by Morris Ray
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Project Delta’s first recon endeavor had gone well, but unfortunately, the same could not be said for the Ranger’s reaction force aspect of the operation. The ARVN Ranger Battalion saw little action, although through no fault of their own, for they were always packed and ready to move if called upon. In fact, each mission they’d been called to perform had been simultaneously aborted by their higher ARVN commanders, the major obstacle being the joint VN/US chain of command at I Corps level needing to commit the ARVN Rangers. This operation led to immediate changes in the way Rangers were to be used in the future. It also forced a decision that once an operation had been approved, and recon teams committed, the Rangers would become the prerogative of the VN/U.S. field commanders, to wit, the Project Delta Commander. Thereafter, once the Rangers came under the direct control of B-52, Project Delta, they performed effectively.
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For actions resulting in an important enemy defeat, SFC Bailey and SSG Terry were awarded this country’s second highest award for bravery, the Distinguished Service Cross (DSC). SFC Terry later won the Silver Star and several other medals for valor. A year later, SFC Terry, while on a particularly bloody and costly operation in the An Loa Valley, did not return. He remains on Army rolls as Missing in Action (MIA).
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The growing demand for skilled recon personnel soon outstripped the combat experience and capabilities of the highly trained 1st Special Forces Group Airborne (SFGA). For months, detachments at Fort Bragg, N.C. had been receiving orders for Vietnam deployment, for Special Forces’ unique abilities that could support MACV’s other rapidly expanding requirements. One alerted Fort Bragg detachment had been commanded by MAJ Art Strange, a tall soft-spoken amicable southerner. Although weighing in at about 250-260 lbs, his 6’ 9” frame still made him appear tall and lanky. It was only when one looked closely at the size of his hands that his strength became obvious—his hands were the size of feet.
Delta Recon Members 1964-65. Standing, L to R: Donald Hayakawa, Raymond Slattery, Bill Craig, Ken Hain, Jack Smythe, Lloyd Fisher, Larry Dickinson. Bottom, L to R: Norbert Weber, Paul Tracy (Photo courtesy of Jack Smythe)
This team’s Executive Officer (XO) was CPT Charles H. Thompson Jr.; the Operations Officer (S3), CPT Leonard “Greek” Boulas. Len Boulas, like many others, found his memories growing dim, but was glad to provide his perspective for the record, saying, “For those who may no longer be present to tell of their recollections, I want to help fill in some of the gaps of the history of this extraordinary military organization.”
Boulas had been a handsome young captain commanding Headquarters Company, 6th Special Forces Group when he received orders for assignment to the 5th Special Forces Group. It was common knowledge that 5th Special Forces Group had been providing separate “A” and “B” Detachments, TDY to Vietnam, in support of MACV. But, for the first time, it began preparing for deployment as a complete Group. According to Boulas’s recollections, his new detachment had already been in pre-deployment training when he joined them, undergoing extensive physical training, team-building exercises and specialized training in weapons, demolition, medical, recon and patrolling. Having had one tour in Vietnam behind him as an ARVN Battalion Advisor, he was delighted to learn that MAJ Art Strange, a WW II and Korean War veteran, would be leading them. Captain Charles Thompson, SGM Charles McGuire and the other detachment NCOs were all experienced professionals. It appeared that his next tour would be with a group that really knew its business. McGuire, a barrel-chested, burley Irishman, stood six feet tall, weighed 225 pounds and had the bearing of a professional–every inch of him. An easy Irishman to stereotype, he loved to drink, would fight if you wanted to and belted out the most beautiful Irish tunes in a fine tenor voice. His rendition of Danny Boy at a 1st Special Forces Group formal affair on Okinawa brought tears to everyone’s eyes.
