines into the withering fire. Something dramatically happened at the exact moment we started to rush the tree line, the firing all stopped for a brief moment in time. It was as if shock hit the NVA all at once and they panicked right there in their trenches as they saw us screaming and charging straight at them. I know they were stunned because I was stunned myself.

I continued running and shooting as fast I could while dodging straight ahead. I wanted to take as many of them with me as possible before they got me, because surely if I lay there, I was going to die and I thought today was my day on Earth.

I glanced over and saw one of our platoon sergeants, a huge Hawaiian, SGT. Napoleon (we all naturally called him Pineapple). As soon as Moulton yelled, Pineapple also jumped up, pulled his pistol, pointed to the tree line, and started screaming the most blood-curling things I ever heard, but mostly in Hawaiian. I didn't understand a damn word of what he was shouting, but I'm sure it was a “Hawaiian blue streak or something plenty nasty.” Maybe that's why the enemy stopped firing for a brief moment. But, that didn't last long. No sooner had he shouted at the NVA than they fired at him and a bullet slit his right index finger.

That was huge mistake, now he was one really pissed. He started shouting and swearing and pointing all the while he looked around for part of his finger tip. I don't think he found it, but he kept screaming anyway and at the same time started his charge toward the tree line again and then the rest of us joined in without a second thought. It was wild, complete madness and aggressive. There were many stories about that day and about the way we attacked that tree line under such heavy fire.

Apparently there had been an Army O-1 Bird Dog spotter plane overhead with an Army Major working as air and artillery controller, even though things were so close he couldn't call in air support. I guess he tried several times to get air on board, but couldn't. He was reported to have said he had never seen anything like that in his entire life. Hundreds of screaming Marines racing across a rice paddy with fixed bayonets rushing a tree line filled with machine guns and NVA. He said it was right out of a war movie. The Marines, he was quoted as saying were: “Magnificent, simply magnificent.” I think he was right about that that day. We did do a good job, but it cost us dearly.

In retrospect, I don't know how long that charge actually lasted, but it seemed like forever. Any amount of time in close combat seems like an eternity in slow motion at times. At one point, we got very close to the tree line and could see the enemy dashing back and forth, raising up to shoot at us then ducking back down before raising up again like those pop up targets you see at a carnival. Some of our Marines jumped in the NVA trenches ahead of the rest of us and started hand-to-hand combat. They grabbed the NVA by the head, neck, or throat and commenced to beat them to death with anything they had in their hands. Some used their bayonets; others choked them to death or beat them with their rifle butts. It was something right out of WW II – something never experienced till that time. We were getting revenge for the beatings months ago and especially during our bloodbath on Harvest Moon. 

At one point, I managed to crawl up behind a Buddhist grave where I could take up a good firing position. I continued picking off as many as I could. Those graves are hard-packed mounds of dirt and sand, were anywhere from 2-3 feet in diameter to slightly bigger. It provided a good firing position, but not much cover and almost no concealment, but I didn't care; it fit my need just fine at the time.

Suddenly I saw a NVA soldier jump up right in front me about 25 yards away and throw what looked like two or three hand grenades straight toward me.

Just as he threw them, he started to duck back down, but he never made it. Staff Sergeant Reed from 1st Platoon mowed him down with a Thompson machine gun he had managed to “borrow” from a Tank crew member (the Thompson was something the infantry guys didn't normally carry). Reed got him, but it too late. The NVA soldier got several of us. He accomplished his mission just before he went off to wherever NVA soldiers go off to. His two hand grenades got me and several others nearby. One grenade landed between the legs of one of the Corpsman who was on my left. I don't even remember his name, he was hurt real bad – and so was I.

I took pieces of shrapnel in my left thigh, left arm, left shoulder, forehead, and left eye. Oddly enough at the time with all the excitement and blast and noise from those hand grenades, I didn't even know I was hit until as I was helping patch up the Doc, I noticed blood on my thigh. I wiped it off, and as I did, I felt the pain in my leg. Then I felt the other wounds as well, and then I realized that the blood on me was my own and not the Doc's as I originally thought. 

