A Shau Valor
Page 17
Although the youthful Marines patrolling through the mountainous terrain along the border of I Corps may have groused and complained, just as soldiers have throughout recorded history, they were in many respects the finest military force the United States had ever sent to war. Unfortunately, when it came to attitudes about the military, far too many Americans apparently subscribed to the old Chinese proverb, “as you would not use good iron to make a nail, so you would not use a good man to make a soldier.” Yet contrary to a widely held opinion in the 1960s that infantrymen were essentially “losers” from the lowest echelons of American society, they were in fact better educated than any soldier or Marine up to that point in American history. During World War II only 24 percent of draftees had completed high school, and 35 percent had never gone beyond grammar school. Among Vietnam era Army and Marine draftees, as many as 78 percent were high school graduates and roughly 30 percent had some college.2 One Marine gunnery sergeant sarcastically greeted former college students joining his unit in Vietnam with, “Just think of this as your junior year abroad.”3 Unfortunately, the final exam for this latest course would be the toughest of their young lives, a course with a grade of ‘live or die’ instead of the traditional ‘A or F.’ And the classroom setting? The remote and deadly A Shau Valley.
By early 1969 some of the staff at MACV, newly arrived and eager to contribute to the war effort, engaged in a frustratingly repetitious rendition of reinventing the wheel—a game that had been going on in the A Shau since 1963. The new intelligence analysts discovered that NVA engineering units, relatively inactive for several months, had begun in January to reopen key roads along the border, specifically Route 922 eastward through Base Area 611 into the A Shau and Route 548 running along the valley floor. There had also been a dramatic surge in vehicle traffic moving into the A Shau. During clear weather, reconnaissance aircraft and FACs sighted hundreds of trucks a day making the run eastward. Whether the new intelligence specialists were aware of Operations Delaware and Somerset Plain is undocumented, but they nevertheless came to the conclusion that their new discovery of NVA activity in and around Base Area 611 and the A Shau suggested an enemy spring offensive and therefore required a sharp American response.4
A new, bold campaign in Vietnam seemed not only appropriate, but timely. On January 20 in Washington, DC, Richard M. Nixon took the oath of office as the 37th president—and the new commander-in-chief. Joining the new president were Melvin R. Laird as Secretary of Defense and Henry Kissinger as National Security Advisor. The new team wasted no time in seeking the recommendations from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Earle G. Wheeler and from the relatively new MACV commander, General Abe Abrams. Both endorsed a new campaign focusing on the A Shau, hoping a decisive move there could eventually turn things around. Such musings were a pipe dream. In early 1969 President Nixon had no intention of capturing and holding the Valley of Death. He confided to his senior staff, “I’m going to stop the [Vietnam] war. Fast.”5
The increase in enemy activity infiltrating into I Corps did not go unnoticed by Major General Raymond G. Davis, commanding general of the 3rd Marine Division. In addition to reported NVA movements, two other factors influenced the 3rd Division’s leader to act. First, Ray Davis was a scrapper by nature and no stranger to combat. During World War II he had earned Silver Stars on Guadalcanal and at Cape Gloucester, and the Navy Cross at Peleliu. For his actions at the Chosin Reservoir in Korea he was awarded the Medal of Honor. He was thought of by everyone as “a Marine’s Marine,” a man who relished the prospect of battle for its own sake, who ignored physical danger, and a man who would never stop to count the odds against him. Second, General Davis noted with a certain amount of frustration that the fortress mentality at various bases and the defensive posture of the Marines in I Corps were contrary to the normally aggressive style of fighting that was the hallmark of the Marine Corps. Consequently, with the siege of Khe Sanh behind him, he proceeded to turn the tactical disposition of his division upside down; he ordered Marine units to move out of their combat bases and to engage the enemy. According to General Davis:
We had something like two dozen battalions up there all tied down to these fixed positions, and the situation didn’t demand it …. The way to get it done was to get out of these fixed positions and get mobility, to go and destroy the enemy on our terms—not sit there and absorb the shot and shell and frequent penetrations that he was able to mount.6
The first test of Ray Davis’ philosophy was a bold plan calling for a regimental sweep across the northern end of the imposing A Shau Valley.
