Cold War Hot: Alternate Decisions of the Cold War

by Tsouras, Peter

  The Gulf of Tonkin: 0430, June 6, 1970

  The USS New Jersey was steaming on station with its escort of destroyers and cruisers, taking up, with its battle group, its fire support position. The battleship was at general quarters, sailors manning its three immense turrets, the deadly 16-inch naval rifles having been checked and rechecked for the upcoming fire support mission the New Jersey and its battle group had been assigned. All hands were more than ready for this mission, for which they had trained endlessly for the past month.

  Off its port quarter, the USS Newport News, a heavy cruiser fitted with 8-inch guns, was turning into the wind, getting onto its station, its naval rifles not having the range of the huge guns on the New Jersey. The destroyer escort screen was dividing up between the two larger ships, to protect them from the light craft, especially torpedo boats, that the minuscule North Vietnamese Navy was known to possess.

  The battle group’s fire support mission was to suppress enemy radar and anti-air assets along the three preplanned air corridors leading into North Vietnam.

  On the bridge, the captain of the New Jersey turned to his gunnery officer and the navigator: “Bring her on station.” “Aye, sir,” answered the navigator, giving the helm order to the pilothouse. Slowly, and with great dignity, the World War II battleship turned into the wind and ran parallel with the Vietnamese coast. The ship’s gunnery officer looked at the captain and said: “Do you think they’re ready for this one skipper?” Grimly shaking his head the captain answered: “They’re about to get an education.”

  Commands went down from the bridge to the main battery, the huge turrets rotating, the guns elevating like the snouts of some primeval beasts, sniffing for their prey as they methodically and majestically turned to port. When they were at the required bearing, the gunnery officer told the captain: “Safe and ready sir.” The captain looked at the young gunnery officer and grinned: “You may fire when ready, Gridley.”12

  The “Hanoi Hilton”: June 6, 1970

  The helicopters swooped in low over the city in the predawn darkness, the natural stillness broken continuously by American air raids, the explosions of dropped ordnance ripping through the constant noise of the helicopter engines. The concussion of the B-52 raids on the helicopters was terrific, the birds being thrown around in the sky, the pilots pulling hard on the controls to bring them back to their selected route in to Hanoi.

  Aboard the lead aircraft, Bull Simons was going through the mission checklist in his head. Their objective was the notorious North Vietnamese prison, dubbed the Hanoi Hilton, where the greater majority of the American prisoners of war were being held. The raiding force was built around the veterans of the Son Tay raid, augmented to 200 with carefully selected and screened volunteers, most of them from other Special Forces units. Not only would they have to overcome all resistance in the prison to free the prisoners, they would have to hold until the helicopters could come back to pick them up, as the closest landing zone was 500 yards from the prison in a park, and they could not loiter in the capital after putting the landing force on the roof of the prison and several adjoining buildings. This was going to be a rough one.

  They were going to be just as heavy losses, if not heavier, for the other two special operations missions that were taking place simultaneously with this one. The other two targets were the Defense Ministry and the Politburo. The missions were going to be snatch missions, in that people were going to be taken, alive or dead, and brought out again. The mission profile was very low—five helicopters and 24 men per mission. One of the helicopters was flying in empty to take the prisoners back with it.

  What they wanted was the Politburo and General Giap, with as many of his staff as they could cram on the Huey. Both groups were known to meet early in the morning while it was still dark in order to avoid the American air raids, at least most of them. Both groups would land on the roof of their respective buildings, head downstairs and kill or capture their respective targets. That would leave the North Vietnamese leaderless. Casualties were expected to be heavy but for targets like these it was worth it. Even if they killed all of the bad guys it was better than nothing. Bringing back prisoners, though, was highly encouraged.

  Simons, sitting close behind the cockpit of the Huey, was alerted by the pilot as the objective approached. Pointing to the pilot where he wanted the bird put down, Simons turned to the grim-faced young men of his team, and gave them the thumbs up sign. Grinning slightly at their response, he removed the headsets and put a green beret on his head as the bird landed on the roof of the Hanoi Hilton and his men exited the aircraft, weapons at the ready.13

  LZ X-Ray, near Hanoi, North Vietnam: H-30

  Brigadier General Hal Moore, commander of the veteran 173rd Airborne Brigade, was in the first stick of the first C-130 aircraft that would begin dumping its cargo of paratroopers from the brigade into the skies over North Vietnam. As a battalion commander in the 1st Cavalry Division in 1965, Moore had fought the first significant American ground action of the war against North Vietnamese regulars. They were a tough, veteran, and skilled enemy, and although Moore had been briefed that resistance should be minimal, he was not taking any chances.