In 1965, before Project Delta built a compound of its own near the 5th SF Group Headquarters, this was “Tent City.” Construction Supervisor was SFC Gerald V. Parmentier. (Photo courtesy of Len Boulas)
Deployment orders for the original Detachment B-52 personnel (Project Delta Headquarters), 27 August 1964, list the following personnel: CPT Charles P. Thompson Jr., CPT Albert H. Deprospero, CPT Leonard A. Boulas, CPT Leslie R. Mason Jr., 1LT Channing M. Greene, SGM Charles T. McGuire, MSG Clyde J. Watkins, MSG Felix Z. Padilla, SFC Gerald V. Parmentier, SSG Daniel R. Redmond, SFC Lee B. Carter, SP5 Richard P. Loughlin, SSG Donald E. Valentine, SFC Marvin E. Dunbar, SSG Robert E. Harris, SGT Kelly D. Ellison, PFC Floyd L. House, SGT Leonard J. Karp, SGT Dennis P. Wash, SGT William D. Pool, SP4 Larry E. Melzer, and PFC Louis R. Hernandez. MAJ Art Strange had been listed on separate orders.
“The only information my detachment knew was that we were being assigned to a highly classified project which dealt with crossborder operations,” Boulas relates. “That meant only one thing: we were going to be dropped inside North Vietnam to cause them stress. How little did we know?”
To become better prepared for this foggy, unspecified mission, Major (MAJ) Art Strange’s team spent hours in the XVIII Airborne Corps G2 office, reviewing classified files, agent reports, engineer schematics of Hanoi’s infrastructure and the bios of many who lived in Hanoi. More hours were spent memorizing staging areas and re-supply routes into the South through Laos. Although most was vintage information, at best, his research concluded, Boulas was convinced he knew more about the infrastructure of Hanoi than did those living there. Yet, as it turned out, other than for personal education, it was of little use for actual operations, a waste of his time. Unknown to him then, Leaping Lena’s mission was continually changing, and the crossborder operations would soon be turned over to another newly created Special Forces organization, the CIA’s highly classified Studies and Observation Group (SOG).
Boulas’s team started deployment to Vietnam on 27 November 1964, with a closing date of 1 December. Their new base of operations, Nha Trang. By then Art Strange’s team had been re-designated Detachment B-52, Project Delta. With Boulas’s Greek nationality, he believed the Greek symbol, Delta, would bring good fortune. He recalls that upon reaching Nha Trang, the team met their new home with substantial alarm—and the alarm was warranted. The 1st SFGA team they displaced was located in a tent city, not far from the immaculate 5th Special Forces Group Headquarters. “Tent City” housed both U.S. and Vietnamese Delta personnel, along with all of their equipment. When it rained, as it did often, Tent City became a quagmire. Only the tents were above the waterline. If one inadvertently stepped from the wood-pallet sidewalk, they ended knee deep in water and muck.
Boulas, this his second tour, said, “The damn mud was everywhere, and on everything. I’d forgotten what the monsoon season is like in Southeast Asia.”
The first few weeks in-country were spent transitioning the outgoing personnel who had been TDY from 1st SFGA, fighting a run of “god-awful weather,” acclimating and becoming smart on what Project Delta was all about. Little time was lost settling in as more intensive training immediately kicked off. Detachment B-52 replaced the remnants of CPT Richardson’s and Mitchell’s Leaping Lena Detachment, and acting on hard learned lessons, Art Strange set his course to make tactical and organizational changes in his combat structure. It was during Strange’s command that the first real changes began to take shape as Project Delta broke from its connection with the Leaping Lena image.
6 Steve Sherman. “History of Project Delta – Part 1,” Project Delta After Action Reports, http://project-delta.net/delta_history.htm
7 Kenneth Conboy. Shadow War: The CIA’s Secret War In Laos, New York: Paladin, 1995, 119.
8 Lancers, Volume 11, Issue 2, 9
9 The 91st designation for the Ranger battalion was later changed to the 81st, for unusual reasons. The Vietnamese rated everything from “Number 1” (very good), to “Number 10” (very bad). Adding the 9 and 1 (of the 91st), equals “10.” To the superstitious Vietnamese and Montagnard t
ribesmen, the number 10 meant “very bad.” Once their designation had changed to the 81st Ranger and they were issued the same M16 rifles as their U.S. counterparts, their combat performance dramatically improved.
