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

by Morris Ray

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  On 19 February 1965 in Nha Trang, Ranger advisors were briefed about an unidentified ship sunk near Vung Ro Bay. They were tasked to deploy two Ranger companies; 2nd Ranger Company would assault a nearby beach and travel overland to secure the wreck-site until the ship’s cargo could be determined. 1st Ranger Company would traverse the small mountains then meet to reinforce them on the beach. The Rangers weren’t trained on how to conduct a seaborne assault, but were ordered to conduct one against heavily fortified positions and a determined enemy. Despite the Delta Commander’s heated protests that they were sorely unqualified, it didn’t seem to affect the higher Joint Command decision. In the end, Project Delta did what they always did. They simply saluted and said, “Yes, Sir,” carrying out their orders in the most professional manner possible.

  The Delta staff was well aware land travel would be extremely difficult due to the harsh terrain with its immense boulders, dense vegetation and vine-choking mountains more than 300 meters in height. They expected to travel 250 meters (the length of two football fields) per hour. Ninety Rangers and four USSF advisors of the 2nd Ranger Company would load helicopters to bring them within several kilometers southwest of the wrecked ship’s location, where they would board the small landing craft that would carry them to the beach assault location. Meanwhile, the 1st Ranger Company had air-landed on the far side of the rugged mountain range and began their long, difficult trek toward the sea.

  Due to late arrival in the target area and 1st Ranger Company’s slow progress through the mountains, a decision was made to postpone the 2nd Ranger Company beach assault until the following morning. In the evening, the Americans reviewed their difficult mission, fine-tuning final plans. It was apparent only two acceptable sites were suitable for beach landings. The Americans preferred to hit the beach nearest the target area to facilitate surprise and limit heavy casualties, while the Vietnamese (VN) Flagship Commander and Vietnamese Ranger Company Commander felt enemy fire would be too heavy closer to the objective. Over objections of the three U.S. Ranger advisors, the beach farther from their objective was selected for the landing.

  The following morning, two support ships and a small landing craft began to move toward the objective. All could fire weapons; 40mm cannons, 20mm guns and one five-inch gun on the escort craft. As the LSM approached the beach, it became apparent the enemy was well dug-in. They prepared for their assault. Heavy automatic fire, which intensified as more small arms and automatic weapons joined in, caught them in a carefully planned, deadly crossfire from heavily camouflaged positions. As the ships continued toward their objective, the LSM took considerable pounding from the devastating small arms fire, several Rangers fell wounded. When one of the Vietnamese Navy 20mm gunners was hit in the head and mortally wounded, other gunners ceased firing and sought shelter.

  It was then that SSG Malia rushed to the wounded man, fully exposing himself to enemy fire, and pulled the wounded gunner to a safer position. His actions seemed to galvanize the other gunners, who returned to their firing positions. The action had little affect on the enemy; the supporting ships soon gave up their attack and withdrew, forcing the LSM landing craft to also retreat. Enraged that the Vietnamese Navy would leave them high and dry without supporting fire, the Americans raised hell with all who would listen until they finally relented, launched another attack and encountered the same vicious crossfire. Only this time, the LSM continued forward until it hit the beach. Staff Sergeant Malia was with the lead platoon when the ramp began to open; he fired his rifle over the top of the lowering ramp. Three Rangers fell severely wounded; another was shot and killed instantly. Malia glared at the frightened Vietnamese sailor tasked with lowering the ramp, as if daring him to try to interrupt its decent. He didn’t back off, and the outer gates of the LSM were swinging wide by the time the beach was just a few meters away. As the ramp leveled so the Rangers could deploy, the officers and many troops shifted further toward the rear of the LSM seeking safety from the fusillade of small arms fire, until only a thin line of personnel extended along each side of the landing craft. Without officer support to motivate them, the troops had simply frozen.