  If this was going to be a cakewalk they would soon find out, but Moore had briefed his four battalion commanders that this might be the hardest fight they had ever had. Harder even than the famous Dak To fight in November 1967, when the 2nd Battalion of the 503rd infantry, one of the brigade’s four airborne infantry battalions, was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation.

  They were jumping into the enemy’s heartland just outside his capital, and Moore expected resistance to be savage. He did not care that the entire North Vietnamese Army was in the south. When had the intelligence wallahs been right so far in this messed up war. At least they were doing the right thing, invading the North, and the brigade was up for it. They should have done this two and a half years ago after Tet 68. Better late than never.

  Moore looked at his watch, and then turned to look at the two lights, the green one that would go on when it was time to jump. The jumpmaster, whom Moore had known for years, grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up. He would jump last, after the stick was out the door.

  Suddenly, the jumpmaster pounded Moore on the back, pointed at the open door of the C-130 and yelled “GO!’ into his ear. Moore flung himself from the aircraft, feet and knees together into the blackness of the North Vietnamese morning, as his parachute was torn from its pack by the static line. It was a combat jump and they were at 500 feet.

  Although they wore two parachutes, the second one being the reserve in case the primary failed, it was a superfluous gesture. If the main parachute did not open from that height, there was not enough time to deploy the reserve manually. To Moore’s intense relief, his main parachute opened perfectly, and he descended quickly, but safely to the ground. Once again, he had maintained his promise to be the first one of his unit to go in.14

  The DMZ: H-Hour, June 6, 1970

  The leading elements of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment crossed the DMZ exactly at H-Hour, racing up Highway 1 into North Vietnam. There was token resistance, which was quickly brushed aside, the artillery bombardment at known enemy locations being more effective than they had initially planned. The air bombardment had also done its job as promised, and the troopers were fully into North Vietnam making their way to their initial objectives along the coast.

  Behind them, the 3rd Marine Division was clearing enemy elements that had been bypassed by the cavalrymen. The intelligence reports had for once been close to correct, there was not enough here to stop a sick cat, and the cavalrymen and Marines were neither cats nor sick.

  At the same time the 2nd Marine Division was landing unopposed on beaches south of Haiphong, while the 1st Cavalry Division was air assaulting two brigades simultaneously into Hanoi and its environs, followed as soon as possible by its third brigade, taking only as long as necessary for the helicopters to fly back to the assault ships and refuel
, rearm if necessary, and reload with more troops.

  The airhead was held at first by the four battalions of the 173rd Airborne Brigade, but when the 1st Cavalry Division landed and took over the perimeter, the four infantry battalions of the 173rd moved out to seize its objective, which was Hanoi. It was followed by two brigades of the 1st Cavalry Division. Heavy equipment and weapons were flown into the airhead later that afternoon, and by 0600 on June 7, all of the assault units were on the ground, the initial objectives were seized, and there was fighting in downtown Hanoi.

  The 2nd Marine Division linked up with its battalion in Haiphong harbor at 0300 on June 7. The lead battalion had suffered minimal losses in its assault, although one of the LSTs had been sunk by fast gunboats of the North Vietnamese Navy. As the battalion was landing, the commander of the destroyer flotilla had disobeyed orders and gone into the harbor on hearing the LSTs were under attack, and had scattered or destroyed all of the North Vietnamese naval units in the area. Thereafter, they had supplied close in fire support to the Marines who had beaten off one determined North Vietnamese assault, and a few minor ones that had gone nowhere. Haiphong was secured.