Funny how fear works in moments like that. I was seriously wounded and didn’t even know it for a few minutes. After seeing the wounds, I began to feel them. There wasn't a lot of pain, but still it hurt.

I think I must have looked worse than I really was with the blood running down my face and arm and hand. Then I saw my arm I felt that pain but not before. Then it started to look bad with all the blood even to me. I started to worry because I didn't know how bad I really was. I didn't know how many other places I had been hit. I started to feel helpless. Then I thought, it doesn't matter.

I'm alive and that meant a great deal at the time. I got the “million-dollar wound and I'm going home, I thought!”

The question remained, how in the hell do I get out of here and go home to enjoy my rebirth. That little matter would take some time because we still up to our asses in NVA. The worst fighting continued to our right for some time between Fox Company and the NVA. Their side turned out to be the center of the main NVA force. Fox like so many other time, ended up in lots of trouble and suffered lots of casualties. That day, Fox lost 14 killed, and one WIA who died the next day, LCpl Bill Foran from Decatur, Illinois. Fox also had the most wounded. In fact, Fox ended up with about 75% casualties. Many of the wounded in Golf were serious wounds like the Doc and me; others less serious. I could walk even with my multiple wounds — bad, but not life-threatening.

Echo Company had one killed. Golf had no one killed and I still can't figure that out with all the shit that was flying that day. Hotel Company had one non-combat related death. Their First Sergeant died of a heart attack in the heat of the battle. A couple of hours into the fighting things actually slowed down. I didn't know if it was because we killed them all or if they managed to run away to the rear, or were they regrouping and rearming to counter attack? As it turned out, we had killed most of them, well over 200 it was later confirmed (no estimates, real dead bodies). We had beaten the shit out of two brand new NVA battalions. They had not even seen combat until that day and we managed to kill most of them. 

Two full NVA battalion-sized units hit us, and with only our small arms, machine guns, knives, and bare hands we killed over 200 of them. But, as I said, we paid a heavy price. Fox Company was wiped out, virtually off the active duty rolls. Fox really hadn't been at full strength since Operation Harvest Moon.

Now, with this operation they were finished. All that was left was to convert them into one of those small CAC units a few days later.

During the lull, Lt. Moulton ordered me from the battlefield as the first wave of Medevac helicopters started arriving. I told him no, I was staying and that I wasn't as bad as I looked. I didn't refuse to go because I was a hero or anything like that. I wanted to stay and help clean up and kick a few more NVA asses myself. Although it sounded both foolish and hateful, I wanted revenge for Harvest Moon just like everyone else. Not only that, but I saw a couple of the choppers take fire as they approached and I damn sure didn't want to die in a fiery crash while getting lifted from the battle field, so I said no, I'm staying because the ground at that point seemed safer than being in the air. Moulton insisted and he told me to help with the wounded and get “out of there, now.” 

I picked up the Doc and my gear and started crawling back to where one of the birds was about to sit down. It landed safely and we piled on and moved to the rear as others were trying to get on. We lifted off and as the pilot was pulling the nose up and starting to turn toward what I guessed was Phu Bai, when we took fire.

The pilot was hit, but no one else. Oddly enough, I had a chance to meet him in a bar one night in Okinawa while I waiting to fly home months later. His name was 1stLt. Brown. He had been hit in the upper thigh with the bullet lodging in his groin, and at the same time it nicked a small piece off his penis. I asked him how he was doing and he said, “Hey all my parts are working and I'm out here 'test firing' my gun” – he said with a great big smile while holding a girl on each arm.

As soon as I heard the rounds hitting our 'chopper, I became more pissed at Lt. Moulton for making me get on the bird. I thought for sure I was going to burn up in the 'chopper, but alas, it did not crash and did not burn.

In fact, after a few short bursts from the ground, Lt. Brown got control and got us back to the rear. We landed safely at the Phu Bai BAS (Battalion Aid Station). 

