GETTING LOST

 

Running around blind in enemy territory is not a good thing. When you don’t know where you are to call in fire support or extraction, bad things can happen.

 

After moving from one part of Quang-Tri area west, we got our GP tents set up. There wasn’t any formed line of infantry protection.

 

It was wide open to the west. In other words, if you went 2 feet passed the Offices and SNCOs quarters you were in enemy country, especially so since we were in enemy country all the time. There wasn’t a safe place, anywhere. Your bunk on pallets, the showers, or to the head it didn’t make any difference. The enemy was always present. This included the Momma-Sahn’s, who if you were lucky enough and had the money, you could have one get your laundry done or clean the place up.

 

I was still a recon team member. Our team quarters were right next door to the CO’s tent. I started carrying the M79 grenade launcher as per the orders from my team leader.

 

I loved it. The only thing that I didn’t like was the strap on the ammo carrier. They were so small and narrow that the weight of the ammo pulled and it would leave a deep indentation on your shoulder.

 

I was never given any real training by the team leader or team members on how to conduct myself as a “Recon” Marine. It was OJT (on the job training). At the time, we numbered about 6-8 Marines, included in that was our Corpsman, aka “DOC.”

 

I went on probably ten patrols with this team most of who were getting short. I can remember two very distinct incidents that I will never forget with this Recon Team Leader.

 

I don’t remember the exact location where we were patrolling, except that it was triple thick jungle canopy. Then out of that were rocky hills that to me looked more like mountains. Especially when we had to hump them. They were straight up with giant ragged edged rocks and it was a real booger bear to get to the top.

 

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why the team leader was keeping us in this triple thick jungle canopy. I knew enough about Recon that we didn’t go looking for a close fight. We were to get to in a place as high as we could and then just observe the area below. If we saw any NVA or VC, we would call in artillery and air strikes.

 

Our mission was to ”Observe-find-destroy” and “At all cost avoid close contact with the enemy.” Contact defined as up close and personal.

 

It seemed like we were in this thick jungle forever. I started noticing that the area looked the same. Like we were just right here in this very spot an hour ago. I asked myself, “What the hell is he doing?” Plus I was hot, thirsty, and p*****off.

 

I was p****off because I didn’t have any respect for this Sgt. Team Leader. He was what we called at “hot dog.” In my mind he was looking for some big award medal, or whatever.

 

After the second trip by and in the same area, I took out my K-bar and put a little mark on a tree. The third time by this same tree I stopped the team by tapping on the man in front of me. Using hand signals that we all somehow understood, I told the man in front of me to relay a message up to the team leader, “I want to talk with him.”

 

The team stopped and I was summoned up to the front. I carefully moved, like it really made a difference. We had made enough noise that we could be heard as if you were in a canyon.

 

I whispered in his ear; “Sarge, we have been going in circles for the last few hours.”  He didn’t believe me. So I asked him if he would accompany me to the tree that I marked.

 

“You see this?” in a whisper of course.

 

He said; “Yeah, what about it?”

 

I told him, “I put this mark on this tree some hours ago.”

 

I then asked him with respect; “Don’t you think we should get out of here, because I don’t think you know where we’re at!!”

 

That went over like a fart in a diving helmet. I was concerned. What if we did get up close and personal with some rice propelled vermin? How would we be able to get any air support, artillery support? If you didn’t have any idea of your location, you could be subject to one hell of a mess.

 

He whispered in no uncertain terms, ”I’m the F****boss, I know what I’m doing, you just do as your told!” Right then and there I wanted to butt stroke this jerk. I did as ordered.

 

On my way back to my position I did get a brief peak of the view of this hill. We were way down below the hill in the thick jungle. Hell, it was common sense to me that we should be up on that hill instead of fumbling, stumbling, and making all sorts of racket in this heavy jungle. NVA or VC could be waiting for us.

 

I kept thinking, ”If we get in some s****, I’m gonna take as many of us as I can get to follow me up that hill.”

