Authors: Keith Nolan
Death Valley (39 page)
“Hiep Duc village is one of those strange little nowhere places that suddenly finds itself in the limelight of the war,” wrote an Army correspondent in
Stars and Stripes
.
The village doesn’t even rate a dot on most maps. It has dirt streets, houses with tin roofs, and about 4,000 inhabitants. But Hiep Duc, important mostly as a symbol, has become one of the year’s bloodiest battles. To the allies, who have promised to protect it, Hiep Duc is a test of the
seriousness of their intent. To the North Vietnamese, who have promised to destroy it, Hiep Duc is a measure of their ability to discredit the critical pacification program.
The correspondent’s comments explained why Task Force 4–31 and 2/7 Marines were fighting on the valley floor. How they were fighting was something else.
On 20 August, Major Lee had helicoptered to Million Dollar Hill to establish a forward command post. On the 21st, he had flown briefly to LZ Baldy to request the commander of the 7th Marines to send in reinforcements; then he had briefed the battalion commander given that mission. On the 22d, after two sleepless nights and after having been on the receiving end of a good amount of sniper fire, Lee helicoptered back to LZ West. Disembarking, he met LtCol Cecil Henry, BnCO, who was going in to take his place at the Forward CP. At the same time, one of the assistant division commanders, a brigadier general, helicoptered in. He wanted a briefing complete with pins on a map, but Henry tried to beg off. “Major Lee’s been out for three days, and I’m going out now. We haven’t got time for formality, only a quick run down.” The ADC was insistent, so they retired to the TOC bunker. Major Lee, giving the briefing, suddenly started crying. He did not know why. He felt nothing but a numb void; the emotions and frustrations were buried deeply. Henry interrupted, “General, I’d appreciate it if you could leave for a bit. We’ll brief you when we have time.” The ADC refused, and Colonel Henry exploded, “General, get off this hill now! And if you don’t like that, relieve me!”
As the ADC climbed back into his helicopter, he spat, “I’ll get you!” There were no repercussions from this ugly incident, which was obviously a personality clash in a highly charged situation. The brigadier’s lethargy, however exaggerated, nonetheless stemmed from the mood at division. Henry, who thought they were up against two regiments and perhaps a division in the Hiep Duc Valley, could not convince Major General Ramsey or Colonel Tackaberry of his hunch. At least not initially. He based his estimate on the numerous contacts and the number of crew-served weapons the enemy had, especially 12.7mm guns and 120mm mortars, which were usually reserved for NVA regiments. Also, a note in the battalion journal for 22 August read, “Monitored enemy radio transmissions indicated that a large amount of supplies were being shipped from the north to support two regimental size units.”
Although this was the only major action in the Americal TAOR at the time, General Ramsey was not willing to commit full force to it. The general, who had been wounded five times as a young officer in Europe, could be seen on a daily basis at the forward fire bases of his battalions wearing a green baseball cap with two black stars on the front; even the Americal Division’s most mean-spirited critic, Seymour Hersh, described Ramsey as “an honest, forthright officer … a believer in the system and the soldier.” Manpower played a key factor in Ramsey’s cautious approach to Hiep Duc. It was always a myth of the Vietnam War that U.S. infantrymen outnumbered NVA infantrymen in actual ground battles. Although the U.S. had a half-million men in the war zone, there were only approximately 80,000 infantrymen in the bush. It was the NVA who could hide in the wilderness, then mass and strike as it benefitted them. A diversionary attack in one area, which drew U.S. reinforcements like a magnet, could leave vulnerable gaps elsewhere.
That was General Ramsey’s very real worry.
Major Lee got into shouting matches with brigade staff officers over this lack of support. Colonel Henry kept his bitterness in check because he could appreciate those concerns, but he still thought it was a hell of a way to fight a battle. He requested from a visiting ADC that a troop of tanks from 1–1 Cav be dispatched to help his infantrymen blast out the entrenched enemy. His request was denied on the spot. He wanted another battalion rushed in, but his requests for reinforcements were met piecemeal, one company at a time. No units were committed to destroy, or at least harass, the NVA rear in the Nui Chom ridge line.
