CHAPTER 9
HOTEL, 2/4. 1130
At 1130, Hotel Company, 2/4’s attack on Nam Yen 3 began afresh with the 2d Platoon on the right, the 3d Platoon on the left, and the 1st Platoon as rear guard. As the company moved toward the village the two remaining tanks positioned themselves immediately behind the assault platoons and the three Ontos moved to cover the rear and the flanks in general support. The rice paddies in this area were flooded, making it difficult for the tracked vehicles to traverse them.
When the 2d and 3d platoons reached the stream and rice paddies east of Nam Yen 3, the 1st Platoon, was struck by heavy automatic fire from its rear as well as the company’s eastern flank.
The 2d and 3d Platoons immediately encountered a serious threat of their own, first in the form of small arms fire and then from 82mm and 60mm mortars. The two platoons quickly moved across the paddies and set up a defense near the southern end of An Cuong 2. The tanks and Ontos were stymied in their attempt to join them via the flooded paddies. No adequate route could be located, so the Ontos attempted to cross in trace of the troops. The first made it across, but the second became mired in the mud. A third Ontos pulled the trapped one from the muck under heavy fire.
During this time the crescendo of incoming mortar and small arms fire was reinforced by the addition of anti-armor weapons from the vicinity of Hill 30, an eastward promontory that provided the VC there with a clear view of the field Hotel Company was crossing. The three Ontos tried to find a way out of the field, but there was mud in every direction and the berms of the paddy were so high that the Marines could not see over them. The two outside vehicles were hit and the radio in the center Ontos was knocked out.
The vehicle commander, Cpl Robert “Frenchie” Bousquat, opened the hatchway and, ignoring the fire, stood up in his vehicle to get a better view of the terrain, to look for a way out of the paddy. He took a round through the helmet, and then he was shot directly in the chest. He said to his driver, “I’m going to die soon,” but continued to stand tall in the vehicle hatchway, exposed to fire, until he spotted an exit and led all three vehicles through. Then he collapsed and died. As Bousquat had trained him to do, LCpl Thomas Spradling pushed the young man’s body aside and took command of the Ontos.
In the direction of the village, 1stLt Mike Jenkins’s men came upon a VC-occupied trench about twelve feet deep, three feet wide at bottom, and approximately twelve feet wide at top. It had been filled with punji stakes, sharp pieces of bamboo meant to disable the unwary attacker. The Hotel Company Marines assaulted the trench and drove the enemy off.
Since the ditch was too wide to jump, the Marines had to go down one side and vault up the other. Lieutenant Jenkins’s radio operator, Pfc Jim Scott, was tripped up by one of the punji stakes in the trench; it ripped his trousers from the cuff to belt buckle. Scott did not get a scratch, but he spent the rest of the operation with his butt hanging out.
Jenkins took advantage of the brief respite provided by the cover of the trench to bring his platoon commanders together and give them a fragmentary attack order for taking the village. He held back no reserve, because Hotel Company was getting fire from all directions.
Afraid to wait too long in case the enemy had the trench zeroed in by indirect-fire weapons, Jenkins gave the signal and everyone climbed out of the trench on a line and advanced toward the village. The distance from the ditch to the edge of the five acres of woods in which the houses of the village were scattered was about one hundred and fifty feet. The Marines were ordered to move into the trees on the edge of the village.
As they approached the village some of the VC filtered out of spider holes and bunkers to try to get behind the Marines. One of the platoons changed direction a little to counter the enemy movement. Many Marines became separated from their squads and platoons and, in small groups, headed into a large drainage ditch near the trees that was deep enough to stand up in without getting one’s head blown off. Conspicuous among the junior troop leaders, Sgt Jerry Tharp was barking orders, trying to sort things out. Here and there were rickety bamboo fences across the trench, interlaced with barbed wire that slowed Hotel Company’s advance. Out of nowhere, the Marines came upon a group of South Vietnamese Popular Forces crouched together in the trench. These allies were dressed in new uniforms and had better field gear than the Marines. The Marines motioned to them to follow, but the Vietnamese were not interested in getting involved in the fight. The Marines continued on.
