While I had been gone, Khe Sanh Combat Base had become a source of political as well as military unease. Comparisons had already been made with the French Foreign Legion defeat at Dien Bien Phu, and President Johnson (possibly because he was a Texan who "Remembered the Alamo") was perhaps even more sensitive to the political and military ramifications. He had reportedly declared that "Khe Sanh ain't gonna be any goddamned Din Bin Phu!" and was definitely micro-managing the situation, having a sand box model he reportedly examined daily. It is certain that he instructed GEN Westmoreland and the USMC commanders to not lose Khe Sanh at any cost, and ordered that no Marine patrols venture any further than 500 meters outside the wire of the Combat Base, and that the Marines button up and let the USAF and other air assets do the fighting.

However, few (if any) battles have ever been won by air power alone, and no commander can wage a battle without solid regular intel, so the patrolling devolved to the MACV-SOG Special Forces troops manning FOB 3, who were under no such strictures - and sometimes, also to the CAP Marines who were now manning their lines, since we didn't come under the scrutiny of the Marine command next door at the Combat Base. A few patrols were mixed, due to the fact that we CAP Marines often knew the local area better (the SOG men usually operating much farther out), and constituted an extra American gun.

The following is a description of one such "mixed" patrol that went out soon after my return. Since I was not a participant, I have used the recollections of those who were on that mission to draw upon. These include CPT “Rip” Van Winkle of HF Denver (whose account is based on his own and other recollections, and on at least one After Action report done on or shortly after the day of the action, as well as on LCPL Lacey W. Lahren’s account written some time afterwards, and MSGT Bill Wood’s account, which, though written years later (4 Jan. 1997), is quite detailed and includes maps.

I will also be posting Lacey’s version of events along with Rip’s and Bill Wood’s full accounts - all of which, like most of the first-person accounts I have read, differ from one another in some respects. This seems typical of such accounts, not just from this war, but as far back as I have been able to trace throughout the ages.

Rip once said in one of his letters (while we were trying to collect and collate and reconcile the various accounts of our own action together (on Hill 471) that being the target of gunfire concentrates the mind wonderfully on one’s own situation. Very true, in my experience. As Bill Wood said in his letter to Rip regarding this action, “The problem with any biographical narrative is that the relator can only tell what he did and saw, himself. He usually has scant knowledge of what went on elsewhere. That's why S.L.A. Marshall's mass debriefing technique is so valuable for finding what really happened during any given operation.“ Though Marshall’s methodology and accuracy has sometimes been questioned, my own experiences in trying to collect, verify and collate these stories bears out these assessments of the difficulties of trying to make an accurate historic account - and trying to get some of those who experienced these events to share their experiences is sometimes akin to herding cats.

SF SOG Mission to Khe Sanh, 26th January 1968

COL Lowndes, (the Marine commander) requested MAJ Lucian Campbell (the FOB commander) to send a patrol into Khe Sanh village to ascertain its status and confirm reports that it had been occupied by the NVA. MAJ Campbell designated the men of Hatchet Force Denver, led by CPT Harlan E. ("Rip") Van Winkle, and consisting of Van Winkle, his incoming replacement, 1st LT Grenville Sutcliffe, SFC James Fusco, SGT Craig Lansing, SGT Don Rumph, SP5 John Frescura and twenty-four of their Bru C.I.D.G. counterparts, including one of the Bru leaders, A’Den.

Joining this veteran Special Forces SOG unit was a Marine volunteer "straphanger” LCPL Lacey W. Lahren of O-3, who had recently returned from “R&R”to Bangkok, Thailand, a period which he has called “The best five days of my life.”

(Ed. Note: To a Vietnam veteran, “R & R” doesn’t stand for “Rock & Roll” as this acronym is interpreted by most of our generation, but a week-long “Rest & Recuperation” leave to Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, or other exotic places in the region [though I don’t think most of us got any “rest” during these leaves, which usually amounted to week-long binges & orgies]. There were a variety of places to choose from, such as, which were served by military or contracted civilian airlines.)

Lacey had become acquainted with one of the Special Forces SOG men upon his return, SFC Fusco (aka “Fuzzy”), and told him that he wanted to go along, offering as incentives the facts that he was an expert rifleman who had been point man and led patrols for six months; knew all the local trails and fighting positions; was a qualified radio operator and A-gunner on mortars and machine guns; and was proficient with every weapon that he had (in his words) “stolen from the Army SOBs.” His closing argument was; “And besides, I’d just been to Bangkok!”

Whatever the reason(s), he was accepted by the HF Denver team and went out with them.

There was also what the SOG call a "Tack-On" mission - a walk-in insertion by one of the FOB’s Spike (Recon) teams consisting of a small group of US Army Special Forces soldiers and a unit of C.I.D.G. troops (Civilian Irregular Defense Groups were essentially mercenaries trained and led by SF troops and paid by the CIA.)

This Spike Team was led by MSGT Bill Wood, a highly experienced field soldier, and included SSGT Gary Crone (a medic), and a full complement of Bru C.I.D.G. troops, including Xon, who was the 1st Sgt. of the Bru Company, and Tu, who was carried as the interpreter and had been through some training to qualify him for that position. (However, Wood used Xon as his interpreter, though Tu had the title so as to give him more money. (See below for a picture of MSGT Wood and his team.)

At the team leader's discretion, the Spike Team would break away from the Hatchet Force and proceed on a separate reconnaissance mission. However, events soon dictated otherwise. (MSGT Wood’s team would also play a major and tragic role in another SOG / Marine hybrid mission two days later on Hill 471.)

SFC Fusco was leading the point element consisting (according to Rip’s version) of SFC Fusco, LCPL Lahren, SP5 John Frescura, and eight Bru including the Bru leader, A’Den, with the rest of the patrol staggered out along the route.

LCPL Lahren recollects the point as consisting of Fusco as number two man on the left with three Bru, with Lahren on the right with two more Bru as the trailing element, but this may have been the “tip of the spear” as Rip states that SP5 Frescura and three more Bru were the trail element of the point.

They exited on foot from the east gate of the Marine base and proceeded through the garbage dump, then South-East along the ridge through the coffee plantation to Highway 9 (the main road running East and West). At that point they would turn southwest and follow the highway into Khe Sanh.

The patrol moved out from the Marine base and though about 2 kilometers of the coffee plantation without incident, and the team connected with Highway 9 about 1.5 kilometers northeast of the “old French fort” and about 2.5 kilometers from Khe Sanh village. They by-passed the fort and proceeded directly to Khe Sanh (thus probably missing a potentially deadly encounter with NVA elements remaining from the Seymoe debacle, since reinforced with anti-aircraft guns.) The patrol then entered the village from the east on the south side of Highway 9.

