“Cap, both you and Top have been very good to me since I’ve come to the company. I’d like to help you out, but I really don’t think I’m qualified to do what you are asking.”
“You are more qualified than you know. I have the utmost respect for your judgment and know that you’ll be successful.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No son, you don’t.”
“Okay, Cap, I only hope my luck continues to hold out.”
“You’ll do fine without luck!”
“When do I go?”
“Why don’t you go back to your celebration inside, I’ll even send over some cold beer. Take a couple of hours to party and then gather all your gear and come to see me. I’ll take you over and introduce you to the L-T and the rest of your new team.”
John was not at all comfortable with the decision but acknowledged the officer with an affirmative shake of his head.
“Thank you, John!” Both men walked away, leaving the heavy-hearted young man to his own apprehensions.
He leaned against the sandbags of the bunker as his thoughts tumbled forward, crashing into his consciousness like a runaway freight train. ‘I’m not qualified to lead a platoon. Other people must see a different side of me that I don’t see. I’m a loner and have only had to worry about saving my own ass. Now I have to worry about the safety and well-being of an entire platoon. Earlier in my tour, I was a know-it-all and was unafraid to take chances, often taking more risks than I should have, especially when walking point. Now that I’m short, I feel like a Cherry all over again - experienced or not. These are going to be the longest two weeks of my life. I hope I don’t get overly cautious or paranoid in the bush. That would be dangerous too, and I might overlook something obvious and cause someone to get hurt. If that happened, I’ll have to live with that on my conscience for the rest of my life.’
Of late, the bush was quiet when the Americans were out on patrols. Very few units had engaged the enemy, and even then, the firefights were brief. It looked like the enemy was targeting only the ARVN’s and beating them up daily. Some of the American soldiers had garnered the opinion that the NVA had purposely tried to stay out of their way, hoping the lack of contact would send the 101st home sooner.
When leaving the hill with the First Platoon, John was fully loaded with enough supplies for four days. He carried a compass around his neck and had two maps stuffed into his trouser pocket. He was pleased that his load felt much lighter and more comfortable overall, without carrying the extra weight of the twenty-six pound radio and spare batteries.
When the birds unloaded First Platoon at their destination, John took readings from his compass to confirm his location. He also looked around to familiarize himself with some of the outstanding landmarks, indicating them on the map for future reference. Once away from the LZ, he would take a reading from any two such landmarks to pinpoint his location on the map. However, the method would not work in triple canopy jungles, so he had to depend on marking rounds from a nearby artillery source.
First Platoon’s challenge was to cross the valley and climb to the top of Hill 373. The mountain looked just like any other and was only five-hundred meters away on the map; however, it took most of the day to reach, as a smaller hill stood between the men and their final destination.
On a topical map of the area, the hills were referenced by their elevation in meters, unless, of course, a firebase stood on top. Other hills - such as Hamburger Hill - received its name after fighting a significant battle to roust the enemy from on top. That particular fight lasted several days; soldiers often referred to the battle as a ‘meat grinder’, thus the origin of the moniker. Pork Chop Hill was another example of a hill made infamous during the Korean War.
When First Platoon reached the base of Hill 373, John and the L-T had their first disagreement. Lieutenant Bozolynsky insisted on sending the entire platoon up the hill at the same time in case the NVA were waiting for them. John, on the other hand, did not want to risk the entire platoon, and explained that he thought it much safer for them to commit only one squad. The most experienced point man, Chris, was in the Third Squad and had a reputation of being an excellent tracker with good instincts. It made perfect sense to send that squad up, and, if they saw any signs of danger en route, they could retreat without getting the entire platoon trapped. The L-T’s face was beet red, either from rising blood pressure or embarrassment, and he was unable to provide a clear reason to support his stand. He conceded to John who quickly dispatched the recon team.
