A Shau Valor

by Thomas R. Yarborough

  In the following days after Signal Hill was secured, the 1st Cav airlifted a much-needed battery of artillery to the mountaintop to support infantry assaults in the valley, and along with its vital radio relay mission, the site continued in operation for three weeks. Still opposed by sporadic small arms fire, another helicopter crashed on the peak, severely injuring three other Signal Hill troopers. One was crushed beneath the helicopter’s skid; another slammed in the chest by a sailing fuel can; and another, an Air Force meteorologist, had his leg and a foot severed by the swirling rotor blades.45

  While the top of Signal Hill occasionally enjoyed brief periods of bright sunshine, such was not the case in the valley below. Unbroken cloud layers blanketed the entire length of the valley, with morning fog and afternoon torrential rain limiting visibility to practically zero. The rain kept falling as though there were a hidden purpose to it, some strategic plan by Mother Nature to inundate the entire A Shau, perhaps wash it clean again. The troops on LZ Vicki were in an untenable position, as attempts to sustain them by air had to be abandoned because of the miserable weather. They had left the present behind, the age of planes and hot food and slab sidewalks; they were moving back through time, trapped in the stink of the jungle, the incessant rain, the heat. With no food and only a basic issue of ammunition, Lieutenant Colonel Joseph E. Wasiak personally led his battalion on a four-mile forced march down the valley to LZ Goodman. Slogging through the rain-soaked jungle and the unforgiving elephant grass, the battalion moved at a snail’s pace, stopping frequently to fend off small enemy ambushes or to remove the ever-present leeches. Constantly wet from the monsoon rains, many soldiers developed a skin condition called “jungle rot,” an infection that targeted their feet, arm pits, groins, or any bare skin cut by the razor-sharp elephant grass. In the case of the 1st of the 7th, the battalion endured those conditions over four consecutive days before finally reaching LZ Goodman. One soldier summed up everyone’s attitude when he observed, “Try to imagine grass eight to fifteen feet high, so thick as to cut visibility to one yard, possessing razor sharp edges. Then try to imagine walking through it while all around you are men possessing automatic weapons who desperately want to kill you.”46

  After three days on the ground in the infamous A Shau, the 1st Cav troops had encountered only sporadic contact with the enemy, who for the most part avoided clashes with the Americans and contented themselves with initiating 122mm rocket attacks against ground targets and scorching antiaircraft barrages against any helicopter foolish enough to fly beneath the low overcasts. As 3rd Brigade patrols ranged out along Route 548, they began discovering large caches of NVA equipment, and one company from the 1st of the 7th stumbled across an enemy maintenance complex, hastily evacuated. They found two trucks, two bulldozers, and assorted engineering equipment—all Soviet manufactured.

  On April 24, with a slight improvement in the weather, General Tolson began air assaulting three battalions of his 1st Brigade into the central valley around A Luoi airstrip. As on previous days, enemy gunners reacted fiercely, bringing down two CH-47 Chinooks and one Huey. Nevertheless, the 1st Brigade troops landed, secured the area, and immediately began reconnaissance-in-force operations around the dilapidated airstrip. Contact with the enemy on the ground remained light.

  Most in the maneuver battalions of 1st Cav and the 101st Airborne were genuinely surprised by the limited contact with the enemy, since in their minds the American infantrymen had conjured up frightening mental pictures of confronting hordes of fanatical zealots defending what amounted to their home turf—there were probably more VC/NVA per square kilometer in the A Shau than any other place in South Vietnam. So far, the much-dreaded battle for the A Shau Valley had been waged with the legendary nasty weather and not against the vaunted communist combatants from the north. Given the circumstances and the valley’s sinister, almost mystical reputation, American soldiers were understandably nervous and edgy as they waited for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

  The first sustained ground contact between the 1st Cav and NVA forces occurred on April 25 when D Company, 5th Battalion, 7th Cavalry engaged a large enemy unit at the north end of the Valley of Death on an imposing piece of enemy-held real estate known as Tiger Mountain. Caught in an ambush, Delta Company suffered a significant number of killed and wounded when the company commander led a platoon in a flanking movement and was pinned down and separated from the main body of his unit. The company executive officer, 1st Lieutenant James M. “Mike” Sprayberry, organized and led a volunteer night patrol up the steep side of Tiger Mountain to eliminate the extensive network of enemy bunkers and to rescue the surrounded command element. Facing heavy machine gun fire, Mike Sprayberry, from Sylacauga, Alabama, who had just turned 21-years-old the day before, quickly moved his men to protective cover and without regard for his own safety, crawled within close range of the nearest bunker and silenced the machine gun with a hand grenade. In total darkness it was like fighting wearing a blindfold—he could only identify enemy positions by their muzzle blasts. During breaks in the firing, Sprayberry was so close to enemy soldiers that he could hear them breathing. Locating several one-man enemy positions nearby, Lt Sprayberry immediately attacked them with the rest of his grenades. When NVA soldiers tossed two grenades at his men from a fortified position to the front, Lt Sprayberry charged the enemy-held bunker, killing its occupants. In quick succession, he crawled forward again and took out three more bunkers with grenades. Immediately thereafter, Mike Sprayberry was surprised by an enemy soldier who charged from a concealed position. He killed the soldier with his pistol and neutralized yet another enemy emplacement. Lt Sprayberry then established radio contact with the isolated men, directing them toward his position.

