The M-14 was unsuitable for the type of combat and country that we were in being that it was longer and heavier, and also offered less fire power — though it had more knock-down power in each round. There was a lot of discussion about the perceived inadequacy of the 5.56 mm / .223 caliber M-16 round. Due to its very high velocity, as opposed to mass, the M-16 bullet did cause severe damage when it hit somebody. The M-14 ammunition clips held 10 rounds, while the M-16 magazines could hold 20 rounds. We normally only put 18 bullets in the clips, however, as the spring which fed the bullets upward would gradually weaken if pushed all the way down with 20 bullets in the clip. To make matters worse, the aluminum ‘lips’ at the top of the magazine, which lined bullets up for proper loading into the chamber, were easily bent. Once these lips bent, the bullets were not properly aligned causing a jam when the bolt tried to force the next round into the chamber. For the sake of rapid reloading we taped two clips together — with the open ends facing opposite directions — so we could quickly remove an empty clip, flip it over, and insert the loaded clip.
There were also continuing complaints about even the new and improved M-16’s ability to function in Vietnam’s extreme environment. Its moving parts frequently jammed due to even small amounts of dirt in the action — a situation that was the norm regardless of efforts at keeping the rifle clean inside and out. An old joke there was that it’s the only place on earth where you could be standing in mud and water up to your knees and have dust blowing in your face.
There was grumbling about how the enemy’s rifle, the Kalashnikov AK-47, was so much more reliable than our M-16s. The design of its moving parts was such that it seldom jammed no matter how severe the conditions or how dirty it was. The AK-47 was perhaps the perfect military weapon. Created by famous Russian firearms expert Mikhail Kalashnikov, it had been produced since the late 1940s. It was relatively lightweight, compact, and had a magazine that held
30 rounds. The rifle could be quickly and easily field stripped for cleaning. It fired the NATO standard 7.62 mm cartridge, thus ensuring that ammunition supplies would never be a problem — they could shoot captured enemy ammunition. (Today’s version of the Kalashnikov assault rifles are chambered for a smaller and lighter 5.45 mm round). It had a distinctive sound — a much more threatening sound than the high-pitched resonance of the M-16 when fired.
It appeared that enemies of the U.S. at the time gave thought to the field-level realities of war. For instance, their equipment was simple but very reliable and effective. Their standard mortars were one millimeter wider than ours so they could easily utilize rounds captured from us, but we could not use their rounds. They seemed to understand that it was the foot soldier, and the equipment he could carry with him, that won wars — not high tech equipment that failed when exposed to conditions that were less than near-perfect. I’ve long felt that an over reliance on weaponry such as B-52s and computers as opposed to boots on the ground was, and still is, a serious flaw in the thinking of our top military leadership. Troops fight and win wars, not computers and ultra-expensive high-tech weaponry.
The technological difference between the Vietnam War and today’s military is just incredible. Technologically we were more comparable to World War II technology than to Iraq. There was no GPS system and no hand-held units to guide us in the wilderness, no satellite communication for radios, no cell phone to talk to loved ones thousands of miles away, no infrared viewers mounted on our helmets to see through the blackness, no instant messaging and email, and no smart bombs. We had fairly detailed topo maps of areas we were operating in, and it was up to us to figure out where on the map we were. We usually did this by literally counting footsteps. Usually the third or fourth man back in a column, who was called the navigator, was responsible to keep track of the distance and direction we traveled so we would know how many clicks (kilometers) we traveled, and in what direction. This man carried the compass and was usually adjacent to the unit leader who carried the map. There were many times when low clouds made it impossible to see distant landmarks resulting in our not knowing our exact position on the map. Such times were always tense and dangerous. Knowing your exact location is one of the most fundamentally important pieces of information that a military unit must possess. This information is used when calling for artillery support, medivac choppers, close range gunship support, and in coordinating movements with other units
Souvenirs of War ‘Nam a Go Go 5 in the area. We had all received a significant amount of navigation and orientation training as part of our basic stateside schooling.
Our rear base was in a flat area, with mountains visible ten or fifteen miles to the west. These mountains were very similar to those in the eastern United States, being tree-covered and providing the perfect hiding places for large numbers of combatants. The land between us and the mountains was low with a damp loamy soil being predominant. It had clearly once been used for rice growing, as the evidence of farms, villages and rice paddies were still visible. There were still some active fields and villages where adequate protection was provided, but these remote villages were always subject to attacks by local Viet Cong. Our generic name for the VC was “Charlie”.
Charlie operated mostly at night. Stealth was his game and sneak attacks and ambushes the aces up his sleeve. He loved to create chaos and inflict as much damage as possible with the least amount of weaponry used for the greatest effect. Surprise attacks on positions at night, ambushes along trails that we were forced onto because of dense terrain surrounding them, and most of all mines and booby-traps. They were very successful in their efforts to instill the terror of never knowing what we would encounter, where or when. Charlie was at the same time ruthless and extremely cunning.
I had great pity for the local peasants. They lived a hard and dangerous life trying to eke out a living with their tiny rice paddies, a couple of pigs, and a few chickens. At night these families shared their meager grass and twig huts with their livestock to help ensure the safety of those animals as their next meal depended on their survival.
