A Shau Valor

by Thomas R. Yarborough

  In spite of fierce ground assaults by VC and NVA units, MACV did establish the Special Forces camp at Prek Klok but never located the much sought after COSVN headquarters. One of the most disheartening results of Operation Junction City was that shortly after American units redeployed to other areas, the VC crossed back into South Vietnam and quickly returned to War Zone C. The essence of the North’s “hit and run” tactic was perhaps best summed up by Ho Chi Minh himself when he observed:

  It will be a war between an elephant and a tiger. If the tiger ever stands still, the elephant will crush him with his mighty tusks. But the tiger does not stand still. He lurks in the jungle by day and emerges only at night. He will leap upon the back of the elephant, tearing huge chunks from his hide, and then he will leap back into the dark jungle. And slowly the elephant will bleed to death.6

  While debate about the relative success of Operation Junction City continues into the present, there can be no argument over the valor and dedication of the American soldiers and airmen who carried the fight to the enemy in War Zone C. The story of Sergeant First Class Matthew Leonard from the Big Red One drives the point home. Near the village of Suoi Da on February 28, his platoon was suddenly attacked by a large enemy force. When the platoon leader and several other key leaders were among the first wounded, SFC Leonard, from Birmingham, Alabama, quickly rallied his men to throw back the initial enemy assaults. Spotting a wounded platoon member outside the perimeter, he dragged the man to safety but was struck by a sniper’s bullet which shattered his left hand. Refusing medical attention and continuously exposing himself to the withering fire as the enemy again assaulted the perimeter, SFC Leonard moved from position to position to direct the fire of his men against the onslaught. To make matters worse, during the attack the enemy moved a machine gun into a location where it could sweep the entire perimeter. This threat was magnified when the platoon machine gun malfunctioned. SFC Leonard quickly crawled to the gun position and was helping to clear the stoppage when the gun crew was wounded by fire from the enemy machine gun. At that point SFC Leonard rose to his feet, charged the enemy gun and destroyed its crew despite being hit several times by enemy fire. He then moved to a tree, propped himself against it, and continued to engage the enemy until he died from his many wounds. For his conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty, Sergeant First Class Matthew Leonard was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.7

  As the big unit battles wound down in III Corps, in April 1967 a detachment of the 5th Special Forces Group saddled up and headed back into the A Shau Valley, scene of their humiliating defeat 13 months earlier. The detachment was officially known as B-52, but throughout Vietnam, combat units knew it as Project Delta. Never numbering more than 100 officers and enlisted men at any one time, Delta would become the most highly decorated unit of its size in the Vietnam War, and the second most highly decorated unit in the conflict.

  From 1965 through 1970, Delta teams ranged throughout South Vietnam conducting long-range deep penetration reconnaissance missions into VC sanctuaries, collecting strategic or tactical intelligence, directing airstrikes against camouflaged enemy strongholds, performing bomb damage assessments (BDA), initiating reconnaissance-in-force missions against special NVA/VC targets, capturing NVA prisoners, running wire taps on enemy communications lines, and even rescuing downed aircrew members. The heart of the operation consisted of approximately 16 reconnaissance teams each manned by three hand-picked Special Forces personnel and three Vietnamese LLDB members. Project Delta also ran a unique platoon made up of eight teams of four specially trained CIDG soldiers, who performed their missions wearing NVA or VC uniforms with the intention of actually infiltrating enemy patrols or units. Since the teams deliberately traveled along trails deep in NVA sanctuaries, they were called “Roadrunners.” Backing up the reconnaissance teams and Roadrunners, the Vietnamese 81st Airborne Ranger Battalion served as a quick reaction force for emergencies or for exploiting special targets. Rounding out the organization was an American-led Security Company of 124 Nungs and a BDA Platoon consisting of four U.S. and 24 CIDG.8

  Although assigned to the 5th SFGA, Project Delta came under the operational control of the commanding general, MACV. If any Corps Tactical Zone commander ran up against a tough reconnaissance target, especially those in enemy controlled areas, he would put in a request through MACV for Delta to run the mission. The various elements of Delta consequently evolved into a “first responder” role for obtaining critical covert intelligence deep within enemy territory throughout South Vietnam.

