A Shau Valor

by Thomas R. Yarborough

  On March 4, Project Delta reconnaissance teams once more entered the A Shau for a month-long mission designated Operation Samurai IV. While the primary focus in I CTZ (I Corps Tactical Zone) remained on Khe Sanh, the III Marine Amphibious Force headquarters sought details regarding enemy infiltration from Laos across the A Shau, and since virtually all maneuver battalions were already committed, Delta inherited the job. Delta recon teams were tasked “to conduct reconnaissance, surveillance, and interdiction missions primarily along highway 547 in Western Thua Thien Province and to determine if alternate routes exist linking A Shau Valley and Hue.”19

  At III MAF headquarters there was some speculation that NVA strength in the A Shau might have been depleted by the heavy fighting in I Corps at Khe Sanh. Reality proved that assumption to be wide of the mark. The entire AO was still crawling with company-sized enemy units, and if anything, the antiaircraft fire proved to be more concentrated than ever. Furthermore, little had changed for Project Delta since Operation Pirous a year earlier. NVA counter-recon companies still hunted down Delta’s six-man recon and four-man road runner teams mercilessly, frequently triggering David vs. Goliath confrontations—only during Operation Samurai IV, Goliath would often win. In retrospect, Delta’s most pronounced successes occurred when an entire ranger company inserted into the AO, because in most cases the larger unit was capable of taking care of itself—or at least holding its own.

  One such mission occurred during the late afternoon of March 7 when Delta’s 5th Airborne Ranger Company air assaulted into a suspected hot area in the eastern A Shau near the intersection of Routes 547 and 547A. The mission was to ascertain the condition of the road and to estimate the type and frequency of traffic. Elements of the company observed a stream, approximately 15 meters wide, flowing north to south. At that point a road, four meters wide and well traveled, crossed the stream via an underwater bridge. The bridge was roughly three meters wide and 15 meters long, constructed of log revetments and rock fill, with its surface less than a foot beneath the surface of the water. The road approaches to the bridge had apparently been cut out by a bulldozer, and vehicles had recently crossed the bridge heading east as evidenced by V-shaped tractor tire tread marks. Most interesting of all, overhanging foliage on both banks of the stream had been tied together, partially concealing the bridge from aerial detection.

  As the 5th Ranger Company inspected Route 547 along the valley floor, a ranger sighted one NVA soldier without a weapon approaching along the road. The company point man fired at the enemy, but his weapon malfunctioned. The single North Vietnamese soldier fled north, apparently frightened but unhurt. Within 15 minutes, however, the ranger company began receiving small arms and automatic weapons fire from the northeast at a distance of only 30 meters. The company returned fire and the enemy force disengaged, but not before wounding two SF advisors, Specialist 5 Little J. Jackson and Staff Sergeant Philip S. Salzwedel. A short time later, Jackson died of his wounds. One enemy was killed in the skirmish.

  Normally when a Delta unit’s position was compromised, they extracted before an enemy force attempted to surround them, but the 5th Airborne Ranger Company pressed on with the mission. In this case, as deep shadows just before sunset swallowed up the area, a peculiar event surprised the Delta raiders. Out of nowhere a lone NVA soldier came up to the company perimeter and asked in a loud voice, “What company is this?” Playing along, the company executive officer (XO) answered, “This is 5th Company.” The enemy soldier departed and returned several minutes later, illuminated his face with a flashlight and asked, “5th Company from where?” At that point the XO promptly shot at the dark figure from a distance of ten meters but apparently missed. A short time later the company stumbled across four enemy soldiers sitting around a cooking fire on the edge of the road. The lead element of the company opened fire, hitting two of the NVA. The next morning they found blood trails at both locations; however, none of the enemy could be confirmed as killed.

  Just before midnight the rangers heard several trucks on the road evidently heavily loaded and moving uphill in low gear. Almost immediately they observed two enemy soldiers with flashlights, one behind the other at an interval of five meters, moving along the road past the company’s concealed position. The rangers let them pass, but it was obvious to all that the NVA owned Route 547 and operated with impunity.