The hill had seen much activity over time and many pathways led up and down from the thousand-foot high summit. It was not part of a mountain chain, but it did overshadow many other isolated hills in this part of the valley. The slope and rising ridgelines were not as steep as other hills in the area, thus, allowing the recon patrol to move swiftly to the top.
Forty minutes later, a lone runner descended and rejoined the balance of the platoon. They found nothing out of place on the way up, the summit was now secured, and the squad waited for the remaining soldiers.
When the platoon was together on top, Chris appeared anxious while waiting for John and Lt. ‘Bozo’ to join him.
“Sir, I found some enemy signs on the back side of the hill. Can you and the sergeant follow me so you can have a look for yourselves?”
The two men followed Chris to the opposite side of the hilltop.
“I found these after sending the runner down to get you.” He pointed to the dusty ground; several boot imprints headed downhill.
“What’s your opinion?” John asked.
“I think somebody was up here, saw us when we first came up, and then bugged out when they saw we weren’t leaving.”
“They do look fresh. What do you think, L-T?”
“They’re boot prints; somebody from your squad must have come to this side of the hill and walked around before you came over here.”
“L-T, those aren’t GI boot prints.” John stepped into the dust just to the side of the other footprints. “See, the design is different, and the feet are much smaller.”
‘Bozo’ took a knee and looked over the prints. “Okay, I see the difference now, but what makes you think these are recent? They look like they’ve been here a while.”
“How about mine, L-T? Do these look old to you, too?”
Before ‘Bozo’ could respond, Chris interrupted. “Sarge, come and take a look at this. It might shed some light and help determine the age of these prints.” All three walked another ten feet down the pathway where Chris knelt down and grabbed part of a bush, pulling the branches upward. “What do you think about this?”
Several twigs were broken and the fractures were still fresh to the touch. Chris dropped the branch and pointed out several more on shrubbery leading downhill.
“This is not a good sign.”
“What do you mean, sergeant?”
“L-T, the breaks are still moist, which means this happened within the last hour or so. I’m not sure just how many people were here, but it’s certain they left this hilltop in a hurry after spotting us.”
“So that means they’re gone, and most likely won’t return, because we’re here now. This is good news and should make our job easier.”
Chris and John looked at one another and saw the disappointment in each other’s eyes. Both were quite aware of trouble brewing, and Chris’ opinion would only fall upon the L-T’s deaf ears. Therefore, it was up to John to convince Bozo of the great risk to the platoon. Darkness was coming fast and they did not have a plan yet. “Lieutenant, we need to talk. Chris, you can rejoin your squad and I’ll get with everybody else in a few.”
Chris left the two men to talk.
“L-T, take a walk with me.” They walked over to the path on the side of the hill near the disrupted shrubbery. “Sir, the enemy knows we’re up here.”
“So what’s the big deal, sergeant?”
“L-T, you have to trust in what I’m trying
to tell you. The First Platoon is going to be in deep shit if we stay on top of this hill tonight.”
“You know our orders, sergeant. We’re supposed to stay on this hill for the next three days and send out patrols.”
“We can still do that, but we need to outsmart Charlie so we don’t get hurt tonight.”
“What’s so unusual about tonight?”
“First, let’s review the facts. We find boot prints and evidence of a hasty retreat. So, there may have only been a couple of scouts on lookout, watching the valley from up here. That’s most likely the reason they didn’t fire at our people, and instead, beat a path off the hill. Second, they’re most likely part of a larger group, and what they’ll do next depends on what our next move will be.”
“What makes you think something will happen?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a hunch. They most certainly saw us land earlier today and now they know we’re up here. If we continue downhill after them, they may booby trap our advance or spring an ambush on us. And if we choose to stay up here, they’ll most likely set us up for a mortar barrage tonight.”
“We’ll just have to dig our foxholes a little deeper and stay put right here.”
“L-T, why put the men at risk? Not only does the enemy know we’re here, they most likely know exactly how many of us there are. Their strength is unknown, and we don’t know where they are. We need a plan for the night.”