  The concept of long-range reconnaissance missions was not a new one; the predecessor to Project Delta had attempted the same mission in Laos. Code-named Leaping Lena and originally organized and funded by the CIA, the program initially consisted of several all-Vietnamese reconnaissance teams who were trained by U.S. Special Forces personnel on temporary duty from the 1st SFGA from Okinawa. In the summer of 1964, five of those small teams parachuted into Laos just north of the A Shau along Route 9, west of Khe Sanh. Immediately the operation ran into trouble. Despite being warned about going into villages, most teams ignored the orders—with catastrophic results. Of the 40 Vietnamese team members initially dropped into Laos, most were either killed or captured soon after their insertion. Only five survivors straggled back weeks later. From that disastrous effort it became embarrassingly clear that without American leadership and expertise on the ground, the Leaping Lena missions were doomed to fail. Still intrigued by the potential, however, planners realized that for deep penetration missions of this type to succeed, highly trained Special Forces would have to lead indigenous soldiers on the ground. Therefore, in late 1964 the decision was made to train combined reconnaissance teams by employing both Green Berets and LLDB personnel. With the American presence on teams, Laos was no longer a viable target, but there were plenty of “bad guy” areas in South Vietnam. The revamped organization and mission became Detachment B-52, Project Delta.9

  Project Delta teams entered the A Shau Valley on April 18, 1967, to conduct reconnaissance and surveillance as part of Operation 5-67, also known as Operation Pirous. The operations order tasked Project Delta to infiltrate recon teams, Road Runner teams, and Ranger recon platoons into the area of operations (AO) to detect, identify, and interdict enemy targets by tactical airstrikes and to commit airborne Ranger reaction forces in support of recon teams or against targets of opportunity. On paper Operation Pirous appeared to be straightforward, but in reality the operation included a political as well as a jurisdictional component. The I Corps Tactical Zone was hardcore “Marine country,” under the command of Lieutenant General Lewis W. Walt, the III Marine Amphibious Force (III MAF) boss. While deployed to I Corps, Delta teams fell under the operational control of III MAF—and that arrangement set the stage for indirect high-level friction. Ostensibly, the III MAF commander reported to the MACV commander, but he also reported through Marine channels to include the Commandant. In the ensuing jurisdictional squabble, senior Marine commanders proved to be less than shy about expressing strong disagreement with the conduct of the war by the leadership of MACV. While the Marines pushed for a small-scale unit pacification program along the populated coastal areas, the Army leadership in Saigon advocated large unit search and destroy operations against North Vietnamese units; it was hoped Delta would locate and identify those big units. As a MACV assigned detachment, Delta was, inopportunely, caught in the middle.10

  Fortunately, Delta functioned first and foremost as a self-contained ground unit, operating with dedicated Air Force forward air controllers and committed helicopter assets from the 281st Assault Helicopter Company (AHC). The Delta FOB at Phu Bai also enjoyed an excellent working relationship with the Air Force Tactical Air Control Party and elements of the 1st Marine Air Wing (MAW), both essential to the insertion and extraction of Delta teams in and around the A Shau AO. Although there was no hard and fast rule, most Delta recon and roadrunner teams were ins
erted at twilight using four UH-1 Hueys from the 281st AHC, escorted by two Huey gunships. In the vernacular of the Vietnam War, Army Hueys were dubbed “Hogs” when sporting rocket pods, while troop-carrying Hueys became “Slicks.” On each mission the command helicopter led the formation to the LZ, followed by the insertion bird carrying the team and by two recovery Slicks. If the insertion bird could not actually land, the team climbed down shaky chain ladders, repelled into the target, or jumped from heights approaching 15 feet. The recovery Hueys were along to extract the team in case of enemy detection—as often happened—or to rescue the crew of a downed chopper, also a frequent occurrence around the heavily fortified Valley of Death. In most scenarios a dedicated Delta FAC also orbited the scene, ready to call in airstrikes at a moment’s notice. In bigger operations involving a Delta Ranger company, the larger CH-46 Sea Knights from the 1st MAW joined the missions.

