Background. 2nd Platoon has just returned from an all day patrol of the area at the base of the hill taken by 1st and 3rd Platoons a day earlier. We drew this assignment as we were the security element on the 18th and did not participate in the assault. But we did stop an attack on the CP at the base of the hill that afternoon and killed five NVA. 1st and 3rd Platoons remained on the hill, filled-in our section of the perimeter and were supposed to bury the dead NVA there and elsewhere on the hill.
Dusk. CPT Gibson ('6') wants to debrief me on the patrol so I go to the CP. He also tells me to have my men start digging-in as he's decided we'll spend one more night on the hill. I pass the word and Jim Glemser, my RTO asks if I want him to dig a hole for me. I tell him no'big mistake.
It's almost dark when I finish talking with 6. He decides we must stop digging now to avoid giving away our positions. No hole for me tonight. I locate behind and centered on the 2nd Platoon section, eat and settle in for the night. PSG Lester Tarkington (SGT T) is beside me. Glemser and Jesse Erevia, SGT T's RTO are 5m or so off to our left. No need for radio watch tonight so, unlike the guys on the perimeter we'll get some sleep.
Night. It's dark and quiet, except for the whispered complaints about the smell of the NVA bodies around our positions. We agree that the guys manning our section did little more than throw a few shovels of dirt on them. Some of us have little vials of green liquid with Chinese characters on them (smells like menthol'for their cigarettes') that we found in the A Shau. I put a few drops up each nostril; burns like hell but it covers the smell and I fall asleep.
Early AM. The world explodes. Heavy incoming automatic weapons fire, numerous explosions everywhere and trip flares igniting all around the perimeter.
I look for a hole and see a bunch of guys trying to get into one nearby'it's like a clown show, asses and elbows everywhere. I think it was Glemser and Erevia plus others but in any case when I ask if they had room, the answer is a solid 'NO'. Then I realize that SGT T, who had cleared out seconds before, took my steel pot and Claymore bag of ammunition. Out in the open, no pot, no ammo, no hole, NVA fire intensifying and the whole area is as bright as day from the trip flares'not good.
I'm trapped on a bare patch of hill, in plain view and decide my only chance is to lie there and play dead. I'm between the NVA and the CP which judging from the intense fire going in that direction, has been specifically targeted. The crack of the bullets is hurting my left ear'the one pointing up and the thought suddenly pops into my mind, 'You're going to die.' I clearly recall the next thought, which is, 'Isn't it amazing that I'm so calm about this'' It was like I was talking to myself--first and last time that this sort of thing happened.
Minutes later, the return fire drives back the NVA and their fire dies down. Doc Brian Lisk is with the CP element behind some good-sized rocks, 10m or so uphill from where I'm lying. He calls to me to take cover up there and hoping there won't be a problem with friendly fire, I grab my rifle and leap (it seems like a single bound) behind the rocks with Lisk. He gives me several magazines and reloaded, surrounded by the rocks and realizing happily that somehow I'm still alive, I take stock of the situation.
The NVA hit us a second time. We're ready and pour the fire on them til they disengage. In the midst of all this I hear 6 on the radio with higher'battalion, brigade, division' I'm busy but listen to what I can pick-up. We're inside the range fans of friendly artillery and we need serious fire support but artillery is notoriously inaccurate and therefore very dangerous at night, so he asks them for a Spooky gunship.
What he wants is an AC-130H, a four engine Air Force transport loaded with guns and flares. It's officially known as 'Spectre' but still referred to by all grunts by the name of the original C-47 gunship''Spooky'.
It seems he's getting the runaround. I can guess that he's being told, most likely by some field grade sitting in a bunker way in the rear, that this is an important asset to be committed only in the most urgent of situations. Finally he shouts into the handset, 'If you don't get us a fucking Spooky right now, we won't be here in the morning.' Then moments later, he passes the word'Spooky is on the way. Maybe we'll see the sunrise, after all.
While we're waiting for Spooky, a sudden attack of silliness happens. I call out to Jody and others'after all, it isn't as though the NVA don't know where we are--and I ask them to come to my position to sign their reenlistment/tour extension papers. When they get over the surprise they give me the expected answers and in return, ask me if I'm still planning to be a lifer. It must be an adrenaline rush but in any case, we're all laughing and carrying on and this goes on for maybe 10 minutes. The NVA must have been a bit what can you say'surprised, amazed, confused, demoralized' I hope so.
At one point I hear Bill Ingle, a 2nd Platoon machine gunner; tell Jody, his fire team leader that he has diarrhea and 'has to go.' Jody's next to him and he tells Ingle to stay behind his gun, ''even if you shit in your pants', which is exactly what happens.
Later. Aircraft engines in the distance'what a beautiful sound. Suddenly, the whole place lights up from the 'basketball' flares the Spooky is dropping on the way in to our location. Like Christmas, my birthday and 4th of July all rolled into one. All right Godammit, we know now that we'll see the sunrise!
I can overhear the conversation between the pilot and 6. I guess that he's an old LTC, who has been flying since WWII but in any case, he knows his stuff. After checking his night vision sights and IR sensors he tells 6, with the practiced calm and laconic tone of experienced pilots, 'Well sir, it looks like you boys have a bit of a problem down there. I think I'm going to give you all three guns.' In a typical fire support mission, Spooky fires only one of his 7.62mm Gatling guns while cooling the other two.
