SEPTEMBER
11, 1968
Go
Noi Island - Quang Nam Province - South Vietnam
Written by Mike McFerrin, 3rd Plt. M Co. 3/5 to fellow Marine, Elvin Bruce Jones, "BJ"
BJ,
I was there 11 Sept. '68, the day that you got hit. I am not too sure how many that are online with us were there that day. There is at least two that were with the company at that time, but I have to check with them to see. They were both medevacs during that time period so I am not sure if they were in the hospital or the bush.
But of all, I seem to have the best memory of those long ago events. I can sort of "time travel" back. It takes me a while to do it but I can get there and see all of the detail. The down side of it is that I also "feel" it. The gut wrenching fear and the horror. I only do it in short runs every couple of months or so.
I present the following to you as my recollection of the days leading up to September 11, 1968, that awful day itself, and the aftermath. It will come in two parts. I am positive that my time frames are within 24 hours of being correct and even more positive that the events are accurate from my angle of view at the time. I am sure that some of this you will remember and some I will be filling you in on.
For all of you who gave so much that day, we, your fellow Marines of that battle, do remember and honor the courage and sacrifice. It is a story that America should know. The many acts of selflessness and bravery are the very spirit of the Marine Corps and America.
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 3, 1968
Late in the afternoon on
September 2, 1968, I stood on the helipad at An Hoa waiting for the helicopter
that was to re-supply the battalion. It would take me and 20 other new guys
to the bush. We would now face all of the other ways the enemy had to
kill us. The mortar attacks at An Hoa had given us some preparation for what
was to come. All of us were scared, but then we had been scared every night
since arriving. The only difference was now we could remain scared 24 hours
per day.
About 4 that afternoon the helicopters arrived. We were being choppered to
Go Noi Island. It was not really an island, but was a large tract of land
that lay between two rivers that ran all the way to the ocean some 20 to 30
miles away. It was incredibly hot. Everybody was soaked with sweat. Added
to this discomfort was the fact that all 21 of us were carrying gear that
we did not need in packs that were arranged and sitting in a way that was
not suitable. These lessons would be taught to us when we arrived at our home
squads. And the fear of the Unknown. Would the LZ be hot? Would the helicopter
be shot down?
Go Noi Island was flat as a pancake with knee high to over head high elephant
grass every where except for a few islands of trees and shrubs that dotted
the landscape of the interior and followed the river banks. The helicopter
began to spiral down to what looked like the exact middle of a sea of grass.
There were dots of olive drab running around in the grass, jumping on things
that were starting to move from the helicopter's rotorwash. Nobody shot at
us.
Upon debarking, it seemed like mass confusion on the ground. We could not
tell who was who since nobody was wearing any rank insignia. People seemed
to be scattered everywhere without any order. We soon learned that this was
the battalion command post (CP) group. We were told that the CP was moving
out immediately to join up with the companies somewhere. There were booby
traps and gooks everywhere so be careful. This scared the crap out of us.
And then to add to that they took the seven of us that were going to Mike
Company and told us we would be walking flank for the column. They pointed
out to where the grass was over head high and told us to go out there and
stay 30 to 50 meters out and parallel with the column and, again, to watch
out for booby traps. Oh, my God! We were now in the bush. The real bush.
As we moved into the tall grass, we left the air behind. It was like an oven.
Sweat was pouring off of us and getting into our eyes. We were taking baby
steps as we tried to see through the stinging sweat and grass for a sign of
anything that could be indicative of a booby trap. Then there was somebody
that kept yelling to keep the flank moving with the column which I couldn't
see. After about an hour of this we broke through the grass to a small wooded
area and there was Mike Company. The seven of us on the flank were dropped
off there and the rest continued on to nearby wooded areas that contained
the other two companies.
At the company CP area, the captain introduced himself and the company gunnery
sergeant. Since third platoon had taken the most casualties in the last few
days, three of us were sent there. Second platoon got two. First platoon got
one, and one was assigned to be the new company radioman.
