A Shau Valor

by Thomas R. Yarborough

  At 11:30 a.m. on February 18, four Hueys carrying RT Python departed Phu Bai with one American team member aboard each chopper. The additional airlift was necessitated by Butler’s plan to “go in heavy.” Besides carrying food and water for a week, each man carried at least 3 claymore mines, 4 ground flares, 2 white phosphorous grenades, 20 minigrenades, and 1,000 rounds of CAR-15 ammunition. The team also hauled in four M-60 machine guns with 5,000 rounds of ammo each, along with a 60mm mortar with 50 HE rounds. In addition, Butler lugged in a powerful PRC-77 radio and antenna.

  En route to the A Shau, Jim Butler aboard the lead UH-1 told his pilot about the change in LZ. The news initially rattled the pilot who balked at the idea of landing on Thor; most of the abandoned firebases had been mined and booby-trapped when the 101st pulled out of the valley in 1969 during Operation Massachusetts Striker. When the chopper went into a hover just above the surface, Butler jumped to the ground and began stomping up and down and running around Thor to demonstrate that there was no problem. The lead Slick reluctantly landed in a cloud of red dust. One of Butler’s first actions after landing was to break out the radio and attach a 30-foot “292” antenna, to the top of which he carefully hooked a small American flag. Since the new location did not enjoy the protection of the No Bomb Line provision, Butler hoped the American flag would alert any marauding helicopter hunter-killer teams of his presence. The flag also served another purpose: it announced to the NVA in the area, “We’re here, and we’re staying.”26

  The immediate task for RT Python was to dig in and fortify the dilapidated remnants of Thor. Situated on the barren top of Hill 1084, the former firebase sported a few crumbing sandbag walls and not much else. As seen from the rim, steep fern-covered inclines sloped downhill 30 to 100 meters before intersecting with heavy jungle. The NVA would certainly be expected to approach from 360 degrees using that jungle for cover, but at that point they would have to traverse uphill on open ground to get at the 14-man team. To greet the attack they knew would come, the members of RT Python carefully placed a barrier of claymore and M-14 toe-popper mines around their perimeter and positioned their machine guns on four sides of their makeshift Alamo, while Les Chapman dug in the 60mm mortar near the center so he could adjust fire in any direction. In short order the team had in place its plan for channeling enemy movement into four distinct kill zones. Orchestrating the defense from the center of Thor, Jim Butler set up his command post and made radio contact with the FOB at Phu Bai, thanks to his tall 292 antenna. He also established contact with RT Intruder just across the valley on the west wall, a vital link since Intruder had no direct communication with the FOB.

  The initial TIC occurred at 9:43 p.m. when RT Python heard enemy troops moving up the mountain. The team set off several claymores and opened fire, driving the NVA away, but several hours later the team members braced when in the darkness they heard the distinctive pop-pop-pop, as enemy soldiers dropped HE rounds into mortar tubes and opened up from all directions. Simultaneously, sniper fire raked Thor, wounding several of the defenders. Butler returned the favor by calling on the services of an AC-119 Stinger gunship. Stinger 08 repelled the attackers with a lethal barrage of mini-gun and 20mm cannon fire.

  That first night, RT Python watched the valley floor to their west as a procession of truck headlights moved unimpeded down Route 548, accompanied by long lines of troops carrying flashlights. Observing those movements, Jim Butler instinctively knew that the harassment fire he was receiving represented only the prelude to a massive attack by hundreds of enemy soldiers. To even the odds, he unleashed an AC-130 gunship equipped with a state of the art system called “Black Crow,” which could detect spark plug impulses in truck engines up to ten miles away. According to Butler, “There were more lights than I could count. I was now working with Spectre, the incredible AC-130, my favorite. We brought him on target via offset UPN transponders [radar beacons] and it was a turkey shoot. We could hear the NVA screaming on the valley floor from our position. The more they screamed, the more I hit them. They turned their lights off.”27

