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

by Morris Ray

  Delta had its standard mission: First, to conduct detailed reconnaissance and report intelligence information within their Tactical Area of Recon (TAOR). Secondly, place surveillance on identified or suspected enemy units, activities and installations, with the objective of acquiring targets for air, artillery and troop exploitation. POWs would be a plus.

  The initial six recon teams quickly grew to nine, as the division’s graduating Recon School class supplemented Delta for the rapidly expanding mission. Supporting the nine teams would be the 145th Aviation Platoon (Project Delta), 2 USAF FAC aircraft (Project Delta), and one company-size reaction force (2nd Brigade, 1st U.S. Infantry Division). Delta’s Ranger Battalion was not available for use as the reaction force due to other commitments. The Division’s reaction force would only be used if a Delta recon team became compromised and had to be extracted by force, under fire. At the onset, Delta staff had serious misgivings about not being able to use their own Rangers— their skepticism proved to be well founded. It was only after the mission was underway that they learned the 1st Infantry Division had no plans to exploit targets discovered by the teams. Beckwith was livid, and expressed his frustration with the 1st Division staff. What was the purpose of locating enemy targets if they couldn’t be exploited by a reaction force? It placed his men in jeopardy, and for no good reason. Regrettably, this Division staff’s conventional mindset led to disaster. Lucrative targets were discovered and reported, but nothing was done; this shortcoming led to one of Delta’s bloodiest operations.

  Recon Team-1, SFC Marcus L. Hudson (Team Leader), SFC Robert K. Price, SFC Robert P. Whitis and two Nungs, infiltrated at dusk. They reported several well-armed enemy, and after completing their assigned mission, were extracted without hostile contact. Recon Team-2, SFC David W. Disharoon (Team Leader), Billy McKeith, Norman Dupuis and two Nungs, also infiltrated without enemy contact, but reported extensive enemy activity as they covertly moved toward their objective. On several occasions they held up to allow small enemy units to pass; the sound of barking dogs led the patrol to conclude the enemy was using canines in their search.

  Two days into the operation, Disharoon’s team, Recon Team-2, came across a stationary VC unit dug into a densely wooded hillside. They called for napalm and a 750-pound bomb air strike, which nearly annihilated the enemy platoon. As the air strike echoes faded, Recon Team-2 withdrew to a secure location to set up a cold camp for the night. Throughout the evening, they observed torch flares and detected voices, assuming the VC trackers were searching for them. They moved out at first light, silently, cautiously. Always primed for immediate action, for several hours they saw no one. Then about noon, on a small trail in dense vegetation, they encountered six VC preparing lunch. This chance meeting forced them to open fire, killing five, seriously wounding one. Considering his team compromised, SFC Disharoon decided to withdraw to the extraction point and call for pickup. By radio, he contacted the FOB, requesting an immediate airlift, directing his point man to proceed toward the extraction point.

  An even larger surprise was in store for them—an estimated fifty soldiers had surrounded the LZ, waiting to ambush any extraction aircraft. Realizing helicopters were on the way, the team knew they had to engage the enemy and secure the LZ before the choppers arrived. Normally, it would be pretty gutsy for any six-man recon element to fire-up a company of seasoned NVA soldiers, but they had no choice. Disharoon placed his small team on line, waiting silently until the choppers came into view before opening fire. His team members recall how surprised the enemy was, initially disorganized by the devastating automatic fire raining on them. But as seasoned NVA regulars, they recovered quickly. In a matter of minutes, Recon Team-2 was in a life and death struggle. Nearby, extraction choppers circled while gunships pounded the LZ, then skirted low and hovered to pick them up during a lull in the fighting. The experienced WO3 pilot was a familiar sight, for he had pulled them from dangerous situations before; he held the chopper steady as the team scampered aboard under a renewed hail of enemy gunfire. Sergeant First Class Disharoon saw to it that his team boarded first, and he was last to leave. The accompanying gunships again swooped in, their mini-guns and machineguns rattling, forcing the enemy to fall back to seek cover in the jungle. Disorganized firing continued to pepper the chopper until they were well away. Once safely airborne and beyond range, Disharoon called in a tactical air strike on the LZ. Navy planes arrived within minutes, killing or wounding many of the enemy with napalm canisters. Remarkably, Recon Team-2 suffered no friendly casualties during these encounters. Disharoon was awarded the Silver Star for valor for his personal acts of bravery.