Those of us not seriously wounded we whisked away to a tent in the rear to await examination and patching up. I was lying there next to my old fire team leader and good friend, Cpl. Dave Goodwin (from Arizona) who had remained with Fox and was now a squad leader. Dave had been hit by shrapnel too, but appeared to be okay. We both chatted like two old hens at a tea party about who had been KIA or who had been WIA. 

As we talked, medics started bringing the dead in and carrying them right by us to a temporary morgue in a rear tent. From there, I had the chance to see the real damage – as our dead started coming in.

Thanks for remembering with me and thanks for stopping by and never forget.

Vietnam: December 10, 1965: Operation Harvest Moon Sad Memories Linger

2nd BN, 1st Marines, 1st Marine Division 

Loading for ride into Hell

USS Valley Forge (LPH-8)

(Platform for that fateful day)

Under heavy fire in rice paddies 

(Lasted 10 miserable hours)

I publish this story of my personal account and vivid memories of being in those cold wet rice paddies during OPERATION Harvest Moon, which lasted from December 10-20, 1965 every year at this time to tell the story for those who did not return to tell theirs. This tells the story of what happened 57 years ago. That's a long time ago I know, but we must never forget. 

It was our first big major operation. The photo above depicts those rice paddies where we laid for over 10 hours while under constant enemy fire. As I said, it was cold, wet, and muddy not only for me and my infantry squad part of 1^st Platoon, Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines, but for everyone else involved during that operation. 

For such a long time that day (December 10th) no one could support us or even get to us — we were unable to move and withdrew to higher dry ground for over 10 hours while under heavy rifle, machine gun, and mortar fire from Hill 407 that was to our direct front high ground. 

The day started early as most combat operations do – at about 5 or 6 am. We were to land by helicopters flying off the USS Valley Forge (LPH-8).  Little did we know at the time that we would face a vastly superior North Vietnamese and VC force, who on the high ground would shoot at us like fish in the proverbial barrel as we landed and afterwards for hours as we lay pinned down in the rice paddies.

At the end of that horrible, bloody day, we had suffered 20 dead and about 80 wounded across all units involved. 

I lost two Marines in my 14-man squad that day: LCpl. Barry Sitler (Compton, CA) who was killed in action soon after we landed while protecting our rear, and PFC Bill Stocker (from Boulder, CO) who was badly wounded. 

I also lost my Platoon Commander who was badly wounded, 1st Lt. Charlie George, and our Platoon Guide, and very good friend of mine, Sgt. Bob Hickman (Wheeling, WV) who was killed in action.

More details on this operation can be found at these several places:

1. From my book Last Ride Home now available from Amazon kindle. 

2. From links where firsthand accounts are. 

3. From the Marine Corps magazine Leatherneck here.

4. From Ohio State University (eHistory) (our unit's story starts on page 106 at that site).

Remembering one key event: It happened on the second day of Operation on December 11, 1965 as we were humping up Hill 407 where we had received so much fire from the day before. As we passed through some heavy shrubs, my mind drifted back to my youthful days and concord grape vines I used to try to pick from my grandmother’s back yard (before she caught and chased me away).

Suddenly, my daydreaming was broken when someone yelled, “Grenade!” Everyone started diving off the trail and ducking for whatever cover they could find, or just stopping and dropping on the ground. Then all of a sudden right in front of me rolling straight down the trail towards my feet was a hand-grenade. In a split second as they say, my whole life flashed before my eyes yet my first thought was to also duck and seek cover or try to run away as fast as possible, but that was not an option at the moment. 

I remember thinking: “Was it was a VC hand-grenade, or a booby trap.” I didn't know for certain and I had no time to find out. I needed to act fast. In an instant that all went through my mind and nothing seemed to matter so without a single thought clearly in my head, or any thought at all I guess, I reached down and grabbed the grenade and turned to throw it as far away and as quickly as possible. 

Then at that precise moment I saw that it was one of our hand grenades, but, it had no firing mechanism in place. It was missing, but the grenade was still intact. In reality, there was no way it could have ever exploded without the firing pin.  What the hell was going on I thought? 