  Early the next morning the rangers heard an unknown number of NVA soldiers shouting to each other about an enemy battalion. Two hours later the 5th Airborne Ranger Company was ambushed by heavy automatic weapons fire at a distance of 35 meters to their east. The rangers returned fire, the probe ceasing after two minutes with no casualties. A few minutes later an estimated enemy squad opened fire from the same location. In short order the Delta force heard a whistle and the enemy yelling, “Attack, Attack,” this time firing a fresh volley from the south. During the brief firefight the rangers suffered five WIA. Through the remainder of the morning the ranger company continued to receive sporadic sniper fire, and in one exchange killed an enemy soldier armed with a Soviet SKS semiautomatic carbine and dressed in yellow khaki uniform with pith helmet, pistol belt with ammo pouches, and rubber sandals. At the same location the company observed an enormous puddle of blood, indicating that at least one more NVA soldier had been severely wounded and probably killed. Rather than press its luck against a force of unknown strength, the 5th Ranger Company called for a helicopter extraction and departed the area without incident.20 When they returned to Phu Bai following their short stay in the A Shau, the exhausted rangers sported uniforms that were filthy, ripped to shreds, covered with mildew, and literally rotting off.

  The experiences of Recon Team 7 proved to be more typical of Delta reconnaissance missions in the A Shau. Just after noon on March 13, the six-man team inserted into the same treacherous area the 5th Airborne Ranger Company had worked a week earlier. Right away the mission got off to a shaky start. Approaching the LZ, the 281st Assault Helicopter Company Hueys carrying the team ran into a heavy volume of .51 cal machine gunfire. Under the circumstances the Delta FAC should have called off the insert, but instead he had A-1s lay down a smoke screen 300 meters north of the LZ to mask the insert. The covering white phosphorus smoke—known as Willie Pete—helped the UH-1 make it into the LZ, but within minutes after leaving the chopper two of the SF personnel, Staff Sergeant James H. Zumbrun and Sergeant First Class William H. Bruno, had been wounded by persistent small arms fire.

  After evading for three hours, Recon Team 7 observed an enemy platoon 50 meters south of their position advancing toward them in a skirmish line. The enemy wore khaki uniforms, web gear, soft hats, jungle boots, and carried AK-47s. Interestingly, two enemy soldiers appeared to be unusually light-skinned, suggesting that these individuals might be Chinese or even Russian. Initially the team did not think the enemy had observed them in the heavy foliage, but at point blank range the enemy force opened fire with small arms, automatic weapons, and rifle grenades. The team returned fire, the three minute firefight ending with SSgt Zumbrun and SFC Richard A. Conaway wounded and one LLDB missing, while the NVA suffered six killed. Once contact was broken, Recon Team 7 evaded 300 meters south to an LZ for extraction.

  Just before dark 281st AHC helicopters arrived overhead and dropped ladders to extract the surrounded team. In the twilight, tracers filled the air as the choppers received intense ground fire from 4 different positions and approximately 30 weapons, all within 150 meters of the extraction LZ. SFC Bruno and two Vietnamese team members scampered up the ladder just as the Huey began taking heavy fire. One Vietnamese team member was shot and killed after climbing in the aircraft, while the enemy salvo knocked the other Vietnamese team member off the ladder as the Huey jinked away from the murderous crossfire. The remaining team members on the ground set up security on the LZ and waited until the next Huey arrived, about 15 minutes later. This aircraft also received intense ground fire and was forced to move away. A third UH-1 was hit by an enemy barrage and crash
-landed east of the LZ; the crew was rescued. With darkness now upon them, the half-strength recon team realized they would spend another night next to Route 547, so they carefully started to hunt for their missing team member. The team moved south and began searching in a figure-8 pattern, each time increasing the size of the 8 while moving farther south. Throughout the night, from the time the team moved off the LZ, they could hear sounds of the enemy pursuing and searching for them.

  By 11:30 a.m. the next morning, Recon Team 7 watched as F-4 Phantoms delivered airstrikes immediately to their west as part of the effort to extract them. Under the umbrella of the covering airstrikes, a Huey arrived and dropped a hoist to extract the three remaining team members. As the team was being lifted up, the aircraft began receiving automatic weapons fire from a distance of 50 meters to the southwest. With all the ground fire and helicopter maneuvering, SSgt Zumbrun, already wounded twice, fell off the hoist to the ground, some 30 feet below, injuring his back. Fortunately, he was lifted out again, and at 12:45 p.m. the extraction was finally completed.21 At that point, however, the battle shifted from saving Recon Team 7 to rescuing the rescuers.