When we arrived at the third platoon CP area, we had to wait for the squad
leaders of the squads that we had been assigned to. They would come to get
us after they had set their squads into a perimeter. The corpsman, Doc Wright,
was the only one who talked to us, trying to calm us as the stress of the
unknown dangers was obvious in our faces. He told us that the company had
been moving across Go Noi on search and destroy and that they had made contact
with the enemy every day. We should listen to our squad leaders and try to
learn as quickly as possible if we were to stay alive. He was very comforting
in his calmness. We felt like he cared.
Soon the squad leaders arrived and took us to an area on the edge of the wooded
ground. Here third platoon was responsible for a section of a perimeter that
was being established by digging foxholes about 20 meters apart in an arc
that connected with the foxholes of the 2 other platoons forming a rough circle.
We were given our first instructions on how to stand watch in the bush. How
to watch the front, how to hold our rifles and when to use them, how to keep
our grenades and when to use them, etc. Nothing happened that night.
But "nothing" doesn't happen for very long in the bush. One of the
squads from one of the other platoons had gone on a short patrol that next
morning shortly after dawn. They had found and chased some 10 or 12 gooks
into a treeline not too far away. The company commander had not allowed them
to continue the pursuit. As the squad returned to the company, we were given
orders to saddle up. The whole company would enter the treeline to go after
the enemy soldiers.
Before 7:30 AM, we moved out in column. The column was maneuvered along the
edge of a bushline some 300 meters away and parallel to the target treeline.
We made a left face and were now facing the target in a row. The target was
an "island" of trees in the middle of a huge area of grass ranging
from six inches to knee high. To the right and left of the island were long
tree lines about 200 meters away from each side. As we looked at the target
it seemed to be about 100 meters wide and perhaps the same deep. It also appeared
to contain some hootches somewhere in its interior. We couldn't actually see
any but there seemed to be an order about the trees, bushlines, and paths
that we could see that indicated man had been there for a while.
The Captain decided that we would approach the island in a "wedge"
formation and enter the treeline at a path that was almost at the midpoint
of the island. My platoon got picked for the front of the wedge. My squad
was picked for the front of the platoon. And, my fireteam was picked for the
very point. My fireteam leader decided to take the very point himself and
I was a few steps back and to the left of him. We were to wait until we were
about 100 meters from the target and begin "reconning" by fire as
we approached. It all sounded just like the training formations at Camp Pendleton.
Easy stuff.
We moved into the open area and started towards the target. At about 150 meters,
our simple maneuver started falling apart. Out of the treeline to the left
came one of the other companies in 3/5. We kept moving but it didn't take
a mental giant to see that their column and our wedge would collide at a point
about 75 meters out from our target. We were finally halted while the officers
decided what to do.
The decision was to have Mike Company stop its wedge formation assault on
the treeline and allow the other company to cross in column between it and
the target.
The NVA waited for the column to get spread out directly in front of them
with the wedge formation directly on the other side of that column then opened
up with Marines two deep in front of them.
Due to the heat the Marines of Mike Company had sat down to wait for the other
company to move across. I sat on my helmet wiping the sweat from my brow.
All of a sudden, the air burst into whizzes and whines of bullets. The cracks
of dozens of AKs firing at once followed the bullets across the grassland.
And behind that the screams of the wounded and dying.
I rolled off my helmet instantly and flattened on the ground. There was no
cover anywhere. And none of us in Mike Company could return fire anyway since
the other company was in front of us. Bullets were striking everywhere around
me. I tried to crawl underneath my helmet. My terror was increasing as the
realization that there was nowhere to go came over me.
Then I heard a yell from behind me to my left. They didn't know my name yet
so they called me "New Guy." Three Marines had found a small rise
that offered some cover and on the other side of them one Marine had found
a small shell hole that had room for another person. I raised my head just
enough to see them as they told me to come over there. It was probably no
more than ten to fifteen meters but the bullets were thick enough to walk
on so it looked like a click or more to me. I said no to the requests that
I come to their cover. No way.
Then as I turned my head back to the front and began lowering it back into
the earth I saw an automatic burst of fire parting grass and striking dirt
about fifteen meters in front of me and tracking directly to me. I paused
only a second and rolled my left shoulder, leg and head to the right. Right
where my head had been and right in front of where my face now was a bullet
struck. Dirt was kicked into my right eye from the impact. One more round
hit about where my kidney would have been. The burst ended with that round.