As it turned out, it had fallen off some Marine’s cartridge belt who was up ahead of us in the column. In those early days of the war safety was paramount and we carried them carefully for quick access (in fact sometimes we were told to tape 'em shut for safety). 

So, as it happened that one came unscrewed from the Marine's best, dropped to the ground, and rolled down hill to my feet. The missing firing mechanism and pin obviously were still hanging from his belt and he didn’t even know it had fallen off.

Everyone around me had a good laugh when they saw what was really happening. There I stood holding a “dud.” I must have looked silly standing there with a grenade in my hand ready to throw it, and with a shitty look on my face, not even knowing it would never explode. That was a first for me and I hoped it would be the last. 

That day someone broke the rules because the one I picked up had no tape on it and thus a Marine, someone I never knew who, had disregarded the rules and that could have cost me and a few others dearly had it gone off. 

That moment in time passed along with the short-lived danger. We moved up the hill hunting and pursuing the enemy. Once again, I thought how lucky I was, but in a very odd way. Lady luck was right there beside me, but I wondered, for how long she’d stick around? 

All in all, I wanted to share that memory and the rest of the story as I do every December for the sole purpose of remembering those we lost who can never come home and tell their stories. So, I tell the story for them. It is my honor and duty and pleasure to present the story and remind everyone to never forget them. I never will. 

Note: Our Fox company commander at the time was Captain Jim Page was shot through chest and marked as KIA. Later that night after we had managed to pull back to safe ground, our Navy Corpsmen were retagging our dead since the rain has washed a lot of information off their body tags. One Corpsman retagging Captain Page screamed and leaped back yelling: “He's alive, he’s alive.” 

In fact, he was alive. He had been declared dead for over 10 hours. Talk about a miracle … He would go on to serve and retire as a Marine Lt. Col. (he is pictured below in the back row with red, white, and blue tie - I am seated front row right side). 

He lived in retirement in Florida until he passed away in June 2020 (age 91).

My unit (Fox Company) losses that first day (all on December 10, 1965 except as one noted below):

1. PFC Robert L. Craft, Salt Lake City, UT, age: 18

2. PFC Mike Crannan, Canoga Park, CA, age: 18

3. PFC Ron Cummings, Stockton, CA, age: 18

4. SGT Bob Hickman, Wheeling, WV, age: 36

5. PFC Joe Moreno, Austin, TX, age: 18

6. CPL Les Puzyrewski, Chicago, IL, age: 19

7. LCpl Barry J. Sitler, Compton, CA, age: 20

8. Cpl Lloyd Vannatter, Ettrick, VA, age: 25

9. Cpl Jim Brock, Cleveland, OH, age: 23

10. LCpl Acie Hall, Lake City, TN, age: 22

11. PFC John Wilson, St. Paul, MN, age: 21

12. PFC Larry Tennill, Slater, MO, age: 18

13. LCpl Dennis Manning, St. Clair Shores, MI, age: 19 (shot and died the following day on December 11).

Lest We Forget…

Sunday, Dec 7, 1941: A Date That Will Live in Infamy - Japan Attacks Pearl Harbor

 

7:55 AM, Sunday, December 7, 1941

Major Navy Ships Sunk or Heavily Damaged

(USS Arizona Most Sailor Losses)

Remember next Wednesday December 7, 2022 when that event, now 81 years ago, on Sunday morning, December 7, 1941 at 7:55 am when our Naval Fleet at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii was attacked by Japan.

Excellent Naval history source here.

Below is President Roosevelt delivering his famous and dramatic speech to the full Congress the very next day when he asked them to declare a Declaration of War between the United States and Empire of Japan.

Lest we forget.

Thanks for stopping by.

Marine Corps Combat History Vietnam War "OPERATION JAY" June 25-26, 1966

Etched in Granite Forever R.I.P.