  As he waited in the pitch-black night for the link-up with the command element, Sprayberry whistled to several approaching shadows; they whistled back. It was not until the figures were almost on top of him that they began speaking Vietnamese. At point blank range a member of Sprayberry’s patrol, Sergeant Delbert Mack, opened fire, killing one enemy soldier. When his M-16 jammed, Sgt Mack attacked and killed two more NVA with his knife. In the savage fighting, Mike Sprayberry dropped the remaining shadowy figures with his pistol. For his gallantry in the fight, Delbert Mack received the Silver Star.

  When the two friendly elements made contact, Sprayberry organized his men into litter parties to evacuate the wounded back down the steep road in total darkness. Unfortunately, they were unable to bring out three of their dead comrades: PFC Hubia J. Guillory, Specialist 4 Daniel M. Kelley, and Specialist 4 David L. Scott. As the evacuation was nearing completion, Sprayberry observed an enemy machine gun position which he silenced with a grenade. He then returned to the rescue party, established security, and moved to friendly lines with the wounded. During this vicious firefight and rescue operation, which lasted approximately seven hours, Lt Sprayberry personally killed 12 enemy soldiers, eliminated 2 machine guns, and destroyed numerous enemy bunkers. For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty, James M. Sprayberry was awarded the Medal of Honor.47

  Six days later an OH-6 Loach crew from Bravo Troop, 1st of the 9th Cavalry, volunteered to return to the deadly slopes of Tiger Mountain to recover the three dead Delta Company troopers. As the Loach approached the area at low altitude, a .51 cal machine gun shredded it, sending the bird crashing into the mountainside. Warrant Officer Warren J. Whitmire, Jr., Sergeant Donald P. Gervais, and Corporal Richard D. Martin died in the crash. Along with the three men from Delta Company, their remains have never been recovered from the A Shau Valley.*

  Ten miles to the south, in the central valley and along the east wall, nobody was even remotely aware of Delta Company’s violent encounter with the NVA; the 1st Brigade’s immediate focus was on logistics. On April 26 the buildup at A Luoi continued when, for the first time in days, the cloud cover lifted to about 2,000 feet, permitting aerial resupply by Air Force C-130s. Addition
ally, huge CH-54 Sky Crane helicopters with outsized loads slung beneath their odd fuselages joined in the effort by hauling much needed heavy engineering equipment for rebuilding the A Luoi airstrip. The effort, however, did not go unopposed.

  Unseen enemy gunners around A Luoi put up a wall of hostile fire, most of it directed at the big C-130 Hercules transports attempting to parachute pallets of supplies into the airstrip. Those dangerous missions highlighted the valor and dedication of the Air Force crews during Operation Delaware. They were faced with the same miserable weather as their rotary-wing Army colleagues, but unlike the helicopter, they could not hover or pick holes in the clouds for their descent. Instead, they navigated to the A Shau Valley via a TACAN (tactical air navigation) station at Phu Bai. From there they began an approach through the weather on instruments, using their own on-board radar to avoid the treacherous mountain peaks along the valley walls. Breaking out under a low ceiling, they made their parachute drops at dangerously low altitudes and against a sophisticated network of antiaircraft positions. Perhaps the best tribute came directly from General Tolson when he observed, “No matter how reliable the gauges, it takes a lot of guts to poke your airplane nose into clouds that are full of solid rock!”48

  During the first 20 airdrops on the 26th, antiaircraft fire hit 7 of the birds. At approximately 2 p.m., a C-130 from the 463rd Tactical Airlift Wing at Clark Air Base in the Philippines broke out of the clouds over A Luoi and was immediately engaged by multiple 37mm and .51 cal machine gun positions spraying green tracers and dark airbursts all around the big Hercules. The entire area sparkled from firing guns, with dirty soot bag explosions bracketing the four-engine transport. The enemy gunners’ aim was right on; they hit the maneuvering bird repeatedly. As the crew attempted to jettison the load which had caught on fire in the cargo bay, the pilot, Major Lilburn R. Stow, executed a low altitude 180 degree turn through the deadly ground fire in an attempt to land on the unfinished airstrip. Unfortunately, the Hercules hit some trees short of the runway, crashed and exploded in a huge fireball. All on board, including the six crewmembers and two Air Force photographers, died in the fiery explosion. Two nights later the same guns downed an Air Force O-2 very close to the location of the C-130 crash. The young Rash FAC, Captain James F. Lang, died supporting his troopers of the 1st Cav.49