I yelled over and asked if they still had room for me. They did but again
I found it difficult to move. This seemed more impossible than dodging raindrops
in the monsoon. I was trying to figure my odds of getting hit staying there
versus moving to cover. There's one for Einstein to figure.
As they coaxed me to come and I vacillated, a blood curdling scream and cries
for help came from behind me to my right. I could not see who got hit but
the sound was very close. In an instant I low crawled, no, I slithered, dragging
my face in the dirt to the cover of the shell hole. The cries for help over
to my right began to slow down. Then there was nothing.
I asked the Marines around me who was hit and if anybody had got to him. They
said that the fire was so thick that there probably was no way anybody could
get to whoever it was but if there was a way to get to him that our corpsman
would do it. Apparently Doc Wright had earned a great deal of trust and respect
from these men in previous battles.
To the front, the fast and furious cracking of AK fire began to slow. The
screaming and yelling of the Marines seemed to get louder. I looked up and
could only see two Marines out there and they were running back toward the
treeline from where they had come. Then I could see some more Marines back
in the treeline who had apparently made it to safety. But there were still
people yelling for help down there. I quickly raised up a little higher for
a quick glance. I could see five or six bodies laying in the grass in front
of the island. The AK fire slowed to a burst every ten or twelve seconds.
After about a minute of this, it seemed to stop completely. I was thinking
the gooks must be dead or ran off.
The screams for help were really loud now. My fireteam leader jumped up, turned
and looked at us and said to drop our gear and follow him. My first order
to follow in combat. I dropped my pack and jumped up to follow my fireteam
leader. The other Marine in the shell hole with me yelled at me to not go
and said something about me being sorry for doing that. It wasn't registering
because I was so scared and new that I was focused on what I had to do.
The fireteam leader said to follow him and I did. He began running out to
the wounded Marines in front of the island. We had gotten about halfway there
when my fireteam leader yells at me to zigzag. I said, "What? They're
all dead aren't they?" He yelled, "NO!!!" I glanced behind
me and saw that not a single other Marine had come with us. UH OH!!!! This
guy is a nut or a hero and I am the only one stupid enough to follow him out
here. By then, we were almost three quarters of the way there and I wanted
to stop my forward motion and run back. As I slowed though, I got scared that
I was starting to offer myself as an easier target and simultaneously I see
four other Marines from the other company come running out of their treeline
towards the wounded. Then there was a short burst of AK fire. Both my fireteam
leader and I dove to the ground right where all the wounded Marines were.
My fireteam leader crawled up to a Marine who had been shot in the butt and/or
thigh and yelled at me to come and help. The Marine was ashen faced and trembling
severely. It was hard to tell if it was from the wound or the experience of
being abandoned to die for the last five minutes or both. My fireteam leader
pulled the guy's poncho off his pack and told me to spread it out next to
him while he took the guy's battle dressing from his helmet and applied to
the wounded area. We then rolled the guy onto the poncho and began to drag
him towards the treeline. By this time other Marines from his company began
to come out to help and two of them took over the front part of the poncho
while my fireteam leader and I picked up the back end and we carried him all
the way to safety. The wounded Marine was thanking us and promising us a bottle
of booze each for saving him.
My fireteam leader and I went partially back out once more to help finish
carrying one more. Then we went along the treeline until we were parallel
to where our company was and dashed across the open to them. This time I dove
behind the little rise with the three Marines behind it. I was amazed that
we had pulled it off. I was sure that my fireteam leader at least would get
a medal for this. I don't think anybody would've gone out there if he hadn't
gone first. I had just witnessed the first person I had ever seen who deliberately
committed an act of heroism.
We heard the order being yelled to pull back. All the way back past the bush
line where we had started and into the trees. My fireteam leader and I were
the first to respond since we had already been running all over the place.
I only went a few steps back when I saw the dead Marine. It was my platoon
sergeant. I yelled to my fireteam leader who recruited a couple of others
to help pull his body back with us.