  Throughout the day on the 19th, harassing enemy mortar rounds crashed into Firebase Thor, wounding still more of the RT Python defenders. In a small victory, Butler did succeed in making radio contact with RT Habu, the Bright Light team across the valley attempting to reach the downed helicopter. With almost everyone on Thor wounded and the enemy massing for a final assault, Capt Butler thought about calling for an extraction, but since he was the only direct radio link for RT Habu, he decided to gut it out and continue the mission. Possibly Jim regretted that decision when during the night a heavy mortar attack preceded the long awaited ground assault. At 9:40 p.m., at least 60 determined NVA soldiers stormed out of the darkness and up the steep southwest slopes of Hill 1084. Claymores and 60mm mortar fire stopped 13 of them, but the human waves kept coming. At the height of the attack Butler made radio contact with the CCN Mobile Launch Team at Quang Tri; they sent in the cavalry. Within minutes a Stinger gunship arrived overhead, followed at 1 a.m. by an AC-130, Spectre 05. The 25-minute aerial pounding from the 20mm Vulcan cannons cut down the NVA. Even in the pitch-black night the enemy could not hide from the Spectre’s low-light-level-TV and forward-looking infrared sensors. Butler then turned the gunship loose on an enemy column on the valley floor, decimating their ranks and igniting ten secondary explosions. Thanks to the gunships, RT Python would live to fight another day.28

  Another reconnaissance team also took part in the operation, entering the Valley of Death in support of Lam Son 719 early on the morning of February 20. RT Louisiana, led by Capt Duane Ramsey, inserted into the valley floor against a notorious target that Jim Butler referred to as the “Freak Show.” Since Ramsey and his One-One, John Houser, were both African Americans, the team had acquired the unofficial nickname “RT Africa,” and after the movie M*A*S*H came out, everyone called John Houser “Spear-Chucker,” the nickname of Fred Williamson’s character in the iconic film. Within minutes after inserting, RT Africa was mauled by a large NVA force. It was to be Ramsey’s first and last mission with CCN. He lasted 27 minutes on the ground and would have stayed in the A Shau permanently if Spear-Chucker had not carried his wounded One-Zero out.29

  At 6:30 a.m. on the 20th, NVA infantry began pummeling the men on Firebase Thor with automatic weapons fire and RPG rounds from 360 degrees. In no time at all every member of RT Python had been wounded at least once, yet they held their ground until notified that RT Habu across the valley had been rescued. Almost on cue an entire NVA battalion attacked, leaving Jim Butler no choice but to declare a Prairie Fire and an emergency extraction. In response, the Covey who had just run the extraction of RT Habu dashed across the valley to help RT Python. When he arrived overhead, Butler explained in measured tones that his team was up against a massive attack in force and that the lead enemy elements were already on the northwest perimeter about to spill over the top. Prophetically, he told the Covey, “We can’t hold ’em much longer. Get us out of here.”

  Arming up the HE rockets, the FAC spiraled down to treetop level. Sure enough, a pocket of enemy troops sat huddled just outside and below the sandbag fortification. Every few seconds several more raced out of the brush at the base of the hill and scampered 20 or 30 yards up the slope to join their buddies. Diving in from the north at a shallow angle in his OV-10, the Covey let the gunsight pipper drift up to the crouching figures before squeezing off several HE rockets. Pulling up in a hard rolling turn to the west, he did not observe the rockets’ impact, so he asked Butler, “How was that?”

  Laughing, Jim shouted, “You’re blowing dirt and rocks all over us. It’s great! Keep it coming.”30

  Unfortunately, the enemy troops were climbing the entire hill perimeter faster than the team or the FAC’s rockets could mow them down. As if in answer to a prayer, a two-ship of A-1s en route from Thailand to Da Nang came to the rescue. Within ten minutes the Covey had the Skyraiders dropping napalm canisters ‘danger close’ on the hiding troo
ps at the base of the hill. Then they worked over the slopes and tree lines with CBU-25 and strafe. Just as the A-1s departed, the One-Zero’s shouts alerted the FAC to another pending disaster; Butler was beside himself. NVA formations were attacking the north end of Firebase Thor with infantry and a barrage of B-40 rockets. One of the explosions had blown an indigenous member of RT Python down the slope of the hill into the advancing enemy troops. The One-One, SSgt Les Chapman, with complete disregard for his own safety, climbed over the barricade and charged down the hill to retrieve his unconscious comrade. Although already wounded, Chapman ran directly into the middle of an enemy squad, killing four of them in close combat. Reaching the wounded soldier, he threw the injured trooper on his back and started up the steep slope under murderous enemy fire. Although wounded again and knocked down by exploding grenades, he managed to carry the soldier back inside the perimeter where he administered first aid to the Montagnard, refusing medical attention for himself. For his extraordinary heroism, Leslie A. Chapman was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.31