Before tackling the thorny and always intimidating A Shau, General Davis first fine-tuned the 3rd Marine Division’s unit integrity and concept of mobile operations. For myriad reasons, the regiments within the division had seemingly lost their individual personalities to a practice that allowed any battalion to be assigned to any regiment; the battalions referred to it as being “fragmented.” For example, the 12th Marine Regiment might have operational control over a battalion of the 9th Marines, a battalion of the 4th Marines, and only one of its own; there was no unit integrity. Ray Davis changed all that. From that point on each regiment controlled its constituent battalions. Colonel Robert H. Barrow, commander of the 9th Marine Regiment and a future commandant of the Marine Corps, described the turn-around best when he noted that “Regimental size forces no longer consisted of a regimental operational headquarters and several unrelated and ever-changing infantry battalions. The 9th Marines became just that—the 9th Marines. Unit cohesion, teamwork, cooperation, and esprit flourished.”7
The 3rd Marine Division’s new modus operandi evidently drew heavily from the 1st Cavalry Division’s air mobility concept: vertical envelopment and the requirement for helicopters—lots of them. General Davis had been tremendously impressed during Operation Pegasus with the 1st Cav’s mobile helicopter-borne tactics in the relief of Khe Sanh, and later in the A Shau Valley in Operation Delaware. When he took over the 3d Marine Division in mid-May, Davis insisted on creating a capability to strike at the elusive North Vietnamese units in a series of freewheeling operations throughout the division sector, not just around static enclaves along the DMZ. From the aviation perspective, this created an insatiable demand on the already overburdened and limited number of helicopters and crewmen available. To meet that need General Davis somehow managed to acquire a lion’s share of all new D Model CH-46 helicopters arriving incountry, a version that had significantly larger engines than the previous model and could lift more troops. Additionally, General Davis’ good relationship with his Army brethren in the newly re-named XXIV Corps produced a promise of Army helicopter support when needed.8 Thus equipped, the new air mobile capability provided a distinct increase in the combat potential for the 3rd Marine Division. From a tactical point of view, the increased helicopter support gave the Marines a new dimension of warfare in I CTZ—vertical envelopment of the NVA’s rear or flanks. Rather than manning static bases or attempting to outflank an enemy on foot, the helicopter allowed Ray Davis to insert troops rapidly across remote, isolated terrain at decisive points in time to shape the outcome of the battle. As had been the case for years, the A Shau was that decisive point.
The 3rd Marine Division’s model for air mobility depended not only on the helicopter but also on the wide-ranging use of current intelligence, especially that generated by small reconnaissance patrols. General Davis employed two very different kinds of patrols, both inserted into a target area by helicopter. The first was the “Stingray” patrol, a heavily armed unit that always operated within the range of friendly artillery. Their mission was to “find, fix and destroy the enemy with all available supporting arms and with rapid reinforcement when necessary.” The second was the much smaller “Key Hole” patrol, armed only with small arms and trained to operate clandestinely in remote areas beyond artillery range. The primary function of these patrols was to observe. And unlike the Army approach of using fire power and air s
trikes to blast new LZs or fire support bases (FSB) out of the jungle—a process that invariably tipped their hand to the enemy—Marine Stingray and Key Hole patrols covertly occupied and secured such positions and quietly held them until the air assault into the AO actually launched. According to Ray Davis, the 3d Marine Division “never launched an operation without acquiring clear definition of the targets and objectives through intelligence confirmed by recon patrols.”9
With unit integrity re-established, helicopters available, and intelligence in hand, the 3rd Marine Division began to implement plans for a regimental-size search and clear operation south of the lower Da Krong River and the northern end of the A Shau Valley, the area where Base Area 611 and Route 922 spilled over from Laos into South Vietnam. Initially codenamed Operation Dawson River South, the codename changed to Operation Dewey Canyon when the scope of the operation expanded. The division’s swing regiment, the 9th Marines, supported by the artillery of the 2nd Battalion, 12th Marines, was put on alert to launch the venture as soon as practicable after January 22, 1969.