I heard that Doc Wright had searched the grass during the hailstorm of bullets
and finally found the platoon sergeant but had been too late to save him.
Medevacs were called in to take out the wounded. Then we were told that we
would pick up where we left off. We would assault the treeline with our wedge
formation. No guessing this time. They were definitely in there.
After the Medevacs left we reassembled into the wedge and were told to walk
fast towards the treeline and to begin recon by fire immediately. I tried
to put a wall of lead in front of me more in hopes of stopping any bullets
headed at me than killing any enemy soldiers. There was no return fire yet.
At about the halfway point, I had to change magazines. I think two bullets
fired out of the new magazine and it jammed. Whoops! Here I am walking at
almost full speed towards the enemy and I don't have a weapon. I slowed then
came to a full stop as I tried to unjam my weapon. This messed up the wedge
so my squad leader ran up and gave me his M-16 while he cleared mine. I caught
up to my place and began firing and this one jammed too. Still no return fire
yet though. My squad leader ran up again with my now cleared M-16 and grabbed
his to clear it.
We were now down to the last 100 meters and I think everybody started slowing
down a bit expecting the worst. About 25 meters out from the edge of the island
was a bamboo thicket with about a 3 meter radius and well over head high.
This was in front of me so I began to sort of use it for cover as we approached.
This was the only cover available if the shit hit the fan. As I neared it,
I realized that I would have to step to one side or the other to get around
it and I would no longer have it available for cover after I passed it. I
walked right up to within two arms length of it not having made my mind up
yet which way to go around it. I sort of hesitated and looked around to my
left to make sure the rest of the wedge was with me.
As I swung my eyes, I saw something and quickly looked back at the bamboo
thicket in front of me. Resting in between two of the large pieces of bamboo
at about four inches above ground level was the end of a barrel. I squinted
my eyes to peer through the slit and followed the barrel to the other end.
Our eyes met and locked. My rifle was pointed off to the right of the bamboo
thicket. His was pointed directly at my chest. I know I gasped. I'm sure I
paled. But the locking of our eyes apparently scared him, too, because I saw
his eyes get real big and he ducked his head way down into the hole he had
dug in the middle of the bamboo thicket. At the same time he opened up with
what I now believe was an RPD machine gun. When he ducked, the barrel dropped
and two or three bullets went between my legs before he started swinging it
to the left to get the other Marines that he could see.
All hell broke loose. All the gooks back in the trees and vegetation of the
island opened up. They tore up the advancing wedge. As the machine gun barrel
swung away from me I fell flat to the earth directly in front of the machine
gun. I was trying to swing my M-16 back forward when the barrel swung back
towards me. I cringed expecting the top of my head to be split open. It passed
right on over me and killed several people on my right. He must think I'm
dead. He did duck when he fired. None of the others had any idea that there
was an enemy soldier in that bamboo thicket. He caught them all in the full
upright position with long bursts. As I listened to what was happening around
me, I knew we were getting our ass kicked.
I rolled my eyes up to try and see in front of me. The grass was some eight
to ten inches high and I could not see the slit in the bamboo where the gun
was. And my rifle was still not pointed in that direction. I now know he probably
couldn't see me either because of the grass but it did not occur to me at
that moment. My predicament began to sink in and terror began to grip me.
The machine gun went silent after killing those on my right but in the midst
of all the other enemy weapons firing from the treeline I am not sure that
anybody could tell the difference or even yet had any idea that he was there.
Just then I heard a thumping of boots striking the ground behind me and to
my right. The sound came towards me. I turned my face to the right out of
fear to see whatever it was coming. I saw Doc Wright as he came running up
to the dead Marine on my right. He was saying something like "Are you
hit?" He had obviously seen all of us laying there in the grass as he
approached and was going to quickly assess each.
He had been over 100 meters back behind us with the rest of the platoon CP
group. I was totally stunned to see this man running through the hail
of bullets to get to us. But then I realized that he did not know the enemy
machine gunner was in the bamboo thicket. Overcoming my own fear momentarily,
I tried to yell but could only squeak, "Doc, he's dead!." I wanted
to follow this up with telling him to hit the deck because of the machine
gun in front of me which was just a few meters to his left front. I did not
get the chance.