  Five of the six teams deployed during this operation made enemy contact, describing it as “light to moderate.” Reporting numerous enemy sightings, they returned with important intelligence on VC and NVA units. After Action Reports indicate that recon teams had been in just as much danger of being fired upon by friendly troops and divisional air support as from the enemy, since the Division repeatedly violated established No Fire Lines (NFL). Frequently, 1st U.S. Division gunships would fly over the teams, forcing them to hide for fear of coming under friendly fire. Still, the Delta Commander figured theywere lucky to get everyone out safely. Their luck was about to change.

  Other Recon team members in the An Loa Valley operation:

  Recon Team-3: SSG Brooke Bell (Team Leader), 1LT Guy H. Holland II, SSG Charles McDonald, one Nung.

  Recon Team-4: SFC Marlin C. Cook (Team Leader), SSG Agostina Chiarello, SFC Donald E. Shautz, one Nung.

  Recon Team-5: SSG George A. Hoagland III (Team Leader), SSG Charles F. Hiner, SSG Donald L. Dotson, one Nung.

  Recon Team-6: SSG Frank N. Badolati (Team Leader), SSG Roland T. Terry, SGT Charles A. McDonald, two Nungs.

  Recon Team-7: SFC Lucius T. Untalan (Team Leader), SSG Charles H. Gray Jr., CPT John P. Sanders (1st Inf Div), SGT Richard H. Finlan (1st Inf Div) and William B. Allen (1st Inf Div).

  Recon Team-8: MSG Loyd R. Fisher (Team Leader), 1LT Howard S. Stanfield (1st Inf Div), SSG Walter K. Korber (1st Inf Div) and SGT Clarence E. Pitts (1st Inf Div).

  Recon Team-9: SFC Walt Shumate (Team Leader), SFC Marlin Cook, 2LT Fredrick H. Evans (1st Inf Div), SP4 Donald C. Wombough (1s Inf Div) and SSG Willis W. Conley (1st Inf Div).

  * * * * * *

  In July 1965, as MAJ Art Strange handed off command of Project Delta to Beckwith, one of his parting comments had been, “Stay out of An Lao Valley, Charlie.” It was only two months following the Plei Me siege when the admonition returned to haunt Beckwith. Delta had been tasked to support the 1st Air Cav Division in the largest search and destroy operation yet conceived; it would be an extension of the conflict at Plei Me.

  Near Bong San, the An Loa Valley hosts some of the most unforgiving combat terrain found in Southeast Asia. Framed by steep mountainous slopes and dense vegetation, intelligence reports testified to dug-in anti-aircraft gun emplacements cleverly concealed along the ridgelines. The valleys were a ground commander’s worst nightmare. The cultivated, flooded rice fields, four-foot tall elephant grass and triple-canopy vegetation with high ground on each side, were ideal for ambushes and enemy fortifications. Delta recon teams were fully aware of intelligence indicating the presence of several NVA regiments, supported by hundreds of VC insurgents. They recently had received confirmation of sophisticated warning systems and the enemy’s extensive use of tracking dogs. For a six-man recon element, this was not good news.

  Delta was given operational areas at the northern end of An Loa Valley, a hotly contested enemy stronghold. Their mission was to provide surveillance of the main supply routes to determine if the VC and NVA units were using them to reinforce or withdraw units engaged with Marine forces. The Marines had been pushing south while the 1st Cav units and Vietnamese Airborne Ranger Brigade pushed north in a pincher movement.

  From the start, the operation was plagued with problems. Beckwith had decided against employing his teams with their Vietnamese or Nung team
members, the usual practice, because of the 1st Cav Division staff’s ardent mistrust of all indigenous personnel. Ground intelligence was unusually scarce, with helicopter and tactical air support limited due to the heavy concentration of anti-aircraft weapons. The weather had also been poor, deteriorating by the hour and to top things off, they were in the enemy’s backyard. In the spring of 1948, the French were the last friendly forces to set foot into An Loa Valley; they suffered heavy casualties and withdrew, defeated. Despite these omens, Beckwith asked for volunteers—he had no shortage of men willing to go.