  Simons’ raiders took and held the Hanoi Hilton, but they were trapped when available NVA units moved against them. They lost heavily defending the prisoners, but held against determined efforts to retake the prison. They were finally rescued when the 2nd Battalion of the 503rd Infantry from the 173rd Airborne Brigade broke through to them at 1300 on June 7. They captured both East German and Cuban interrogators in the prison who were later identified by many of the prisoners as those who had ordered them to be tortured.15

  The 101st Airborne Division was brought in to the airhead after the 1st Cavalry Division, and it was this unit that fought the largest battle of the invasion. The North Vietnamese recovered their wits by noon on D-Day, and all support and training units were hastily organized to begin counterattacks on the afternoon of June 6. To the Americans’ surprise, they had armor—Russian PT-76s and old T-54/55s which initially caused heavy losses to the 101st. Artillery batteries engaged in gunfights with North Vietnamese armor, sometimes at point blank range, the artillerymen giving as good as they got.

  US airpower struck back swiftly, hitting the North Vietnamese assembly areas, and going in low and close to knock out NVA armor. The North Vietnamese took half the airhead before they were done, and casualties in the 101st were unusually heavy. However, with the final repulse of this NVA counter-attack early on June 7, the last organized resistance in the Hanoi/Haiphong area ceased.

  Both Hanoi and Haiphong were declared secured at 1200 on June 10. The Marines and cavalry men fighting their way up Highway 1 linked up with the troops in the north at 1900, June 12. They had encountered no significant resistance from the North Vietnamese, overrunning SAM sites and isolated units piecemeal, the cavalry bypassing them and the Marines mopping them up.

  Long Range Penetration and Ranger teams had been inserted into Laos along the Ho Chi Minh Trail ten days prior to the invasion. What Colonel Simons had said was true—it was a one-way road, and that road was south. They had watched as more troops and supplies were carried south to support the NVA in Cambodia and South Vietnam. As the air offensive picked up, that steady stream slowed to a trickle. On June 10, ARVN Marine units were sent into Laos to cut the trail permanently. The NVA units south of them were hopelessly cut off.

  The two raids into Hanoi to capture the Politburo and Defense Ministry were both successful, but at heavy cost. The mission at the Defense Ministry met the most resistance. Over half of the raiders were killed or wounded, but General Giap was captured and flown out immediately to the fleet. Joining them were Pham Van Dong and Le Duc Tho, leaders of the North Vietnamese government after the death of Ho Chi Minh. The North Vietnamese snake was effectively decapitated.

  Denouement

  The NVA found itself to be cut off in South Vietnam as a result of the naval blockade and the successful US invasion. Suffering very heavy losses to General Davison’s invasion force in Cambodia, with no hope of resupply or reinforcements, it surrendered to the Americans and South Vietnamese in August 1970.

  The campaign slashed the North Vietnamese jugular so quickly that the Soviet Union had no time to react. Thousands of Soviet, Warsaw Pact, and Cuban military and civilian personnel had been captured along with very embarrassing documentation. The US made the most of this propaganda windfall and promptly sent most of the Soviets and their friends home. China made the required anti-Western noises but also chose to emphasize that Soviet attempts to outflank China had failed and clearly noted that US forces had left a wide buffer zone along the Chinese border that they had not entered.16

  The North Vietnamese delegation to the Paris Peace Talks signed, with little choice, a peace treaty with the Americans and South Vietnamese in December 1970. By the treaty, the independence of South Vietnam was guaranteed and the North Vietnamese Army laid down its arms and was repatriated to the North on a schedule that would conclude in December 1971. A United Nations observer and peacekeeper force was put into North Vietnam by the treaty. Nonetheless, the United States, on the Korean model, remained effectively in charge. Chinese opposition to this arrangement was muted in the fanfare of the clearly anti-Soviet Sino–American Treaty of Shanghai that resulted from the historic meeting of President Nixon and Chairman Mao in early 1972.

  The Reality

  Unfortunately, there was no invasion of North Vietnam, for which there were two opportunities: after Tet 68 and again after the Son Tay raid in November 1970 (not in January as portrayed in this chapter). The North Vietnamese Army was largely in the South and could not have deployed in time to stop an invasion. The political will, however, did not exist to end the war in that manner. There was concern over Chinese intervention/interference, which undoubtedly was a factor in the decision not to invade. The American participation in the war was ended with the signing of the peace treaty in Paris in 1973, after the North Vietnamese were decisively defeated in the Easter Offensive in the spring of 1972.