This is clearly a bad situation and CPT Gibson agrees with the pilot, who verifies the approximate size and location of our defensive perimeter. He tells 6 to pass the word that they'll walk the fire 360' around the perimeter and approximately 10 meters forward of our positions. We do this quickly, everyone is ready and the pilot, who will fire on a backward count of 10, tells us to take cover now.
Deliverance. It's like steel rain, an awesome, wonderful experience'for us, that is. Each of the guns is firing at the rate of 3000 rounds per minute. The first indication is long tongues of flame from out of the darkness (of course we can't see the plane itself), the grinding sound of the mini-guns and almost solid streams of red tracer coming down. Tracer burnout occurs at 900m for the 7.62 round and the tracers are gone before they hit the ground. We hear a continuous shredding noise just forward of our positions as the hundreds of rounds rip through the trees and hit the ground. All the while, the crew keeps dropping the huge flares, lighting-up the entire area.
After a bit they stop firing with all guns but give continuous support with a single gun at targets their sensors spot outside the perimeter and at the base of the hill. This and the continuous illumination of our location goes on for hours and I try to imagine the huge load of ammunition and flares they must be carrying.
First Light. We've heard nothing from the NVA since Spooky opened up. It's first light, time for Spooky to leave us. One man has been slightly wounded in the initial attack but he doesn't require a medevac, just a band-aid from his medic. We are 100 grateful soldiers who know just how close we came to being badly mauled.
Capt. Gibson tells the platoon leaders to have half the men, under our platoon sergeants, do a search in front of the perimeter while we report to the CP. They find blood trails, bloody bandages and scraps of uniforms, pith helmets and odds and ends of equipment but no bodies or weapons. Amazing that they could pull that off, given the situation. S2 later advises that NVA prisoners reported taking heavy casualties that night. But, this intel, as usual, is highly suspect and I wonder if the S2 people made it up. I'm sure that between Spooky and us we killed a bunch but in our experience the NVA at Tam Ky never surrendered, even when wounded or trapped.
Talking with us, 6 decides it was a 360' attack; the classic NVA tactic in which they start with mortar fire in hopes of getting us to put our heads down/take cover, then switch to RPGs and hand grenades while their assault force goes through the perimeter. We discuss what we saw in our sections of the perimeter and conclude that the NVA ran into three unexpected problems when conducting this attack.
First, they overshot with the mortars and hit their own men on the other side of the hill, throwing off their timing and coordination. Second, they assumed we'd take the lazy way out and man positions already dug on the hilltop by the ARVNs months earlier. But it was too large a perimeter for us to man, so we dug our positions 5-10 meters inside it. Third, we were on 50% alert, our guys were ready opened fire the instant the trips went off.
Vignettes. I go back to the 2nd platoon section, tell the men on the perimeter what we think happened and fall asleep against a tree as I await the return of SGT T and the rest of the platoon. They're back in a few minutes and SGT T comes over to me with a soldier in tow; a new man who joined us in the A Shau a few weeks earlier.
SGT T always did a good job of handling 'NCO business' on the QT, so I know we have a major issue. The soldier stands there looking sullen and angry as SGT T explains that he argued with his squad leader and tried to countermand SGT T's instructions regarding the perimeter search. I'd heard a few rumors about this kid; he claimed to be a Ranger School graduate (but is only an E3'), thought he knew a lot and didn't listen well but he had done nothing serious until now. I do the only thing I can, tell him to keep his mouth shut and follow orders or I'll put him in jail for a long time. He gives me a look but says nothing and stomps off. SGT T and I agree that he looks like trouble and will have to be watched carefully. Less than thirty-six hours later, he's dead.
We drink coffee, eat Cs and discuss the attack. Someone tells me that, 'When that RPG exploded on the bush above your head I thought you were a goner'. All I can say is 'What RPG'' Brian Lisk was hit in the chest with a hard object during the first attack. In the daylight he finds a dud Chicom stick grenade lying a few feet from his position in the CP location.
I remember Jody's discussion with Bill Ingle during the fight, decide I'd better do the concerned officer thing and check on his well being. I get about 10 feet away and rethink the matter. The condition of Bill's pants is indescribable and he stinks to high heaven'all I can do, like everyone else is laugh at his predicament. We don't have a spare pair of pants in the company, it's bone dry--no streams or well water available for him to wash with (our drinking water had to be brought in by chopper) and the daily temperatures reach 115'. He doesn't get clean pants for another 48 hours.
Then we walk off the hill, have only gone maybe 500 meters when someone yells to look back. The hilltop is swarming with NVA; they're checking our positions and finishing the job of burying their dead. CPT Gibson tries to get gunships on the scene but there are none available. Kim Scharmen, the FO calls in artillery but as usual (not Kim's fault) the rounds miss the hilltop, the NVA take cover and it's all for nothing. We joke that we could stay right here and simply take turns with the NVA, attacking and defending the hill. A metaphor for the Viet Nam war perhaps'
Then we move out, heading further into the Valley of Death.
Don Gourley
2-6, C-1/501 IN
101st Airborne Division
1969
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