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thedrifter
06-02-04, 08:06 AM
Sergeant Hillous York and the Parade


by Col Peter L. Hilgartner, USMC(Ret)


In early 1967 Marines were still adjusting to the rigors of combat in Vietnam. In this excerpt from a soon to be published book, the author, then a battalion commander with his Marines in the Que Son Valley, shows the value of ingenuity in tactics.


In March and early April 1967, we began to conduct battalion-sized operations. One of these I remember to this day because of the unique way we totally defeated a Vietnamese guerrilla unit.


Regiment had directed my battalion to conduct a sweep of the Que Son Valley and take a platoon of tanks with us. I did not ask for, nor did I need the tanks. I saw no mission for them. We were ordered to take tanks with us anyway because Regiment felt that the tank crews needed some combat activity. So, the tanks went with us. I made them follow behind the troops who were walking. Tanks normally lead the infantry, not follow, but the tankers didn’t complain.


Our mission was to seek and destroy a guerrilla unit that had been harassing the village of Que Son. The village was located near two mountain ranges that ran approximately east to west. There was a valley in between the two mountain ranges, and the road from Hill 54 to Que Son ran generally north to south passing the valley entrance on the east side.

Intelligence told us the guerrillas had a base camp on a plateau to the north of our right flank as we entered the valley. When we arrived at the entrance to the valley, I halted the column, and studied my map. I could see the plateau with the guerrilla encampment to our right, sitting high above the valley. The wall from the floor of the valley to the plateau was almost vertical. A frontal attack would be extremely difficult, and would mean heavy casualties. While studying the escarpment with my binoculars, I noticed a narrow cut filled with trees and vines in the nose of the mountain that seemed to lead to the plateau.


I had a flash of inspiration. What if we brought the tanks up, put them in a V formation, and staged a parade-like troop movement through the valley? This would be something those guerrillas had never seen before. They might just come out to the edge of the plateau to watch those crazy Americans do this dumb thing. If they did, my troops could climb through the narrow cut leading to the plateau unnoticed by the enemy. Our Marines could then come in from the Viet Cong’s [VC’s] rear and totally surprise them.


When I told my company commanders about the idea of using the tanks as a decoy and taking the guerrillas by surprise from behind, they agreed it might work. A key part of the attack plan was to send the toughest platoon leader we had up that steep cut with a platoon that mirrored this platoon commander’s tenacity. I asked the Charlie Company commander, Captain Jim Caswell, to send me a platoon commanded by his toughest platoon commander. Caswell picked Sergeant Hillous York, a descendant of the famous Sergeant York of World War I fame, and also from Tennessee.


The plan was simple. Sergeant York and his platoon would very quickly make the hazardous climb up the cut to the top of the ridge, and attack the enemy from behind. The risk was enormous. All thirty men would have to climb from one bush or tree to another without making a sound. They would be totally vulnerable and essentially defenseless while making their way up the steep incline. If the enemy discovered them in the process, the entire platoon could be wiped out.


When he reached the top and was ready with his men deployed, Sergeant York was to radio me. I would then set the parade in motion. With the tanks leading, the rest of us would make as much noise as possible . . . sing, yell, blow bugles, and generally make a ruckus.


While York and his men were climbing up the gorge, we were busy. I brought up and deployed the tanks, and formed the two rifle companies in a spread column with the men four abreast. The whole scheme took about an hour to organize.


Soon after we had our parade tanks and troops in place, we received Sergeant York’s radio call. He was ready! I gave the command for the parade to commence and the First Battalion, Fifth Marines moved into the valley behind the tanks as we had planned. Our parade formation was completely in the valley when we heard shooting up on the plateau. Then all was quiet.


Sergeant York had completely surprised the enemy and wiped them out. This is what he told me.


After we received your order Colonel, we began climbing up the ravine. I was leading followed by my radio operator, PFC Edge, the machine gunner, his ammo carriers, and with the rest of the platoon following. About three quarters of the way up Edge handed me the speaker set and said, “Listen to this!” Someone in Charlie Company had spotted us and thought we were the enemy. They were calling for rocket fire on us. I growled back into the speaker, “Knock it off you S.O.B.s, you’re seeing us, the Third Platoon. Don’t shoot!” They got the message and didn’t shoot, and we continued our ascent.