Doc dropped to his knees as I spoke and grabbed the dead Marine's shoulders
and was turning him over to check him. Simultaneously, he turned his head
and upper body towards me to see if I was hit. The NVA machine gunner opened
up on him. I jerked and winced as the machine gun roared. I expected him to
rake the grass directly in front of him and get me. He may have done so and
missed me. I could not tell from my position.
I saw Doc get hit as I winced then could see him no more above the grass.
I was afraid to speak again but I listened for any noise from Doc to indicate
that he was alive. There was none.
I had just witnessed the second deliberate true act of heroism that I had
ever seen and it was less than an hour after seeing the first. This man had
ignored all of the incredibly heavy volume of fire to get to us up there to
try and save lives. I was in awe of the valor and sacrifice displayed by Doc
Wright.
I was sure that it was just a matter of seconds before I joined all of those
dead men with me there. I began to cry and my head spun as I prepared to die.
My first thought was of a Marine officer telling my parents that I had been
killed. My second was that I had been killed in my first 24 hours in the bush
which certainly didn't speak well of me paying attention in my Marine training
and might even be embarrassing to my parents. It certainly was to me. Then
my life began playing itself to me as vividly as any 3-D movie I've ever seen.
I was crying but not making any sound. Nor was I moving. I would rather live
frozen stiff like this than die. Ants began to crawl on my head and face.
Whenever they got close to my mouth I would try to bite them. I could see
my home as I seemed to be floating at about mid-tree level around it. I saw
my family and friends. And it just kept going.
The Marines began to pull back. They called out the names of everybody who
wasn't moving back with them to see if there were any wounded who needed help.
I listened again for any noise whatsoever from Doc as he was the only one
that I wasn't completely sure was alive or dead. I heard nothing and the sadness
of the loss of such a hero overwhelmed me even in my position. They were calling
six names out that didn't answer even after repeated efforts. The five dead
on either side of me and mine. I wasn't about to answer this roll call. Then
they left. And I was alone with the dead Marines and live gooks.
They pulled all the way back past where they had been before. Almost 400 meters
and totally out of sight. As far as I knew they had gone to An Hoa. Or Danang.
Or even back to the World. It didn't matter. Even if they knew I was alive,
I was right in front of the machine gun that they still might not know is
there. Even if they did, what could they do? I would be killed in the crossfire.
I cried for my death at such a young age. What a harsh world. I began to pray.
And I mean for real. I began to see the things I was allowed to see. Life
was a natural event. Death was also. I began to feel as if I had been here
before, dying on a battlefield. All of a sudden with a shock that convulsed
my body, I understood. My tears stopped. My sorrow and self-pity evaporated
in an instant. Whether it was here or in a hospital at 100 years old, I would
experience Death. And it was not bad. I fully accepted my own mortality. The
only measurement that would apply was how I had lived. I had been in front
of that machine gun for over 45 minutes crying. I thanked God for letting
me live long enough to arrive at this point.
I still believed that there was no feasible way for me to get out of this
situation. I only knew that I would not lay there and die crying for myself.
With Doc Wright's selfless act of heroism still reverberating through my head,
I decided that I could help my fellow Marines out if I could take this machine
gun out. Then they at least stood a chance of recovering our bodies without
another death. I remembered that I had been issued a little grenade pouch
that holds three grenades and it was on my web belt on my right side. If I
could get a grenade out and the pin pulled before he killed me then maybe
the grenade blast would be enough to penetrate the bamboo and kill him too.
I very slowly began moving my right arm back alongside my body. It must've
taken two or three minutes. Finally I could feel the pouch and I unsnapped
one of the pockets and the grenade rolled out next to me. I felt for it, grabbed
it, and spent another two minutes moving it up to the top of my head. Now
I needed my other hand to pull the pin. Finally the deed was done. The grenade
was ready and I wasn't dead yet. I decided it stood a better chance of getting
him if it was right next to the bamboo.