  On March 14 in a dramatic battle above the A Shau, large caliber flak brought down Gunfighter 41, an F-4D from the 366th Tactical Fighter Wing at Da Nang. The two-man crew had been hit by 37mm fire while executing their fourth napalm run along the east wall in support of Project Delta Recon Team 7. Both pilots ejected successfully, although the backseater suffered a broken leg on landing. During the first rescue attempt, one Jolly Green initiated a hover about 50 feet above one of the downed pilots, but ground fire forced the HH-3 to limp away when bullets pummeled the rotor blades and smoke belched out of the engine. Next, an Army Huey went in for the pickup but was driven off and crash-landed about a mile away. Then an Army OH-6 Loach, riddled with bullet holes, also went down; an HH-3 managed to rescue both helicopter crews. While A-1 Sandys and an F-100 Misty FAC peppered enemy positions with 20mm strafe and CBU, a Jolly Green maneuvered into a hover and lowered a pararescue jumper (PJ) to the ground to assist the injured F-4 pilot. A Misty pilot watching the PJ brave a veritable shower of enemy lead while descending on the hoist commented, “That guy has the biggest balls I’ve ever seen.” Within minutes the PJ had the injured pilot safely inside the Jolly Green.22

  On the ground in the middle of the A Shau Valley with enemy troops rapidly closing in, the second F-4 pilot faced a situation characterized by equal parts panic and cool desperation. As A-1s and the Misty continued to attack targets only a few meters away from the downed pilot, he kept asking them to put their ordnance closer. Finally, he shouted over his survival radio, “Put it on me. They’re all around me.” Seconds later the pilot announced, “I’m breaking my radio. See you after the war.” Then the shooting stopped. First Lieutenant James E. Hamm was never seen again.23

  The saga of Recon Team 7 calls into question the true effectiveness of small reconnaissance patrols attempting to operate in an NVA stronghold like the A Shau. Without question, Project Delta teams gave their all to collect invaluable intelligence throughout South Vietnam, but they rarely succeeded in the Valley of Death. In the specific case of Recon Team 7, its valiant members acquired little if any hard intelligence other than to confirm that enemy forces saturated the entire area, a fact already made painfully obvious by earlier missions. Was the cost too high? With two thirds of Recon Team 7 members as casualties, including one KIA, one MIA, and nothing concrete to show for it, the argument against small team missions into the A Shau becomes compelling. Factor in the additional loss of three helicopters, one F-4, and one MIA pilot, and the evidence seems undeniable. By comparison, reconnaissance-in-force missions by ranger companies, mobile strike force companies, or even Nung platoons fared significantly better against the NVA counter-recon and security units infesting the A Shau. That should have been a clue. Still, Project Delta took its orders directly from MACV and executed its mission no matter what the odds.

  While the individual Delta ranger company apparently epitomized the optimum unit size for reconnaissance operations during Samurai IV, on one occasion a significantly larger unit fared poorly. On the morning of March 29, two companies of the 91st Airborne Ranger Battalion boarded an armada of Marine CH-46 helicopters and inserted near the intersection of Route 547 and 547A, the identical area where the 5th Airborne Ranger Company and Recon Team 7 had patrolled two weeks earlier. Totaling more than 200 rangers and advisors, the insertion required three separate lifts into the LZ, each opposed by heavy antiaircraft fire. Since there was no possibility of achieving surprise in light of multiple helicopter inserts on the same LZ, enemy security forces responded quickly and with a vengeance, seemingly assaulting the two companies at will. During the 36-hour mission, NVA elements initiated attacks against the rangers on 18 separate occasions, wounding 7 SF advisors, 32 rangers, and 2 chopper crewmembers. Three helicopter crewmen were KIA, two MIA, along with five rangers KIA. The NVA lost six confirmed killed. All through the insertion and extraction, concentrated enemy ground fire brought down four Hueys and two CH-46s. The subsequent attempted rescue of those crews triggered phase two of the battle.24