According to MSGT Wood’s account, his Spike team “married up with” Rip’s Hatchet Force somewhere around this point; “I know we were tagging onto the tail of your column before we reached the small cement bridge (just big enough for a chopper pad) more or less in the middle of Khe Sanh town.”

Legend:

A. District Headquarters Building. Large, hip-roofed stucco or cement bldg. 1 stories high, w/ all fire coming from ground-floor windows, which were maybe 1 ft. from ground. Surrounded by clear yard, 75-100 meters wide on all sides. A few tall trees but no brush or low cover.

B. Bunker, about 10-15 meters from corner of bldg. Sometimes I picture it clearly, other times I'm just as positive that it didn't exist.

C. Wire 3 or 4 strand cattle fence, about 3-4 foot tall, w/ thin hedge growing in it. Cut by driveways. Lower, maybe 2-3 feet in front of District Hq.

D. Shallow ditch, 1-2 feet deep, cut by driveways running over culverts maybe 1 ft. in diameter.

E. Route #9

F. Row of buildings. Seemed to be shops on ground floor w/ living accommodations upstairs. All shops closed, all people gone.

G. Steep slope down to

H. Small stream, maybe 3-4 ft. wide, - 1 ft. deep

I. Buildings (Shacks?) set 10-15 meters from fence-hedge, w/ outbuildings around and behind them. I think this was the upscale section of Khe Sanh, but the buildings were flimsy. I recall no brick or even stucco construction.

J. Lane or alley behind Distr. Hq. Compound. Don't know where it led.

K. Where my Spike team moved to initially, so as to put flanking fire on those firing from Distr. Hq. Bldg. Routes to & from indicated.

L. After being recalled so gunships could be brought in I took position here, with Crone standing above me, Xon and Tu just outside District compound fence to my left rear, and most of Bru spread down the ditch to my rear. Since the Bru (gunner) was not operating the M-60 I took it to give covering fire so as to get back across the driveway the 6 or 7 guys stuck over there. Eventually fired up all the ammo the Bru had for that gun, and all the people got back across the driveway.

M. Railless cement bridge that made a pretty good chopper pad for casualty evacuation.

N. Path that ran from about this point to the road to our & the Marine camp gates, joining that road some hundreds of yards N. of the Plantation. After the casualties were evacuated, we returned to camp by this route while you & the Hatchet followed Hwy #9 and the road past the plantation.

O. Hill 471 & pimple, about 450-500 meters.

P. Bunker about 5-600 meters to the west, where the road curved to the left, and that an MG (or at least an AK or two with very fast magazine changers) was firing down the road at us from there.

Q. Approximate location of those stuck west of the driveway.

R. Approximate position of Rip & party. I thought they were upstairs, but Rip says they were hidden behind the 4x4 posts in front of a shop.

Fusco then signaled Van Winkle to come up, and the decision was made to send the point up the highway about fifty meters to the patrol’s front to the MACV compound, while Rip and 1stLT Sutcliffe with eight BRU moved through the houses on the north side of the highway, while MSGT Wood would take his team to the south side of the highway (to include the south side of the MACV compound). SGT Craig Lansing and SGT Don Rumph would move out about seventy-five meters behind the point and act as a reserve element.

Moving carefully and slowly, they advanced to a point approximately 150 meters east of the MACV compound. Rip later wrote that he “had almost come to the conclusion that if the NVA were there. they weren't there in strength.” (As in many American conclusions about the NVA, this would soon be proven to be in error.)

The point element proceeded to move out with Fusco "number two" in line on the left with three Montagnards, and LCPL Lahren with the radio on the right point with two Montagnards, and SP5 Frescura and his team trailing.

Here the versions again begin to differ somewhat. Van Winkle describes the point as moving to within about twenty meters of the gate leading into the MACV compound when heavy firing broke out from small arms and two machine guns inside the compound, but that nobody was hit during the initial fire.

However, LCPL Lahren describes Fusco as initiating “recon by fire” - e.g., firing random bursts at nearby buildings or possible enemy positions in an attempt to elicit return fire, but not receiving any until they reached the near vicinity of the former MACV compound, home of the sub-sector and CAP HQs - upon which the heavy firing opened up, and Lahren was hit shortly afterwards, a glancing blow on the knuckle that drew blood and then almost immediately again in the right shoulder. He also saw a Bru being hit, and all of the point ended up in the scant shelter afforded by a narrow and shallow ditch to their left. Lahren describes the ditch as being from “12 - 14 inches deep” and says the heavy fire was “plowing the front edge away.” He was also annoyed by the fact that Fusco wanted his magazines, because every time Fusco opened fire, the other side would respond with a fusillade which had so far resulted in Lahren’s being hit - and he was “tired of getting shot.”)

Lahren stated he knew they needed to get someone in position across the road, but as he prepared to attempt to rush it, he was hit again, this time in the left thigh. Lahren states that as Fusco was enquiring about his wounds, and asking for more magazines, Fusco also was lightly wounded in the neck. Fortunately, the wound was not as serious as Lahren’s, but things were looking rather glum at this point - and then the “cavalry” arrived, in the form of Van Winkle and Lansing.

MSGT Wood’s account of this period states: “About the time the head of the column reached the District Hq. Bldg. a few caps popped and everyone got into the shallow ditch that ran along the left (south) side of Hwy #9. Considerable shouting, etc. but no firefight, so after finding out where the fire was coming from I took my Spike through yards east of Distr. Hq. to the SE corner of the Distr. Compound, more or less - being careful to guard against NVA on my left. There were none, which sort of amazed me.

As I recall, there were no openings in the E. end of the Distr. Hq. Bldg. We put some fire on the doors and windows in the back (S. side), about a magazine apiece, but got no return fire. Then your radioman called us back to Hwy #9; you were calling in gunships. After some futile argument (I felt we were in a psn. that could cause the NVA some trouble) we fell back to the Hwy and most got into the ditch along with everyone else.

I wandered up toward the head of the column to find 6 or 7 people (including the Marine, about whom more later) stuck on the other (west) side of the 1st driveway into the Distr. Hq. Compound. No one seemed to be shooting so I laid out a few rounds w/ my CAR-15, without noticeable effect. ”

Van Winkle’s account states that when the firing broke out, he had been moving through some houses on the north side of Highway 9 with four Bru, and was able to move to a point directly across the road from Fusco where they located at least two enemy positions. Van Winkle also related a “black humor” incident, typical of those that can occur in war.