Planned as a phased operation, Dewey Canyon began as a step-by-step deployment of three battalions into the AO for establishing fire support bases on key terrain features. The concept called for a series of mutually supporting positions approximately 8,000 meters apart with a built-in 3,000 meter firing sector overlap in order to provide Marine units with continuous artillery support. From there the units, once inserted, advanced on foot throughout the area to be searched. Additional FSBs could be constructed as needed for deeper penetration into the AO. Beginning on January 18, the 9th Marines moved out of Vandegrift Combat Base to reoccupy three FSBs, each approximately five miles south of the other. The FSBs, Henderson, Tun Tavern, and Shiloh, all unoccupied since December 1968, were reclaimed and cleared of mines and booby traps by recon teams. Later that day the troops began reconstructing artillery positions and airlifting 105mm howitzers and ammunition into the parapets.10
Phase I of Operation Dewey Canyon also involved extensive patrolling around the fire support bases and consolidation of forces and supplies prior to launching the next phase due south into the area along the Laotian border. In addition to providing security for the two artillery batteries on FSB Shiloh, the Marines of Company A, 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, launched numerous patrols in all directions, encountering little or no contact with the elusive enemy. With the security and the routine well established, the company commander, 1st Lieutenant Wesley L. Fox, described his company’s time on Shiloh as a “vacation land.” In explaining, Fox remembered that:
A platoon a day went off the hill to a small river at the foot … for swimming and fishing. Swimming and lying in the sun on a nice sand bar were great, but the real treat was the fish provided by the fishing expedition. The platoons would wind up their day at the river by throwing grenades in the deep holes and simply wading out and picking up the fish that floated to the top.
Once in the heat of combat, however, Lt Fox recalled that “Marines were heard to talk about the good old days back at Shiloh.”11
Between January 22 and January 25, the 9th Marines began leapfrogging to the south as they constructed FSB Razor and occupied a strategically located ridgeline six kilometers farther south. Shown on their maps as Ca Ka Va, on it they established FSB Cunningham, a key location in the planned AO large enough to accommodate a full battalion and the regimental command post. Except for occasional sniper fire, the landings went unopposed. During the rapid buildup that followed at Cunningham, CH-46 Sea Knight helicopters brought in five artillery units, including two 105mm batteries, two 155mm batteries, and a mortar battery.
The move into the northern end of the A Shau proved to be complicated, dangerous, and miserable. The triple canopy jungle and steep terrain, along with fog and heavy rain, disrupted the heli-lift of troops and resulted in the partial insertion of companies into FSBs. Those who did insert often waited hours or even days for the remainder of the unit to arrive. As the undermanned companies sat there waiting, their Marines endured constant rain, cold, NVA artillery barrages, and doses of frayed nerves—real or imagined—as they contemplated the forbidding, sinister valley where the mist never lifted. The enemy, on the other hand, moved unimpeded at night along roads that were carefully camouflaged during the day with movable trees and shrubs ingeniously planted in containers. As the enemy forces moved, the Marines were pounded by heavy artillery fire from NVA 122mm guns in Laos. Frustrated by the entire situation, General Davis bitterly commented, “It makes me sick to sit on this hill and watch those 1,000 trucks go down those roads in Laos, hauling ammunition down south to kill Americans with.”12
Phase II of the operation began on January 25 when the 2nd and 3rd Battalions started moving out of FSBs Razor and Cunningham. Their mission was to clear the area around the FSBs and push on to the southern end of the Da Krong River where it abruptly made a sharp turn to the east. The line along the river’s east-west axis was designated Phase Line Red, the jumping-off point for upcoming Phase III. Around Phase Line Red, contact with the enemy became much more frequent. While patrolling near the Da Krong, Marines from the 2nd Battalion routinely encountered small groups of NVA support troops in the dense jungle, resulting in short firefights. Company M even discovered a sophisticated four-strand communications wire strung between tree-mounted porcelain insulators. In another find, Company F uncovered the 88th NVA Field Hospital, a huge complex consisting of 8 buildings and capable of accommodating 160 patients. The company also found large quantities of Russian-made surgical instruments, food, and antibiotics; the facility had only been abandoned the day before. With those discoveries and the increased enemy contact, it was clear to all the Marines that they were deep in ‘bad guy’ country.13
Patrolling roughly 3,000 meters apart, the 2nd Battalion moved south along the regiment’s right flank while the 3rd Battalion worked the left flank to the east, and in both instances as the units moved closer to the Laotian border, they encountered substantially stronger enemy screening forces. One of the first significant actions involved the 2nd Battalion’s Company G, commanded by Captain Daniel A. Hitzelberger. On January 31, the men of Company G launched an attack against Hill 1175, an extremely steep ridge known as Co Ka Leuye. After a short firefight with a small group of NVA soldiers, the company settled into a night defensive position at the base of Hill 1175. The following morning, as the company began a perilous climb via ropes up sheer rock cliffs, the A Shau weather reared its ugly head and deteriorated rapidly. Faced with drizzle, dense fog, zero ceiling, and forward visibility of only a few meters, Company G kept climbing—and the weather kept getting worse.