  Operation Pirous was slated to kick off on April 17, but bad weather over the A Shau caused a 24 hour delay. On the 18th, the Delta FAC performed a visual reconnaissance (VR) over the southern end of the valley; what he observed was not encouraging. The FAC spotted two trucks stopped along Route 548 with 27 enemy troops in khaki standing around the trucks—one truck covered with a camouflaged tarpaulin and the other loaded with large boxes, roughly 5x8 feet in size. Nearby, the sharp-eyed pilot picked out two additional trucks parked under trees near the road. The Delta FAC quickly expended several flights of fighters on the target, severely damaging three trucks and setting off one large secondary explosion with heavy black smoke. The bombs also silenced a .51 cal machine gun position which had opened up on and hit two of the F-100 Super Sabre strike aircraft. Despite heavy enemy activity throughout the AO, Recon Team 7 and Roadrunner Team 102 repelled into the A Shau without incident at last light.11 The essential elements of information the teams were tasked to find out were as follows:

  (1) What is the location, strength, identity, and disposition of the enemy in this area?

  (2) How effective is the enemy security and early warning system? What measures are used?

  (3) What activities are being carried out by enemy units in the area?

  (4) What use is made of trails, roads, and waterways in the area? Type traffic, volume, frequency, origin and destination, and routes used?12

  Several days later Roadrunner Team 102 reported sighting an enemy company in black and khaki uniforms with carbines and Thompson submachine guns. They also reported being tracked by an NVA squad, but through a series of maneuvers and cutbacks the team managed to lose their pursuers. Recon Team 10 was not so fortunate when, on April 22, the six men infiltrated into the valley at last light. Staff Sergeant Herbert Siugzda, the senior team advisor, was seriously injured during a 15-foot jump from the hovering Huey. He landed on a large punji stake that penetrated through his groin and into his stomach. At that point the team came under intense small arms fire from a large enemy force around the LZ. SSgt Siugzda estimated 60 to 70 enemy troops within an area 20 to 100 meters on all sides of their besieged team. He observed that the enemy wore NVA khaki uniforms, but the type of weapons could not be positively identified because of darkness, although they were assumed to be AK-47s. As a hail of bullets ripped through the leaves and branches around him, SSgt Siugzda, immobilized from his injury and in great pain, nevertheless directed the perimeter defense and then orchestrated the successful helicopter recovery of his team through a wall of hostile fire. Herbert Siugzda spent three months on a hospital ship recovering from his wounds, but when released he insisted on returning to Project Delta.13

  At almost the same moment, in the northern end of the valley Roadrunner Team 103 reported that it had become split and was surrounded. Since it could not be extracted due to poor weather conditions, the tiny team evaded and hid during the night as numerous NVA patrols searched the terrain and fired shots into bamboo thickets in an attempt to flush the team into the open. Somehow the roadrunners reunited at daylight and were rescued.

  Delta intelligence estimates suspected that the NVA’s 324B and 341 Divisions had infiltrated south of the DMZ, but because of the year-long American absence from the A Shau, one of Delta’s primary missions was to determine the “who and where” of enemy unit dispositions, a very dangerous assignment under the best of circumstances. According to veteran Delta team leader Donald J. Taylor, Project Delta’s long-range reconnaissance patrols:

  were intended to be uneventful operations, and most of them were. A recon team was expected to infiltrate undetected by the enemy, remain undetected while it collected the intelligence it had been sent in to gather, and finally to exfiltrate, still undetected by the enemy. These were the successful patrols and there were many, but they are seldom remembered, mentioned, or written about. Recon patrols we still remember in vivid detail are the few patrols where things went wrong, our recon team was detected, and we wound up fighting for our lives.14

  After the insertion of over half a dozen Delta teams on the ground between April 18 and April 23, the wily enemy quickly caught on to the pattern and deployed an equal number of counter-recon units around the A Shau. With so many NVA trackers and LZ watchers on alert, Delta teams found it almost impossible to remain undetected—and that usually resulted in ferocious, close-quarter firefights against at least 10 to 1 odds. It was in just such a scenario that the members of Recon Team 9 wound up fighting for their lives.