  From the 6 choppers shot down, 14 American crewmembers lay huddled in two bomb craters, some wounded, others injured from the crashes, and all miserable and frightened. The incessant rain and low clouds left them wet, despondent, and suffering from hypothermia brought on by cold night temperatures in the high mountains along the A Shau’s east wall. They had no food or water and only a few weapons with limited ammunition for protection. Each survivor realized that it was only a matter of time before the NVA got around to launching a full-scale attack, an assault they could not defend against—or survive. Their only hope was rescue by their fellow helicopter pilots, and the foremost question resonating in their minds was, ‘What chance did a rescue force have against the deadly enemy antiaircraft fire spewing from this remote valley perpetually shrouded in mist?’

  With most of the CH-46s from Marine Squadron HMM-165 dedicated to the extraction of the 91st Airborne Ranger Battalion, the III MAF called on the services of the rescue experts, the Air Force HH-3 Jolly Greens from the 37th ARRS at Da Nang. At about noon on the 30th, Major Joe B. Green led four HH-3s through terrible weather into the Valley of Death. Initially the overcast was so low and the visibility so poor that tactical fighters could not work. As two Huey gunships attempted to suppress the murderous antiaircraft fire, enemy gunners blasted one of the Jolly Greens, forcing it to stagger out of the area. At that point Major Green made an attempt to pick up the survivors who were hiding in bomb craters on a steep slope, but the ground fire was so intense that the Marine crewmembers on the ground waved him off. Undaunted, Joe Green attempted a second approach from the southwest, dropping over a hill on a fast approach into a risky hover. He continued to receive heavy ground fire despite the best efforts from two Army gunships.

  As Green courageously remained in a stationary hover, a large, juicy target for every armed NVA soldier in the immediate area, the enemy fired a B-40 rocket at his bird. In describing the incident he recalled, “I was sitting in the right seat when a rocket came over my right shoulder from about our 1 o’clock. It was probably fired from about 200 yards out and I guess it passed right through the rotor blades.” By the time the four most seriously wounded were on board, the Jolly Green had been hit multiple times and warning lights flashed all over the cockpit instrument panel. With his aircraft almost out of fuel, Major Green nursed his shot-up HH-3 out of the valley toward Hue as his PJ treated the wounded Marines.25

  As Joe Green and his riddled chopper lurched out of the valley, Major Jerry M. Griggs piloted his Jolly Green into the deadly antiaircraft barrage, receiving substantial battle damage from intense opposing ground fire before he even located the downed crewmembers. Fortunately, the clouds lifted enough for a flight of A-1 Sandys to pound the enemy surrounding the remaining survivors. Covered by their suppressing fire, Major Griggs, with indomitable courage and profess
ional skill, held his already shot-up bird in a dangerous hover until he rescued four more survivors, even though the HH-3 sustained further hits and damage from the intense hostile ground fire. With all guns trained on Major Griggs, a third Jolly Green quickly snatched the remaining Marine crewmembers from the jaws of death. For their extraordinary heroism on March 30, 1968, Majors Joe Green and Jerry Griggs were both awarded the Air Force Cross.26

  Half a world away the following night at 9:01 p.m., March 31, President Johnson in a nationally televised address talked to the American people about Vietnam. He shocked the country and indeed the world with two announcements designed to deescalate the war. First, he said, “Tonight, I have ordered our aircraft and our naval vessels to make no attacks on North Vietnam, except in the area north of the demilitarized zone, where the continuing enemy build-up directly threatens allied forward positions and where the movements of their troops and supplies are clearly related to that threat.” Then LBJ dropped the political bombshell. “I do not believe,” he said, “that I should devote an hour or a day of my time to any personal partisan causes or to any duties other than the awesome duties of this office—the Presidency of your country. Accordingly, I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the nomination of my party for another term as your President.”27

  Reactions to the presidential pronouncements were mixed. Some viewed LBJ’s address as a genuine move toward peace and the unselfish gesture of a brave man, while others saw it as an abdication speech by a lame-duck commander-in-chief. Many more were confused and baffled. Yet the war continued.