After the L-T reported to both the captain and the colonel, the radio traffic on the battalion net became a chatterbox. Calls went out to anyone who needed to know about the ambush. After several minutes, the colonel ordered the L-T to strip the bodies and inventory everything they found. A helicopter and two intelligence experts would arrive at their location within the next two hours.
“These rucks must weigh about a hundred and fifty pounds each. I’m curious as hell to see what’s inside of them.”
“Unbelievable! How can somebody who weighs so little carry so much weight?”
“No telling how far they had to come, but there’s enough stuff here to keep them supplied for several weeks.”
They emptied the rucks onto the ground and organized the contents into small groups to the side of the trail. Most were identical and packed with ammunition, food, medical supplies, and varying personal effects. Scout found a map and some official paperwork written in Vietnamese. He handed them to Nung who began to read the special orders.
After scanning through the documents, Nung and Scout approached the L-T with the find. “NVA are on resupply mission and come from area in Cambodia. They travel over twenty-five kilometers and supposed to deliver all supplies not far away from here.”
“They would have made it if not for BJ,” Frenchie exclaimed.
“Good point. If we would have pulled in the mechanical before six in the morning, they would have walked right past us while we were cooking breakfast.”
“Yeah, but these guys would have lit us up if they smelled food cooking. They wouldn’t take off like the VC might have.”
“That’s just too much for me to believe,” somebody in the other squad debated. “I’m thinking that they would have been bopping down this trail and chattering up a storm as they humped along. We would have heard them coming and set up a quick ambush.”
“I don’t think the results would have been the same, and there would have been a good chance that some of us would have gotten hurt.” Frenchie replied, not as confident as his brother from the Third Squad.
“We’ll never know, will we?”
The seven soldiers had carried the mortar tube, base plate, ten mortar rounds, three-thousand rounds of 7.62mm rounds for the AK-47’s, bags of rice, tins of fish and chicken, personal effects, cigarettes, official documents, letters and a map.
The helicopter and intelligence team did not spend more than fifteen minutes on the ground. The two men reviewed the bodies, took several pictures from various angles, and then asked the grunts to load the supplies onto the chopper, taking off without saying another word.
After conferring with Nung about the papers, the L-T looked over his map, and then dispatched a patrol to follow the trail into the jungle for five hundred meters or so. Sixpack assigned the task to John, Scout, Wild Bill, and Nung.
The four men retrieved web gear, grenades, water, and extra ammo, and readied themselves to leave the security of the NDP. Sixpack stepped into their path, “Now don’t get cute or try any hero shit out there. Just follow the trail and take notes about what you see. Do not go any further than you have to. I know that I don’t have to tell you that there are only four of you, so avoid contact at all costs. Nung, take the point and try to get close to where these NVA were heading. And stay sharp!”
“We’ll be cool, and definitely in no hurry,” Scout replied as they exited the NDP and stepped onto the trail only a few yards from where the dead NVA soldiers lay. It had been several hours since the mechanical was blown and the corpses were already bloating up with gas and attracting swarms of flies. The stench was unbearable.
The four-man patrol followed the trail alongside the thick vegetation for twenty minutes when it suddenly turned and led into the dense jungle. Once inside, they found it to be cooler under the triple canopy jungle. All were sweating profusely, moving nervously along the trail. Nobody had said a word since leaving the NDP.
About two-hundred steps into the jungle, they came upon a fork in the trail. Nung held up his arm, fist clenched, signaling the others to stay put, and then moved up the right branch toward a small stream. He only walked about thirty feet before bending over on the side of the trail to have a closer look at something on the ground. Nung returned and motioned the group together.
“No can go this way. Beaucoup danger,” he whispered.
“What did you see, Nung?”
“Come, I show.”
Together, they walked the thirty feet to where Nung had spotted the warning. Something was wrong with the scene and definitely out of place in the middle of a jungle. Seven bricks lay on the ground to the side of the trail. Four of them were stacked neatly in one row, and butted up behind were the remaining three. The space created by the missing brick in the second row formed a “V”, whose point faced up that trail.
“See. Is sign for booby traps! Better we no go. We go try other trail for ti-ti (Vietnamese slang for a little bit).”
They quietly returned to the fork and Nung led them up the left trail. The discovery of the booby trap warning heightened their awareness up another notch or two. They slowed their approach in order to watch both the jungle for movement and the trail for trip wires. The slow pace continued for another two-hundred meters when a large cleared area opened up to their front. The ground on the left side of the trail was void of all vegetation and measured about fifty feet square. The trail resumed on the other side of the clearing and continued onward into the jungle. They were halfway across the clearing when they came upon another strange sight. Nung called for them to stop again.
To their right was something resembling a hitching post for horses in the old western movies. Two poles, three feet high and ten feet apart, stuck up from the ground. A third and longer pole ran horizontally – straddling the other two and tied together with vines.