The Popular Forces were a sort of a village militia. They were minimally trained and, given the uncertain loyalties of many of the Vietnamese, not credited with being especially trustworthy. The fact that they were even present in a Viet Cong stronghold should have alerted the Marines. At a point in the fight when things seemed to be going against Hotel Company, several of them removed their distinctive red neck scarves and opened fire on Lieutenant Jenkins’s men. Machine-gunner Cpl Edward Vaughn and others Marines quickly and savagely responded in kind, killing those who fired on them.
There was a lot of yelling and confusion, and about that time Pfc Dick Boggia looked around to try to locate his gunner, LCpl Ken Stankiewicz. Boggia called out to learn if anyone had seen Stankiewicz, but no one had.
As the Hotel Company Marines made their way forward there was heavy fighting all round, especially to the right, toward Hill 43. As they approached the end of the ditch they came under immediate, intense, and very accurate fire.
VC snipers were very good at their trade; they exacted a toll among the Marines caught in the open. A number of Marines who had reached cover, such as Dick Tonucci, left safety and moved to where they could support the withdrawal of their fellows.
Private First Class Dick Boggia was pinned up against a dike by sniper fire from both front and rear, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of there.
Among those pinned down was Corporal Spurrier, a fire team leader. He was both exposed and out of ammunition. His automatic rifleman, Pfc Robert Lee Stipes, decided to get him back. Stipes was a self-described country boy who hadn’t seen much of the world and had a problem with authority. He had lost a stripe more than once because of his unmilitary attitude. He proved what he was made of this day when he charged out onto an open paddy and laid down a ferocious volume of fire that permitted Spurrier and others to withdraw to relative safety. For this, and for later evacuating casualties under fire, he was awarded the Bronze Star Medal.
Sergeant Jerry Tharp yelled for the Marines to fan out along the back of a small berm adjacent to a dirt road that ran parallel to the village complex and prepare to renew the assault. While speaking with Lieutenant Jenkins in preparation for the new attack, Tharp raised his head to take a final look. He was immediately hit. Blood instantly appeared below his neck and cascaded down his chest. He made a feeble attempt to take his gear off and get to his wound before he just, in the words of Lieutenant Jenkins, “melted and collapsed before my eyes.” Blood poured from his mouth, and he was dead. From the angle of his wound it was apparent that a sniper in a tree shot him.
It was about this time, too, that Hotel Company lost its gunnery sergeant, Al Raitt. Gunny Raitt was a colorful veteran of World War II and Korea who was described by one Marine as the only man he ever knew who could chew Red Man tobacco and drink coffee at the same time. Raitt carried a shotgun on the operation, but at one point he decided he needed something with a little more range. He traded his scattergun with Jim Scott, Jenkins’s radioman, for the latter’s M14. He was standing on the edge of a ditch, firing furiously at the enemy, when he was gunned down and killed.
Snipers in trees were causing a great deal of damage. One of them seemed to take someone down with almost every round. When a Marine went down with a shot through the cheek, Tonucci and John “Rabbit” Slaughter went after his tormentor. Slaughter, called “Rabbit” because of his small size and good speed, was loaded for bear. He had lost a lot of weight since coming to Vietnam, and at the time of this operation was down to about a hundred pounds. The little Marine was a tough hard-charger who nearly carried his own weight in gear, much of it ammunition for his single-shot M79 grenade launcher. He had started the day with seventy-two M-79 rounds, which weigh eight ounces apiece, so he was carrying thirty-six pounds of ammunition when he started. He was resupplied with equal amounts three or four times during the day. The barrel of his weapon was worn and, in his words, “gleamed like gold.” It made an enticing target. He had been breaking the shotgun-like action of his M79 and firing as fast as he could since he had come into the landing zone. About an hour into the battle he was struck by fragments from an enemy recoilless rifle round. The bits of hot metal peppered his face and he sustained one particularly bad cut beneath his left eye. Rabbit was hard man; he allowed the corpsman to put a bit of gauze on the cut and went right back to work with his weapon, staying in the field the entire day. Somehow he was left off the list to receive a Purple Heart for his wounds. The medal finally caught up with him in 1997, thirty-two years later.