10 USSF Advisors to the 81st Airborne Ranger Battalion, Annex G11, 5th Special Forces Group Commander’s Omega, Sigma and Project Delta Debriefing Report, June 66 – June 67
11 ibid.
12 See “USSF Personnel on Project Delta Recon Teams, 1964 to 1970,” Annex E.
13 Tom Clancy & John Gresham. Special Forces: A Guided Tour of U.S. Army Special Forces. New York: Berkely Trade, 2001, 61.
14 See “Project Delta Commanders, Staff and Attached Personnel,” Annex F.
THREE
The Mind is the Greatest Weapon
FOLLOWING STRANGE’S INSTRUCTIONS TO “...get us ready to operate,” Boulas and his operations NCOs adopted a vigorous training schedule to prepare recon teams for insertion and build a cohesive unit by implementing team and coordination exercises between the various VNAF resources, VN Airborne Rangers and U.S. Special Forces personnel. This included establishing an effective joint U.S./Vietnamese operations staff capability. Simultaneously, substantial logistical problems associated with supplying the activities of such a complex “joint” organization were being worked. These issues, tenacious since the project was classified and unique, were true of most Special Forces operations in Vietnam.
At the beginning, Project Delta’s recon training was strict, unforgiving and grew more difficult as it continuously evolved. This would be true throughout the Project’s existence. One commander, MAJ Chuck Allen, remarked that after a Delta Recon guy had an initial successful operation under his belt, he would become “one of the boys”; the more patrols, the more clannish. The most successful and best people were, according to Allen, “A real weird breed, usually loners—unless, of course, you were Recon.”
The Recon guys would be the first to tell you they were, indeed, clannish. They didn’t allow straphangers to go with them on recon operations because they had the Immediate Action Drills (IAD) and procedures memorized so well, they could almost perform them in their sleep. Teamwork came from working closely with each other, a simple facial expression, a wink of an eye in the jungle, or perhaps two blinks, meant for the team to do a specific thing. Outsiders, unfamiliar with this silent communication style would be completely lost, lose his life—or cause others to lose theirs. Besides, they didn’t much trust those who weren’t Recon—that general attitude persists within Delta’s recon ranks.
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In Vietnam, Special Forces would also be given the task of setting up the first Recondo School in-country, that of training arriving American conventional divisions the art of long-range reconnaissance patrolling. Instructors came from within the ranks of the Project Delta Recon Section. Recondo training was hard, rugged, and designed to weed out those not cut out for this type of work. Initially, arriving Detachment B-52 personnel didn’t go to Recondo School for training. Their mission was much more dangerous and unique; they trained their own. If someone managed to pass all the prerequisite interviews and personal muster by the Recon guys, and received an initial okay to continue, then those were the guys they trained with. The B-52 Headquarters Staff monitored the Recon training.
The “old” recon members, already trained and seasoned on the ground, were required to attend all aspects of the training with every new personnel assigned, no matter how many times they had been through it. When finished, all members of the team would know exactly the same thing, thereby keeping everyone up to date and “on the same sheet of music at all times.” It also meant the new guy not only had the distinct advantage of that initial training, but benefited from the experiences of the others who’d already put the concepts to real world use in the field. It was hard and disciplined; the applications allowed no leeway or shortcuts. Get it right or be gone! Lesson plans were continually reviewed and updated, with lessons incorporated from previous combat-induced experiences followed to the slightest detail.
Normal operations consisted of small teams, (generally three Americans and three Vietnamese) inserted by helicopter at dusk into a known or suspected NVA or VC controlled area. Delta Recon men called this, “Going into the hole.” Initially, the concept called for two Americans on each team, but with experience, the teams quickly adapted until three Americans went in, then at the last, some teams were strictly Americans. The rationale was that if there were at least three Americans, and one became seriously wounded, he had two buddies to carry him out. The rough jungle terrain made it nearly impossible for only one man to accomplish that feat, and since it was unheard of for a recon man to leave his wounded brother, the initial concept could have resulted in the death of both. In some instances it did anyway.