The four M-16s they could bring to bear were “not making much of an impression” so they decided to try the M-79, which they obtained from the wounded Lahren who had been carrying it. The problem was a high fence running past the compound less than twenty feet from Fusco and one of the Bru. Van Winkle was about twenty yards from the fence.

The gunner was unable to lob rounds over the fence to effectively bring fire on the NVA positions, so Fusco was beginning to feel the heat and said he would appreciate more action.

Van Winkle took the M-79, told Fusco to get his butt down and attempted to fire directly through the fence. The round didn't make it through, detonating in the wire.

(Ed. Note: This may have been a case of being “hoist by his own petard” as the barbed wire had been augmented by chicken wire, which, while it would do little to nothing to stop intruders, had been demonstrated to have the salubrious effect of detonating incoming rockets and [apparently] M-79 rounds before they reached our bunkers, thus reducing the penetration power of the shaped charges. It had been installed as part of the defensive improvements initiated some time before Tet, and served the defenders well during the initial assaults. Unfortunately, our forces were now trying to get back in to the previously abandoned works, which the enemy had occupied in the interim. Thus all the carefully and laboriously prepared defenses were now working against the Americans who had built them. C’est la guerre.)

The next instant Fusco was cussing and saying; "Damn it! Captain. You shot me!" The next round made it through the fence and took out the enemy position. (However, it was later learned that in fact an enemy round had inflicted the damage.)

Bill Wood’s account states: “about this time someone fired an M-79 round into the fence/hedge beside the ditch in front of Distr. Hq. This brought loud, outraged yells of accusation from those across the driveway.”

Meantime, Van Winkle states that "SP5 John Frescura had commandeered an M~60 machine gun from the Bru gunner and charged up the middle of the highway laying down a solid base of fire" (He was later awarded the Silver Star for this action). Under the cover of his fire and some belated gunship support, they were able to extract Fusco and the rest of the point element.

According to MSGT Wood’s account, he was also firing an M-60.

“I took an M-60 from a Bru who wasn't using it, got into the ditch at the driveway, and called across to the guys on the other side. I'd fire a burst, and as I was firing, one of them was to dash across the gap. Crone came up with Xon (my 01) and Tu (carried as my interpreter).

The 2 Bru got inside the fence along the Hwy. into the yard just E. of the District Compound & Crone either straddled me or stood up next to the fence. I shouted, we all fired, and those west of the driveway came across, one at a time. I think you were firing at this time, too, and possibly some others. But most of the Bru were strung out down the ditch behind me, where they couldn't bring fire to bear on the Distr. compound.

The first two across, I think, were Bru, then US's, w/ maybe another Bru or so mixed in (I was fairly busy, and it seemed more important to make sure they all got back, rather than who they were.) The first or second US across was the Marine, who was shot through the face or neck, below the jawbone but not in the throat. You wrote that this was one of your men, Fusco. I remember the Marine as being a heftier fellow than most of us, and with more throat below the jawbone.”

(Ed. Note: It is doubtful that Lacey was the “hefty” one - he was quite thin despite his five days R&R.)

Wood continues; "About this time Tu left - I think he was out of ammo - and I told Crone (who was a medic) to take a look at the guy with the wound, and he left, too. A Bru crawled up with another couple of belts for the M-60. A few more long bursts and everyone was back across the driveway. Xon left somewhere along here too, also out of ammo. I seem to recall that some more of the returnees were wounded slightly, and I think one of the US's coming back was being helped by a couple other Americans. Some more shouting that I didn't really pay much attention to. I laid out a couple more bursts, found I was getting low on ammo, and looked around to find I was all alone. Everyone else was gone.

Cursing mightily I started to pull back, and as I got up I noticed the muzzle flash from an apparent MG that was firing from a bunker where Hwy # 9 bent to the left, about 600 meters to the west. By the time I'd moved 150-175 meters back, I'd started down the slope to the bridge & he couldn't see me anymore. But I was also out of ammo, and became aware of someone moving among the houses on the S. side of the Hwy, back about 12-15 meters from the road. What's worse, they were shooting at me. I took to diving across the remaining driveways, but still, whoever it was (I think there was only one, or at most 2 of them) put a bullet through my boot, just above the sole at the instep. Fortunately, I was wearing a thick, Army issue arch support, which the bullet destroyed. Hurt my foot, too, but didn't break the skin.”

The patrol finally got some heavy air support when CPT Lee Dunlap (back on FOB 3) called a "Prairie Fire" emergency.

(Ed. Note: Bill Wood remembers the air as coming prior to the M-79 incident recounted above. Van Winkle wrote that he later learned that Lee was arrested by MAJ Wills, USMC Assistant Operations Officer for "unauthorized use of air assets” [!!!] As Van Winkle says, “…the only reason Lee had to use those assets was because the Marines refused to fire their artillery in support of the operation as requested, because some misguided soul thought there were still some "friendlies" in Khe Sanh village.”

Rip also stated; “...the political bureaucracy which we had to contend with in order to do the job was almost overwhelming. It would have been funny had it not been so tragic. COL Lowndes arrived on the scene just in time to defuse the situation. I don't think Lee was going to be taken alive.” CPT Dunlap would also call in a Prairie Fire for Rip a few days later - again saving his team from almost certain destruction by a numerically superior enemy force. I was on that patrol, and can say for all of us who survived as a result, “THANK YOU, Lee!!!”)

After being in contact for the better part of three hours the teams were able to withdraw and evacuate their dead and wounded. Lahren and Fusco was evacuated back to the MCB. Lahren wished to walk out, but was ordered to board the med-evac flight. In Lahren's own words:

“Fireballs rolled through the village fifty yards in front of us and we sighted down our rifles looking for targets, payback, payback. I asked if we were going back in to take the compound and I got a pretty emphatic no. ‘As soon as the medevac chopper gets you and Fusco out we're going back to the base.’ I said, ‘I feel fine I'll walk.’ ‘As soon as the chopper gets you and Fusco out we're going back.’ ‘I feel fine.’ ‘You're getting on the chopper.’

‘Fine.’ “

A CH-34 helicopter whop-whopped us back up to FOB 3 and in minutes we were in the command bunker. SF medics fished a slug out of my thigh and probed my shoulder wound. They couldn't get at the round in my shoulder and said I would have to be medevaced to DaNang. I said, ‘It’s just a little hole, give me a shot and a bandage, I feel fine, I'll come back if it bothers me.’ ‘No, the round has to come out and the wound needs to be debrided, we can't do that here.’ ‘But I feel fine.’ ‘You're going to DaNang.’ ‘Fine.’ “

Van Winkle wrote; “…in addition to Fusco's and Lahren’s wounds, A'Den, the Bru platoon leader that had replaced Lua, had been killed along with two other Bru. There were several other minor wounds but nothing to stop us from walking the five kilometers back to the FOB."