Rabbit Slaughter’s wounds were the least of his concerns at the time. He had plenty of targets, everywhere. Everywhere! With Tonucci covering for him and spotting his shots, Rabbit popped rounds up into the treetops, one at a time. This one sniper was still causing a lot of damage and needed to be taken out. Slaughter was down to his last two missiles when he got their man. The VC screamed upon being hit. He was tied in, so he only fell part way and dangled upside down from his knees while his unseeing eyes stared at the battle that continued without him.
It was at about this time that LCpl Ernie Wallace noticed that a large number of small pine trees were in fact camouflaged Viet Cong. He yelled to Tonucci, “Trees! Start killing trees!” Sure enough, the “trees” were well-concealed enemy, and when the Marines opened up on them many VC fell dead, others fired back, and still more of them scattered. Tonucci’s squad shot most of them to death. Ernie Wallace once more proved his prowess with the M60 machine gun by accounting for at least fifteen VC KIA. This brought his number of kills for the day to more than forty.
At one point when a medevac chopper came in Wallace ran over and demanded that the crew chief trade machine guns. The bipod had been shot off Wallace’s gun, and it had other damage. The crew chief didn’t like it very much, but Wallace was bigger and had a determined look about him that decided the issue. The swap was made.
As busy as he was, Wallace found time to tend to Pfc Jim Mazy, who had some shell fragments in his ear and chin. Wallace’s aggressive heroism and expertise with his gun, and in getting wounded Marines out, earned him the Navy Cross Medal.
Private First Class Dick Boggia finally found LCpl Ken Stankiewicz, who had been wounded in the arm. He told Boggia to take care of the gun. He seemed to be okay and he was placed on a tank for medevac. Putting the wounded on the tanks turned out to be a poor idea. They became fire magnets. Stankiewicz was hit again, this time fatally.
Private Sam Badnek was another of those men who had a problem with authority. The fact that he was still a private at the time of Starlite was a testament to his inability to stay out of trouble. But Badnek was no slouch when it came to facing down a deadly enemy. While stationed in Hawaii he had had a parrot tattooed on his arm. As his platoon moved past Nam Yen 3, Badnek got hit in the parrot and also suffered a head wound. This turned out to be too much for the young Marine. He took off after an enemy bunker behind a hurricane of fire and single-handedly destroyed it and all its occupants. No one who witnessed his heroism had any idea how Badnek managed to survive the enemy’s return fire. When Badnek was later awarded the Navy Cross Medal for conspicuous gallantry under fire he was still a private.
The 1st Platoon moved one squad around to the northwest of Nam Yen 3 and killed nine VC who were operating an 82mm mortar. The small arms fire then became so intense that the squad was driven back, closer to the tanks, and the Marines were unable to capture the enemy mortar.
Corporal Edward Vaughn spotted another enemy mortar team dashing for a wood line. He quickly deployed his M60 and shot the last three of them in line. Vaughn’s aggressive deployment of his weapon the entire day inflicted great damage on the enemy. His gallantry in action this day was to win him a Silver Star Medal.
Under this intense fire courageous helicopter pilots lifted out some of the killed and wounded. Other casualties were loaded on tanks, which began to pull back toward LZ Blue.
HOTEL, 2/4. 1400
Lieutenant Mike Jenkins kept up the pressure on the enemy. While evacuating the wounded he called in artillery on Nam Yen 3 and ordered air strikes on the high ground at Hill 30, from whence Hotel was receiving so much grief earlier. For all that Hotel had bled, LtCol Bull Fisher ordered the company back to LZ Blue. At 1400 the battered unit, with all its attachments, began its march to the zone with Chris Cooney’s 1st Platoon as the point and the 2d and 3d Platoons in the rear, fighting a delaying action.
In the confusion of the movement Sgt Jerry Tharp’s body was left behind. Sergeant Juan Moreno selected four people and told them to drop their packs, grab a poncho, and go back for Tharp. The Marines found his body two to three hundred yards back along the trail, picked him up, and carried him out. It is one of the oldest Marine traditions that they never abandon their wounded or dead.
As Cooney’s Marines opened their withdrawal movement, they were pinned behind a dike by small arms fire from Nam Yen 3 and from the southeast corner of An Cuong 2. At this time the 3d Platoon cut across the rice paddy in front of Hill 30, from which the VC fled. Cooney’s platoon and some men from the 2d Platoon became separated from the rest of Hotel Company during the withdrawal to LZ Blue.
