The Ether Zone: U.S. Army Special Forces Detachment B-52, Project Delta

by Morris Ray

  After this first cross-border debacle, Leaping Lena shifted tactics and began to run Long Range Recon Patrols (LRRP), coined “Road Runners,” using solely indigenous personnel. These teams were either brave Montagnard tribesmen from the Rhade and Raglai tribes, or Chinese Nung mercenaries employed and paid with CIA funds funneled through U.S. Special Forces personnel. They were trained to emulate North Vietnamese Army (NVA) soldiers or Viet Cong (VC), and then when inserted into hotly contested or suspected hostile territory, to run the trails, search for enemy units and gather intelligence. These teams would generally infiltrate wearing the South Vietnamese uniform, and then change into NVA or Viet Cong attire to blend in once on the ground. Since the majority of their time was actually spent within the enemy’s encampments and defensive positions, they had to be extremely dedicated and have nerves of steel to accomplish their missions.

  Using indigenous personnel as Road Runners dressed as enemy combatants often presented situations, that upon reflection, seem humorous to some of the Army’s more conventional participants, such as in the following:

  When 101st Airborne Division aviation elements were supporting Project Delta, a young, relatively inexperienced pilot, Bill Walker, confessed he’d nearly had to change his pants after a Road Runner team extraction. It had come soon after the loss of Gene Miller, a revered pilot and officer in the 101st Airborne Division, who along with his entire crew, perished while attempting a high overhead extraction of such a team by a hoist, the jungle penetrator. Walker had been assigned his first duty as Aircraft Commander (AC) and answered the siren, only to learn that a hoist had been put on his helicopter. He protested strenuously. He hadn’t practiced a high overhead recovery since flight school, and the news substantially added to the stress of his first maneuver under combat conditions. To compensate, they’d given him the experienced and steady Keith Boyd as his right seat. The Command & Control (C&C) ship circled nearby, directing Walker’s aircraft into a narrow opening in the jungle canopy, west of Khe Sanh, near a landmark called the “Rock Pile.” He observed several orange panels in the tall elephant grass below, swallowed hard and nosed his vulnerable craft toward them.

  “If there are six on the ground instead of five,” the C&C ship told him, “kill ‘em all.”

  Walker’s stress index ratcheted up several more notches.

  He dropped rapidly, hovering just beyond the treetops, amazed by the deafening sound of close combat over the noise of his rotary blades. He held the controls steady despite the gunfire streaking toward his exposed aircraft.

  Through the chaos, he distinctly heard the ladder descending, mildly surprised that the crew hadn’t used the jungle hoist after all. With ground fire pecking against his chopper’s fragile skin, he heard the recon team scrambling up the ladder behind him. Finally assured everyone was aboard, Keith shouted, “We’ve got ‘em all. Go! Go!”

  Walker glanced back to ensure they were, in fact ready, and it was only then that he’d profess later, “I nearly shit my pants!” His chopper was packed with Asians in full NVA combat uniforms, pith helmets with red stars and NVA web-gear. Each carried the enemy’s favorite weapon of choice, AK-47 Chi Com assault rifles. One camouflaged face stared back fiercely, then suddenly grinning, his gold teeth glistened. The grin seemed malicious and inherently evil, only adding to Walker’s growing apprehension. He had a fleeting thought, “My God! We’ve picked up the bad guys!” Briefly flirting with panic, he considered ditching his aircraft into the nearby mountainside; he was not going to the Hanoi Hilton (the North Vietnamese’s POW camp, near Hanoi). Keith quickly picked up on his friend’s hyperventilation; he hastily explained their passengers were Chinese Nung mercenaries from an obscure Special Forces operation, Project Delta.

  “Hey bud, don’t have a heart attack,” Keith said, grinning widely. “Delta inserts their Road Runner teams in ARVN uniforms, but as soon as they’re on the ground, they change out of them and put on NVA uniforms. They do it so they can mix in with the enemy units and gather intelligence.”

  It quickly became obvious that tactic didn’t always work as planned. That’s why they were there, extracting them from a dangerous situation.

  “Why doesn’t somebody ever tell me this shit before it happens?”