Wood wrote; “I came down to the bridge, where everyone was gathered, and grabbed my Spike members. Put 2 or 3 of them to watching up the road and the rest to guarding against any hostilities from the houses on the S. side. Someone had already called for Medevac. A couple officers were talking as I came up to the group, and one said: "So-and-So was the last man out." (I can't remember the name; may have been Bru.) Being still shaky from getting left behind, and from getting shot at when I was out of ammo, I remarked with some heat: 'No, by God, he was not. I was!'

The medevac bird arrived - I think it was a Marine H-34 - and the casualties were put aboard. I insisted that Crone go, too, as he had some small fragment wounds in his forearms, I think, face.

The Hatchet shook itself out and started down Hwy #9, toward the old French Fort. I gathered up my Spike and took a path that ran from just E. of the bridge to the road to camp, coming out there about 1/3 of the way from the Plantation to the turn-in to our camp gate. (An interesting speculation is, were the NVA on Hill 471 and the pimple just to the SE of it? If so, they could see us plainly, but we had no inkling of their presence.)

We turned onto the road to camp and got a radio call from the FOB: Was that us coming onto the road? Seems that the FOB CO had dispatched a support force to back us up. That force had met or seen you turning from Hwy #9 onto the road to camp, and had turned back. They saw my Spike entering the road, and wanted to know were we friend or enemy? I popped a panel at them, which seemed reassuring. And without further adventures we walked in the camp gate and down to our part of the perimeter on the west side, close to the southwest corner. When the rocket barrage started we were snug in our trench and bunkers.”

Van Winkle continued, “Just as we reached the gate at the FOB we were greeted by a heavy rocket barrage from the NVA. One of the hardest things I did all day was to keep all of the HF members from trying to run into the FOB compound and seek shelter in the bunkers. Obviously the safest place for us was on the outside of the perimeter.

When the incoming rounds seemed to have ceased we moved into the compound. MAJ Campbell and MAJ Quamo said that FOB radio operators had been monitoring the NVA radio net and that NVA leaders were concerned about still holding Khe Sanh, and were sending a larger force with which to reinforce. I commented they were welcome to it, that my mission had been to confirm they were there. They were.

…One cannot express the relief I felt when I was later informed the surgeon had removed an AK-47 round from his neck. We were both sure that it was fragments from the exploding M- 79 round that had caused his wound. We never considered the possibility of his being shot by an NVA rifleman at the exact moment I fired the M-79 into the fence. (Fusco survived that wound only to die of a heart attack while hunting shortly after his retirement.) ”

Meanwhile, LCPL Lahren had also been seen, but though they extracted a round in his leg, they had to send him on to Da Nang for further treatment, and from there was sent to the USS Sanctuary, a hospital ship off the coast. Of these events Lahren wrote;

“Things weren't going my way, maybe they hadn't all day but I just hadn't noticed it. As I stepped out of the bunker I came face to face with an SF Major who had some rhetorical questions about the gunfight. ‘Where's your gear?’ All I had left was my rifle and some magazines. ‘How many times you get hit?’ ‘Twice sir.’ ‘Twice! you know how many times I've been shot?’ He stuck a beefy hand with fingers splayed in my face. ‘Five times. I've been shot five times and I've never left my gear behind.’ Just what I needed, a role model who gets shot all the time. "

(Ed. Note: I don’t know who that major was, but I think his indictment was a bit harsh. While I can’t speak for him, I can state that during my subsequent expedition with the Special Forces, I was amazed at how much gear they jettisoned as we fought our way down 471. Marines, being on a much tighter budget, couldn’t afford to be so free, and we had been taught to not leave anything behind for “Mr. Charles” to come along and hoover up, because it might come back to bite us in the rump. See my account of 471 [below] for further details.)

Lahren continued; “Four Marines from my platoon had walked up behind me, they looked pretty grim, things were about to go high order. I walked off a few feet with them and showed them the slug from my leg, all I had to show for the day. They passed my trophy around, expertly assessed that it was probably a 30 caliber round, acted duly impressed, and the last one flicked it off his thumb like a booger. Damn. What they didn't know, what the Major didn't know, was that in the left pocket of my shirt, at the bottom of the river, was a pair of panties given to me by a girl named Lucky in Bangkok. Irony upon irony.

Fuzzy and I were taken to a sandbagged hootch near the airstrip where a Navy Corpsman was tending the wounded waiting for a medevac to the Naval Support Activity Hospital in DaNang. Fuzzy was on a stretcher, semi-conscious and muttering and I was trying to keep him company. I was feeling a little shot up and a lot shit upon when I looked up and saw three heavily armed figures silhouetted in the glare of the nearly horizontal rays of the afternoon sun. Van Winkle, Crone, and another Green Beret had just returned from the patrol and had come to check on Fusco and me.

Van Winkle thanked me for my help and said he was putting me in for the Bronze Star. I couldn't answer, I choked up. What a rollercoaster. Fusco tried to raise up off the stretcher and said, "Captain, where are my boys, did I get my boys killed, where are my boys Captain".

Three days later Crone was killed on Hill 471 and Captain Van Winkle took shrapnel in the legs. I never saw the team again.

(Ed. Note: In addition to Crone, 471 cost the lives of SFC Chuck Tredinnick and several more of our Bru counterparts, as well as the serious wounding of 1st LT Sutcliffe and several Bru. This was followed by the almost immediate rotation of Van Winkle and his team, which caused more confusion, due to his family being incorrectly notified first that he had been KIA or seriously WIA. Between the confusion and the fact that he had lost a close friend (Tredinnick), his intention to put Lahren (and later me) in for a medal had been completely blown out of his mind. Furthermore, he did not have much information about us, having only known us for a few hours on the days of the actions. When I located him in the early ‘90s, he said he had been “remiss” in not putting us in. However, I can understand the confusion surrounding both the fights and the events thereafter.

MSGT Wood also spoke in his letter to Rip of a medal for Lacey, writing in his usual droll fashion, “I suggested to a couple of your (Rip’s) NCOs that they put that guy in for a medal, deserved or not, for his efforts w/ us. Preferably an ARCOM. (Army Commendation Medal) That, I figured, would send the Marine Corps into orbit.” It is quite likely it would have.

Rip thought Lacey’s efforts worth a medal, and he told me as much when we had our first reunion in 1993. But like my own citation, his was fogotten in the maelstrom that followed.