2/4. 1400
Bull Fisher was very concerned about Hotel Company. He had good communications with Golf and Echo, and with the rearguard back at Chulai, but very little with 1stLt Mike Jenkins and his men. There was so much administrative traffic jamming the radio nets that it was hard to pass information to Hotel and back.
Echo Company, 2/4, was still fighting its way through the hedgerows against limited resistance. Moving just behind them with the 2/4 CP group, Gunny Ed Garr picked up several bags of shucked corn and told the troops to take handfuls and put it in their pockets. Things were moving so fast that he wasn’t sure they would have time for chow. The men put a few of the kernels in their mouths and sucked on them. This helped slake their thirst in the intense heat and also softened the corn so it could be chewed and swallowed.
Echo Company finally reached its objective and dug in early in the afternoon. The 2/4 command group had air on station constantly and artillery on call all trying to help the struggling Hotel Company.
THE AMBUSH OF COLUMN 21
The BLT 3/3 rear command post set up near the RLT-7 headquarters to handle the battalion’s logistics and medical needs. All the armor was ashore, a total of nine M48 gun tanks, 4 flame tanks, and eight Ontos. There was also a company of amtracs loaded with supplies. BLT 3/3 asked for two of the flame tanks and the loaded amtracs to go forward to resupply India Company, 3/3.
An amtrac platoon commanded by Lt Bob Cochran had helped bring India Company ashore in the initial assault. Cochran then received orders to return to the ship, load up on ammo and water, and swim these amtracs once again to the beach to await instructions. By the time these amtracs arrived back on shore, the infantry units were approximately a thousand meters inland.
Following a thirty-minute wait on the beach, the amtracs were ordered inland to the RLT-7 command post. Lieutenant Cochran and his twenty-three men were told that they would make a resupply run to India Company, 3/3, which was a few hundred yards farther inland.
Lieutenant Cochran rode the lead tank as the column moved out shortly after noon. Major Andy Comer, the 3/3 XO, briefed the convoy on its mission and present location. The destination and route were marked on the map and Cochran was told to follow the same route as the gun tanks, which had left a couple of hours earlier to support Hotel Company, 2/4.
The column had traveled only about four hundred meters north and west of the CP when it was hit with small arms fire from the left flank. The whole column stopped to locate the source of the firing and return fire. After a few minutes the shooting stopped and the Marines proceeded down the road to look for India Company. A few hundred meters along they reached a place where they needed to make a sharp turn. As the lead tank and the first two amtracs slowed to make the curve and enter a wooded area, the rest of the column was forced to stop. The enemy was waiting, just fifty meters away.
The platoon sergeant, SSgt Jack Marino, was riding in the rear hatch of the last tractor. He assumed they had reached their objective and, after waiting a few moments, decided to leave his vehicle and go up to speak with Lieutenant Cochran. As Marino exited his amtrac there was a loud explosion in the vicinity of the lead tank. Almost simultaneously a barrage of mortars and anti-armor fire, including 57mm recoilless rifles and RPGs, struck the amtracs.
Lieutenant Cochran had also left his vehicle for a few moments to check his column when the attack came. As the fire poured into the convoy, the lieutenant ignored it as best he could and moved from tractor to tractor to find one that had communications with the regimental command post.
The VC had selected the site well. There was little room for the Marines to maneuver. One side of the road was bordered by a rice paddy and the other side was hemmed in by a hedgerow and a dense thicket.
Cochran and Marino moved through the defenders to disperse them into defensive positions as best they could. Marino’s tractor moved to face the area the fire was coming from. Dust and smoke obscured the scene. When it cleared, Marino saw that several of the amtracs had been badly hit and abandoned by their crews. Some of the crewmen took up positions in the rice paddies.
The attack forced Sgt Robert F. Batson to exit his amtrac armed only with his combat knife. When the vehicle was hit, his rifle was irretrievably pinned behind the vehicle’s cargo. He was immediately cut down by enemy fire as he dashed from the disabled tractor. When they found his body the next day, he was still clutching his knife.
