The Fall of Camp A-555: The Vietnamese Army are one step closer to victory... (Vietnam Ground Zero Military Thrillers Book 4)

by Eric Helm

  “All right,” said Gerber. “The assault company will rally on the eastern side of the runway and assault the Vietnamese quarters. Normally, the tactic to clear buildings would be to toss in a grenade and follow it in, but we don’t know where all the Vietnamese prisoners are being held. We do know that a large number of them were taken off the camp and have joined Sergeants Smith and Tyme. We’ll need to use discretion with the grenades.”

  One of Henderson’s men asked, “Didn’t Sergeant Fetterman make a recon of that?”

  “Tony?” said Gerber.

  Fetterman got to his feet and turned to look at the men behind him. “Time constraints and a heavy enemy presence restricted my movements. I was lucky to learn where the general and Miss Morrow are being held.”

  As Fetterman sat down, Gerber added, “Not to mention there are quite a few striker hootches on the compound. We have a similar problem with the Tai area. We just don’t know where they are being held with any degree of certainty. That complicates the mission.”

  Gerber waited, and when no one asked anything else, he continued. “Again, as soon as the helicopters are out, Tyme and Smith will begin firing again. Now if everything has worked as planned, Sergeant Fetterman will hold the command post and that will allow him to take out the command bunker and the flanking bunkers on the east wall. As Smith and Tyme again break the attack, we’ll want the Mike Force to parachute onto the east side of the camp. As the bunkers explode, the men will assault through the opening, sweeping both north and south.

  “The group moving to the south will take the Tai hootches. Those heading to the north will take out any VC who happen to be on the north wall.”

  Gerber stepped back to the map on the wall. “Now what we’ll want to do is force the VC to retreat to the south. Push them in that direction. We won’t block that route of escape but let them have it. There is open ground on the south side of the camp for about five hundred meters. Fast mover support should be on station at dawn and will take out targets of opportunity south of the camp.”

  “Since the bunkers are all mined,” said Kepler, “when Tony gets the firing controls, why don’t we just blow up all the bunkers?”

  Gerber smiled. “A tempting idea, but then we’d have to rebuild everything, not to mention the equipment that we’d destroy. Besides, if the attack works as planned, the VC will abandon most of the bunker line. If we find that we’re having to assault too much of it, we’ll take them out with the mines.

  “Okay, on to specifics. As I’ve mentioned, Sergeant Fetterman will take one helicopter and one team to assault the command post. Sergeant Bocker will take another and hit the commo bunker. Sam, you’ll have to take the men to rescue Miss Morrow.”

  “Yes, sir. Shouldn’t you do that?”

  “No. I’m going to take the team into the redoubt. We’ll hit the team house to free the general. T.J., I’ll want you with me on that one.”

  “Yes, sir. It strikes me that there’ll be guards in there and it won’t be all that light,” said Washington.

  “Good point. Anyone have a recommendation?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kepler. “I’ve an idea. Comes from one of the Intel reports I just read. We could get one of the weapons men to rig a couple of carbines with flashlights taped to the barrels. Sort of a spotting-type scope.”

  “That seems a little cumbersome,” responded Gerber. “How about a couple of us carrying pistols and flashlights and maybe a backup man with the weapon you recommend?”

  “Yes, sir. That would work.”

  “What about weapons for the guys inside?” asked Fetterman. “The last thing we want to do is leave a bunch of people in the team house protecting them.”

  “Hell,” said Gerber, “they’re all soldiers. Granted, most of them are paper pushers who probably haven’t touched a weapon in years, but they are soldiers. We’ll give them a couple of rifles, let them have anything we pick up off the VC and leave them to their own devices.”

  Gerber looked around. Then he said, “T.J., once we’ve taken the team house, you’ll have to take the machine gun bunkers covering the entrance to the redoubt. At that time I’ll use the tunnel to join Sergeant Fetterman in the command post.”

  “Sir,” said Anderson, “what do I do once Miss Morrow is freed?”

  “That we’ll have to play by ear. The last thing we’ll want is to get a reporter killed. The best course may be for you to hold the hootch and wait for relief.”

  Gerber turned his attention to Kepler. “Derek, you’ll have to bring in the main heliborne assault. Organize the company on the east side of the runway. I’ll try to join you there.

  “Greg, I’ll want you to bring in the Mike Force.”

  “Captain Gerber,” said Henderson, “you’re leaving my team out of this.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m sorry, but this is our camp, and I want us to take it back.”

  “Seems to me,” said Henderson, “that Custer refused an offer of help because he wanted all the glory for the Seventh Cavalry.”

  Gerber couldn’t help smiling. “And he got it, didn’t he? Seriously, I think we can handle it. We’ll need a reserve here, and if I call for help, then you and your team should bring it in.”