The four men gathered around, glancing at one another with inquisitive looks upon their faces. Shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads, none had the slightest idea of what it was or what it represented. The ground nearby was hard and smooth and they did not see any horseshoe or hoof prints embedded into the earth.
“Let’s head back,” Scout whispered. “I’ll take the point. Nung, watch our backs.”
Scout moved down the trail, followed by the other three men. The small patrol moved slightly faster than they did when coming up the trail, still very quiet in their movements.
All breathed a sigh of relief when they exited the jungle, and returned to the open trail. Now the pace was even faster.
When the patrol returned to the NDP, there was only enough time left to report in with the L-T and grab a quick meal before nightfall.
The L-T had decided to spend another night in the same location, and then dispatch two squads in the morning to investigate what the small patrol had uncovered.
During the night, Larry became very sick. He developed a high fever, and Doc recommended they call for a Medevac to pick him up in the morning. His symptoms were the same as malaria, but something else was ailing him too; Doc could not put his finger on it.
The next morning before Larry left on the dust-off helicopter, Sixpack ordered him and John to switch weapons and ammo. Larry would take the M-16 with him to the hospital and John would now carry the machine gun. John was excited about the having the M-60. He knew that carrying it would be more work, but having such awesome firepower under his control gave him a greater sense of security.
Third and Fourth Squads departed on their patrol shortly after the Medevac helicopter left with Larry. Lieutenant Ramsey’s curiosity was piqued and he accompanied them on the patrol up the trail.
John and BJ took this opportunity to tear down the gun to give it a good cleaning and oiling. When the task was finished, they laid out the belts of ammo, cleaned all the dirt from them, and then saturated each with oil. After a half hour, they were pleased enough with the results to pack away the cleaning supplies.
The patrol was gone for only an hour when the
sound of a firefight reached the NDP. It came from the same direction as the trails, which meant that the two-squad patrol had made contact. The sound of AK-47 and M-16 fire grew louder and escalated to a fevered pitch, loud single explosions from grenades and M-79 launcher rounds punctuated the rifle fire. Seconds later, the telltale sound of two M-60 machine guns joined in the fray. Those remaining behind knew they had to leave ASAP and reinforce their brothers.
“Grab your shit,” Sixpack ordered the two remaining squads, “We move out in thirty seconds.”
Sergeant Holmes led the reinforcements up the trail at a fast trot. They were within a hundred feet of turning into the jungle when the other two squads emerged with the L-T. They were also on the run, the L-T motioned for them to turn around and head back in the other direction. It did not take much effort to convince the others to do so. Lt. Ramsey halted everyone after a hundred meters and had them move into the high elephant grass to set up a hasty defensive perimeter. He wanted to be certain the enemy was not following them to the NDP.
“What happened on the trail, L-T?” Sixpack inhaled deeply, trying to catch his breath.
“Charlie was set up at the fork in the trail and waited for us to get close. We weren’t quite in the kill zone yet, but they opened up on us anyway.”
“How many were there?”
“I’m not sure, but I would guess they had just as many men as we did.”
“Why didn’t they wait for you to get closer?”
“I think somebody in their group fucked it up, because we heard a misfire several seconds before the shooting started. That gave us all that split second we needed to jump off the trail, find some cover, and return fire. When they broke off the ambush, we kept firing and backing away, then took off at a run when we could.”
“Anybody get hurt?”
“It is truly a miracle, but everybody made it out okay.”
“So what do you want to do now?”
“First thing we need to do is to get some artillery fire going into that area.”
“Good idea. I’ll send out a couple of OP’s between us and the jungle trail to give us some warning in case they decide to come after us.”
The brass denied the request for artillery because of the close proximity to some of the villages in the line of fire. A short round could land in one of them and kill innocent bystanders.
Sixpack returned and could see that the L-T was pissed.
“They won’t give us permission to fire artillery.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Villages are in the line of fire.”
“We haven’t seen one village anywhere near us! This is bullshit!”
“I know.”
“What about the gunships?”
“I’ll try them next.”
Fifteen minutes later, two Cobra gunships arrived and circled over the jungle where the ambush occurred. The pilots switched to the company net in order to speak directly with Lt. Ramsey about the fire mission, informing him that they were unable to see through the triple canopy and wanted the grunts to identify the hostile area with smoke.
This disappointed both Sixpack and the L-T, who informed the pilots that he would have to send his entire platoon back into the jungle to look for viable targets. Both pilots wanted to support the platoon and agreed to remain on station in case they found the enemy.
First Platoon cautiously inched their way back into the jungle, staying low on the side of the trail. After a hand signal, the men quickly stepped off to the left and sought suitable cover. They were not sure if the enemy would fire at them again, but each made sure they were well concealed and protected.
A star cluster flare fired through the triple canopy to show the two Cobra pilots the location of the friendly forces below. It was also the signal for the men to open fire. The four machine gunners, equally spaced through the column, opened fire, and were joined quickly by those with M-16 rifles. The men fired hundreds of rounds at the invisible enemy before the L-T, satisfied with the recon by fire, called for an end to the shooting.