  Because of the intense fighting along Route 9, all 101st Airborne Division helicopter assets were heavily committed to Lam Son 719, so CCN’s Phu Bai FOB could only round up two Hueys to effect the rescue of RT Python—not a single Cobra gunship was available, meaning the vulnerable unarmed Slicks would have to run the gauntlet at Thor alone. The Covey managed to scare up two sets of fighters that were coming off the refueling tanker and would be overhead in about 15 minutes, but RT Python just didn’t have that kind of time—the rescue had to occur now or never. With the men trapped on top of that hill laying down their maximum rate of covering fire, the Hueys began their approach supported by the lone OV-10. The Covey concentrated his HE rockets in the southern quadrant and tree lines while the door gunners fired their M-60s along the steep slope. As the lead Huey crossed the hilltop perimeter, the chopper shook violently from the blasts of several RPG explosions, but the pilot held on and touched down in a blinding cloud of red dust. After an agonizingly long wait, Lead lifted off, covered by the FAC who laid down a wall of strafe from one end of the eastern slope to the other, then racked his Bronco into a high-G climbing turn to the west to link up with Slick Two. In formation, they ran a carbon copy of the original effort, with the Covey firing off all his remaining rockets and the last few rounds from his machine guns as Slick Two slid into the LZ. When the Huey finally lifted off, the unopposed enemy troops on the eastern slope riddled it from stem to stern. Somehow, the courageous crew kept their chopper flying.32

  As the shot-up formation departed the A Shau, the team took a head count and discovered they were a man short. In the confusion they had left one of their own on the LZ. Although out of ammunition, dangerously low on fuel, and bleeding from numerous shrapnel wounds, the Covey led his airborne package back to Firebase Thor. He then covered the lead UH-1’s approach by executing multiple treetop-level passes, drawing all ground fire toward his own aircraft while pickling off his external stores, sending the four empty LAU-59 rocket pods and the external fuel tank tumbling end over end into the red dirt. The ploy silenced two heavy machine guns and at least forced the enemy troops to keep their heads down, thus enabling the vulnerable helicopter to land and rescue the stranded team member.33 Alive but bloodied by their ordeal, the members of RT Python mostly rode in silence back to Phu Bai, all wounded with one Montagnard dying en route. On the slopes of Firebase Thor they left 42 enemy soldiers dead and an estimated 300 KBA.34 Later that afternoon, another Covey put in multiple airstrikes against Thor to destroy the equipment RT Python had to abandon during their emergency extraction.

  Even before the ARVN invasion of Laos concluded, American troop withdrawal moved forward at an accelerated pace and continued throughout the year. In early March the 5th Special Forces Group officially returned to Fort Bragg, followed by the 1st Brigade of the 5th Mech, which returned to Fort Polk, Louisiana. Two brigades from the Americal Division left and the division was deactivated, while the entire 1st Marine Division returned to Camp Pendleton. The only remaining U.S. division in Military Region I, the 101st Airborne Division, found itself confined to “dynamic defense” duties as it gradually disengaged from active combat and prepared to return to Fort Campbell beginning in December 1971. The rapid disengagement in Vietnam also signaled a shift in Army emphasis back toward the traditional Cold War European battlefield.35 And what about the A Shau Valley, the place that time forgot? After nine years of bitter fighting, MACV forgot about it, too—it was now an ARVN problem.

  For reasons never explained or justified, SOG continued to insert U.S.-led reconnaissance teams into the valley, more than likely because they remained “the only game in town” willing to take on the dangerous assignment. By and large most of the missions did not accomplish their goals, although not from a lack of valor, sacrifice, or initiative on the part of the individual team members going in harm’s way. Nevertheless, their impact on the enemy was far out of proportion to their size. Presumably any intelligence the teams gathered made its way up the chain of command to MACV, but what value it offered became a moot point since the American headquarters had no intention of acting on the information.