  On April 23, Sergeant First Class Orville “Robbie” Robinette led Team 9 onto the A Shau’s east wall at the north end of the valley and began the deadly cat and mouse game with the enemy. On that first night the only incident occurred around 9 p.m. when the team heard six single rifle shots fired in the distance. At an agonizingly slow pace, involving frequent stops to listen and to cover its back trail, Team 9 had only traveled about 1,500 meters by April 26, but more importantly, the team remained undetected. Yet in addition to the constant fear of being found out, each team member had to endure the debilitating tropical heat and humidity. Leech-infested streams and malaria-contaminated rain forests caused the best of men to come down with burning fevers and incapacitating chills, all aggravated by carrying heavy rucksacks on their backs while slogging through ankledeep mud. Drenched in their own jungle sweat and covered with filth and vermin, the teams became the target of every flying insect known to man, and ever-present sores festered as creepy-crawly parasites found homes in skin ripped open by “wait-a-minute vines” and razor-sharp elephant grass. And there was no relief through the normal time-honored GI process of vocal bitching or griping. While moving as silently as possible through the A Shau’s unforgiving terrain, they only communicated with hand signals or with occasional whispers. The psychological toll proved to be every bit as perilous as the physical environment because teams were completely cut off and isolated from everything, particularly during the hours of darkness.

  That evening Robbie Robinette suspected they had located some sort of enemy way station when the team heard the distinct sounds of domestic animals, women and children, along with chopping and digging sounds throughout the night. He was right. Early the next morning while crossing a well-used trail, the team spotted a lone lookout jump from a tree and bolt at a dead run to the northwest. Since they had been spotted, Team 9 opened fire on the fleeing soldier, but he disappeared into the jungle. With his team now compromised, Robinette knew it was time to get out. That instinct was confirmed a few minutes later when Robbie detected approximately 25 NVA moving swiftly in his direction, so he radioed for an extraction.

  As the enemy took Team 9 under attack and attempted to surround them, SFC Robinette dodged the heavy fire and moved into a small clearing to place a marker for the incoming helicopters. The first 281st Huey only hoisted out two LLDB members before an intense antiaircraft barrage damaged the chopper so badly that it was forced to leave the scene. A second Huey fared even worse, crashing into the clearing after being battered by heavy small arms and automatic weapons fire. With complete disregard for his own safety, Robb
ie ran through the gauntlet of molten lead and pulled the crewmembers from the burning Huey. After organizing his men into a defensive perimeter, SFC Robinette then radioed for reinforcements and began calling in tactical airstrikes as close as 25 meters from his position.

  The “cavalry” arrived in the form of Delta’s Ranger Company 5 aboard three Marine CH-46 Sea Knights. The first two platoons made it in safely, but the third CH-46 crash-landed nearby with only minor injuries to the platoon and crew. As the ranger company moved toward Team 9, Robinette set up an ambush against an enemy squad of a dozen men attempting to flank the friendly position. With death only a few yards away he charged the squad and at a distance of 15 feet took out all 12 soldiers. Once the ranger platoons linked up with Team 9 and the downed aircrew members, Robbie continued to call in devastating airstrikes around his perimeter. His courageous leadership and fighting skills disorganized the enemy force and facilitated an extraction under fire by five CH-46s. For his gallantry in action, Sergeant First Class Orville G. Robinette was awarded the Silver Star.15

  Recon teams often remained out of sight without engaging enemy forces, and by simply observing they turned up attention-grabbing pieces of intelligence, some operationally important and some bizarre. On one occasion a roadrunner team smiled in disbelief when they spotted 30 NVA soldiers walking along a trail. Yet the most intriguing observation stretched right behind the procession. The enemy column had in tow a wheeled 37mm antiaircraft gun—pulled by two large water buffalos. On another occasion, recon Team 6 observed a column of about a dozen enemy soldiers moving on a road with weapons but no packs or web gear. What was in the column with them grabbed everyone’s attention and piqued curiosities. Marching with the group in the center of the column was a Caucasian female! She wore a white shirt and dark pants that appeared to be clean and neat. She was a strawberry blonde with roughly shoulder-length hair. The team estimated her to be about five feet six inches tall, and from all indications she was under no duress. She seemed well fed and in good health. The team report did include the perceptive observation that she had a large bust.16