BJ and John smiled proudly to one another as their gun was the only one of four that kept firing without jamming.
Lt. Ramsey sent the pilots a sit rep, informing them that they were now entering the ambush site.
The platoon swept through the area, checking for signs of the enemy. They found blood splattered just beyond the fork and all through the brush in between the two trails. Several blood trails were leading deeper into the jungle and only on the left path, which was not known to be booby-trapped. They continued searching the area for another forty-five minutes, but as always after an ambush, found no bodies left behind.
The L-T called the Cobra pilots to terminate the mission and thanked them for their support. He was also anxious to discuss this area in more detail with the captain and ordered the platoon to return to the NDP.
Upon their arrival, the soldiers moved to their respective areas within the perimeter. It was Third Squad’s turn to provide volunteers for the two-man OP’s. They organized three teams and moved out within ten minutes.
During this downtime, and especially after a firefight, the weapons were cleaned and oiled. Each squad took turns completing this task while the other three remained on guard and defended the perimeter. It would otherwise be disastrous for the platoon if some NVA happened upon the NDP and caught all of them with their weapons apart.
Some of the men took the opportunity to write home; letters were collected and taken to the rear during every resupply twice a week. A letter home did not require a postage stamp; instead, soldiers printed the word “FREE” in place of a stamp. Rumor had it that if someone wrote a note on the side of a C-Ration box - as long as it had an address and the word “FREE” in place of a stamp - the Postal Service would deliver it. This theory was never tested, however.
Many of the young men laid on the ground with their backs against rucks, reading books or listening to transistor radios with earpieces. All equipment was packed, and weapons were cleaned and ready to move out in a moment’s notice.
Lt. Ramsey had a map spread out on the ground and was in the process of making small marks with his grease pencil while listening to the captain on the radio handset. He did not look too happy, succeeding in only transmitting a couple of words before the captain forced him back into a listening mode. When he attempted to talk a second time, the results were the same. Finally, he threw his grease pencil down onto the map and tossed the radio receiver to Bob, who was sitting close by.
“Squad leaders on me!” Sixpack and the other three sergeants dropped what they were doing and immediately moved over to join the L-T.
“The captain wants us to stay in this same position again tonight and dispatch two ambush teams after nightfall to cover the trail near its entry into the jungle.”
“L-T, I don’t mind the ambushes, but staying here for a third consecutive night isn’t too smart.”
“I agree, Sixpack, but there was nothing I could do to change his mind.”
“Sir, some of the men are already complaining about the smell coming from the trail.”
“Sorry, Rock, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Have your men break off the filters from their cigarettes and give them to Nung. He has some special liquid and can put a drop onto each one. Then your people can put them up their noses. It’s worked well for our squad.”
“Thanks for the suggestion, Sixpack.”
“Which squads are going to pull the ambush tonight?”
“Sixpack, I want your squad to team up with Rock’s Second Squad. We will finalize our plans later this afternoon. Plan to leave about 2100 hrs. It will be dark enough by then.”
“Hey, Scout, you know I would have volunteered for the ambush if we hadn’t been picked ourselves.”
“I would have been right behind you, Wild Bill. I’m not too fond of staying in the same place for three nights in a row. This is plain stupid!”
“That will be
for the other two squads to worry about.”
“Doesn’t it strike anybody as odd that nobody came through here to investigate the explosions and shooting? After all, this is supposed to be a populated, no fire zone.”
“I thought about that myself, Polack, especially with these villages nearby. You’d think somebody would have shown up by now.”
“This reminds me of something a guy told me when I was on road security when I first got in country. The guy told me to be happy when villagers were around; they know when Charlie is in the area and do not want to be caught in the middle when there’s going to be a fight. So, this must be a sure sign that the VC are out and about.”
“That’s why I don’t like being in the same place all this time. If the VC are definitely around, then it's certain they know we’re here.”
The two ambush squads were making final preparations for the night. They rolled up poncho liners and tied them to the back of their ammo belts. There was no need to wear the ponchos, they would make too much noise; it was also highly doubtful that any of them would be lying on the ground anyway. Each man would most likely spend the night wide-awake sitting against a tree, wrapped up in a camouflaged poncho liner, staring into the black night.
It would be too dark for them to set up mechanical ambushes, but they did plan on taking along extra claymores and clackers to cover their small perimeter.
The men shared canteens and filled them to prevent water from sloshing around inside while moving. They also used black electrical tape to secure anything that could rattle or knock into something else. Noise discipline was crucial in the dead of night; the slightest of sounds could carry through the air and alert others to their presence.
The NDP would not set up any mechanicals that night either. They wanted to keep the trails open in the event that either of the ambush teams got into trouble - thus allowing reinforcements the ability to move in quickly in support, or to make a hasty retreat if necessary.
Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel - Revised Edition Page 22