“What do you suggest we do, Big Shot?”
This caught John off guard; he didn’t understand the L-T’s hostility or ignorance in this matter, and he wondered why the L-T resented him so much. He was just doing what was he was asked to do.
“I’m pretty sure they’re watching us now, so we should give them every indication that we’re staying on the hilltop tonight. We’ll dig our foxholes, put out trip flares and claymores like we normally do when preparing an NDP. Then after it gets dark, we take our gear and silently move back down to the base of the hill the way we came up earlier. There, we can set up a small perimeter for the night and also keep an eye on the trails around the hill.”
“And just what do you hope to accomplish by doing this?”
“When they mortar us tonight, we’ll be in a much better position to direct artillery onto them without having to duck mortar rounds from deep inside of a foxhole. We’ll hear the tube firing and can silence it. Coordinates can be pre-planned with the CP and referenced during the fire mission.”
“And what if they don’t mortar us tonight? What then?”
“Well, shit, sir, we just move back up in the morning, foxholes will already be dug. Then, we can dispatch our patrols and stay there tomorrow night. We’ve got nothing to lose.”
“I think it’s all a waste of time. I say we stay up here tonight.”
“Lieutenant, they did us huge favors by letting us know they were up here. Had that not happened, the situation would be much different and I would not be pressing the issue. I thought we could work together, but I will go over your head if I have to. This is a serious situation and you need to use a little common sense.”
Both men rose and stood toe to toe. “You’re not calling anyone. I’m in charge of this platoon, and until you outrank me, you’ll do as I say.” The Lieutenant’s voice grew louder, attracting the attention of many of the soldiers nearby. Chris had already briefed his squad and many of the others in the platoon, so they had an idea of what the argument entailed.
John maintained his cool and kept his voice at a normal level. “Look, sir, I do fully understand that you’re in charge, but right now you’re just a hard-headed asshole that happens to be an officer. I’ve seen shit like this repeatedly during my eleven months here and have learned much more about our enemy than you did in ROTC. People survive by instincts and hunches here in the Nam. I’ve only got a couple of weeks left in this hellhole, and plan to take every necessary precaution to make certain I stay alive along with everybody else on this hilltop. I will not tolerate some college-educated ROTC graduate thinking he knows better.”
“Watch your mouth, sergeant. I could have you busted to private for talking to me that way.”
“You know, I don’t really give a fuck, sir. You do what you have to do. Just show me some consideration by letting me do my job.”
“Let you do your job? Shit, soldier, you’re trying to do mine.”
“Call it what you like, sir. All I’m trying to do is to keep every member of this platoon alive until it’s time for me to go home, and I’ll do that with or without your help.”
He did not respond. Instead, he kept looking at the ground and scowled, shuffling his feet back and forth in the dirt.
“Sir, I’m trying to keep you alive, too.”
The L-T angrily kicked a stone across the top of the hill and got into John’s face with fire in his eyes.
“You know, sergeant, I don’t like you or your attitude. I think you’re just a smartass nineteen-year-old punk. You think you’re hot shit because you’ve been here so long. Well, I’m not buying it. You kissed the captain’s ass while you were in the CP, and now that you’ve made sergeant, he’s letting you feel your rank a little before you go home.”
“Are you finished yet, sir?” John interrupted.
“No, I’m not.”
“Too fucking bad! I don’t have time to argue with you anymore. It’s getting late and these people need to know the plan.”
John turned to leave and the L-T took hold of his arm. “The plan is that we are staying on top tonight!”