 

Finally he must have of realized that he was lost. Every hour a radio relay station somewhere on hilltop or mountain peak, like the one on top of the “Rock Pile”, would call for a sit-rep, (Situation report). They did it like clock work. Those men, I give them so much credit for the many ways that they have saved my rear end, and at this particular time.

 

Their procedure was to call out the recon team names on our radio net. To answer their calls, you used the PRC-25 Radio handset. You mashed the talk button, twice if you were okay and once, if you were not. The radio relay operator wouldn’t ask you your location if you gave the click-click signal. But if you gave just one click, he would start asking multiple questions. Those questions were meant to help you. How could you tell him if you were in trouble or where you were?

 

We got the command to take a break. A few minutes later we went atop the hill, where we should’ve been in the first place.

 

I knew how to shoot an azimuth so I asked the Sgt, ”Could I, since I’m the FNG, use the compass and map to get our location?” To my surprise, he let me.

 

Every time we set up to observe we would call to either the radio relay, or if we were close enough, to our home base radio operator. We’d report our location using coordinates from shooting azimuths. 

 

Plotting our coordinates was a simple process. Draw a line from one terrain feature after looking at the map, recognizing its location, and drawing another doing the same process.

Wherever the two lines met that was where you were, assuming that the maps and your azimuths were correct. I showed the team leader what I had. He read it the same way.

 

You then referenced code cards, wrote down a letter for a number, until you got the location as to where you were. Each time we went out we always got new code cards. When you got ready to move, you would notify radio relay or home base as to your next desired location using the code cards.

 

Luckily we didn’t meet any rice-propelled vermin up close and personal that day. Before the Team leader rotated, we went out near Dong-Ha in the rolling hills. We saw many Vietnamese women with woven baskets on their backs and their children and babies with them.

 

Around Dong-Ha we had to be somehow inconspicuous. Which was hard because there wasn’t much cover and concealment in that area. We’d chop wood from these small wood type plants that were like miniature trees. We’d move from on location to another after observing in the previous location for a few hours, sometimes all day depending on what we observed.

.

Suddenly the hand signals came to stop and circle up. Meaning, “Get in a 360 degree circle.” He passed the word, “Bunker complex.” He made sure we had seen it. The team leader whispered that he was going to call in an artillery strike. The bunker could be an active entrance to an underground complex, or possibly an ammo cache.

 

You always used a “Willie Peter” (white phosphorous) spotter round, so that you could adjust the artillery fire onto the target then call in “fire for effect.” Meaning that the six gun battery of whatever size artillery weapon that happened to be at our disposal, would all fire on target.

 

You would hear, ”Shot.” The artillery personnel would be in straight contact with you or the radio relay would be the go between to let you know a round was on its way. When the artillery round hit, you would say, ”Splash.” You then would adjust up, down, giving distances like ”Up 150 meter’s” until you got right on target.

 

I don’t know about the others in my team at that particular moment but, I heard the distinct sound of an artillery round coming. It wasn’t that sound you get your senses tuned to that would be over your head’s, or to the side. This one was going to land right near us!

 

We all hit the deck, or tried to before the round struck. “Holy jumping suckatash!!!” I got knocked down by  a big clod of dirt. I saw others getting hit with clods of dirt from that Willie Peter round. That nobody got any of the phosphorous on them to me was just a miracle.

 

The team leader never checked to see if any of us were hurt. He got on the radio and started cussing up a storm, he was so mad. It wasn’t the artillery battery’s fault. HE DIDN’T KNOW WHERE IN THE HELL WE WERE AT, BECAUSE HE JUST FLAT COULDN’T READ, OR GET LOCATIONS ON MAP!!

 

Our mission was compromised so he called for an extract. The command said, “Negative, walk to RVN camp” and gave a location. It wasn’t that far, but we were walking at night.

A big no-no. Actually it was just before dawn as we had spent part of the night in a 360 circle until about 1 hour before daybreak.

 

When we got to the RVN camp, I was so relieved. I knew where I was then. Those fellers served us some great food. Even though it gave us the trots, it was mighty tasty.

 

It would not be my last patrol with him unfortunately. Just when I thought it might be safe with him, he pulls a real bone head move, the worst ever! And I caught the brunt of it.