With my arms extended over my head, my hand was only an arm's length from
the bamboo. I simply opened my hand and gave the grenade a little nudge. I
fully expected it to kill both of us. I didn't even cringe. I was ready to
die. The blast was incredible. It took my helmet off and felt like it split
the skin on my forehead open. I couldn't hear but hadn't seemed to die right
off in the initial blast. I couldn't feel any pain except the skin of my forehead.
I wondered if the gook was dead yet. I was so stunned from the concussion
I couldn't be sure how bad I was wounded.
Mike Company was calling
in choppers for the wounded and dead that they had gotten out and were also
attempting to get two "stacks" of air (4 Phantom jets) to do the
island in. I was so new that I did not know that this was pretty standard
in these type of situations. I had no idea that they were going to drop napalm
and high explosives on the place then strafe anything that was left. I am
really glad that I did not know. Fortunately for me, there was a great deal
of action somewhere else in I Corps that day and they were unable to get the
standard rapid response.
But people in Mike Company heard my grenade go off and knew that somebody
was still alive up there. A squad came back and attempted to move up. The
machine gunner in the bamboo thicket opened up on them. I almost crapped in
my pants since he was firing directly over my head. Whoa! Not only did I not
kill myself with the grenade, I didn't even incapacitate the machine gunner.
The thought crossed my mind that I was not very good at this. But I also decided
that maybe I should try to get this guy without killing myself also.
Again I reached back for a grenade from my pouch. I moved a little bit more
confidently this time. I realized the grass must be hiding most of my movements.
But when I began to move, a sniper up in a tree back on the island saw me
and began firing. The bullets were single shot and began hitting three to
six meters from me. This did not slow me down whatsoever by this point. Doc
Wright's example had inspired me to commit to fulfilling this task for my
fellow Marines and I was right in front of a gun that could split my skull
open. A few lone bullets were not going to scare me off now.
The sniper fired five rounds at me and I realized that the "plunging"
fire angle that he had must be difficult and/or this NVA needed glasses. This
time when I got the pin pulled I stretched my right arm out as far as I could
and threw the grenade around the side of the bamboo thicket so that it provided
some cover for me.
Right after the explosion, the Mike Company people again tried to move up
and again he opened up on them. But now they knew that I was somewhere in
front of the thicket and that I was targeting the thicket as the source of
enemy fire. I heard a yell in the distance from the Marines who were trying
to get back up to the area, "Hey! Keep your head down!" I wondered
what idiot thought he had to holler that to me from a couple of hundred meters
away. All of a sudden there was a whoosh and a short sound of sucking air
and then a horrific explosion as a LAAW rocket fired from that distance made
a direct hit on the thicket. The blast and the shrapnel all moved forward
into the thicket but the pure concussion that reached back for me was incredibly
strong. My entire body, in the prone position was lifted above the top of
the grass and dropped back to the earth banging my chin very smartly. It was
a hell of shot somebody had made. Since the Marines had actually witnessed
my body come up above the grass they now knew that I was not just somewhere
in front of the thicket, but was literally right in front of it. I heard the
same voice yell, "Hey! Don't worry! We won't fire another one."
To show them that he was still there, the enemy gunner immediately fired a
short burst towards the Marines. Christ!!! I had no idea how he was not being
affected. Boot as I was, I was not aware of all the weird holes and side holes
they dug inside of large rooted plants and trees that gave them such good
protection. But the other Marines knew. Somewhere with one of the other companies
on Go Noi were a tank and an amtrac. This was the one and only time that I
ever saw either with the bush companies in the bush. The tank was sent up
to get me.
I did not know there were tanks out with us. Until I began to hear and feel
the rumble. The tank approached the island straight ahead about one hundred
meters to my right. I heard the yelling of the Marines to tell me that they
were sending a tank to get me out. I suddenly returned to the normal world.
I was no longer alone waiting to die. I was elated momentarily. Then slowly
the elation began to die down as I tried to figure out how this tank was going
to "get me out." I couldn't see any reasonable way. The elation
dissipated but not the new found hope.
When the tank got to the same distance from the island that I was, it made
a 90 degree left and came straight at me as if to drive between me and the
bamboo thicket. Once it had made this turn, one of the crewman reached up
and grabbed the 50 caliber machine gun mounted on top of the tank and began
firing it as he swung it in a wide arc spraying the island from the top of
the trees to the bushes on the ground. And the tank continued to come at me.