  April 26 also saw the tempo pick up for the 101st Airborne’s Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 502nd Infantry near LZ Veghel along Route 547, a few kilometers east of A Luoi. As was so often the case, the men of the 101st proved once again that they knew how to fight—and how to die. While on patrol in the area, the 3rd Platoon received intense surprise hostile fire from a force of NVA regulars in well-concealed bunkers. With 50 percent casualties, the platoon maneuvered to a position of cover to treat their wounded and reorganize, while one of the Americans caught in the ambush, Private First Class Milton A. Lee, the platoon radio operator, moved through the heavy enemy fire giving lifesaving first aid to his wounded comrades. While advancing with the front rank toward the bunker complex, PFC Lee observed four North Vietnamese soldiers with automatic weapons and a rocket launcher lying in wait for the lead element of the platoon. As the element moved forward, unaware of the concealed danger, PFC Lee, with utter disregard for his own personal safety, passed his radio to another soldier and charged through the murderous fire, overrunning the enemy position, killing all occupants, and capturing four automatic weapons and the rocket launcher. Without hesitation PFC Lee continued his one-man assault on a second bunker through a heavy barrage of enemy automatic weapons fire. Grievously wounded, the 19-year-old soldier continued to press the attack, crawling forward and delivering accurate covering fire to enable his platoon to maneuver and destroy the position. Not until the bunker was knocked out did PFC Lee relent in his steady volume of fire and die from his wounds. For his conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty on the A Shau’s eastern wall, Private First Class Milton A. Lee was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.50

  Over the next few days, all units engaged in Operation Delaware continued to uncover large supply caches left behind by an enemy intent on retreating across the border into Laos. Yet NVA crack artillery units remained in the valley, bombarding American LZs and firebases with some of the heaviest barrages received in Vietnam up to that time. Enemy 122mm rockets targeted U.S. positions in ever-increasing numbers while mortar, recoilless rifle, and RPG rounds crashed around 1st Cav and Screaming Eagle units on a much too regular basis. Endless patrols routinely turned up abandoned NVA positions or a few bags of rice, but little else. In describing actual contact with the elusive enemy, one 1st Cav company commander recalled:

  They were superb at masking their true position. The Americans would move up, you would kill a couple and the rest would run and it was a natural tendency to take off after them…. In close terrain against enemy like the North Vietnamese that will get your nose bloodied…. They were absolute masters at choosing the right terrain at the right place at the right time to blow your crap away.51

  By May 2 the 8th Engineer Battalion had finished the airstrip at A Luoi, permitting the first C-7 Caribou transport aircraft to begin landing; by May 4 the first C-130s also landed at what had been named LZ Stallion. Flush with supplies from the airlift, troops from the 1st Cav and the 101st continued to uncover major enemy depots—and they continued to fight a losing battle against the A Shau’s unpredictable weather. While dense fog hampered morning ground and air operations, each afternoon brought violent thunderstorms complete with spectacular lightning displays accompanied by rain falling in sheets that produced torrents of red mud. In such a climate anything that did not rot, rusted. The engineering units worked around the clock just to keep LZ Stallion operational. It was yet another situation where nature itself was as formidable an opponent as armed men in different uniforms.

  So far during Operation Delaware, NVA units had largely avoided direct contact with American troops by slipping across the border into sanctuaries within Laos. To confirm that theory, MACV once more called on the services of SOG reconnaissance teams. On May 3, RT Alabama, commanded by Staff Sergeant John Allen, inserted along the A Shau’s west wall just three miles into Laos to search out an entire NVA division believed to have retreated out of the valley when the 1st Cav swept in. Within an hour after landing, Allen, Specialist 5 Kenneth Cryan, Private First Class Paul C. King, Jr., and six Nungs were being chased by at least 50 NVA soldiers. As the team scrambled up a steep hill, the enemy opened fire, wounding Cryan and killing one Nung. SSgt Allen guided his men into a nearby water-filled bomb crater and began returning fire. As the battle roared around him, John Allen made contact with the circling Covey FAC who immediately brought in much needed close air support. Under the low ceiling, first a pair of F-4 Phantoms dropped Snake Eye retarded-fin 500-pound bombs on enemy positions. Other F-4s, followed by F-100 Super Sabres and A-1 Skyraiders, made pass after pass, riddling the NVA with 20mm cannon fire, cluster bombs, and napalm. When extraction Huey helicopters arrived overhead, the pilot of the lead helicopter radioed the embattled ground team asking, “Is it secure down there?” SSgt Allen laughed, then responded, “Secure? Hell no, it’s not secure. And the longer you wait the worse it’s gonna get, but I think their heads are down.”52

  As the Huey maneuvered over RT Alabama, the UH-1 took multiple hits from heavy ground fire and accelerated in a climb away from the crater. At the same instant a bullet struck PFC Paul King in the forehead, killing him instantly. By now the helicopters were low on fuel and darkness was settling in. The Covey continued to direct air strikes until it was too dark to continue, promising John Allen he would be back at first light the next morning.

  RT Alabama held out through the long night, but at dawn the NVA initiated an all-out assault with massive salvos of RPG rounds as enemy troops fired small arms and automatic weapons in their advance toward the crater. They got close enough to toss at least four Chinese-made grenades
into the crater, but the team managed to throw back all four before they exploded. When the charging NVA troops were almost at the edge of the crater, Allen and his men stood up and poured withering fire into them, killing scores of the attackers. Unfortunately, four of the five Nungs also died in the firefight.