  Delta Road Runner in NVA attire. (Photo courtesy of Gary Nichols)

  Walker groaned in frustration. He listened as Eddie Hester and Felis Berto keyed their mikes so he and Keith could hear them laughing on the way back to Khe Sanh.8

  The Road Runner’s mission was dirty, dangerous work; the most hazardous assigned to any small force of only three to four men. The U.S. Special Forces soldiers of Project Delta highly respected the Road Runners, mourning each loss as one of their own. Inexplicitly, the NVA and VC frequently seemed to sense these teams as imposters, and would open fire on them without warning. No one ever determined just how the enemy knew the Road Runners didn’t belong to one of their units, but the attrition rapidly proved much too high; tactics had to be changed quickly. The Road Runners continued to operate after Leaping Lena, with at least one major adjustment: Special Forces NCOs advised them from their initial deployment in 1964 until disbanding Project Delta, in 1970.

  Operation Leaping Lena concluded with less than stellar performances by Vietnamese reconnaissance personnel, but future potential was clearly evident. Planners knew that for missions of this type to succeed, Americans would have to accompany indigenous soldiers on the ground. In late 1964, the decision was made to train combined recon teams, using both VNSF and U.S. Special Forces, and to develop the capability to quickly reinforce them while in the field.

  Thirsty for intelligence, commanders realized that for operations to be effective, they would need not only U.S. Special Forces troops integrated, but more muscle as backup. In July 1964, the mission subtly shifted from being an operation, to becoming an organization, utilizing joint command of VNSF and USSF advisors from Okinawa, with command and control falling under MACV. This new composite detachment was designated B-52 (Project Delta), filled from within the Okinawa-based 1st SFGA with the most experienced, highly qualified personnel under that organization’s command. A decision was made that only the best would be selected from U.S. Special Forces ranks to fill subsequent organizational vacancies. The muscle would come in the form of a reinforcement-reaction force, the 91st ARVN Airborne Ranger Battalion,9 battle-hardened soldiers who had previously demonstrated they could take the fight to the enemy and hold their own if given the resources to do so. U.S. Special Forces advisors were immediately assigned to work with the Rangers, thus adding an enormous capability for calling in air and artillery support. Because of this substantially increased firepower with the addition of the Rangers, Delta forces would habitually kill more enemy soldiers than both Omega and Sigma, combined.10, 11

  * * * * * *

  The 91st Airborne Ranger Battalion and their American counterparts made significant contributions to Project Delta’s overall mission throughout its tenure. In only one year, the 91st Rangers (referred throughout this book as the 81st Airborne Rangers, see footnote below) had spent on average 55% of their time in the field and accounted for 194 enemy soldiers killed in action. Project Delta personnel who had worked closely with them, praised their toughness and fighting ability.

  The Vietnamese soldiers on Project Delta’s new recon teams, much like the Americans, all volunteered and had been selected from among the ranks of Vietnamese Special Forces to receive further intensive training, by and with U.S. Special Forces personnel. After the initial stage of specialized training, additional training in the form of “real world” exercises began in relatively secure jungle and mountainous areas where only small units of the enemy were known to be holed up, and then progressed into areas under total control of the Viet Cong or NVA. The training of each recon team often took six months, until all were satisfied about their capability to operate effectively—accomplished by running actual combat operations against the enemy.12

  B-52 Pr
oject Delta Organizational Chart (courtesy of U.S. Army)

  Vietnamese Recon Team members preparing for an operation, 1964. (Photo courtesy of Len Boulas)

  While the operational strength of Project Delta fluctuated, typically it was manned by eleven U.S. Special Forces officers and eighty-two enlisted men; twenty Vietnamese Special Forces officers and seventy-eight VN enlisted men; a 123-man Vietnamese Road Runner Company; and the 81st Vietnamese Airborne Ranger Battalion, consisting of forty-three officers, 763 enlisted men and a Battle Damage Assessment Company (BDA) of 107 heavily armed, Chinese Nung mercenaries, their salaries paid and controlled by the Delta Commander. The Project Delta organizational chart on the previous page depicts how this strength was assigned.