I realized that the driver probably couldn't even see me laying in the grass
and the guy up on the 50 wasn't looking at anything but the island. I was
watching 52 tons of steel come at me and it wasn't slowing down or turning.
From some two to three hundred meters back, I could hear Marines yelling,
"Run! Run!" It was becoming clear that my options were limited.
I watched as the tank rolled up on me. I was waiting for the last second to
get as much tank cover as possible from the snipers back in the trees and
hopefully the closer it got the more likely the gook in the thicket would
have his head down. Just then the Marine up on the tank firing the 50 cal
turned and looked at me and yelled at me to run behind the tank. In the blink
of an eye, I did just that. The tank stopped right in front of the bamboo
thicket as I got behind it.
From behind the tank, I yelled up to the Marine telling him that the gook
was in the bamboo. He yelled back at me to run straight back to the company
keeping the tank between me and the island. He turned the 50 cal almost straight
down and fired into the thicket. I began to run. As I moved away from the
tank I knew that I was presenting a target to the snipers in the trees and
so did my feet because they moved like they never had before. The last grenade
in my pouch flew out somewhere in the grass as well as several other unidentified
items in my pockets. It didn't matter what it was. I was not slowing or stopping
for anything.
As I made my mad dash, I could see the heads of a couple of Marines as they
yelled for me to come to where they were at. When I got close enough, I dove
for them. As I slithered around in the dirt to bring my head up with the other
Marines, I realized I was in the same shell hole that I had sought cover in
early in the morning. But now it seemed like it was years ago. One of the
Marines looked at me and asked if I was okay. I said that I was but asked,
"Is it like this in Vietnam every day?" He responded with, "Nah.
It only gets this bad two or three times a week." I lay there thinking
of what had happened to me in front of that machine gun. I had been irrevocably
changed. I had accepted my own mortality and was no longer afraid of it. And
it was a good thing because it did not look like surviving 13 months of this
at two to three times a week was a good bet.
The tank
withdrew some 20 meters, swiveled its cannon around and blew the entire thicket
away. Then it retreated to the CP area some 100 meters behind us in some trees.
I thought of Doc Wright and his incredible selfless act to save us. And I
realized that he had, in fact, saved me. His example had prompted me, a scared
boot, to action which in the end was responsible for saving my life. I thanked
him and said a prayer for him.
Shortly thereafter, the air support arrived. Four Phantom jets. First they
dropped napalm on the island. This was my first view of an air strike. I was
astounded. The flames rolled through and totally engulfed the island. Nothing
could live through that and yet they did it again. And again. Four times they
hit the island with napalm. Then four times they hit it with HE (high explosive)
bombs that shook the earth and toppled the trees. Then, to my amazement, they
began making passes to strafe the island. I asked one of the Marines what
they were shooting at since I didn't think anything could have even survived
the napalm, much less the HE. He said, "Ol’ Mista Charles ain’t dead.
He's just sitting in one of his tunnels waiting for the jets to leave."
While the strafing runs were still going on, the Captain yelled to my Platoon
Commander to get the platoon ready to go get the bodies. He yelled to another
platoon to set up a base of fire to cover us. As the last strafing run was
made, we were told to move out running zig zag and get the dead Marines. I
was still of the mind that there were probably no live gooks though. The other
platoon laid down a very heavy volume of fire as we moved up. They kept shifting
the fire as we moved into its range. We did not receive any fire from the
island.
I purposely steered to where Doc Wright was. There had been no bomb or napalm
damage done to any of those that had been up there with me. It took four of
us to carry Doc back some 300 meters to the LZ. He had a large pack on and
one of the squad leaders said to carry him back with it on because it contained
medical supplies that we might need.
I could not take my eyes off Doc Wright. He was such a hero as well as a personal
angel to me. I studied his face. I then began to think of him just as a person.
His family. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. We had all lost so much in
this person.
The choppers finally came and took the dead and wounded. It was 1530 hours.