As I reached the crest of the ravine, I saw a flat meadow about an acre in size. It had a number of large boulders, and the flat land extended to the edge of the plateau on the left side with woods on the right side. I didn’t see anybody; so, I stood up. PFC Edge was right behind me. Then I saw them! Six armed VC were only about ten yards away, and facing in the opposite direction. They were looking towards a group of about twenty more VC further away who were looking into the valley where you were conducting the parade with tanks and all.


One of the VC in the center of the nearest group must have sensed our presence, because he turned around and looked right at me. His eyes opened wide. I believe he was in total shock. I fired my AR–15, and he went down, dropping his weapon. I tried to fire again at the others, but my freaking rifle jammed. This was not uncommon, and Edge and I had a procedure for dealing with it. I pulled the bolt back to open the chamber. Like lightning, Edge pulled out his ramrod, shoved it down my barrel, and knocked the jammed round out. I then closed the bolt to chamber a new round. By this time the other five VC had turned around to see what was happening. Less than a minute and a half had elapsed since I had shot the first VC. When they saw us, they were also paralyzed by shock and surprise. Before they could act, I shot the two on the right side, but not before they shot at us and missed. The other three turned and ran, but by then the rest of my platoon had reached the crest. They fired and dropped the three who were trying to escape.

As I turned to instruct my machine gunner and his team to sweep the area and cut down those who were looking out into the valley, the man I shot first got up, leaving his weapon and ammo on the ground. He stumbled towards the edge of the cliff, and jumped over the side. I could tell he was badly wounded. If he survived the fall over the side of the cliff, I doubt if he survived the wound.


By this time my machine gunner was sweeping the area, his bullets traveling about six to eight inches above the ground. My troopers were following up with heavy volleys from their M–16s, and chasing survivors into the woods on the far right side of the meadow. Except for the VC who jumped over the edge of the precipice, there were no enemy survivors. We got them all, and had no casualties of our own. My men returned loaded down with captured weapons that included AR–15s, AKC–47s, U.S. Garand M–1 rifles, and assorted pistols.

After York gave me his report and I saw the large number of weapons his troopers had captured, I told him, “Well Done!” and that he could have his pick of the enemy’s weapons to take home when he rotated back.
And that was indeed well done Sergeant York! Even after all these years I still marvel at how well that mission was accomplished, and the bravery shown by York and every member of his platoon.


Shortly after the firing on the plateau stopped, our parade came to a little village on the valley floor. We stopped there to wait for York and his men to rejoin us. The only people in the village were an old woman, who had been shot in both wrists by the enemy, and a small child. We called for a chopper to take them out.


We put the captured weapons and the small boy on the chopper to take them back to a secure area, but the old woman refused to get on the chopper. Our corpsman treated her wounds, bandaged her wrists, and did the best that he could to care for her wounds. My Vietnamese interpreter was unable to convince her to go with the child, so we moved out.


I asked the interpreter what would happen to the old woman. He replied sadly, “She will die.”


continued.....

thedrifter
06-02-04, 08:06 AM
I learned two valuable lessons that day. First, it is hard to over-emphasize the value of surprise in combat operations. It helped us to achieve our objective without casualties of our own. This engagement forcefully demonstrated the value of innovation and surprise in a battle plan. Those may appear to be obvious virtues, but when you witness the devastating results that innovation and surprise can bring in combat, the lesson becomes a powerful one. The second lesson: Always honor the chain of command. I violated one of the cardinal rules of military leadership when I gave a combat attack mission directly to the platoon commander, Sergeant York, without apprising his company commander of the mission. After Jim Caswell brought Sergeant York to me, he didn’t tarry. He quickly returned to his company, which was proper. I broke the chain of command when I failed to inform Caswell of my plan for his platoon. Even though Jim had immediately returned to his company without participating in the attack plan, that didn’t release me from my obligation to keep him informed of what I was doing with his troops. This could have led to a tragedy if Caswell’s Charley Company had mistaken York’s platoon for the enemy, and fired on them as they were climbing up the ravine. Not only would our own fire have caused casualties, but it would have destroyed the surprise. The VC at the top of the plateau would have had an easy time picking off York’s vulnerable platoon still part-way up their climb. I never made the error again of giving orders to a platoon without the full knowledge of the company commander.


To this day, I marvel at the professional manner in which Sergeant York executed his mission. He certainly lived up to his famous name. We killed the entire enemy unit, and not one Marine was hurt. I prayed that we could achieve those kinds of results in every battle we fought.

>Col Hilgartner is retired and lives in Great Falls, VA.

http://www.mca-marines.org/Gazette/sting.html


Ellie