  Malia, positioned with his platoon leader several men behind the lead man, saw what was happening and seized the initiative. Leaping to the front of the ramp, he began firing rapidly, and without looking back, led a charge onto the beach. His bravery galvanized the entire company into action; they hit the beach and quickly established fire superiority over the entrenched Viet Cong. The ferociousness of this assault caught the enemy by surprise. They immediately gave up their positions, retreating into the dense jungle. The Rangers had conducted a successful beach assault, despite their lack of training on this type maneuver. Within thirty minutes the beach was secure—SSG Malia spread the Rangers into a horseshoe-shaped defensive position against the base of the mountain, then they attended to the wounded.

  Although the enemy had been forced to withdraw, he was not yet beaten and continued to pour heavy fire into the Ranger’s precarious defense. Contrary to his orders from the VN Special Forces Command, the Vietnamese Ranger Company Commander opted to attack toward Vung Ro Mountain on the right, the path of least resistance. Malia and other U.S. advisors moved within full sight of the enemy, knelt beside the frightened Vietnamese officer, trying to persuade him to drive toward their assigned objective. After a heated discussion and obvious threats, he acquiesced and the column moved out. Once the base of the Vung Ro Mountains was positioned on their left, and with the ocean to their right, they had no alternative except to retreat or continue toward their objective—the damaged ship.

  After traveling only a short distance, the column again came under heavy attack, this time by 60mm mortars; the first two rounds hitting directly in the middle of the column, wounding four more Rangers. Then a round exploded twenty feet from SSG Malia, lifting him off the ground. Miraculously, other than a bloody nose, he was not injured, but the VN Ranger Company Commander had disappeared. Malia again left his cover under heavy mortar fire to seek the officer, finding him hiding in rocks nearby. Infuriated, Malia strongly suggested they move out of the mortar bombardment before they all became casualties, as 60mm rounds continued to rain on their position. The VN commander hunkered down, steadfastly refusing to move from the relative safety of the boulders. Several mortar rounds landed within fifteen to forty meters from SSG Malia’s exposed position, yet he remained, calmly speaking to the commander until he could get him to agree to move—but not until the VN Navy ships began to place naval gunfire on the enemy.

  As the column again moved out, SSG Malia positioned himself toward the front of the column to better control their rate of march. Mortar rounds continued landing among the Rangers as they struggled through the difficult terrain, their casualties quickly mounting. The column suddenly stopped and SSG Malia cautiously moved forward to find out why.

  He learned the point element had discovered a large enemy cache: two houses that were being used as a VC command post, several small boats and rafts, Chinese anti-aircraft sights for a .50-caliber machinegun and numerous belts of .50-caliber armor-piercing and tracer ammo. As the destruction element team (DET) prepared to destroy the items, SSG Malia, anxious to get to the objective, led them out again. Movement became much more difficult as the jungle closed in. Soon, the point element again encountered enemy resistance. Fighting became “up close and personal,” as the Rangers closed with the enemy in the dense jungle and combat quickly broke down into hand-to-hand struggles between small groups and individuals. This was the kind of warfare the Rangers liked best, where they could finally confront a faceless enemy and put their extensive close combat training to work. They suffered no additional casualties, but killed four and wounded many more, forcing the enemy to withdraw just as suddenly as they had appeared. Malia, in the middle of the confrontation, killed one in close combat before breaking contact. After directing the collection of combat intelligence information, he once more struck out tow
ard the objective.

  They’d been moving steadily nearly an hour through almost impassible terrain, mostly under enemy sniper fire, when the lead element paused, passing back information of a heavily fortified machinegun emplacement blocking their way. With the mountains on their left and the ocean to their right, there was no way around; the Rangers would have to assault the position to advance. Malia backtracked for his VN Company Commander and found him behind yet another large boulder refusing to budge. Disgusted by the officer’s reluctance to lead, SSG Malia detached himself from his platoon and took over the point element. For the third time in an hour, he usurped the commander’s control and inspired the rank and file to follow him in battle.