Not everyone who deserves a medal gets one. Medals are distributed, as Napoleon (one of the first European commanders to distribute medals to enlisted men) intended them [like executions for cowardice or desertion - in the words of Voltaire, “Pour encourager les autres” - for the encouragement of others. Likewise, not every person who gets one deserves it.)

Lahren continued; “The last time I saw Fuzzy he was slabbed out in Da Nang and three Corpsman were trying to get me back on a gurney. He asked me about his boys. I lied to him. Two Bru died of wounds on that patrol. They told me Fuzzy would be all right and that he was being flown to Japan.”

LCPL Lahren was later sent on to the Hospital Ship USS Sanctuary. He wrote of this period:

“The tinny smell of oxidizing blood and the congealing puddle on my plastic sheet alerted me through my anesthesia. I whispered corpsman, and a couple pints of plasma were drained into me as they wheeled me out of the darkness and moans of the recovery room and back into the glare of the operating room. Nobody's fault. During the night a nicked artery had ruptured in my shoulder wound.

After three days I was ambulatory and assigned to run the elevator that took the incoming wounded from the flight deck down to x-ray, the first stop. Therapy I guess. Make you feel useful, a part of things. I saw Marines die on my elevator, I saw the light go out in their eyes. It was a very busy time, Tet. I asked to get off the ship. They said three weeks. In twelve days I was back in Phu Bai.

The 3rd Combined Action Group had reassigned me to Alpha Company in the Phu Bai area. They said nothing was going back to Khe Sanh except food and ammunition. Nothing was coming out except wounded, not even the dead. It took me five days and three aborted landings to get back to Khe Sanh.

I made new friends on the SOG teams and I patrolled until my platoon rotated out of Khe Sanh in April. I had a new pair of jungle boots, both size nine, I had time in country, and this was just another work day.”

Bill Wood’s letter to Rip summarized his thoughts on the day. “I don't think there were more than 1 plt. of NVA in Khe Sanh town on the day we were there. (This is hindsight speaking. On that day I'd have said considerably more.) But no one was outflanking me, until the very last moments of the fracas-but if Charlie had any men at all, he'd flank you by the time the second round was fired! The fire I took from the houses S. of the road was, I think, from 1 or at most 2 (probably 2--Viets usually did NOT operate alone) people. And yet, we could easily have been outflanked, either down the ravine behind the houses you were in/around, or into the houses S. of Hwy 9.”

MSGT Wood's assessment of enemy numbers is probably not too far off the mark, as the elements of the 66th Regiment who had assaulted the village had, as noted above, been largely decimated. It is probable that the NVA were neither prepared for such a large loss as they suffered nor willing to risk more immediately, as they doubtless expected further attempts to regain the District HQ compound, such as those proposed and desired by Robert Brewer, the CIA agent for Quang Tri. They were probably also lying low to avoid the devastating American air and artillery missions. However, since the Marines were both unwilling and (after the explosion of the ammo dump) unable to support any outlying positions, it is unlikely the the compound could have been held even if it were retaken.

As mentioned elsewhere, I had been med-evaced to NSA Da Nang with malaria and pneumonia before the assaults on Khe Sanh. Toward the end of my hospitalization, I was scheduled to be re-assigned to Cam Rahn Bay to the Army recuperation center there for a further 30 days, but as Tet had already begun, I wanted nothing but to return to my unit and learn the fate of my comrades.

I first had to convince the admitting doctor that I was fit to fight. That was difficult, as I wasn't and obviously looked it. However, I was determined to get back. While trying to wheedle, cajole, and verbally brow-beat the admitting doctor around to my way of thinking, I noticed men who seemed to be patients filling sand bags. I asked the doctor if they were expecting an attack (and sweating the prospect, because my weapon had been turned in at Khe Sanh before I left). He chuckled and replied, "No. The general likes to have sandbags along the sidewalks -- he thinks it makes the place look military. We treat it as 'occupational therapy.' " I replied, "Sir, if I am going to be filling sand bags, I want to be filling them to cover my ass and my buddies' -- not to line some general's sidewalks!" That seemed to turn the trick. He replied cheerfully, "You Marines are all crazy!" and wrote me back to duty, checking me out before I had even checked in! According to my SRB, I was returned to duty on January 24th, 1968.

However, it took me three more days to get any transport, due to the huge onslaught of the NVA nationwide during this offensive. The flights were crammed -- going out with fresh troops, as well as the "Three Bs" every fighting unit needs -- "Beans, Bullets, and Bandages" and coming back with casualties.

I ran into an obnoxious Army MP NCO, while I was trying to get a flight back. He had pressed and ironed and starched jungle fatigues, spit-shined jump boots, and was packing a lot more pudge than he would have been if he had humped a few klicks with a pack and war-gear out in the bush.

Looking at my hodge-podge uniform, which at the time I was med-evaced consisted of a pair of worn-out jungle boots, a rather tight pair of tiger-stripe indigenous utility trousers (meant for the native troops), a Marine green wool cold weather shirt, a Navy watch sweater, and my Scottish balmoral, he looked at me with suspicion and disdain, and asked; "What kind of uniform is THAT supposed to be, and what is your unit?" I repressed the strong urge to tell him to go use himself for a sex partner, and instead just told him I had come down from Khe Sanh for a hospital visit and was trying to get back. He grudgingly accepted this, but said if I wasn't out of there soon, he'd write me up. He was clearly a REMF of the worst kind. Many men in the rear are there because they are ordered to be, not because they want to be. I have no problem with them. They were doing necessary jobs. He obviously was not one of those men, but a petty little apparatchik, full of himself and his petty ration of "power".

As anxious as I was to get back to my unit, I cannot say that the real beds and clean sheets, hot showers, hot chow, cold drinks and air-conditioned night-club (with live bands and strippers) at the air base were hard to take. Nevertheless, I still got the first flight to Khe Sanh I could get aboard - a chopper inbound with ammo, rations, and me. We came in and were immediately taken under fire. The chopper crew threw off their load and the passengers ran to the nearest trenches, all quickly learning the infamous "Khe Sanh Shuffle" en route to avoid becoming a casualty. Welcome back to Khe Sanh!

Locating my unit (who as mentioned above had been relocated on FOB-3 adjacent to the Khe Sanh Combat Base), I quickly learned about the events that had recently transpired - and that my own gear (except my Scottish Standard) had been left behind in the evacuation. According to Jim White's (O-3) daily journal, which agrees with my recollection, I arrived back from the hospital on January 27th, 1968, the day after the mission to the village.

