We set up the company night defensive perimeter in a circle partially down and around a forested mountain top. We were in
pretty
rugged country, trying to ferret out the elusive North Viet Namese Army, and we were very tired. As if being exhausted and setting up late weren't enough LT Gottschalk walked around the perimeter just before dark, making adjustments in our perimeter line. My assistant gunner, Frazier, and I had been working hard clearing a field of fire for the M-60 machine gun and attempting to dig a shallow hole in the terribly rooted forest.
We were moved out to our right a short distance and began the clearing and digging process again. I knew from my experiences as a machine gun instructor at the Army Infantry School that it was the right decision to place the gun on the trail, but I wished fervently that it had been done sooner. Frazier and I bitched while working. The area became totally dark so quickly that our hole and many of the others were unfinished when daylight fled. We left them as they were since we couldn't see to work anymore, and ate a cold dinner of C-rations, set a guard, and went to sleep.
I had watched at dusk as four men from my old rifle squad walked down the trail and went out of sight. I looked up only to see that two of them were "Cochise" Bunner and Arrowood, and reflected briefly upon the large number of American Indians in our company. Those men were sent out to establish a listening post a short distance away, and the password for the night was the usual "Geronimo", the name of our Regiment.
About ten p. m. we got word that the l.p. had picked up some movements and possible lights to their front. We went on full alert. I got down into the shallow hole behind my M-60 and found Frazier to be at my left, holding the belt of ammo he needed to feed smoothly into the gun if I fired it. I was glad that he wasn't one of those guys that had to be told everything in order to get anything done.
About ten thirty the whole world seemed to light up to our immediate front. We knew that at least one of the trip flares that our l.p. had placed to the front of their positions had been activated.. Immediately after the flare went off the loud explosions of the teams' Claymore mines jolted us. There were no heavy eyes at that point. We were wide awake and had a good view of the trail, thanks to the still burning flare.
I heard men continuously yelling "Geronimo" and the crashing noise of several men as they ran uphill toward us. I knew that they would be coming straight up the trail to our position. I told Frazier to get ready, and aimed down that trail. I knew that my buddies would be the first four men in, since there were and had been no shots fired. I intended to light up the fifth guy and all others following him.
The guys came running back through our position as the light from the flare dimmed. I counted all four off and was relieved to see that no other figures had followed them up the trail. After a half hour or so we returned to a fifty percent alert. I stayed in the hole and sent Frazier back to sleep behind me until about 0100 hours. Then I awoke Frazier and crawled the few feet to lean back against my rucksack. I was soon asleep.
I am usually a hard sleeper and am hard to awaken. But I was awake at the sound of the single explosion in the trees to my left front quarter. I clearly saw the fiery burst, so it must have been the sound of the flight of the projectile that woke me up. As the explosion occurred something hit me in the left outer thigh hard enough to spin me to my right one quarter of a turn. I found myself completely on my back and facing a new direction. I had no idea how far I was from my ruck.
I knew that I had been hit a hard, solid blow. I was afraid that the NVA would be rushing our location, so I pulled my .45 automatic out of its holster and tried to crawl to the 60. I found that my leg was in poor shape for crawling, much less walking. I couldn't bend it for the pain, so I laid back and listened for a moment. Since there was no more fire from either within or outside of the perimeter other wounded soldiers began to call for medics. I did the same, and I must have been as loud as I was scared, since at least two of them came to me. I was a little embarrassed since we only had three medics and I could still hear other troops calling for help.
"Doc" Brooks and "Jayhawker" both were at my side, but one left to find other victims and I never even realised who was left with me. I argued with him that my leg was broken and he was adamant that it wasn't, after he cut away my pants. He placed dressings on the wound and gave me a shot of morphine. I felt something wet on my other leg and had it checked out, but I had spilled a canteen that I had been given to drink from and had set beside me, so it was only water.
I was feeling a little better as a result of the morphine and figured that the worse was over for me. However, I hadn't counted on the triple canopy jungle keeping medevac choppers away until after dawn.
As guys were chopping poles to move a few of us I was told that about ten troopers had been hit by the explosion. Then a couple of guys came up in the dark and laid a stretcher out on the ground beside me. The stretcher was nothing more than a heavy plastic rain poncho triple folded over a couple of long poles which and been cut long enough to stick out at both ends. The ends formed the handles by which we would be carried up the hill to the headquarters area since we couldn't be left immobilised on the perimeter. Our weight and bulk were used to keep the poncho from unfolding. It worked well, and was a standard way of moving wounded men.
At least two of us were moved into the hilltop area and the more lightly wounded were left manning the perimeter after they were patched up. I had no idea who had been hit other than myself, a cherry named Jones, and Arrowood. Arrowwood had been hit in the small of the back.
The move from where I laid on the ground onto the top of the poncho was very painful as I was lifted over, but it was nothing compared to the trip up the hill in the dark. The stretcher bearers did their best, but they had to hurry back to the perimeter to fill in their positions. Consequently there was a lot of stumbling and bouncing around. Each step and movement resulted in sharp pains being sent through my wound. It was a trip of short duration, but of intense, constant jolts of pain. I wanted to cry out to be careful, or to scream, or something,, anything, - but I tried instead to do no more than my comrades, which was to clench my teeth and mutter curses.
When we finally got into 3-6's position I was laid out next to Arrowood and we spoke briefly before we were told that we positively could not get out until daylight. The L-T fed us darvon tablets to go with our morphine and I fell to sleep soon after he did. I awoke with a start at the sound of another explosion. When I jumped I moved my leg and suffered extremely severe pain as a result of that. One of the medics informed us that our men were using C-4 explosives to blast down the trees and make an LZ for us. When they were out of explosives we still had to be lifted out by winch. They took us as quickly as possible, so Arrowood and I rode up in the same chicken wire looking basket. After a fresh shot of morphine took effect on me I was placed on my back in the bottom of the basket. I was naked from the waist down. Arrowwood was placed head to toe on top of me and off to the right (unwounded) side, face down. He was stripped to the waist. As we were winched up I couldn't help but recall an old William Bendix line from the t. v. series "The Life of Riley". It was "What a revoltin' development this is!"
John Conroy W.I.A. June 1969 A Company, 1/501, 3rd Platoon 101st Airborne Division
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