Once on top of Hill 1175, the members of Company G settled into an existence dominated by the A Shau’s incredibly foul weather conditions. Constant drizzle and rain socked in the entire company, preventing any kind of resupply by air. By day three they were out of food and subsisting on a few bananas and rainwater. The weather made their tactical situation even more tenuous; in addition to the constant rain, the low-hanging cloud layers engulfed the Marines in a perpetual shroud of mist, limiting line of sight vision to a maximum of 25 meters. With visibility down to practically zero, Capt Hitzelberger could only wait it out in a surreal world of swirling gray fog while keeping his men poised and alert for enemy activity. To augment extensive patrolling during the day, each night the company commander positioned at least six observation posts, listening posts, and ambushes around his perimeter, and each night those outposts made contact with small NVA parties attempting to probe the Marine position.14
With helicopter resupply and medical evacuation halted throughout the Dewey Canyon AO due to weather, the 9th Marines commander, Colonel Robert Barrow, decided to pull his companies back to the nearest FSB for easier support. By February 4 all rifle companies had moved into defensive positions around a fire support base—except Company G, 2nd Battalion. As the company column started down Hill 1175 on February 5, at times actually walking in the clouds, the point ele
ment of the 3rd Platoon spotted three NVA soldiers to their right front. In the excitement of the moment, like hounds chasing the fox, the point fire team scrambled after the fleeing enemy, who in actuality represented a typical NVA ploy in the A Shau’s dense foliage: the three soldiers acted as bait to draw the Marines into an ambush.
After the point fire team had pursued a short distance, the trap was sprung at 10 a.m. Approximately 30 NVA soldiers, well camouflaged and secure inside bunkers and spider holes, opened fire. Pinned down by the enemy, the Marines of the point team returned fire as best they could and held fast while the remainder of 3rd Platoon moved up. Capt Hitzelberger committed his 2nd Platoon to the left, which immediately came under heavy automatic weapons and RPG fire. Platoon Sergeant Robert D. Gaudioso noted that the enemy soldiers were extremely disciplined, firing at voices or individual Marines rather than spraying the jungle with unaimed volleys. Sgt Gaudioso also speculated that his platoon took casualties because of the terrain. At very close quarters the enemy had the advantage; as the platoon moved down slope, the NVA fired up at exposed Marine legs and silhouettes, while the Marines looking downhill could only see dense foliage.15
In the swirling mist on Hill 1175, casualties mounted when unobserved NVA, tied in trees, tossed grenades down on the Marines below. During the firefight Sgt Gaudioso stated that as other Marines attempted to move toward their injured colleagues, enemy soldiers shot to wound them in order to draw more would-be rescuers or corpsmen into the open. He was convinced that the NVA were familiar with the shouted terms ‘corpsman’ or ‘doc,’ and consequently targeted a corpsman as he treated the wounded. Men in Company G were briefed not to call out for a corpsman or medic. Instead, they invented their own term—‘weasel.’ Unfortunately, the chief corpsman was killed as cries for a weasel echoed along the steep, muddy slope.16