My comrades were very surprised to see me, the more so when I told him about the great conditions I have been living under for the past couple of weeks. More than one of them said then (and still say) that if they had the good fortune to be there, they would be there still, and called me a damned fool (among other less printable epithets) for coming back. Though I soon realized that they were probably right, I did not regret my rejoining them - though I was more than a bit jealous of the NVA guns, belts, knives and other souvenirs of the fight that they had acquired, and indeed, I was jealous of the magnitude of the battle they had fought and won. Little did I know that my own day of action was coming fast, although it would not leave me with any such colorful souvenirs (though the "souvenirs" I did acquire later have lasted a lifetime).

Unfortunately, neither PFC Tyson nor any of the others had recovered my bagpipes (whether because they were severely limited to what they could take, or possibly a lack of appreciation for that musical genre or my own fledgling skills, I am still not sure).

When LT Sutcliffe found out, he told me that he loved bagpipes, and volunteered to retrieve them for me if he went on any further missions to Khe Sanh ville. However, since the patrol on the 26th had found a very warm reception from Khe Sanh's new occupants, there were no more excursions to the village, and the pipes remained a "combat loss" along with most of my personal gear and souvenirs. (I have often wondered if they survived the Siege, and if so, whether they are now gracing some Vietnamese mantle, with the owner telling "war stories" about how he had captured the strange beast, and what a fight it had put up!)

I also learned that my rifle had either been turned in when I went to the hospital, or possibly left behind (and hopefully destroyed) when they evacuated the village. Likewise, my pistol had disappeared. There were initially few weapons to be had, as the Marines of the combat base did not want to give us much of anything, and the Special Forces wanted to reserve their weapons for themselves and their native troops.

As bad as that M-16 had been (having jammed multiple times in firefights), it had at least been some kind of weapon. I ended up scrounging a very old, dirty, and rusty M-1 rifle that might well have been issued to some Marine or soldier in World War II or Korea. - and obviously had not been cleaned since! I was not at all sure it would even fire, and if it did, it might not explode. Eventually, someone obtained an old M-16 for me, though it was in only marginally better condition than the M-1. I obtained a few magazines and some ammunition, and a rusty and dirty old bayonet, cleaned the relics up the best way I could (with almost no cleaning gear or solvent), and hoped for the best.

Later, I would gather a very nice collection of very deadly weapons ranging from another .45 pistol to an M-1 carbine in decent shape (though frankly, the .30 carbine round was too under-powered for real combat), a Kabar knife, an M-79 grenade launcher with the stock cut off at the pistol grip and part of the barrel sawed off (which I wore when outside the wire as a sort of blunderbuss pistol, loaded with flechette), and of course, a bag of grenades. In our corner bunker, I also had a Browning .30 A4 air-cooled MG of Korean War vintage with a pistol grip that had been originally intended for the Viet indigenous forces. All of these made me feel a bit more secure - despite knowing that the countryside and hills around us (other than those the Marines had secured) were alive with NVA. How many, we weren't sure but the rumor mill put their numbers at as much as three divisions. If so, we were decidedly outnumbered - but I (and I believe most of us) were determined not to be outfought - at least not without exacting a steep price.

Army Special Forces Ambush and Rescue Operations on Hill 471, 29 January, 1968

After the initial assault on Khe Sanh village, Combined Action Company Oscar and all other American units were withdrawn to the Khe Sanh Combat Base. However, the Marine command, perhaps fearing some might be enemy agents, refused entry to our Bru allies. Fortunately, the command of Special Forces Forward Operating Base 3 were glad to get our Bru soldiers, as they recruited Bru from the same tribes we did for service in their CIDG units. They were so happy to get more Bru, they were even willing to take the Marines! As a result, we fought and worked alongside them for the duration of the Siege, and occasionally ran patrols and outposts for them. In a few instances, we participated as volunteers in their operations. This describes one of those actions.

(The following information was taken mainly from a letter and account of the action written March 10, 1997 from the late MSGT Bill Wood to MAJ Harlan E. Van Winkle, US Army Special Forces, and to a lesser extent from the less accurate official records.)

MSG Bill Wood and his team ran a mission to Hill 471 (Grid 847393, Huong Hoa map sheet 6342 III, series L7014, Vietnam 1:50,000), about 2.5 kilometers south of the Khe Sanh Combat Base on the morning of 29 January, 1968. The team consisted of himself, SFC Don Voorhees, SSG Gary Crone, and Bru CIDG soldiers Xon, To, Tu, and 7 other Bru whose names are not known, with SP5 Mike Mahoney as a volunteer "straphanger." All the team except MSG Wood, SSG Crone, and one of the Bru were new.

The team was ambushed shortly after reaching the saddle of Hill 471 and came under heavy enemy fire, resulting in the team being split into three parts. One element consisted of MSG Wood and SSG Gary Crone, the second consisted of SFC Voorhees, and five of the remaining Bru CIDG accompanying them, and the third consisted of SP5 Michael Mahoney and at least two Bru CIDG. (Note: Several of the Bru team members are not accounted for in any of the records I currently have access to.)

SSG Crone was KIA by enemy fire while trying to call in support, and his radio (the only one the team had) was rendered completely inoperable. MSG Wood was unable to recover SSG Crone's remains alone, so he rejoined SFC Voorhees and his segment of the team, which had already suffered two Bru casualties - their M-79 gunner was KIA and Xon was WIA.

SP5 Mahoney was not with SFC Voorhees' group. According to the official record, he had attempted to cover the retreat of his comrades and was hit by enemy fire. However, the official record errs in listing him as being KIA at this time, as an American was reported alive and moving by several observers at KSCB and FOB 3, at least as late as the time our relief force launched to recover the casualties. Since SSG Crone was undoubtedly KIA at the onset, that leaves only one possible American unaccounted for - SP5 Mahoney. (See below for details.)

MSG Wood and SFC Voorhees determined to withdraw, as they had heavy casualties (Including SSG Crone SP5 Mahoney; and several Bru KIA / WIA / MIA no communications, and were seriously outnumbered. During the withdrawal, MSG Wood was wounded in the leg and Tu, one of the Bru CIDG, was KIA. Unable to communicate otherwise, MSG Wood wrote down a situation report and handed it to one of the remaining Bru CIDG with instructions to try to evade the enemy and get back to FOB 3.

After the Bru had left on his mission, an H-34 helicopter piloted by LT Thieu, a Vietnamese pilot, dropped in suddenly despite the danger, and picked up MSG Wood, SFC Voorhees, and the remaining Bru CIDG. The LZ was too hot to recover any of the casualties, and SP5 Mahoney and his Bru were not in view at that time.