  The United States did invade Cambodia in April 1970 in the Parrot’s Beak region. Large quantities of supplies were captured and heavy losses inflicted on the North Vietnamese. COSVN was not found or taken, unfortunately.

  By the peace treaty, the existence and independence of South Vietnam were guaranteed. After the United States had withdrawn its troops and air power, the North Vietnamese waited until 1975 to invade and conquer South Vietnam, in direct violation of the 1973 treaty. While there had been great howls of anguish from the radical left in the United States over the US involvement, as well as violent anti-war protests during that period, the immense silence after the fall of South Vietnam from those same sources is noteworthy.

  Bibliography

  Burkett, B.G., and Whitley, Glenna, Stolen Valor: How the Vietnam Generation was Robbed of its Heroes and its History, Verity Press, Dallas, TX, 1998.

  Palmer, David, Summons of the Trumpet: U.S.-Vietnam in Perspective, Presidio Press, San Rafael, CA, 1978.

  Schemmer, Benjamin F., The Raid, Harper and Row, New York, 1976.

  Stanton, Shelby, The Rise and Fall of an American Army: U.S. Ground Forces in Vietnam, 1965–1973.

  Time-Life, The Vietnam Experience, Boston Publishing, Boston, 1986.

  Notes

  *1. Simons, Arthur, Into the North: The US Invasion of North Vietnam (McGill, New York, 1975), p. 45.

  2. The President’s secretary, of Watergate fame, or infamy, whichever you prefer.

  *3. Simons, Into the North, p. 56.

  4. Burkett and Whitley, Stolen Valor, p. 112.

  *5. Simons, Into the North, p. 97.

  *6. Abrams, Creighton, Memoir of an Invasion (Patton Press, Fort Knox, KY, 1974), p. 29.

  7. The available units in Germany had to remain in place for the NATO commitments. There was considerable worry over the status quo in Europe at this time. The Russians had invaded Czechoslavokia in 1968. Units in the US were not at full strength or
readiness. Some, such as part of the 82nd Airborne Division, and the 101st before it deployed to Vietnam, were used for riot control duty.

  *8. Abrams, Memoir of an Invasion, p. 121.

  9. This little gem was uttered by one of the Marines who served with the author in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait one evening when we were watching a B-52 strike into Kuwait. Interesting, to say the least.

  *10. FitzHugh, Samuel R., Wild Weasels (Collins, London, 1980), p. 221.

  11. This scenario was presented by the author in a staff planning course in the early 1980s, though the objective in the exercise was not Haiphong. To put it simply, it was not well received by certain higher ranking personnel.

  12. This was the famous command issued by Commodore George Dewey to the captain of his flagship, the USS Olympia, that began the Battle of Manila Bay on 1 May 1898.

  *13. Simons, Into the North, p. 289.

  *14. Collins, Tom, The Last Combat Jump (Venable House, New York, 1990), p. 147.

  *15. Most of the captured interrogators were killed in the subsequent North Vietnamese counter-attacks on the Hanoi Hilton. Simons, Into the North, p. 331.

  *16. Herrington, Stuart, The History of Soviet Involvement in the War in Southeast Asia (Schlaeger Books, Boulder, CO, 1985), pp. 237–42.

  8

  FIRE AND ICE

  Sixth Fleet versus Fifth Eskadra, October 1973

  Wade G. Dudley

  A Poem

  “Some say the world will end in fire, others say in ice,” murmured the young officer, shrouded in the darkness of a moonless Mediterranean night. “What’s that, sir?” asked the tired petty officer standing at his side, both taking the air at the taffrail of the USS Aubrey after a long shift in the Combat Information Center (CIC). Lieutenant Rick Gadsden considered his answer as the guided missile destroyer furrowed the sea, one of three consorts to the cruiser Little Rock, flagship of the United States’ Sixth Fleet. Why had those lines come to mind? Perhaps it was the running lights of the Russian warship shadowing the American task force, a vivid reminder of the Cold War in which Gadsden had lived his entire life. Perhaps it was some memory of his first six months at sea, cruising on Yankee Station—a vision of flaming engines as Intruders launched into just such a night to deliver a payload of death over North Vietnam.