  Although USAF Forward Air Control (FAC) section’s strength fluctuated, it rarely exceeded ten personnel. The 281st Army Helicopter Company (AHC), (attached later), was an Army aviation unit of company strength.

  * * * * * *

  At the outset of Project Delta, USSF personnel lived, ate, trained and socialized with their respective VN team members. In doing so, rapport and close friendships fostered mutual respect, enabling U.S. personnel to exert greater influence on the Ranger companies and on recon teams in the field without usurping Vietnamese leadership authority. In this regard, U.S. personnel became well aware of the thin line they had to tread—particularly within the Ranger companies—to get maximum effort and capability without diminishing their leader’s control, at the risk of rendering them ineffective. For recon teams on the ground, this line often blurred when USSF NCOs called the shots.

  In the field, the USSF personnel always carried identical equipment and the same indigenous rations as the Vietnamese recon team members and their Ranger counterparts; they were not privy to any intelligence or special equipment unless like items were issued to the Vietnamese. In short, there were no shortcuts to the specialized training or resources, and no substitute for close personal relationships and rapport.

  After Action Reports (AAR) repeatedly reinforced that with troops working and living so closely with indigenous military personnel, it was essential that only the most highly trained, experienced U.S. Special Forces soldiers be selected. Otherwise, trust and confidence—highly fragile commodities—could quickly deteriorate into contempt. This important concept is still used in Special Forces training.

  Special Forces ranks are filled with highly skilled, brave and adventurous men; otherwise, they wouldn’t have joined the military’s most elite unit. But from even this illustrious group of overachievers, the mission of Project Delta still required the best. The meticulous search for replacements never diminished throughout the unit’s existence.As H. Ross Perot once remarked about Special Forces soldiers, “Eagles don’t flock. You have to find them one at a time.”13

  * * * * * *

  Unfortunately, some records of early operations have been lost to history. Often, due to poor record keeping practices or attrition within Project Delta’s ranks, the names of some of the brave men who conducted those first operations are unavailable. Although personal knowledge of some of these earliest operations has diminished, by meticulously researching and probing fading memories, the following account is provided:

  The Commander (after Leaping Lena) had been MAJ Howard S. Mitchell, TDY for six months from the 1st Special Forces Group (Abn), when stationed on Okinawa. He’d taken command from CPT William J. Richardson while the project still had been known as Leaping Lena, and it was during his watch the “Project Delta” moniker was initially used. Mitchell’s short command tour became a transitional timeframe as Project Delta struggled to develop a clear mission statement and establish its identity. Mitchell commanded for a period of six months, overseeing an important operation near the Nihn Hoa Peninsula in support of a deployed B Detachment from the 5th Special Forces Group (Abn), at Fort Bragg, NC.14

  In December 1964, while still under Mitchell’s command, Project Delta ran its first operation utilizing U.S. Special Forces personnel on recon teams, along with Vietnamese. Intelligence NCO, Sergeant First Class (SFC) Henry M. Bailey, in charge of the ground operation, was assisted by Sergeant (SGT) Ronald T. Terry and four Montagnard soldiers. The plan was to insert recon teams into an area on the peninsula extending east and south from Ninh Hoa, a small village complex north of the port city of Nha Trang. Three teams, consisting of five men each, were committed into separate operational areas. The concept for this mission was unique; it departed from usual dusk/night infiltration. Due to excessive rain and low-hanging cloud formations, it had been determined that poor night visibility would preclude a successful helicopter insertion. Instead, the teams were scheduled to go in at 0630 hours, with a hope that rain and the early morning mist would cover this most critical and dangerous phase of any covert operation: the insertion. Unfortunately, two teams were detected immediately upon landing. It is generally believed that because there were only a few suitable LZs in the designated area, the enemy had been keeping watch on them and were able to detect two of the teams as they landed. The third team, however, escaped detection and brought back valuable intelligence, as well as an enemy prisoner.

  Team One, although initially detected at the time of insertion, evaded capture and remained on mission while pursued doggedly by a determined enemy until extraction. During the process of extraction, they encountered a reinforced company of Viet Cong near the LZ, and its heavy fire drove the chopper off before it could land to pick them up. During the scrimmage, two team members became separated from the main group. However, both men, as well as the main body of the team, out-maneuvered the enemy’s attempts to surround them, eventually escaping capture. The two missing men later rejoined the team at a designated rally point. A successful evacuation was finally concluded under sporadic enemy sniper fire, but only after the helicopter crew chief successfully engaged and killed a sniper with the ship’s M60 machinegun.