Among the amtracs that were badly damaged was the one from which the platoon leader was trying to gain communications. Lieutenant Cochran calmly evacuated the vehicle and insured that the machine-gun ammunition was removed to deny it to the enemy. Continuing to disregard the intense fire, he directed his men to shift to two of the other tractors. After determining that his Marines were safe, he chose the tractor with the best view of the battlefield and moved toward it. His courage was costly and he was badly hit. Unwilling to expose the men inside to further danger by having them drop the ramp, he tried to get through the crew hatch of Sergeant Marino’s tractor, but he was killed as he reached it. For his extraordinary courage in the face of enemy fire, he was later posthumously awarded the Navy Cross Medal.
The Marines in the tractor next to Marino’s had just brought their machine gun into action when the vehicle was hit by a RPG that glanced off the bow and hit the machine-gun turret, jamming the gun. The crew scooped up their personal weapons and abandoned the tractor. As they left, a mortar round hit the rear hatch and killed Pfc James Kalil. Sergeant Chester Wauters took to the paddies, where he stumbled over the body of a supply sergeant who had been shot off one of the tractors and then run over and cut in half by the treads. Wauters was shot in both legs as he tried to move back to one of the occupied tractors. The crew dragged him through the emergency hatch and he spent the rest of the night loading ammunition magazines for the able-bodied.
Inside one of the vehicles a Marine said, “We’re Marines, let’s go get ’em!” He started out the hatch but was immediately shot through the head and killed.
The only vehicle-mounted automatic weapons returning the enemy fire were from Marino’s amtrac and the lead tank, which was firing its .50-caliber machine gun at the enemy across a peanut field. Marino could not move his vehicle. As he tried, an 82mm mortar round damaged the engine, blew him out of the commander’s seat, and knocked him unconscious for a few seconds.
The Viet Cong infantry, under the command of Sgt Ho Cong Tham, were closing. Although excellently camouflaged, they could be seen through the smoke and haze, as they formed into groups in every direction, waiting for the barrage to lift.
VC 57mm recoilless rifles and mortars continued to pour it on. The lead tank’s .50-caliber machine gun was temporarily put out of action by a mortar round that fractured the turret. It no sooner resumed firing than a 57mm round hit the side of the turret, destroying its periscope and severely wounding two crewmen inside. The third tanker tried to depress the muzzle of the flame gun on a group of about sixty VC. He was able to traverse the turret but not depress the gun sufficiently. He fired anyway, but a bad napalm mixture prevented a full burst from the tank. What fire did come out shocked and temporarily stopped the VC, some of whom were seen trying to beat out the flames on their uniforms. Their experience may have been daunting, but there was no real damage done. The next recoilless rifle round that hit the tank killed the gunner. With this, Marino’s vehicle was the only one capable of firing its automatic weapon at the enemy.
Sergeant James Mulloy was in one of the tractors when it was hit and several of his fellow Marines were wounded. Mulloy calmly tended the wounded and directed the activities of the Marines around him. His casual demeanor had a remarkable effect on restoring some sort of order out of the chaos in his immediate vicinity. With his tractor bogged down he realized it was vulnerable to being overrun because of limited visibility. He exited the vehicle he and charged through VC fire to a position in a nearby rice paddy from which he could keep the column in view. Time after time he picked off individuals and small groups of VC who massed for an assault on the column. When the VC realized that Mulloy was a major obstacle to their complete annihilation of the Marine force, they attempted to take him out of play.
Adding immensely to the confusion, one of the amtrac radio operators panicked and depressed the call button on his radio for over an hour while he pleaded nonstop for help. This essentially jammed the amtrac radio network and prevented the RLT CP from receiving accurate information about the column. Lieutenant Dave Steel was the one who got the cries for help from the young Marine.
As soon as the regimental CP learned of the ambush it began putting together a rescue operation. As the afternoon, and then the night, dragged on, Lt Steel talked to the frightened Marine in the command tractor. The VC had his tractor surrounded, the lad reported, and kept shooting into the side of it and putting grenades against the cupola in attempt to blow it open and finish off the occupants. Everyone in that tractor was dead except for him.