The most experienced man on the team, regardless of rank, was in charge of the mission. He was called the One Zero—the second most experienced, his assistant, the One One. The third was the least experienced, studying hard to become a One One, and eventually, perhaps the One Zero. Often, the third man was a new guy; the FNG (F_ _ _ing New Guy). Learning to operate in the jungle under conditions more intense than any he’d previously encountered, the FNG was always under close scrutiny by the other two, more experienced men. Upon returning to the Forward Observation Base (FOB), he’d be evaluated quickly and often, harshly. The final report would be either “he’ll do” or “get him gone.” If he demonstrated potential but lacked critical capabilities for a good Recon man, he might be recommended for another assignment within Project Delta, either with the Rangers or the Chinese Nung BDA Company. In any event, the team evaluation was the final call. Not even the Project Delta Commander would override it.
Delta’s helicopter insertions were always accomplished in conditions of diminished visibility, without lights, a ground reception party, or an armed escort to secure the LZ. Just as it required a special breed to become Recon, a special breed of pilot was needed to volunteer to fly their missions. The helicopters usually flew in a trail formation, at treetop level, suddenly swooping low to unload their cargo onto a small, pre-designated LZ, while allowing those trailing to pass overhead. The pilot, hovering approximately six feet off the ground, would quickly disperse his team, then return to last place in the formation, falling in behind. This leapfrog maneuver was repeated until all teams had been inserted into the targeted area. With fading daylight, poor visibility and aircraft noise masking the sounds of landing, unless the enemy’s position had been directly on the LZ, or very nearby, they wouldn’t hear a helicopter land, nor realize a Recon team had been inserted. Despite precautions, on occasion, when a team exposed the enemy occupying their LZ, there was no alternative but to fight their way out.
Not withstanding an enemy encounter, insertion was still a dangerous undertaking. Night maneuvers in the dark called for nerve, skill and crew cooperation. Recon teams respected their early Vietnamese pilots and lavished them with praise. Under direct command and control of the Project Delta Commander, they pulled off some pretty wild and crazy flying. Some used their rotary blades like a weed-whacker to clear dense four-foot high elephant grass. One pilot positioned a strut on a tree trunk, six feet off the ground; another balanced one on a steep incline to pick up a wounded man. Often they flew rescue missions through mountain fog so dense they literally had to navigate using dirt trails while weaving drunkenly between trees. Many of the first Recon men were sorry to see the savvy King Bee pilots leave. In Colonel Charles Beckwith’s book, Delta Force, he wrote, “They were some of the bravest men I’d ever met. They were handpicked, the cream of the Vietnamese Air Force, and they were the finest pilots in the country.” In late 1965, American pilots and crews began to replace them. Soon Project Delta staff discerned that once trained in Delta’s tactics, these new men’s flying skills were just as formidable, often surpassing those of the King Bees.
The first Project Delta teams were purely reconnaissance; if discovered, they’d be immediately e
xtracted from a dangerous situation. As the Delta Recon teams became more proficient with stealth and secrecy, at the discretion of the Recon team leader, if contact was made with enemy forces and safely broken, or the target size and disposition could be managed, they were permitted to use discretion toward exploitation and destruction. Hence, some teams evolved into hunter-killer teams. At the conclusion of Project Delta’s existence, the mission of the Recon teams had substantially changed. They’d been granted various options for target exploitation: extracting to the FOB; providing intelligence; helping to formulate a plan of attack for the reaction force; remaining to observe the target until the Airborne Ranger companies arrived, then guiding them to the enemy’s location; exploiting the target themselves; or, they could call in air strikes or artillery to eliminate the enemy.