  Three teams of six U.S personnel, supported by elements of the 145th Aviation Platoon (Project Delta), readied for insertion into this “valley of death.” With so much against it, the mission quickly disintegrated.

  Team One, (Eskimo), SFC Al Keating (Team Leader), SFC Whitis, SSG Bell, SSG Norman C. Dupuis and SFC Chiarello, infiltrated at dusk, spending the first night 300 meters from the LZ. Before daybreak, they continued northeast to their objective, arriving at 0900 hours. The treacherous terrain was rough, vertical and wet—the team’s uniforms were soaked before moving a hundred feet. Climbing a tree to observe the valley to the east, a weary SFC Keating figured it would be a long five days. From this elevated position, he detected no movement, but that didn’t mean much. Dense fog began to blanket the valley and within minutes movement became extremely dangerous. Keating decided to risk it, traveling farther to the north where he thought the team might be in closer proximity to the trails leading in; where they could hear traffic along the trails. Edging silently forward, his weapon always at the ready, Keating and his point man, SSG Dupuis, simultaneously caught sight of three armed VC a few meters ahead.

  As the man in front raised his weapon to fire, both Keating and Dupuis fired, killing him instantly. When another grabbed his fallen comrade’s rifle and rapidly fired off two rounds, Dupuis lofted a hand grenade in his direction—the firing ceased. Keating motioned for his team to stay down and threw another grenade; this time another VC fell from the bushes. Uncertain as to what they might be up against, Keating motioned for Chiarello and Whitis to flank the right as he and the others cautiously inched forward, their rifles combat ready. It was apparent that the man on the trail was dead, but then they discovered two bloody paths leading into the jungle. That would account for all three VC, but they wouldn’t know if the two might live long enough to report the patrol’s presence. This did not bode well for Recon Team-5.

  Keating decided to keep moving north with his original plan, trying to evade if a larger VC unit picked up their trail. As he prepared to signal his team forward again, he was held up by a soft whistle.

  “Hey Al...hold up. I’ve been hit.”

  It was Dupius. His head oozed blood; his dazed eyes stared back at Keating as he examined him. Dupius had been struck by grenade shrapnel above his left ear.

  “You okay to go on?” Keating asked.

  “To tell the truth, Al, I’m dizzier than hell. I don’t know if I can take the point any longer, but I’m not going back.”

  Keating hated to take him off point, but under the circumstances he had little choice. He moved Dupuis to a spot farther back, and told Bell to take over as point man. Bell was a solid trooper, and Keating knew he’d do a good job. They moved out quickly for about 500 meters, anxious to vacate the area where they had caused so much havoc. Safely away, the small patrol stopped, intently listening for any pursuit. Hearing nothing to alarm them, they attempted to make radio contact, but the bad weather and atmospheric conditions interfered. Heading north along the ridgeline, the patrol began to observe heavily trafficked trails, making each step forward more dangerous. Because the trails generally traversed northeast to southwest, Keating decided to take his patrol west to avoid the more heavily traveled routes. The last thing he needed was to come head-to-head with a large enemy unit, unable to contact the FOB for help. He tried to make radio contact again, but failed. Six men in enemy territory and, as usual, on their own.

  Higher in this new location, the team detected cultivated rice fields through the shifting fog patterns. They spotted numerous huts in the valley, but observed no inhabitants—this seemed odd. Keating paused long enough to attempt another radio contact with the FOB, and this time reached the Air Relay in their approximate area. The pilot tried to pinpoint their position for nearly two hours, but the weather was still so poor he finally had to give up. He informed Keating he had to leave to refuel but would return in about an hour to try again. Within the hour the pilot returned, and the weather had cleared sufficiently for him to see the team’s deployed orange panel. He directed Recon Team-1 to an LZ 300 meters away. One-by-one, they left the blackness of the jungle floor, climbed the rope ladder to safety and were extracted just before dark.

  EIGHT

  “Hang On, Recon... We’re Coming to Get You.”

