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"
PRIOR DAYS: SEPTEMBER 5, 1968
It was just past midnight and everything went quiet immediately. There was no check by the NCO's or officers to insure the perimeter was set and each position knew where the neighboring ones were at. I don't even remember being told which way was "the front" much less a watch schedule being set up. I cannot state positively but I believe that the entire company fell victim to the total darkness and total exhaustion by all going to sleep or rather, into unconsciousness.
I awoke at first light along with a few others. There was still a very light rain in the air but there was no wind. As the light came through the trees, it revealed a scenario that showed the company's near complete breakdown of attention to its own security the night before when it set in. It turns out that we had set in both in and around an actual village. Nobody was aware of that until first light. Not only that but we were not in anything even resembling a perimeter. I was 90 degrees off on what I thought was my front. My squad's two positions were no more than 5 meters apart. To the right was a position about 20 meters away and behind a tree. To the left, it was about 40 meters to the closest position which may have actually thought that the direction to us was their front. No other positions were visible from where I was that could be considered part of anything resembling a "perimeter" form. Not a word of recrimination was spoken regarding the situation that we awoke to. I believe that ALL Marines, both officers and men, were completely shocked by what they saw and each knew that they had succumbed to fatigue before completing their jobs the night before. It was an unspoken knowledge that we had "lucked out" and escaped the worst case scenario that could have resulted from our negligence.
Within a few minutes of my rising, a rooster in the village began to crow. The rest of the Marines began to stir and rise to the same scene and the same shocking awareness of where we were and what conditions we had set in under. And how lucky we were to be waking up at all. As the squad leaders and platoon commanders woke up and realized what had happened, they individually overcame their own guilt and, without need for orders from above, initiated a search of the village. Fortunately, the village had been temporarily abandoned by the occupants. Fear of the rising waters of the river could be why. Fear of the Marine response to the mine incident right next to their village might be another. Fear of an NVA ambush that might have been set for the Marines at the river crossing before the storm struck might be another. Or any combination of these. Who knew? I think everybody just secretly thanked God that nobody in black pajamas had showed up amongst us in the darkness during the night for it surely would have been total chaos.
The wakeup and limited exercise of checking out the village caused another demand of physical need to suddenly claim everybody's attention. Hunger. Ravenous hunger. Most of us had not eaten for at least 24 hours. Only a few had managed to gulp something down while moving in the storm the day before. The villagers temporary absence was defined by the fact that they left their animals behind. It wasn't long before the Marines had confiscated a pig, chickens and eggs to make a massive home cooked meal. I, as many others, could not wait the length of time it took to prepare that meal. Several cans of C-rats were consumed as appetizers before the first pork, chicken and eggs were ready. But it was still one of those few glorious meals that one remembers for a lifetime.
By the time we finished breakfast the rain had completely stopped and the sun came out. Everybody was excited. We had slept off our exhaustion and fed our hunger with hot, homecooked food. And now the sun was beginning to dry our clothes. This was just about as good as it could get for a grunt. We began to move around in our now much better formed perimeter.
From
the other side of the perimeter, we heard busied voices and could now
see troops congregating just out of the perimeter. I went over there to
see what was up. The were at the edge of the treeline looking out back
towards where we had come from the day before. I moved up to where I could
see what everybody was looking at.
When I saw what it was I was stunned. Out on the grass plain probably
not more than five or six hundred meters was the amtrac that we had left
stuck in the mud the night before.
The first thing that struck me was how long it had taken us to get from there to the river bank the night before. It was over 2 hours I was sure. And I could hear confirmation of this from those who actually had watches. The second thing was the large number of various types of ammo sticking up out of the mud everywhere in front of the amtrac. It was all over the place. Though the rain had stopped and the sun came out, the water level out on the plain was still a couple of inches and the mud was still just as deep or deeper than last night. This was confirmed by the Company Commander since it was obvious that he was thinking about sending people back out there to police up the ammo. Though we were now rested it would still take about two hours to get back out there on foot with the mud that deep. I went back to my position and told the others about what I had seen. Everybody went to take a look.