We had been at it for about 8 hours now. I had been extremely exposed to death
twice so far. I had undergone a psychic and emotional upheaval of the greatest
magnitude in front of the machine gun. I hadn't eaten or drank anything since
about 6 that morning. And it was over 100 degrees. I was totally wasted. My
stomach was in such knots that I couldn't put any food in it. But I began
to drink water ferociously. The Platoon Commander came over to me and warned
me to stop drinking like that. He also seemed aware of what I had been through
because he asked me if I thought I was going to make it through the rest of
the day. I assured him that I was capable of continuing. But when I said that,
neither one of us knew what the end of the day was going to be. If I had known,
I might have changed my response.
We assaulted the enemy positions again that day. The assault stalled at the
edge of the treeline where we spent the night in the grass. An assault the
next morning was successful.
(To Be Continued)
PRIOR
DAYS: SEPTEMBER 3, 1968
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 4, 1968
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 5, 1968
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 6, 7, 8, 1968
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 9, 1968
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 10, 1968
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 11, 1968
AFTERMATH
Killed
In Action
3-11 1SEPTEMBER 968
These Marines and FMF Corpsman stand proudly on the Mike 3/5 Wall of Honor. We will never forget. Semper Fidelis.
3 September 1968
Cpl.
Ricky Jerome Almanza (Silver Star)
M/3/5
Born on Oct. 16, 1947
From MOLINE, ILLINOIS
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 45W - - Line 30
SSgt.
George John Belancin
M/3/5
Born on Apr. 18, 1937
From PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 45W - - Line 30
LCpl.
Larry Dale Coats
M/3/5
Born on Aug. 1, 1948
From TWIN FALLS, IDAHO
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
Non-Hostile, died of illness/injury
GROUND CASUALTY
MALARIA
Panel 45W - - Line 31
Pfc.
Antonio Benavidez Hernandez
M/3/5
Born on Feb. 21, 1948
From ABILENE, TEXAS
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
OTHER EXPLOSIVE DEVICE
Panel 45W - - Line 32
Pfc.
Paul Edward Hyland
M/3/5
Born on Nov. 15, 1946
From DALLAS, TEXAS
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
OTHER EXPLOSIVE DEVICE
Panel 45W - - Line 32
Pfc.
Timothy Edward Shanower
M/3/5
Born on June 11, 1948
From PERRYSBURG, OHIO
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 45W - - Line 34
Memorial page
Pfc.
Michael Donvian Wilson
M/3/5
Born on Mar. 9, 1948
From LIMA, OHIO
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Body was recovered
Panel 45W - - Line 35
HN
Russell L Wright II
M/3/5
Born on July 9, 1947
From RICHMOND, VIRGINIA
Casualty was on Sept. 3, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 45W - - Line 34
Memorial page
11 September 1968
LCPL.
JERRY DON COPELAND
Born on Apr. 6, 1948
From OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLAHOMA
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 44W - - Line 22
PFC.
RICHARD GALE DANIELS
Born on Dec. 2, 1949
From COLUMBUS, OHIO
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 44W - - Line 23
PFC.
JAMES KENNETH HOYEZ
Born on Aug. 13, 1949
From ALBANY, OREGON
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 44W - - Line 25
PFC.
ARMANDO LOPEZ
Born on June 3, 1950
From LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 44W - - Line 27
PFC.
PHILLIP EDWARD SLAUGHTER
Born on Mar. 22, 1949
From KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
OTHER EXPLOSIVE DEVICE
Panel 44W - - Line 30
CPL.
DOUGLAS MARK SMITH
Born on Nov. 27, 1947
From NORTH TONAWANDA, NEW YORK
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
OTHER EXPLOSIVE DEVICE
Panel 44W - - Line 30
PFC.
THOMAS WILLIAM STEELE
Born on May 13, 1949
From COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 44W - - Line 31
PFC.
OWEN WHITE, JR.
Born on Oct. 14, 1947
From CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
Casualty was on Sept. 11, 1968
in QUANG NAM, SOUTH VIETNAM
HOSTILE, GROUND CASUALTY
GUN, SMALL ARMS FIRE
Panel 44W - - Line 33
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