Both LZ West and LZ Siberia were subjected to shellings (casualties included Captain Kinman, battalion surgeon on West, hit by mortar shrapnel; and Capt Joel Thomason, artillery commander on Siberia, hit by recoilless rifle shrapnel). Resupply was precarious due to AAA fire, so Henry put LZ West on the bottom of the priority list to ensure that the field companies got the most. From 18 to 28 August, there was no shaving or bathing on the LZ. The mess hall was closed and the support personnel made due with C rations. Medical supplies were low. Those with minor wounds or heat stroke were flown to the battalion aid station; the rest were medevacked directly to LZ Baldy (23d Medical Company) and from there to Chu Lai (27th Surgical Hospital) or Da Nang (95th Evacuation Hospital).
In the valley, 4–31 was spread thinly—of twelve medics in the
first three companies committed, one was killed and seven were wounded—and worn out—in three days.
The U.S. Command never completely deciphered the intentions of the NVA in Hiep Duc Valley. One North Vietnamese prisoner provided an explanation which seemed plausible in its simplicity: the NVA had originally intended to destroy the Resettlement Village, but when that plan was blocked, their new directive was to inflict as many casualties as possible until ordered to withdraw.
The terrain suited such a scheme. From their positions on Nui Chom, the NVA commanders and forward observers kept the Army and Marine units under constant visual observation. The NVA troops in the valley were dug in, too. They were not attacking anymore; they sat invisible in the shade of the tree lines in squad- and platoon-sized groups, and watched their enemy come searching for them across the open paddies.
When the Americans came close enough, the NVA killed them.
During this battle, 4–31 still had to commit two companies to the defense of LZs West and Siberia, plus the Resettlement Village, leaving a mixed bag of attached companies to shoulder much of the combat. These troops were generally inexperienced and unfamiliar with the terrain. The battalion journal commented:
Training in the small unit tactics of fire and maneuver, and fire and movement needs to be stressed. Even though this battalion has consistently stressed these basics, it was learned from this action, that units cannot be over-trained; and not until the basics become automatic reactions, do units even begin to be proficient. Individual soldiers seem to believe that this war is drastically different from past conflicts. This is true in some technical aspects, but the small unit tactics have not changed in the slightest.
23 August. At 0640, B/2–1 and B/1–46 moved east again from their spot of poncho shelters around Million Dollar Hill, while Colonel Henry remained at his Forward CP with C/4–31 as reserve and the Echo Mortar Platoon 4–31 (2dLt Charles Allen) dug in near his radios. At 0715, thirty rounds of 82mm mortar fire thumped into the CP; Henry scooted into an old shell crater, but not before fragments burned into his hand and the left side of his face. Echo Mortars pumped 81mm fire in return as a Huey took Henry and three other slightly wounded GIs to LZ West (Henry was back on Million Dollar Hill before dusk). At
1400, Bravo 1–46 made contact with what appeared to be a platoon of NVA; their barrage of AK47 and RPG fire halted Bravo, and they broke contact before dusk in order to evacuate their two wounded and make it back to the CP before nightfall.
Bravo 2d of the 1st Infantry ran into a similar situation. Kosteczko was huddled in the same area as the day before and, once again, the NVA on the knoll had the GIs pinned. A sergeant, also flat behind the berm, called to Kosteczko, “Take a look up there and see what they’re doing!” Being a new guy, Kosteczko started to get up, but an old-timer stopped him with snarled words of advice, “Let him look up there! What the hell, you going to look up there and get your head blown off!”
Spirits were draining quickly.
Bravo pulled back too before dusk. It was hot as hell, so before hiking up the trail on Million Dollar Hill, the men flaked out under the trees at the base. About ten minutes later, NVA mortars began exploding along the trail where they should have been. The shelling walked up the path, then blasted a few new holes out of the hilltop. Unreal, Kosteczko thought, shaking inside: the dinks are always watching!