  Albert Einstein is credited with saying that “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” By Einstein’s definition, the planners at SOG in 1971 must have suffered from chronic insanity after repeatedly ordering what amounted to a standard mission profile. The organization suffered from an incurable operational mentality, one that did not attempt to analyze lessons learned, nor did it come up with methods to offset North Vietnam’s efforts to counter SOG teams. Invariably, the results rarely changed, especially in the A Shau. As team members continued to be killed, even a few senior officers within SOG agitated against the accepted modus operandi. For example, Lt Colonel Raymond Call, deputy chief of OP-35, the Ground Studies Group responsible for sending teams against the Ho Chi Minh Trail, felt strongly that the program had become stale. In discussing the mission, he noted that “It became redundant and a waste of resources. If you double the size of something like OP-35 it doesn’t mean it’s going to be twice as good.” After his second tour with OP-35, Call reflected, “I don’t think we accomplished anything my second tour … but the issue then was to put numbers on the board … never mind if you didn’t get any intelligence.”36

  In spite of Raymond Call’s warning, recon teams continued to be inserted into the Valley of Death—with predictable results. For instance, on May 3, 1971, RT Asp ventured into the southeast corner of the A Shau: the three Americans and five Montagnards were never seen again. Years later the lone Montagnard survivor from RT Asp turned up and revealed that a 40-man local VC militia force tracked down the team and engaged them in a prolonged firefight. When the VC ordered the team to surrender, the members of RT Asp kept fighting until they ran out of ammunition, at which point the three Americans and five of the six Montagnards were captured and executed. The lone survivor managed to evade and made his way into Laos.37

  On May 7 CCN executed a different entry into Base Area 611, this time via parachute. In an effort to insert teams at night when no LZ watchers operated, SOG decided to attempt its second combat HALO (high altitude, low opening) parachute drop in the A Shau. The concept resembled sport parachuting free-fall jumps, including a steerable parachute; however, unlike the sport, in HALO the free fall was only a means to a very hazardous end. In the predawn darkness, the four members of the all-U.S. RT Manes leaped from the tailgate of a C-130 at 18,500 feet. Two team members were injured on landing and subsequently extracted, but the two remaining continued their mission throughout their four-day stay in the area. The team was targeted against a storage area which, unfortunately, they could not locate. Nevertheless, the HALO insert apparently went undetected.38

  Evidently expecting a different result, on May 18, 1971, CCN also inserted RT Alaska into the A Shau on the northeast corner of Base Area 611. Almost immediately the team of three America
ns and three Nungs made contact with a large NVA force and called for an emergency extraction. Sgt Dale W. Dehnke, Specialist 5 Gary L. Hollingsworth, and one of the Nungs apparently died in the early fighting; it was Dehnke’s 23rd birthday. During the firefight the One-Zero, Lieutenant Danny D. Entrican, and the two remaining Nungs evaded while they waited for the rescue helicopters to arrive. First on the scene was a UH-1 piloted by Warrant Officers David Soyland and Dale A. Pearce. As they passed over the team and banked the aircraft to the right, it was hit by an RPG which severed the tail boom, causing an immediate crash. The aircraft impacted on its right side on a slope, sliding downhill until it stopped at the bottom of the hill. Warrant Officer Pearce was killed in the crash, but the other three crewmen were able to exit the demolished chopper. Heavy enemy fire precluded rescue until the next day when a Bright Light team was inserted in an attempt to recover the survivors of both RT Alaska and the downed Huey. The two surviving crewmen and the two Nungs were found alive, and while Pearce’s remains were identified, the rescue party lacked the tools needed to free his body from the wreckage. The Bright Light team recovered the bodies of Hollingsworth, Dehnke, and the Nung trooper. Hollingsworth and the Nung, however, had been stripped naked and both had been shot in the temple, a strong indication that they had been captured alive and then executed. One of the survivors reported that he saw a man, believed to be David Soyland, running on the crest of a nearby ridge, and although search efforts continued until May 27, the searchers were unable to locate either Lt Entrican or Warrant Officer Soyland. Both were listed as MIA.39