  Once the machinegun position was destroyed, SSG Malia stayed on point for more than three more hours, constantly exhorting his men to move faster. The Rangers, now essentially commanded by SSG Malia, had by late afternoon moved onto the fringes of the second beach— their final objective. Observing a fresh set of footprints in the soft sand, he followed the tracks into the bushes and discovered an enormous cache of weapons, medicine and munitions. To let the ineffectual company commander save face in front of his men, SSG Malia started back to tell him of the discovery, and let him determine how it would be recovered, but the VC had left behind an element to guard the supplies and they suddenly opened fire, forcing Malia and his Rangers to retreat to the safety of some rocks.

  Malia finally exhausted efforts on finding the commander and instead, located 1LT Bay, his platoon leader. Bay had proven himself repeatedly and Malia trusted him to do his job. Together, they led a charge across the open beach in the face of enemy fire. Men, who had retreated only minutes before, left their positions and vigorously charged the beach while spraying a lethal rain of small arms fire on the enemy’s position; the results were so devastating the VC broke ranks and dispersed in full retreat, leaving the position for the Rangers. The U.S. Special Forces advisor’s After Action Report stated the bravery of the Rangers was unquestionable, including many of the NCOs and junior grade officers, but leadership at the company command level had been almost non-existent. This situation would slowly change over time as weak company commanders were weeded out and replaced by more competent officers, like the formidable 1LT Bay.

  Throughout the remainder of the day, U.S. advisors Malia, Florio, Spinaio and Graham continued to exhort men to move the captured ammunition, rifles, medicines and explosives to the beach for loading and removal. The cache proved to be the largest discovered during the Vietnam War, nearly 100 tons of explosives, recoilless-rifle ammunition, grenades, more than 20,000 rounds of .50-caliber ammo and large quantities of high quality, critical medical items, including Japanese blood plasma, Bulgarian penicillin, streptomycin and other North Vietnamese, Chinese and Soviet produced medicines. Thousands of rounds of Soviet ammo were recovered, along with 2,000 Mauser 98s, quantities of Chinese “Burp” guns and Russian light machineguns. The cache was reported by the media, on TV and viewed throughout the world. It was also analyzed by technical Asian intelligence personnel and scrutinized by the United Nations International Criminal Court (ICC). General Nguyen Khanh, ARVN Army Chief of Staff, personally visited the cache site.

  The valorous acts by SSG James J. Malia, Jr. were cited in both U.S. and ARVN After Action Reports (AAR), and in his award citation, which documented that he deliberately exposed himself to enemy crossfire while aboard the landing craft to assist a wounded soldier, personally led the beach assault and refused protection when advising the ineffective commander during a constant mortar barrage. He also led the point element for their forward movement, galvanized an entire Ranger company into action, disregarded his own personal safety as he led the beach assault, killed numerous enemy soldiers (one in hand-to-hand combat) and led an effective attack across an open beach. His actions contributed substantially to locating and securing some of the greatest historic material finds of the war. His U.S. and Vietnamese comrades stated that throughout the day of 19 February, he repeatedly disregarded his own personal safety in more than eight separate incidents. Malia’s acts notably inspired the Vietnamese Rangers and greatly aided accomplishment of a very difficult mission. For his acts of bravery, SSG Malia was awarded the Silver Star for valor.

  The Delta staff anticipated that the 1st Ranger Company, traveling overland, would run into enemy resistance and fail to arrive to participate in the cache recovery, yet they succeeded in destroying a substantial number of the enemy on route while tying up troops that might have been used to reinforce the cache site. SFC Sterling Smith won the ARCOM/v for his heroic actions on their march to the sea. It was during this operation that Specialist (SP5) Ronald Gaffney was listed as KIA.

  Project Delta continued launching recon operations, sharpening its skills as intelligence demands steadily increased. On 12 July 1965, MSG Henry Gallant and SFC Fred Taylor conducted an operation near Pleiku in Kontum Province; both are still carried on Army rolls as missing in action.