Shortly after MSG Wood's med-evac, an American Special Forces team, HF Denver, plus the author as a volunteer "straphanger" augmented by Bru CIDG forces, were assembled to attempt to recover SFC Crone's remains, MIA SP5 Mahoney and the other KIA / WIAs.

Much of the following is drawn from the written account of the team leader, CPT H. E. "Rip" Van Winkle, as edited and updated by the writer. It is based on contemporary after-action reports, maps, official accounts, and personal recollections of the surviving team members.

"I was unable to speak to the wounded team leader prior to his medevac, which left a large gap in first hand information. This lack proved critical in all subsequent mission decisions. The decision was made to go in with eight Americans and sixteen Bru."

(Ed. Note: Such knowledge probably would have been of small value in any case, as MSG Wood's estimate of enemy forces was either low, or the enemy had placed more troops in the area between the ambush of Wood's team and the arrival of HF Denver.)

The American team members were:

CPT Harlan E. 'Rip' Van Winkle, XO, "A" 221

1LT Grenville Sutcliffe, FOB 3 Assistant S-3 Officer (Rip's designated replacement).

SFC Robert Scully, Medic, FOB 3

SFC Charles N. Tredinnick, Senior Combat Engineer. "A" 221

SGT Dennis C. Lansing, Junior Communications NCO, "A" 221

SGT Donald R. Rumph, Junior Medic "A" 221

SP5 John L. Frescura, Junior Combat Engineer. "A" 221

PFC Freeman J. Taylor, USMC, CAP O-2 (volunteer)

"We lifted off at 1135 hours and inserted on the southeastern point of the ridge-line of Hill 471. The insertion went off without problems. Cover was non-existent and concealment limited to a stand of elephant grass that averaged less than three feet in height and a few scraggly bushes.

We set up a hasty perimeter with SFC Tredinnick. SP5 Frescura and four Bru took the east, SGT Lansing, SGT Rumph and four Bru were covering the north. 1LT Sutcliffe, SFC Scully and four Bru covered west, while PFC Taylor and I, with the remaining four Bru covered the south. The saddle where the bodies were located was to the front of Tredinnick and Frescura.

Tredinnick took three Bru and moved forward, down into the saddle and up to the top of the small peak on the other side, a distance of perhaps 150-175 meters. They did not locate the bodies or make any contact. However, Tredinnick relayed that he had spotted a large force of enemy ground troops attempting to encircle us from the east. I instructed him to return to the ridgeline and reestablish the perimeter.

Upon his return, he moved to my position. We were discussing our situation when we heard and spotted movement in a small bush directly to our front, probably less than six feet away. Tredinnick asked; "What was that?" just before we were fired upon by an enemy rifleman from a well concealed fighting position. The rounds passed between us. How they missed hitting us, I'll never know. We returned fire and I dropped an M-26 fragmentation grenade into the hole.

A short time later 1LT Sutcliffe received a serious wound in the throat while using the radio to get and coordinate support. Taylor went to him, then SFC Scully, who was was already working on him when Tredinnick and I went to him. Tredinnick started back to his position on the perimeter. I turned my attention to getting fire support. We received fire from every point except the north, with the heaviest coming from the west and southeast.

A literal storm of enemy hand grenades were then thrown into our position. Some reports stated the sky turned "black" with grenades. PFC Taylor shouted a warning and gave me a "friendly" shove. For as many grenades as were thrown, there seemed to be a lot of "duds". Others did not explode with nearly the force of US grenades. One of the weaker ones went off between my legs and I received a dozen or so painful, but not disabling, fragmentation wounds.

I heard the distinctive sound of a bullet strike someone behind me. I turned and saw Tredinnick lying on the ground.

(Ed. Note: SFC Tredinnick had been heading back to his exposed position to rally his strikers.)

SGT Rumph, PFC Taylor and I converged on him. He had been wounded low down on the left side of his chest. The entrance wound was very small but the exit wound was massive. His last words to me were; "It hurts real bad, sir." Rumph and Taylor were performing immediate first aid, and I put all of my effort to moving us some place reasonably safe for a medevac.

(Ed. Note: SFC Sculley and SGT Rumph, the two medics on the ground, deserve special mention for their valiant action under fire. Both tended the wounded and dying American and Bru troops with cool and calm skill, even though they were continually subjected and exposed to a withering concentration of enemy fire.)

The volume of enemy fire was such that I felt we were in danger of being overrun at any point. Fire support was limited to our helicopter gunships, unable to do much because of the close proximity of the two forces. During one of the gunship runs, the door gunner missed Taylor and me by less than six inches and shot La, the Bru platoon leader in both legs, shattering both of them. I don't fault the gunner. He was doing his best to provide needed support under very trying circumstances. We had not received any fire from the north, and SGT Rumph, SFC Scully, and PFC Taylor were already hauling wounded down the steep north slope of the hill.

SGT Lansing had turned his attention to the threat from the south and west, focusing on a small gully that led from the south slope directly into our position. While positioning his Bru machine gunner, Pa Lang, to cover this approach, the gunner was shot dead, and the entire element was pinned down. By then, the only Americans still on the hill and carrying on the fight were SGT Lansing, SP5 Frescura and myself. The others were either wounded or assisting with the wounded. Perhaps ten or eleven of the Bru were also still firing.

We started to ease back from the south slope trying to put a little distance between us and the enemy. The width of the ridge line where we were was less than sixty meters and the enemy owned at least a third of that. By getting my force down below the crest on the north side, I was finally able to call in some air strikes. We had been on the ground over an hour and the fight itself was about forty-five minutes old.

The Forward Air Controller (FAC) on hand when we inserted had to leave us to refuel. He was replaced by a USMC FAC with the call sign of "American Beauty Delta". This gentleman deserves a lot of credit for getting the rest of us off the hill alive with little further damage. The manner in which he coordinated all of the air support into that one small area without doing us any more damage was nothing short of phenomenal. He was also dealing with two battalion size enemy units within 400-500 meters that were trying to get between us and the FOB.

(Ed. Note: We didn't know it till later, but the late MAJ Lee Dunlap, Rip's senior, fed up with the lack of support from the Marines and worried abiut his team, had authorized a "Prairie Fire" mission, wherein all attack aircraft, ships and other fire-support avaialable could be diverted to help a Special Forces team in trouble - despite a Marine officer from the combat base trying to stop him. With the number of casualties we were taking and the number of enemy forces shooting at us (with more maneuvering towards us), I'd say if any unit was ever in trouble, we were.)

We were able to gain some fire superiority with the help of US Army and USMC gunships and some pinpoint bombing from USAF "fast-movers" in the area. One USAF pilot stated his ordnance was napalm and cluster bomb units, but that we were too close to the impact area for him to drop it. I told American Beauty Delta that without the support, we would have more serious problems. The air strike came in on target.