(At the Vietnam Wall)

Three Soldiers Vietnam War Era

(On Duty Always Alert)

Another group of Marines that I served with and who were killed from 2/1 are laid to rest and their names forever are identified on “Panel 8E, Rows 90, 91, 94, 95, 97, and 99” on the VN Wall in Washington, D.C. with their places in military history forever.

Those fine men all died in ugly up close combat on June 25 and 26, 1966 during OPERATION Jay.

That operation place just south of the ancient capital city of Hue — the the same city that would be nearly totally destroyed in the 1968 North Vietnamese TET (New Year) offensive. 

Those we lost on those two days are:

KIA on Saturday, June 25, 1966: 

Miller J. Bourg, Age 21, Houma, LA.

Cecil E. Daw, Navy HN, Age 20, Anacoco, LA.

Robert R. Eggleston, Age 36, LA, CA.

Gerald V. Eppley, Age 21, Newark, OH.

Ronald L. Herbstritt, Age 19, Bradford, PA.

Bruno L. Martin, Age 19, Wayne, MI.

David E. Reyner, Age 21, Houston, TX.

Santos Sanchez, Age 23, Selma, CA.

Richard L. Strange, Sgt, Age 25, Richmond, VA.

Melvin E. Taylor, Age 20, Paterson, NJ.

KIA on Sunday, June 26, 1966:

James Coleman, Jr., Cpl, Age 22, Jacksonville, FL.

John M. Risner, PFC, Age 19, Las Cruces, NM.

That action occurred as we were moving more north toward North Vietnam and just before we were to move into the DMZ and be part of the largest operation in VN at the time: Code name OPERATION Hastings during July and August 1966. 

During this operation, my newly-assigned platoon sergeant was then SSgt. Robert Cleary (he was promoted to Gunnery Sergeant that same month).

He would go on to become Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps. During this operation, he won a Silver Star. He did a great job. I'm proud to have been a witness to his acts that helped him get that award. After his retirement, he returned to his beloved hometown Boston. *Updated: He died on February 11, 2018 (at age 86) in Virginia Beach, VA. He was truly a great and honorable Marine having served from the Korean War. R.I.P. Bob Cleary.

Cleary did what few men could never do under such fire. He crawled to the wounded, actually put a few of them on his back and crawled with them to the rear for treatment while still under fire.  He would do that several times, by a miracle he was not wounded himself.  His Silver Star award should have been higher. But as was well known in those early days of the war, the Marine Corps was very stingy with combat awards, for what reason none of us ever figured out. We accepted it and moved on.

But, to make matters worse about those early days, we also heard that people “in the rear with the gear” as we called them, were being awarded Bronze Stars for making sure our C-Rations arrived on time. Far too many fine Marines died and did lots of brave things only to win the Purple Heart and not much else – it hardly seemed fair then and now! 

The events of that battle: During the heat of the fighting, many of us were pinned down under withering NVA fire coming from a series of tree lines that another Marine Battalion (2nd BN, 4th Marines) was pushing the NVA towards us from their northern side of a rather large area.

At it happened, on the same day that Cleary was acting out his brave action, so was our Company Commander, then 1^st Lieutenant Charles C. Krulak and Sergeant Richard Strange - both of them would also win Silver Stars.

Krulak, would go on to become a 4-star General as Commandant of the Marine Corps in his later years, won his for directing close air support so close that he had to call it right on top of his own position during the early hours of darkness and heat of battle – and that act saved many lives. 

Sgt. Strange's story is contained in the section at the end of my book labeled “Reflections” and sent to me by his former close friend, Butch Gatlin.

We were ordered to advance across the rice paddies towards a huge tree line where we were to set up a blocking force for 2/4 - which was to be rather routine as these operations often do at first - that is before the shit hits the fan as they say. This day was to be no different. 

We got off our 'choppers, quickly assembled back in our squads and platoons, and not far from the area we were going start our advance and head to the place we had been briefed about blocking from.

This day was no different than the one that had started back during Operation NEW YORK in February. The orders were just as simple: “Land, advance to and take positions and provide a blocking force for 2/4, who would be pushing the NVA south out of the City of Hue towards us.”

