A Near Death Experience

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by Doug Moniaci

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Doug Moniaci. This photo was snapped just prior to the event that he describes below.

HEADING OUT

It was the proverbial million-dollar wound really. The fact that I was not hit more seriously was due to pure luck and my company commanders prowess walking point that morning. It was about 10AM on the morning of April 6th, 1970. It was a typical hot, sunny, humid day in the Nam. I was one of the COs' three radio operators in Company C, 1/506th Infantry, 101st Airborne. I had just been promoted to the job a few weeks prior after spending three months as radio operator for 2nd platoon of the same company. The CO had decided to head out in front of the company that morning with only the main CP. There were seven of us in the main CP: the CO, three RTO's, a medic, and two new arty guys on their first day out in the field.

THE CO

My new CO (Company Commander) was Captain Mark Smith--Zippo to those who knew him. Zippo was his call name, which went with him whatever he was assigned. It seems he had burned more than his share of hootches in his time, hence the name Zippo. He in fact carried two Zippo lighters in small canvas pouches attached to the front of his web belt. If you asked him what they were for he would instantly whip them out, lighting them in the same motion while reciting the well rehearsed mantra "Zippo's my name and war is my game". It was very funny. He was someone you took to, liked and trusted immediately. The first day out with the company he shared some of his ideas with us about how he would run the company, one of which was that he would sacrifice the whole company for one man, and that no one would ever be left behind, dead or alive.

After hearing these things you felt like you would follow him into hell if he asked you. He was a CO anyone would want to serve under and I can't imagine there being a better anyone better suited for the job. He had a reputation for living dangerously, but I had never met anyone who knew how to wage war against the little people better than he. After spending five years in Vietnam and Laos with Special Forces, the 101st, and other units, he had collected a Silver Star, four or five Bronze Stars, and a slew of Purple Hearts. His exploits had been written about many times in the Stars and Stripes and he had a reputation as a serious warrior. I later came to find out that he is one of the most decorated Vietnam veterans and POW survivors to serve in the war. The circumstances surrounding his being taken POW later on in 1972 earned him a nomination for the Medal of Honor, whereupon he was eventually awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the 2nd highest award for heroism in the military. When the plane he was on as a returning POW landed at Andrews Airforce Base, the others on the plane voted him to be the first Army man to depart the plane.

THE TRAIL

I don't know what prompted Zippo to head out ahead of the company. I assumed he did this sort of thing often, but it was the first time he or any other CO I have served under had taken the main CP out ahead of the Company, and it made me very nervous that morning. I always felt their was a "comfort of numbers" traveling with a fully equipped company of infantrymen loaded to the teeth.

We had lately been running into small groups of NVA and VC on almost a daily basis. The trail we followed, about eight feet in width and quite open was deep in the mountains approximately 20 clicks west of Camp Evans, which was headquarters for the 506th Infantry. It ran atop a ridgeline in a north/south direction. We were headed north just a few clicks south of a Firebase called Granite, which we had just vacated a few weeks earlier. On 3/20/1970, after being on Granite for about ten days, and before Captain Smith took over the company, Company C had been overrun by reportedly a Battalion or two of NVA regulars, (complete with sappers) with the 2nd platoon taking the brunt of the attack.

[ Note: I was the 2nd platoon radio operator at the time of the attack on Firebase Granite. This platoon suffered 100% casualties that night, with 13 KIA and twelve wounded. I was the only one in the platoon to go unscathed due to the fact that I was not on the hill that night. I had been on R&R the previous week, and the morning after I got back, I was called down to the chopper pad to get ferried out to the firebase to rejoin them. After waiting at the pad for a few hours, I was told we could not fly out that day because the hill was fogged in, and had had been for the previous four or five days. I was very fortunate not to have been able to rejoin my platoon on Granite that day because early in the battle, North Vietnamese sappers killed everyone in the 2nd platoon CP, of which I was a member.]

PREMONITIONS

Captain Smith was going by the book this particular morning, except for walking point, which most CO's never do. He was taking short, cautious steps, and pausing to look and listen before proceeding on. We followed him in a similar manner, with a minimum five-yard separation between us. Suddenly, a voice inside my head started telling me "we're going to get hit, put your M16 on auto". It was an incredibly strong premonition, one which I'd never had before. I always thought there was a gook around every bush and corner, but this was an entirely different feeling. WE WERE GOING TO GET HIT AND I KNEW IT. The voice kept saying "put the 16 on auto, put the 16 on auto." I went over the logic of it in my head but kept coming back to the book, which said, and I am paraphrasing, "do not switch your weapon off safety unless engaging or preparing to engage the enemy." I am not sure how long I fought the urge to break this rule, but it couldn't have been more than a minute.