24 August. The ten men killed when Bravo 4–31 started the battle had lain in the bush for six days. They were recovered that afternoon by 2d Platoon of Charlie 4–31 under 2dLt William R. Robinson and SFC Marshall E. Robertson, who’d been in the bush two days and ten months, respectively.
Lieutenant Robinson had been sucked up by the draft from his post-college government job and, neither knowing nor caring, did not really even think about Vietnam until the final hitchhike chopper ride deposited him on LZ West on 22 August. Robinson had completed the combat course at Chu Lai three days earlier and had spent the previous two nights in the unoccupied, air-conditioned trailer of the brigade commander. Things seemed ordered and controlled, although Robinson was shocked by his new, real environment. He’d originally been slotted for Alpha Company, but they were in the middle of a firefight in AK Valley, so he was put on a chopper for Charlie Company on Million Dollar Hill. He joined them two hours after touching ground at West; two hours after that, he got his baptism of fire. Mortar and sniper fire sent the platoon scrambling for foxholes and boulders. Robinson noticed those around him were wide-eyed, mumbling that they were surrounded; they looked like they’d already been through too much. The shooting petered out. It was just harassing fire.
Lieutenant Robinson’s platoon found the dead of Bravo Company on 24 August and dragged them back to Million Dollar Hill to be medevacked to Graves Registration on LZ Baldy. Robinson wrote to his parents:
… Tempers were high & moral was low. The area where the bodies were, was in an area that had been previously unreachable; right about in the middle of an enemy stronghold. The company had been out in the field for about a week getting very little sleep and had been hit pretty hard, as the 1st platoon was down to 12 men. The bodies were left behind by a company that was nearly slaughtered there & had to leave their dead behind. We were lucky and didn’t get any contact—But we picked up 2 bodies and a large firefight broke behind us in between us and the hill, so we took the long way around in the process we picked ten more bodies. Without going into details I can’t possibly tell how bad it was to have to pick up those decomposed bodies. It took six hours to get back. It started raining (1st since Ive been here) and the body bags started breaking open. We finally made it back—but you can’t imagine how something like that can kill the morale. The bodies were heavy and the smell sickening. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
The firing Charlie 4–31 heard was the third attempt by Bravo 2–1 to recover their dead man. Another crossfire of mortars and snipers killed one GI and wounded eight. Countermortar fire from Million Dollar Hill crashed around the enemy knoll. The grunts were pinned down in the sunbaked ravine, some taking the chance to raise up and return fire, most just comatose in the heat. Word was finally passed to pull back.
Oh shit, Kosteczko gulped, here we go again.
Kosteczko’s squad ran back down the path on the edge of panic, firing and tossing grenades into the underbrush—the dinks are everywhere! The resupply birds had been unable to land due to ground fire, and could only toss supplies out the cabin doors as they buzzed past. The grunts were out of water and the sun was eating up their brains. They crashed down a buffalo trail where they’d previously seen a slimy, green pond. They found it and collapsed to their knees at the rim, pushing helmets under the algae on the surface. The lieutenant was shouting to use purification pills and to give them time to dissolve. Fuck the lieutenant, Kosteczko was thinking. He unhooked his steel pot, spread his sweaty sweat towel over it as a filter, and used the plastic helmet liner to scoop
up the water. He threw in a pill; waited a pathetic second; then gulped down the stinking, green-brown liquid. It tasted great. All we’ve got left, he thought, are animal instincts. The squad set up in a field thick with elephant grass, hacked out spots with machetes, and sacked out atop mats of C ration cardboard, three or four men on each mat huddled against the evening cool. The night moved around them and nervous sentries pitched grenades outside the circle. Artillery rumbled in the distance. In the morning, moving like zombies, they got up to attack again.
PFC Ralph Brantley and PFC Charles Jandecka, who were both twenty-one, arrived on the same day as replacements to 3d Platoon, Bravo Company, 4th Battalion, 31st Infantry. Both originally were draftees but, in their own ways, they represented the very different types who made up the Americal Division.