As I said, the mission sounded easy enough, but, then that old guy “Murphy and his damn laws” dropped by with a few other plans (damn, I hated it when Murphy dropped by). We started moving forward and towards the tree line to set up the blocking force line, and as we advanced we could hear gunfire ahead of us, and still somewhat in the distance. but slowly the volume and intensity of that fire started to increase, and then rounds started getting really close. 

My first thought was “We had been landed in the wrong spot (again)?” Well, hell at that moment, it didn't matter, we were here, and they enemy was there, and all hell was about to erupt. 

Suddenly and with some distance still to go before we could get good cover, we started receiving fire directly at and around us. Rounds were hitting the rice paddy dikes in front and whizzing bullets over our heads.

Initially and like all good Marines are trained, we hit the deck and started looking around. Then we all realized at once it seemed, we were in the open and still had a good distance to go for the tree line and any chance of real cover and not those damn open, shallow dry paddies with little cover and zero camouflage. I also thought, here we go again – another OPERATION New York, or worse: the bloodbath we had on OPERATION Harvest Moon all over again.

Also, this action also was about to take place just a short month after we were hit hard and lost so many back on that horrible Memorial Day. But, we also knew what had to be done, and without waiting on orders, we jumped up and started hightailing toward the trees.  We only took a few more rounds, and then a sudden lull. But then just as fast, the whole world seemed to open up as we got closer – the volume of fire was intense. 

What seemed to have happened was that the fleeing NVA were now firmly trapped between 2/4 pushing them and now facing us. They were not ready for that trap.

They apparently saw us and held their fire giving us a chance to get up close, and then opened on us as we started advancing closer to them. At the same time, 2/4 never let up their fire, so we had both NVA and friendly fire falling on us and soon both found their targets. We started taking loses and quickly.

The NVA started to rake us pretty good all across our front with heavy rifle and machine gun fire - back and forth, left to right and then right to left.  It was very effective, but we kept up our advancement until we finally reached the tree line. What made matters worse, the word came down to watch your fire, that 2/4 was not far away. No shit, I thought!

At the time it all seemed crazy with commands of: Hold your fire, watch your fire, be careful where you fire, and such.  Our leaders feared that we would confuse 2/4 and their push with the NVA, or that 2/4 would confuse our fire with the NVA, and we'd end up shooting each other. 

Things would really get hot as two Marine battalions plowed into each other not knowing where each other was. For the NVA, it was great - they could shoot as both of us and we couldn't shoot back at them. Damn, friendly fire and NVA fire – great I’m sure we all had the same thoughts. 

Some of the rounds we were receiving probably were from 2/4 but the sounds of AK-47 make a very distinct sickening ring to them that is nothing like an M-16, so we pretty much knew where the NVA were. That message was cleared up quickly and we were told to return fire but take care at our targets. The NVA saw what we were about to do, so they held up and started taking their time firing and choosing their targets, too and their fire was starting taking its toll. It looked like another mess was brewing, and initially, it was a mess.

There was a lot of confusion and lots of firing from what seemed like every conceivable direction and position. The NVA were trapped and fighting for their lives, 2/4 was pushing like a bunch of madmen, and all we could do was be selective and be careful where we fired.

We had five killed very quickly in my company (Golf Company). 

Hotel Company on our left flank, also had five killed in short order.

One was killed in H&S Company.

My platoon now in the lead for Golf Company managed to get to the tree line first. We had the main road on our left which anchored us to Hotel Company who was on the other side of the road. We could all see each other clearly and that helped in some of the confusion. 

We had wide open rice fields to our far right and plenty of huts and trees in front of us that turned out later to be a rather big NVA stronghold.

Lt. Krulak set up his command post (CP) with radios and 60mm mortars just to our rear and in old Buddhist-style grave yard. The CP was better off than we were located in the rear and fairly well covered. One of those wounded early from Hotel Company was my old friend and former squad member and my M-79 grenadier from Fox Company, LCpl. Edwin Labotto. He had been shot though the upper shoulder with an exit wound out his back. He was in very bad shape, but he pulled through. 