Much of the land had grown over with scrub brush and high grass and most of the trails were along old rice paddy dikes. These trails were heavily mined and were to be avoided to the maximum extent possible. This meant going through the swamps, overgrown forested areas and scrubland on patrols whenever possible. The locals often used the trails — somehow they knew where not to step.
The period from February 20, 1968 to early June was hellish. We were seldom at our base, running extended patrols for days at a time through enemy territory and taking heavy casualties. Late February coincided with what was often called the Second Tet or the Little Tet — a second major offensive following up on the original offensive. The second campaign wasn’t as large or dramatic, but was a widespread series of attacks across the countryside.
The 3rd Battalion began life at Camp Pendleton as
The 3rd Battalion began life at Camp Pendleton as man squads per company, a sergeant as squad leader, and corporals for the fire team leaders. The fire team is the fundamental unit of the Marine Corps, with three teams per squad. Each squad had a radioman and each platoon had at least one Navy Medics that were called corpsmen. Originally we also had weapons squads for machine guns and mortars. Initially the Platoon Commander was a 1st Lieutenant, with a Captain as Company Commander. After the first few weeks I don’t recall ever having a 1st Lt. as platoon commander — it was always a new 2nd Louie and turnover was high.
By the end of March our squad had 4 men left, and each of us had been wounded at least once, though not seriously enough to be sent to a hospital or shipped outof-country. A fine young man by the name of Corporal Bill Jung was our squad leader — a few weeks earlier he had been our Fire Team leader. Most of the company had been killed or seriously wounded by mines, boobytraps (comprised of grenades, rigged artillery rounds, and other explosives — what today would be called IEDs) and ambushes. Almost all of the older marines that had been brought into the company in California had bee
n killed or seriously injured. Two Sergeants that I recall in particular were Rick Blazer and Tom Sawyer. Both really good guys — probably around 25 years of age. They both had been badly wounded, to the extent that they were shipped out of country for recovery. I recall that Tom Sawyer lost a leg due to a booby trap. Ambushes and snipers in this thick cover were deadly and we seldom saw who was inflicting the harm. The communists always dragged their dead away so we rarely knew how many casualties we were inflicting on them. In that particular region it was mainly the Viet Cong that we were having running battles with, and it was local VC sympathizers that were largely responsible for the mines.
It was always hot and uncomfortable. The soil was low and sandy, or a wet loam, making for very difficult walking. It rained often, though not constantly like later during the monsoon season. I suppose someone from Louisiana or Florida might have found the land and weather familiar, but most of us certainly did not.
We were always dead tired and sore. We ran patrols constantly, carrying loaded packs filled with several days’ worth of ammo, food, water and other necessities, catching a few minutes or an hour of sleep whenever possible. Each person had to be constantly on high alert as there were no safe areas where one could let his guard down.
Each person had to carry a large amount of gear and supplies every day. Marines were issued the old WWII style flak jackets — heavy and uncomfortable, with plates of thick fiberglass or metal. We seldom took them off and they were hot and heavy and difficult to lie down with. We were quite jealous of the Army soldiers who had been issued much newer and better equipment, including new Kevlar-style flak jackets. Those vests could be rolled up and used as a pillow when stopped for a break, and were much more comfortable to wear.
Most Marines had at least two bandoliers of rifle ammunition preloaded in magazines and one belt of machine gun linked ammo draped around our necks, and 2 or 3 grenades in our pockets, and a Ka-Bar (a large knife) on our belt. In our backpack we carried food and canteens of water, and sundry other items such as a poncho and shelter-half — a type of tent. We carried everything needed for several days of existence and combat in enemy territory.
Part of our daily weaponry hung around our neck of slung from a shoulder was a LAAW — Light AntiArmor Weapon (the acronym is pronounced ‘law’). The LAAW weighed probably 8 – 10 pounds and was like a small rocket. An unanticipated problem with this weapon was that the case or carcass for the LAAW was the perfect size to booby-trap with live grenades with their pins already pulled. When a trip wire was moved the grenades would fall out of the case and explode. We had to be sure to smash the carcass each time we fired one. I recall one event where the LAAW that a Marine was carrying fired when he stepped on a mine — the explosion of the rocket in the ground right in front of him killed two other men who happened to be nearby, as well as of course killing the man who initially stepped on the mine. LAAWs had some effectiveness when we encountered bunkers or tunnels, but more often than not they were carried and not used.
We took casualties on a near-daily basis, often several in a day. It was very frightening because the casualties were frequently major — many involved mines — which often meant lost body parts. We had a wake up call on our very first day out, on February 21st I believe, when at the first rest break one of the men sat down on a mine. What it did to his body was indescribable, and he lived — at least he was still alive several hours later when we got him choppered out. It was all downhill from there. The terror of never knowing when you were going to trip a booby-trap or step on a mine never left you for a moment. There was a densely-wooded area, maybe a couple of square miles in size, that we called Booby Trap Alley. This region was near our base camp and was a hotbed of VC activity. Thus, we spent a lot of time in there and paid dearly for it. It was an overgrown area of extremely thick vegetation, including many thorny bushes and clinging vines. It was almost impossible to negotiate through the brush, though we often used machetes to hack our way through. Because of the conditions we often had to resort to using the faint trails. The enemy was always waiting for us on these trails with mines, ambushes and snipers. Almost always we were out in small group size — platoon and squad patrols being by far the most common. After the first couple weeks platoons and squads were far below their normal complement.