INDIA COMPANY, 3/3
Just about the time India Company was ready to move out to rejoin the battalion main body, a Huey helicopter from VMO-2 was damaged by ground fire and had to land near the company position. When this was reported to LtCol Joe Muir, he instructed Lt Richard Purnell to leave two squads and the tanks behind to protect the helicopter. The small detachment could move out on the double and catch up with the rest of the company when the helicopter was repaired.
The helicopter did not seem to be badly damaged. The fuel tanks had been pierced, but the pilot said he could fix the problem and be out of there within half an hour. Purnell didn’t have two squads to leave behind, certainly not two full-strength squads. He left ten Marines and the tanks. The remainder of the diminished infantry company moved to rejoin the battalion. The ten Marines and the tanks set up a perimeter around the helicopter and waited. After the bird was repaired, it dropped its rocket pods to lighten the load, and took off.
Just as the guard detachment was preparing to depart, Chris Cooney’s 1st Platoon of Hotel, 2/4, which had been cut off from its parent company, found the little group guarding the downed helicopter. Cooney’s Marines, who were carrying their dead and wounded, and had no working radio, were relieved to find other Marines. The engineers attached to the platoon helped the India Company Marines blow the helicopter rocket pods to prevent the explosives from being used by the enemy.
The march to rejoin the remainder of India Company was marred by repeated contact with the enemy. The small force had to change its route several times in order to move around the points of contact. Burdened with their casualties, these Marines nevertheless hustled to catch up with the rest of India Company and move on to the battalion position about sixteen hundred meters northeast of An Cuong 2. India Company finally moved into the battalion’s main line abreast of Kilo Company a little after noon.
COLUMN 21. 1300. RESCUE ATTEMPT
No one realized until much later that the fight between the supply column and the VC might have saved the RLT-7 command post from being overrun. It seemed likely that that is where the VC force was headed when it ran into the convoy. The enemy survivors have since denied this with the explanation that they did not know where the command post was. Major Andy Comer also thought that the VC seemed to have very good intelligence and flexibility, and he assumed that they had monitored the Marine radio frequencies, which turned out to be true. The Viet Cong employed a great number of college and high school students who had studied English to intercept and translate American radio traffic. Marine communications security was no better than their camouflage discipline, which is to say they had very little to none.
Just before 1300, when word of the ambush reached the headquarters, Joe Muir decided to recycle India Company back into the fight. No one knows why Muir sent his most battle-weary company back to the rescue of Column 21. Marines’ Marine that he was, Muir undoubtedly had sound reasons. He most likely assessed the capabilities of all of his companies and committed the one that had the best knowledge of the battlefield. Whatever the reason, his decision was a good one.
Lima Company was switched to the position formerly held by India, thus placing Kilo and Lima abreast in original line of the assault. The battalion was now without a reserve.
Before India could go to the rescue of the supply column, it had to go back to the RLT supply area and pick up some amtracs, tanks, and Maj Andy Comer, who was to lead the rescue. A group of five amtracs and five Ontos was designated to support the mission. Also, Colonel Peatross committed his last available gun tank to the rescue. The plan was for a fast-moving armored-infantry column to take the VC by surprise and quickly break through to the supply column.
The exact location of the besieged column was unknown. About the time the rescue force was to depart, one of the ambushed flame tanks roared into the CP. This tank’s .50- caliber machine gun was out of action, its periscope was destroyed, two of the crew were wounded, and its .30-caliber was out of ammunition. Despite all he had been through, the flame tank commander volunteered to lead the rescue force to the site of the ambush. He noted that he had passed through An Cuong 2 without incident.
Lieutenant Purnell’s India Company Marines boarded the vehicles. Some of the infantrymen rode inside the vehicles and others, because of the intense heat, and the fact that the tractors carried 500 gallons of gasoline in cells beneath the troop compartment, opted to ride on top.
The rescue column started out at 1305. A few hundred meters and a few minutes away, as they passed over a heavily wooded hill east of An Cuong 2, the lead tank was hit in the front by an RPG. When the tank stopped, the column jammed up in a rapid halt and began to receive mortar and small arms fire.
The tractor on which Pfc Howard Miller was riding was rocked with a hit, and most of the Marines riding on the top were thrown to the ground. Miller was tossed in the direction of the fire. He could hear people screaming inside the tractor as the vehicle crew tried to get the ramp down. The tractor rocked back and forth, but the ramp could be lowered only about a third of the way.