THE AMBUSH

I was still fighting the urge to put my 16 on auto when my CO, who had done TOO good a job of walking point, silently walked past a couple of NVA trail watchers waiting just off the trail to our right. I was the fourth man back when they realized we were upon them. They must have been sleeping or playing cards when we happened by because we had surprised them completely. I was directly in front of their position about 15 feet away when I heard a clicking sound all Hell broke loose immediately thereafter. I immediately felt a warm feeling in my right leg and knew I had been hit, but felt no pain or jolt of any kind. The round had gone through my right thigh, just above the knee like a hot knife through butter. I had taken the first round they fired. They were so close that the muzzle blasts from their AK's caused my right ear to hurt for days afterward.

They aimed low at me and swept forward, spraying the guys in front of me as their rounds rose higher. Fortunately their aim was not calculated as their rounds hit only radios and back packs being carried by the guys in front of me. It seems that I was the only one they actually had a chance to take good aim at and miraculously, I was the only one actually wounded. The CO had his AR-15 shot from his hands and rendered inoperable and the two other radios carried were shattered and also rendered inoperable. Ironically, I was carrying the only radio not hit.

THE WHITE LIGHT

I dived to the left along with everyone else, trying instinctively to get as far away from the fire as I could. My progress was impeded by a thicket of small spindly trees that kept me from getting further than three of four feet from where I was hit. My M16 had been torn from my grasp and left 3 of 4 feet behind me. (The image of seeing the guys ahead of me flying in mid air as they jumped off the trail as I instinctively had, with bullet-strewn vegetation following them is one I can still easily see today). I was caught in the open, directly in front of the fire, stuck on the edge of the trail, bullets flying furiously everywhere it seemed, and without a weapon. Lying there, expecting to be hit again at any second, I unexpectedly and uncontrollably lost consciousness. Everything turned to bright white light and it became completely quiet. It was a very peaceful experience as I remember it. I don't know if my eyes were open or closed, but immediately my whole life flashed before me, through my mind. In an instant I relived every second of every experience I had lived to date. It is a hard thing to describe and sounds implausible, but it happened. Everyone has heard the expression "my life flashed before my eyes". I know exactly what that means. It is not a visual thing; strictly mental.

Suddenly, I was then transported back home. It seemed as though I actually kind of flew there in an instant. I was experiencing a text-book out-of-body experience. I saw my parents standing in the doorway of my home, with a man in uniform talking to them from the front porch. He was giving them the news that I had been killed in Vietnam. My mother was crying. It was an incredibly vivid, real scene, in full color and motion. Then, faintly at first, I heard the voice of my CO repeatedly screaming: "kill the mf-ers, kill the mf-ers-- fire, fire, fire, fire, fire!". He was in a rage and was firing back with the two pistols he carried. The enemy then stopped firing.

My first thought after regaining consciousness was the realization that I was alive and how surprised I was. Not happy or elated, just surprised. I was, upon reflection, still in a state of shock. After coming to my senses and locating my M16, I began firing wildly all 18 clips I carried. Thinking the others must be dead or badly wounded (no one was firing or talking except for the CO) I thought I may as well fire back and die fighting at least. This was no heroic act but just the rationalization I came to. It did take a bit of mental coaxing to crawl in the open back toward the direction the enemy had been firing to get to my 16.

After running out of ammo, the CO crawled down the line trying to find a working radio and made his way to me. All was quiet now. The trail-watchers had made their escape, as was usual in those kind of incidents. Except for the CO and me, no one else fired back that day, in spite of his loud pleadings to do so. Basically, I think they were all in the same state of shock that had come over me.

Footnote:
Within the hour I was medivaced back to Camp Evans and sent home after spending 3-4 weeks in hospitals in Vietnam, Japan, and the US. I have often thought about my near-death experience that day on the trail and pondered over whether I had acted in a soldierly way. I quickly come to the conclusion that I had no control over what happened to me as far as going into the state of shock that overcame me. I imagine it happened to a lot of guys caught in similar situations. My CO did award me the Bronze Star w/V for returning fire from my exposed position during the ambush, which I was able to do once I had control over my senses and could respond. I would love to hear from anyone who was in C Company, 1st of the 506th in '69-'70 and/or served under Zippo at any time.

Doug Moniaci
C/1/506