I recall an incident a month or two after arrival incountry in which our squad, by then temporarily down to 4 men as the result of casualties, was sent into a village one night to try to catch a local VC leader who was reported to be there. The four of us, with our hands and faces painted black, literally crawled on our stomachs for hundreds of yards through the blackness from one grass hut to another, crawling inside to look at the
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people who were sleeping to locate our target. We never did find him. I was appointed to walk point because of my rural farm and hunting experience. Most of the guys were from the city, though each squad had one or two country boys. Walking point was very intense. It required constant vigilance as it was the job of the man at the head of a column to locate mines and ambushes prior to walking into them. It was obviously in his interest to spot them as he was the one most in danger if they existed. Being able to read the natural environment was critical, as was possession of a certain sixth sense about conditions and circumstances that were omens of danger. It’s hard to explain those conditions and circumstances. They might be slight openings following very thick jungle; a place where an ambush was feasible. Or it could be where the lay of the land naturally led and you therefore unwittingly followed; those sorts of places always being potential mine or ambush sites. The signs were subtle. There was never anything as obvious as freshly-dug dirt to suggest a mine or bunkers to portend an ambush.
Despite impressions to the contrary the VC and NVA regulars weren’t ghosts. They also needed certain physical conditions to carry out their actions. Their advantages lay in the fact that they knew the local landscape extremely well and in that they carried much less gear. Their home or base area would have been very nearby, and of course they could easily and regularly communicate with local residents about where we patrolled and our routes. The enemy couldn’t move through extremely thick jungle or deep swamps any more than we could (or at least it was only a little easier for them, given that they carried less gear). They naturally sought out areas that were covered in forest or jungle, but that were open enough to move through without the need of machetes or heavy equipment. They also used trails when possible — they just didn’t use the same obvious trails we did. So I watched for landscape that was somewhat open, allowing firing lanes and large trees that provided cover for enemy forces. I was less concerned when traversing extremely thick cover. Their bullets couldn’t magically pass through tree trunks any more than ours could. I used extreme caution when using a trail on which I didn’t come across civilians or any signs of civilian use. If the footpath was used primarily by us, it would absolutely be mined — the only question was where. Often the mines were in areas that also provided tactical value for the VC and NVA — that is, somewhat open areas where an ambush could also be sprung.
One of the more effective tricks the enemy used was to ambush a unit of Marines or soldiers minutes after an explosion caused confusion and a congregating of personnel into a tighter formation. It was less effective to ambush a column. The question they faced of course was do they take out the first two or three men, or should they hit us in the middle or end of the column? But if they could cause us to bunch up it immediately gave them a great advantage. It was a frequent trick to inflict casualties at one point, and then set up the main ambush at the nearest location where a medivac helicopter could land to take away the wounded or dead. Choppers, and all the people milling around them when loading dead and wounded, made incredibly inviting targets. Unless one has had the opportunity to be near a very large double-rotor helicopter with the turbine and blades spinning just short of lift off (for a quick emergency getaway) it isn’t p
ossible to appreciate the incredible noise associated with them. An NVA officer could have been screaming orders to a squad of soldiers preparing an ambush 30 yards away and we would not have heard them.
I walked point for most of the first seven months in-country. I was a year or two older than many of the ‘kids’, and my farm and outdoor familiarity, my age, plus my college experience prior to enlistment gave me an advantage, I think. There were several times when I did spot an ambush and was able to take offensive action. Other times I spotted evidence on the ground where leaves or grass didn’t look quite right. We usually found buried explosives in those spots. It was usually small signs such as leaves that weren’t laying right or other very subtle signs that something wasn’t right. The Viet Cong were very skilled in concealing their mines and booby traps.
I recall one incident in which we were under fire and were moving rapidly along a trail. I was at point. A lesson learned early in Vietnam is that you step exactly where the person in front of you steps. I saw something, a twig as I recall, that didn’t look right so I ran around it as did the next three men behind me. The fourth one didn’t, and he tripped a booby trap, seriously wounding himself and causing us to have to stop while in the open and under fire.
One of the most insidious types of booby-traps were rigged Willie Peter (WP — White Phosphorus) artillery rounds. This material caused horrible burns to the body, and water only made the chemical more reactive. These rounds were often used as marker, or spotter rounds so that it could be seen where the shells were going to land once firing for effect commenced. They put up a large white cloud that could be seen for some distance. The forward spotter or combat troops would then relay back to the gunners regarding any adjustments they had to make as to coordinates before the HE (high explosive) rounds were fired. The VC in particular obtained a great deal of our munitions. They had insiders that worked at the bases who stole munitions, or the materials were taken from ambushed convoys. The enemy rigged thousands of HE and WP artillery rounds and other types of explosives strategically located throughout the countryside in anticipation of American units operating in the area.
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