  Meanwhile, Team Two, led by SFC Henry M. Bailey, had descended down the mountain into the valley to an extraction point. As the chopper prepared to land for pickup, a VC ambush was sprung and the aircraft driven off under heavy fire. Bailey believed it had been the same group tracking them since their insertion. As the team took cover behind a rice paddy dike, three recon members, Bailey, SSG Ronald Terry and a VNSF soldier, were pinned down by heavy automatic fire while attempting to place orange panel markers on the LZ. After a short but fierce firefight, the remainder of the Vietnamese team members, presuming Bailey, Terry and their VN soldier were dead, withdrew to avoid being surrounded. A patrolling gunship had heard Bailey’s radio exchanges and suddenly appeared, engaging the enemy. That timely intervention gave the beleaguered group the cover fire they needed to break contact, and allowed Bailey and Terry to crawl for the cover of nearby bamboo thickets while dragging their seriously wounded VNSF counterpart.

  Due to extremely poor weather, darkness had fallen early, and although the enemy saturated the area with patrols searching for them, the pitch-black night and torrential rain gave them cover, temporarily allowing them to evade capture. However, the weather proved to be a double-edged sword; they quickly became disoriented, unsure as to their exact location. At daylight they found themselves in an even more precarious position than the previous night. They discovered that in the darkness, they had penetrated the outer defensive perimeter of the enemy’s base camp. That day, they hid in a small thicket inside the enemy’s defenses, scarcely daring to breathe, waiting for the cover of darkness to escape almost certain death. At one point, a VC search party stopped for a meal break within arm’s reach of the three concealed men, remaining for nearly thirty minutes.

  After what seemed like an eternity, darkness fell again, allowing them to crawl from the enemy encampment and make radio contact with a helicopter searching for them. Given directions to go to the area’s only suitable LZ, it had been fifty meters on the far side of a village that sheltered two reinforced VC platoons. Just before dawn the two exhausted troopers, supporting the wounde
d VNSF recon man between them, simply stood and strode through the middle of the enemy encampment. They had counted on the darkness and rain to fool the VC into mistaking them for their own comrades. The gutsy ruse worked; they waved to a guard hunkered down, smoking a cigarette, and he nonchalantly gestured in return!

  Upon reaching the far side of the village, they hid in a clump of bushes until nearly noon, when a slight break in the weather allowed the search helicopter to spot their orange panel. Totally surprised by the sudden appearance of a helicopter coming in to land, the enemy immediately opened fire from their nearby positions, but the young pilot never flinched, hovering just long enough for the three men to load, and then took off into the valley below—a remarkable extraction of the team under fire. Once airborne, Bailey called in an air strike, which, according to subsequent intelligence reports, destroyed nearly half of the enemy force and wounded many more.

  Intelligence agents reported fifty-five enemy soldiers killed in the action, seventeen others wounded and twenty-four later captured. Twenty-two tons of rice and equipment had also been destroyed. Whatever was left of the VC Company had been forced to retreat into the hills. The small village of fifty-eight families, forced to provide rice and other support for the Viet Cong for nearly two years, emerged from VC domination. Friendly casualties consisted of only the wounded VNSF Recon man who Bailey and Terry successfully brought out with them. Higher command echelons all agreed that the first Project Delta operation had been an unqualified success; less than twenty men had been able to disrupt an entire VC network, nearly decimating a reinforced Viet Cong company. More importantly, the myth of the enemy’s invulnerability was put to rest; Project Delta’s teams had not only penetrated the enemy’s camps, right under their noses, but wreaked havoc using the VC’s tactics against them. The fact that the Vietnamese Army and Air Force could perform so well in combat also provided a psychological boost to the ARVN Command. Intelligence gathered indicated the venture had been a sharp jolt in the enemy’s private bailiwick. Project Delta’s first major operation against the enemy would set the tempo for others to follow.