Sergeant Peter Towne was critically wounded and remained under very heavy fire. Another Marine tried to drag Towne to cover but Sergeant Towne died.
When the attack began Pfc Gary Hammett rolled off his tractor to the right. He no sooner had than a mortar round landed just to his rear. A Marine behind Hammett who absorbed the blast died immediately, but Hammett was spared.
Sergeant George Emerick was riding atop an amtrac when an RPG blew two other Marines off the vehicle with minor wounds and wounded two crewmen inside. Emerick was dazed and frightened but uninjured. He could not, however, find his rifle. He disembarked from the amtrac and helped tend the wounded. His rifle was found the next day, or at least a five-inch piece of the barrel and receiver group was found. The serial number identified it as his weapon.
Enemy action disabled the lead tractor, whose wounded crewmen were carried to safety in the next amtrac in line. The tank, in its haste to cover itself, rammed backward into the disabled amtrac and then maneuvered to a concealed position behind some tall trees. All attempts to communicate with the tank failed. The tank-infantry phone on the rear was smashed and the crew did not respond to radio calls.
A section of Ontos under the command of Lieutenant Malloy deployed to suppress the enemy fire and protect the rest of the column. Purnell left Lt Jack Kelly behind with one rifle platoon to handle casualties and provide security for Major Comer’s group.
The VC put out a lot of fire in the direction of the medevac helicopters that answered the call to pick up the casualties. Lieutenant Paul Bronson and his copilot Lt Roger Cederholm, were in the lead aircraft. Bronson told his wing, flown by Lt Dan Armstrong and Lt R.G. Adams, to stay high while he went down. There was a Marine standing upright amongst the fire to direct the helicopter’s descent. Bronson was down to about two hundred feet from the ground when a large group of VC in the hedgerows stood up and filled the helicopter full of holes. Armstrong and Adams immediately dropped low from around a thousand feet and worked over the enemy with their M60 machine guns. Bronson yelled over the radio that he had lost control of the RPM in his bird, but he leveled out and headed for the beach. He later learned that the hydraulic servo had been shot out, taking with it control over the engine RPM and the fore and aft control of the helicopter.
The beach was about a mile away, but the bird was sinking fast. The other aircraft flew wing on Bronson’s port side. At the last moment the nose eased up and the stricken aircraft crashed through some sampans parked on the beach.
Bronson no sooner landed than he began taking heavy fire from a nearby hedgerow. The crew chief, Corporal Clouse, was hit in the stomach, and his intestines were spilling out. The door gunner was superficially wounded in the foot. Bronson jumped down from the flight deck, shoved Clouse’s guts back in, and carried him to the other aircraft as Cederholm turned off the mags and applied the rotor brake. The door gunners in the second bird suppressed enemy fire, and then picked up Bronson’s crew and evacuated them to the medical station. Clouse survived and Bronson received the Bronze Star Medal for his actions in saving him.
Major Comer and Lieutenant Purnell quickly devised a plan to continue their attack on foot. They hoped to clear An Cuong 2 and continue the search for the original convoy. This was the same area India Company had passed through several hours earlier, an area they had thought was secure. The event was easier planned than executed. The VC in their path were well dug in.
THE OVERALL SITUATION. 1500
Golf and Echo companies, 2/4, were at their assigned objectives. Golf had received only token resistance, but Echo had had a bit of a fight, which it handled well. Hotel, 2/4, had finally taken Hill 43 but had failed twice in its attempt to secure Nam Yen 3, although it had killed very many Viet Cong before it was ordered back to LZ Blue.
Kilo and Lima companies, 3/3, had driven inland several thousand meters and were poised to strike at Van Tuong 1. India Company, 3/3, had been severely battered and had lost its company commander in the taking of An Cuong 2. It was ordered back to the main battalion position and then sent back into the fight once more to try and find the isolated and besieged supply convoy.
The regimental and 3/3 command groups were about 3,000 meters inland. All of the RLT’s tanks and Ontos had been committed, but the first elements of the 3d Battalion, 7th Marines, had arrived offshore.