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  Love him or hate him, Major Charles Beckwith was a hard-charging officer who pushed himself and others hard—hence his nickname, “Charging Charlie.” Under his command, the Delta compound transformed itself from an ugly, muddy quagmire where people walked on wooden pallets, to an enviable complex. He built desirable living quarters, established a motor pool and filled it with jeeps and trucks “found” on other installations until the 5th Group Commander expressed, “Your motor pool is large enough, Charlie. Cease and desist.”

  During his introduction speech, he told the Delta troops, “There are only two kinds of soldiers; dip-shits and piss-cutters. I only want piss-cutters in this outfit. If you don’t like that, get the hell out. If you stick with me, I’ll send you home with a chest-full of medals or I’ll send your mother a foot locker full of them.”

  Most Delta men didn’t much like that kind of talk; Charging Charlie took a lot of getting used to. He pulled a tour of duty with the British SAS where he almost lost his life, but in the process adopted many of their ways, and much of their language, modifying both as he went along. When he wanted to, he could charm the pants off anyone and had a knack for playing the role of the “good old country boy hick” who didn’t know too much, especially with those senior to him. From Boulas’ observations, “He was much more intelligent and had a better handle on things than most men he dealt with. Many times I heard him say that there were two kinds of folks—those who should be in the Army, and those who should not be. He felt it was his mission to get rid of those who should not be in the Army.”

  One day he asked Boulas to review an Officer Evaluation Report (OER) he’d been preparing to send to one officer’s official file in the Department of the Army. He had given the officer all zeros out of a possible score of ten, and in the narrative had entered a single sentence, “This officer is a dipshit.”

  Boulas read it a couple times and commented, “Sir, you can’t be serious about sending this in!”

  “Sure I am. The folks in DA will know exactly what I mean.”

  Apparently, the officer was one Beckwith felt shouldn’t be in the Army. For those he thought should be in the Army, he gave them a full ten points and entered the one-sentence comment: “This officer is a piss-cutter.”

  While Len Boulas remembered being impressed by Charging Charlie and his leadership style, many others weren’t.

  Beckwith has been described as a soldier who deeply loved his country and would do anything to defend and protect it and its citizens. Some respected Special Ops NCOs who worked with him, such as Command Sergeant Major (Ret.) Eric L. Haney, portrayed him as a highly moral man who held that all human life is precious. Others find that notion hard to believe, having been sent into situations by him where there was a good chance they might not come back. His record confirms he never asked anyone to do that which he was either incapable of, or unwilling to do himself, attesting to his 1966 life-threatening wounds during Operation Masher in the An Loa Valley. According to Haney, n
ow a Fox News analyst, “Charging Charlie... always acted on what he thought was in the best interests of the nation, the Army, and the unit...and damn the consequences to his career.” 24

  Boulas said, “He brought with him a sense of soldiering and professionalism which many in the Project had begun to drift away from...the first thing he did was to order everyone out at ‘O-dark-thirty,’ in full combat gear for a forced road march.”

  There was a lot of grumbling and a few close to becoming burned out, either left or were fired. But Beckwith’s energy revitalized the rest and gave Project Delta a new focus. He instituted increased recon team insertions and subsequently won the commitment of the 81st Airborne Rangers to Delta. Under his command, contact with the enemy became more and more frequent; more often than not, with “Charging Charlie” right in the middle of it.

  Soon after Beckwith took command of B-52, Communication NCOs Bill Pool and Ronald “Robbie” Robertson were selected to be radio men with the Airborne Rangers, to reinforce the Special Forces at Plei Mei under siege by a suspected NVA regiment. The 1st Cavalry Division was supposed to provide air transportation, but backed out at the last minute, causing them to wait for Delta’s pilots to fly north from Nha Trang. They had to follow roads, flying just above the trees, because the fog was too dense to navigate otherwise. But they made it. Arriving at the launch pad, Pool caught up with Cowboy, one of Delta’s Vietnamese pilots, exiting a running Huey. They exchanged greetings and Pool said, “I thought the Cav was providing chopper support on this boondoggle, Cowboy.”