I can't estimate the amount of ordnance expended on our behalf that afternoon. It was all considered "Danger Close" and that even with all of the helicopter gunship rocket runs, and numerous 250 pound bombs, followed with CBU's, the enemy pressure was still very intense. Not until they dropped the napalm did the close-in enemy fire disappear.

We were finally able to get two medevac helicopters in. One was a US Army Medevac and the other was one of MACV-SOG's King Bees (H-34), one of the helicopters we had inserted on earlier. SFC Dick Sweezy, the senior medic on A-221, had offered his assistance and came in with the US Army medevac ship. He stated that he couldn't understand why we were having such difficulty loading the wounded. The ship he was in crash-landed at the FOB, with over two hundred new bullet holes.

(Ed. Note: SFC Sweezy and the chopper crews also deserve recognition for their great valor in coming into a very hot LZ and staying long enough to take our wounded, dying, and dead out. Their valor was the more exceptional since they were in no way obligated to land in a hot LZ. They acted as volunteers, at risk of their own lives, to help their comrades.)

I estimate the unit which initiated fire on us was at least a reinforced platoon, and there were much larger units (estimated at two battalions) seen during the fight in the near vicinity.

(Ed. Note: According to reports from personnel observing the action, including the FAC and ground observers at KSCB, the number of enemy engaged was a reinforced company, with battalion-sized elements closing fast.)

SFC Tredinnick was mortally wounded. He was awarded the Silver Star for his actions that day. We lost one Bru KIA and had two Americans WIA and six Bru WIA. Following the final medevac and seeing all survivors were off the hill, we finally moved by foot back to the FOB. We were met about 600 meters from the gate by a rescue unit lead by SFC Robert Cavanaugh. He gave me the word that Tredinnick had died. All of that and we did not accomplish what we set out to do."

The missing remains from MSGT Wood's team were eventually recovered in April 1968 by a Marine unit and a team led by CPT Hammond Salley, which included SF medic Denis Chericone. (See In Memoriam for details on the casualties .)

Other Patrols and Incidents

Another incident from this period stands out. Even after the Marines stopped going out, FOB continued to run patrols, and used us several times for LPs and OPs (listening and observation posts), and other patrols and duties with or for our Special Forces hosts in return for their hospitality.

On one of these, we took Hom, the ranking PF NCO, who was a fascinating example of the ultimate warrior. The Bru called him "the Ghost" because they believed he was supernatural. (So did we!) We Marines called him the Sergeant Major because of the USMC SGTMAJ insignia he wore on his Marine Corps issue “cover” (the Marine term for a hat).

He was a "Chieu Hoi" (for the Vietnamese program trying to entice the Viet Minh and NVA to defect), and had changed sides. I heard that he was about nine years old when he first went to war. He had served with the Viet Minh against the French, then against the Japanese in WW II, then against the French again, then the Americans, and finally he had come over to our side. He had scars from many fights. He was tough, wiry, and knew his trade and bush-craft well. He was probably only in his forties, but seemed older, yet somehow timeless. He could disappear in the bush and reappear almost magically, and see and read trail sign that even the experienced trackers might miss. He was probably in his forties, but seemed older, yet somehow timeless. He had been wounded many times, several of them had been severe, and his body was streaked with scars. He could do phenomenal things in the bush, disappear and reappear almost magically, see and read trail sign that most of us didn't even notice.

On this occasion, there were about eight of us including Dan Kelley and Joe Potter. I can't remember the others. The Sergeant-Major went on a night patrol / ambush which took us through the nearby ruined Bru ville of Tacon. There were shell-holes, fires were burning, and destroyed buildings and devastation everywhere you looked. It seemed to me as though we were in Hell. I suppose in a way that we were. I remember stepping on something soft & yielding, and feeling sick to my stomach, thinking it was a corpse. I looked down, and saw it was only the body of a poor pig, killed in the shelling.

The Sergeant-Major stopped the patrol there, knelt down, put his fingers to the earth, and tasted and smelled a clod of earth. Then he said, "Many VC pass, little while ago." He knew who had passed, when, and had an idea of their numbers - all by smell, taste and instinct, on a pitch-black night lit only by the fires of the burning village.

We were only supposed to be out overnight. We went out in the late afternoon or early evening, and set up an ambush near the base. I had the rear security with a few Bru. Potter, Kelley, and the rest were the ambush team.

We had been set in for some time when there was a sudden burst of fire from the direction of the ambush site. I had instructed my Bru to hold their fire till commanded to shoot. Suddenly, men burst through our site! It was too dark to see them clearly. I could not even tell for sure if they were Vietnamese or Americans. My Bru wanted to shoot. "Ban, Trung-si, ban??" ("Shoot, sergeant, shoot!") I replied; "Tabun ban!" ("No Shoot!").

(Note: trung-si means sergeant or petty officer - I was just a newly minted lance-coprporal at the time, but the term was used by our counterparts as a sort of honorific.)

To this day, I couldn't tell you why I did not shoot those shadowy fleeing figures, but as it happened, they were our men! The enemy had assaulted through the ambush, and broken our line. As per our prior plans, when they were broken, they headed for the rally point, but in the darkness and confusion, they mistakenly went through the rear security element (us) - which nearly got them killed.

The ambush, though not a complete success, must have made someone awfully mad. I don't know who our ambush killed, but the enemy sent a large force against us, estimated by a Bru villager we came across as over 300. We were cut off from our lines by the NVA.

We narrowly evaded capture or destruction by the enemy. At one point, we were sure we would be taken or killed, and we exchanged addresses and promises to contact each other's families if we survived. We were harboring in a trench near the destroyed Bru ville. We knew the enemy was out there, looking for us, but the fog was thick.

By our second night out, we were all a bit punchy due to lack of food and sleep, and the effects of amphetamines our Corpsman had given us to help stay awake. I recall we actually believed we "saw" a truck driving up the side of a hill, and a sentry, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a stump. Next morning we saw there was no road or trail, no truck, or anything like it! The "sentry" was only the stump of a shattered tree.

However, we managed to escape their patrols, and eventually make our way back in. I ate three boxes of C-rations at one sitting (we had only taken enough for one day), and "crashed" for forty-eight straight! Only got up to answer the calls of nature, and slept through some rather lively shellings.

It is ironic that I read soon after in a stateside paper that "Marines Dare Not Cross the Wire at Khe Sanh". I was wondering which Marines at which Khe Sanh they were talking about. This illustrates the sometimes inaccurate journalism written about Vietnam.