I managed to see him a few years later back in the states while at Camp Pendleton. I went to a base movie one night on post and he was an MP on duty at the theatre.  It was great seeing him. He said he was now married and was going for 20 years.  I bet he made it, too.

As the battle raged, we became more pinned down not only from the NVA trying to escape, but from the bullets flying in from 2/4 as they continued to advance all across our front. A sniper fired a shot here or there, a hand grenade was tossed nearby, and that kind of close combat remained constant for several hours. When I had the chance, I started to survey the dry rice fields to our right. What I saw, I didn't like.  

What I didn't know but suspected, was that that flank was an easy route around us for the NVA to escape.

Eventually, 2/4 either slowed down, got bogged down, or started to dig in because we were told that the friendly fire was being lifted and that we had permission to fire at will, but continue picking targets carefully.  We did stay low, picked off a few NVA whenever we saw then as the battle sea-sawed back and forth for a few more hours. 

We threw hand grenades all across our front while Krulak gave us overhead mortar and M-79 fire from time to time keep the snipers off guard because they were now in the trees shooting down on us and wounding just about anyone who moved. 

Then something terrible happened. Tw CH-46 helicopters landed up front near Hotel Company to pick up the wounded from 2/4. Some of our wounded managed to get over near the first chopper by crossing Hotel's lines to our left front. 

One had just loaded the wounded and started to lift off when NVA hit it hard with both heavy gun fire and RPG rockets.

The ‘chopper burst into flames and started to crash with Marines who thought they were being lifted to safety falling out the back as it passed treetop level. That was an awful sight but were helpless to do anything.

The 'chopper was melting right before our eyes. I'd never seen a chopper burn like that nor did I think they burned that fast. I don't know how many died in that crash from 2/4, but I'm sure most of the wounded now became KIA. Before that was over, another 'chopper a short distance away also went down just like the first.  We had two terrible crashes in about 20 minutes. 

Things didn't start to cool down until near darkness. By that time, many of us had managed to regroup, get more ammo, take care of our dead and wounded and try to shore up that exposed right flank I had been cautious of all day. That was the place I most worried about because of the fleeing NVA we kept seeing from time to time darting to their safety.

During the early darkness, Krulak passed the word that two jets: F-4 Phantoms were on the way with some “snake and nape” (that meant bombs and napalm). 

He told us to get down and stay down because they would be dropping right over the top of us. They would be making their run from left to right in between us and 2/4 - right across our two fronts on top of the NVA, or at least that was the plan.

As the old saying goes: “If it can go wrong, it will go wrong.” Well it was about to.

The two Phantoms arrived right on schedule because we could hear them, but as they started their napalm run, it became clear they were coming in from behind us, not from our left across our front as we thought. 

Bingo, they roared right over the top of the CP at my platoon's back and not across the NVA's front. They were coming in low and hot.

We could clearly see their napalm bombs tumbled off their racks and started falling right toward Krulak and the CP, not toward the NVA – they had missed the angle of their attack. The nape hit the ground just short of the CP, and burst into one helluva giant fireball and then if by magic, it rolled right over the top of the CP missing everyone below.

That happened as if it had been planned, but it surely was not. Free and clear and not one of our guys was hurt. It looked like a pool player making the cue ball jump over the seven ball and knocking in the eight ball. 

Even with that screw up, those F-4's helped save our asses because the NVA didn't do anything the rest of the night. Either they were cooked or managed to flee. They dropped way short and from the wrong heading, nearly wiping out our CP but somehow ended up saving the day. Everyone knew it was damn close. I knew the guys in the CP got their whiskers singed!  Krulak for his bravery that night won his Silver Star. He damn sure earned it.

We mopped up the next and continue to move north towards the DMZ and more fighting. That’s the way this war continued.

Related: Remembrance of Operation JAY from 1^st BN, 4^th Marines point of view – their page link.

LEST WE FORGET