The young sergeant exploded. “You’re really a stubborn bastard, aren’t you! Why are you not able to get it through your thick skull that I’m trying to help you? I didn’t want to be here, but the captain felt I might be able to teach you something about the jungle. But, you don’t want to learn! All you give a fuck about is your rank. You want to play your little game of war and make decisions based on what you learned in a book back in college. Well, mister, this is not a fucking game. People are dying out here. Have you ever seen a fellow soldier blown to pieces? What’re you gonna do when somebody dies in this platoon because you made a dumbass mistake? Are you gonna say you’re sorry and not make the same dumbass mistake again? When it’s too late? And do you think your troops will follow you into battle knowing that you’ll get them killed? I won’t let you lead these men to their death!”
John walked away, heading toward the RTO to call the captain. As he passed the Cherries, many of them sat with their eyes wide and mouths agape in awe, never before hearing a confrontation like that between an officer and an enlisted man. It was also clear that the soldiers who’d been in country for a while agreed with John; they gave him a silent ‘thumbs up’ signal when making eye contact.
John had the radio receiver and was ready to make the call when the L-T stopped him.
“Hold on, sergeant. We’ll do it your way tonight. But if nothing happens, you’ll regret it.”
“Regret it? What are you gonna do, send me to Vietnam? Do not threaten me, sir. You don’t know what I’m capable of doing.” John hesitated for just a moment, drew a breath, and then smiled broadly, looking the Lieutenant straight in the eye. “Thanks for supporting my plan, sir. I’m sure you’ll find it much safer this way.”
Bozo bit his tongue. “We’ll see.”
“I’ll get everything organized right away. I suggest you inform the captain on what we’ve found and what we intend to do tonight.”
“Yes, sergeant,” the L-T responded sarcastically.
John just let Bozo’s attitude slide and gathered the squad leaders to inform them of their plans for that night. He wanted everyone to be obvious in their actions, giving the enemy the perception that they were staying on the hill that night. The grunts would dig foxholes, prepare sleeping positions, and generally make themselves seen from below. Then, when darkness descended, he wanted some of the men to flick lighters and smoke cigarettes in the open without making it too obvious. Their intent was to make the enemy fe
el that the Americans were not feeling threatened and were comfortable for the night.
After he shared the plan, John studied his map and chose eight reference locations surrounding the hill, assigning each a number. He helped the RTO cypher the coordinates and then got on the horn with Fuzzy to arrange the preset targets. This allowed for a much faster response from the firebase artillery when calling for the fire mission.
After an hour passed, John sat down next to the L-T at his sleep position to review the plan and preset artillery map coordinates. Surprisingly, the L-T appeared to be a little more receptive and supportive than earlier.
A little after nine, the young sergeant was comfortable that it was dark enough to execute the second half of the plan, calling for the men to move down to the base of the hill. They stayed low to the ground when moving across the hilltop so as not to create a silhouette against the twilighted sky, thus exposing them to whoever might be watching.
The men moved cautiously through the dim light of night, surprisingly quiet as they moved along the path downhill. Thirty minutes later, they reached the valley floor and silently dispersed into the surrounding foliage on the side of the hill.
The L-T and John stayed awake long after the main group bedded down for the night. When midnight arrived without incident, he whispered to John in the darkness,
“So much for your hunch, sergeant - is it okay if I go to sleep now or will I miss something?” John could hear the sinister tone in the L-T’s voice.
“Do what you want, sir.”
“Eating crow leaves a bitter taste, doesn’t it?”
“Sir, just get off my ass.”
“I’m not on it yet.”
John was sure there was a smirk on the L-T’s face when he turned away to lie down. He was ticked off and wanted to avoid any further confrontation with Bozo, so he picked up his equipment and moved next to the RTO about fifteen feet away.
He had heard stories during his tour about men rebelling against their leaders and taking action into their own hands. They called it ‘fragging’ in Vietnam, which was severe retribution for arrogance, stupidity, and the lack of common sense - resulting in serious injury or death to the men following orders. Obviously, survival was paramount in war, and repeated action by somebody purposely putting you in harm’s way without remorse received swift and immediate punishment. The action was a permanent solution.
Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel - Revised Edition Page 44