  RECON TEAM-2 WOULDN’T BE AS LUCKY as Keating’s team. The team consisted of SFC Frank R. Webber Jr. (Team Leader), SFC Marlin C. Cook, SFC Jesse L. Hancock, SSG Charles F. Hiner, SSG George A. Hoagland and SSG Donald L. Dotson. Infiltrating at dusk on 27 January 1966, they spent their first day trying to avoid woodchoppers and minor foot traffic; no enemy contact was made that day. The next day out, they came across a vacant old hut adjacent to a hard-packed trail. Webber decided to avoid the trail, instead heading into the relative safety of the trees. Continuing to move parallel to the ridge, a small stream came into view, and he decided he’d let his weary troops pause for lunch. The lunch break was more valuable for psychological recovery than to abate hunger pangs, but still proved to be a smart move. After the brief pause, the team seemed more alert, more relaxed.

  Movement became increasingly stressful, as the woodcutters’ chopping sounds and voices periodically drifted to them. They knew not only the farmers needed firewood; the VC needed vast amounts for their cooking fires to feed large numbers of men. Frequently, they’d spotted men in black shorts or pajamas, the accepted attire of both the local farmers and VC soldiers. It didn’t matter. Anyone in this area was considered to be sympathetic to the enemy. Sensing a group of woodcutters might have spotted them despite their attempts at concealment, they withdrew deeper into the dense vegetation, distancing themselves from the main trail. Movement was rough; they often crawled through the thick underbrush where they’d be less likely to come upon on an enemy force. Without warning they broke through into a “buffalo wallow,” an area devoid of triple canopy, with only a few ten-foot-tall scrub trees. Webber felt he needed to get the team across fast. They moved through the middle swiftly, trying to return to the jungle cover as quickly as possible.

  Instinctively, he felt their luck begin to sour. As soon as they cleared the open area and had reached a grove of banana trees, a dog began to bark—they were near a village. His point man froze in place, rifle at the ready. He looked toward Webber, his expression an unspoken question. Webber urgently pointed north, his fingers making a rapid walking motion. The point man quickly led them away from the barking dog. Leaving the open area, they were startled by banging on a metal basin less than 200 hundred yards away. They sensed it was a prearranged signal; the beat had a definite pattern, begininning, pausing and beginning again in the same tempo. Webber grew anxious about their evolving situation. The banging continued until they moved beyond hearing distance.

  Cautiously, the team remained alert for potential contact as they crossed heavily used trails. They continued to hear voices, but not enough to know whether others were looking for them or just conducting daily business. It was easy to get spooked in these situations and no one wanted to cry wolf, leaving before their mission was completed. Besides, just the act of calling for extraction might place them in even more danger. They hadn’t found anyplace suitable for a chopper to set down, so they would have to be hoisted out by rope ladder or McGuire Rig—either would be dicey, particularly if enemy units were nearby.

  Webber paused, held up he team. Gathering everyone close, they discussed the situation in
whispers and decided to hole up for the night and let the activity die down. They felt certain they had been compromised; if not by the woodcutters, then by those banging on the pot. The point led them into a thick grove of thorn bushes that would be their home for the evening. Inside, before settling in, they discussed strategy. Webber thought they should traverse the main north-south route, heading south toward a small village—he’d pointed to it on the map. After conferring, they all agreed that upon reaching the village, the team would split; three remaining to observe, the remainder continuing south to a better vantage point where they could see most of the valley and gather more intelligence. The team liked this idea, for if they ran into trouble they would be closer to the valley floor and more open areas for the extraction choppers.

  They slept little, ready to move again at first light. The weather had deteriorated; a drenching rain greeted their day, along with some heavy fog that provided zero visibility. Making matters worse, they soon encountered very difficult terrain, heavy undergrowth and large slippery rocks. Having started the day without food, at around 1000 hours they finally stopped to eat. The team anxiously eyed their surroundings, hardly tasting the indigenous LRRP rations, careful to maintain tactical silence. Only upon getting under way again, did they realized they had stopped a mere thirty feet from a main trail. The vegetation was so compact that they were completely unaware of the trail. Cautiously crossing the trail, they turned south toward the village where they agreed to eventually split up. They had only advanced a few minutes before they hit unusually rough terrain, and a severe drop-off; Webber had no choice but to turn west.