Almost everybody who had dry socks in their pack were now putting them on. The old socks were being washed out in any pool of water around and hung on trees to dry. The dry socks only worked a little bit since our boots were still soaked but it felt good. The skin on our feet was all wrinkled and pale from being in water for a day.
We stayed in perimeter for more than two hours as the Captain consulted over the radio with whoever captains consult with at times like this. Finally, at around 8:30 it was passed that we would be choppered back to An Hoa. Nothing was said about the amtrac, the ammo in the mud, or the tank. Somebody else must be taking care of that.
By 9:00 we saddled up and moved to an area just outside of the treeline where the ground was flat and covered only with grass. This was to be the landing zone for the choppers that would ferry us to An Hoa. The company was arranged in chopper loads and these groups were staggered to spread them out all the way back into the trees. CH-46's were to be used for the transport and 14 fully loaded Marines per chopper was the designated load.
The choppers did not arrive at 9:00. Nor by 9:10. The Company Commander moved the first two groups that were in the open back into the treeline to avoid presenting a tempting target to any NVA in the area. I was in the second group. Just as we got back into the treeline the order was reversed. The choppers were on the way. Move back out towards the LZ.
The first
chopper came spiraling down. The pilot was warned about the mud but apparently
wasn't too concerned. Until he set the chopper down. All wheels sank immediately
to at least halfway. As the first group started towards the chopper, they
were stopped. The pilot had felt the sinking and wanted to pull up to
a hover before loading. He powered up and tried to lift the chopper out
of the mud. It did not work.
Oh, no! There goes our ride to An Hoa. Even a helicopter cannot pull its
own feet out this mud.
The pilot was not ready to give up though. He began doing with the helicopter what we did with our feet to get them out of the mud with each step. It was near impossible to pull your foot straight out of the mud. First, you had to sort of rock it back and forth and side to side until you could feel the air pocket underneath it give a little bit as air rushed in from above. Then you would have to quickly begin to pull your foot up in the same direction as the pull that had allowed air in until you felt it start to grab again. Then you changed to a straight up direction as quickly as possible while still pulling your foot. If you had gotten your foot far enough up in the first pull, you would have enough strength to break the second seal formed around your leg or ankle. If not, you had to repeat the process. Using this process, the chopper was able to break free within 3 or 4 minutes.
He then set the chopper into a hover some 1 or 2 feet above the mud and the first group of Marines went to load. This went instantly awry also. The Marines had no better luck getting through the mud and into the chopper. It took 5 or 6 minutes to load the chopper. As the second chopper circled above, the captain had some Marines walk around the area to find a better LZ. The LZ was shifted some 20 meters where the mud was only ankle deep instead of shin deep. I promptly soaked my clean dry socks as I boarded.
An Hoa looked pretty good. The red mud was everywhere but was not as deep as that on Go Noi. Hot showers, hot food, and mail. We were told to enjoy ourselves but make sure that we clean our gear and be ready to go back out the following day. They didn't say where and I didn't hear anybody ask. It was sort of a given in the Company at that time that we would be going into something very severe from the viewpoint of the grunt. There had not been any "easy" stuff assigned to the company for several months. The word was that things had been pretty bad on a nonstop basis since May of 1968. This word was sort of supported by the fact that there were less than 10 people in the company who had arrived before that time.
The rush to get us back out to the bush by the next morning hit a snag by that afternoon. The corpsmen were all reporting multiple "trenchfoot" problems in the company. The soaked and wrinkled skin on peoples' feet was tearing open. Feet were swelling. The Battalion Surgeon ordered a 3 day medical standdown. The troops were issued lots of foot powder and ordered to keep their feet dry and open to the air. "Wear thongs not boots." Thongs? There were some at the PX. Three pair or something like that. Bush Marines did not routinely carry thongs in their packs. Nor Panama hats, shorts, or even tap dancing shoes. But the three days was greatly appreciated anyway.
(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
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