  “All right,” agreed Henderson. “I just wanted to make sure that you had thought this through and weren’t excluding us because of some perverse feeling that you had to do it all.”

  “Not at all,” said Gerber. He clapped his hands together once and said, “Anything else?”

  “Captain,” said one of the Huey pilots, “what’s clearance in those areas you want us to land?”

  “The only real problem will be in the redoubt, but if you keep to the northern side, you should have sufficient blade clearance. The walls are only five feet high, and there isn’t much on top of them. Sitting on the ground, the blades should clear the top of the wall. All other locations should have sufficient distances from the structures that landing will be simple.”

  “Yes, sir. Is there somewhere we could get an accurate, to scale map of the camp?”

  Gerber pointed at Fetterman. “Sergeant Fetterman can answer any questions that you might have of that nature. See him after the briefing.”

  “Sir,” said Kepler, “I hate to bring it up, but in the event the attack fails, what do we do?”

  “Sergeant Fetterman will destroy the command bunker on the north wall, along with two or three others, and we will escape and evade to the north. Each man will be on his own at that point. However, I will announce the retreat with a single red star cluster flare.”

  “Weapons?” asked someone.

  “The specific logistics will need to be worked out. Each man will carry his personal weapon. Any special equipment that you need, see the weapons men here.” He looked at Henderson.

  “Sergeant Brown is my weapons specialist,” said Henderson. “And we have a large stock of captured weapons.”

  “Thank you,” said Gerber. “That reminds me. Going in we won’t need to take a lot of backup supplies such as C-rations and the like. Each man should carry a canteen of water and a first-aid kit. We don’t know what shape the dispensary is going to be in. Of course, you can take anything you feel you need, but we’ll either have won or lost quickly, I think, so resupply won’t be a problem.”

  Gerber glanced around the room. The men were grim, sweating and intense. They were professionals who knew their jobs.

  Gerber had wanted to know more about the specifics of the helicopter assault but realized that all he had to do was tell the pilots what he wanted and they would arrange anything they felt they needed. All he had to do was tell them where he wanted his force landed and at what time.

  It was the same with the other men. Gerber told Bocker that he wanted the commo bunker and Bocker would lead the men to take it back. Gerber didn’t have to tell him how to do it. In fact, detailed instructions were of no benefit because, the moment the battle started, the plan would have to change with the fluid nature of the assaul
t.

  Fetterman knew how to take the command post and knew that he couldn’t drop grenades into it. He wanted the firing controls for the charges planted around the camp intact, and if he started throwing grenades around, he would ruin them.

  Novak would be able to handle the parachute jump. Gerber was sure that Henderson had trained his Mike Force well enough that they would follow any American officer. All Novak had to do was get them on the ground and point them in the right direction. Since no one was sure what the direction might be by the time Novak was inbound, he would have to determine it.

  All in all, it was a good group of men, well trained and well prepared. They knew their jobs, and the only thing that would prevent them from doing those jobs was a bullet in the head. Gerber wanted to buy each of them a drink but didn’t want alcohol clouding anyone’s judgment. Besides, when the fighting was over, he would personally buy every man a beer.

  Gerber checked his watch. “I make it twelve thirty-five. We’ll meet here at three-thirty to discuss anything that might jeopardize the mission. Any specific questions, see the man who will have the answers. That means if it’s a flying question, talk to the pilots, and if it’s a weapons question, talk to Brown, and so on. Anything else?”

  When no one spoke, Gerber said, “Okay, that’s it.” He watched the men leave the room.

  As he moved forward to exit, one of the Huey pilots stepped up to him and said, “Sir, you do understand that we’ll have to move the Mike Force to Cu Chi for loading. Runway’s too short here for loaded 130s.”

  “Shit!”

  “Yes, sir,” said the pilot. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem. We ought to be able to move the Mike Force to Cu Chi in about forty minutes once the shit hooks arrive.”

  “That’s going to be a real coordination nightmare,” said Gerber.

  “Yes, sir. Can’t be helped.”

  As the pilot ran off, Fetterman moved in. “Strikes me, Captain, that the VC tried to take the camp with a reinforced regiment once and they failed. We’ve barely got a battalion here and we’re going to take it?”

  “Tony, you old pessimist. The VC were trying to take the camp from us. We knew it. We built it. Now they’re trying to hold something that they don’t know. Besides, we have vertical envelopment. In other words, we can put men into the camp by leaping over the wall. That was something they couldn’t do and that gives us the advantage.”

  “Yes, sir. Advantage.”

  By three in the morning, Gerber knew it would work. He had been around talking to each of the men who was organizing the various parts of the mission. Brown had shown him the jury-rigged M-2 carbines. There was a flashlight taped to the left side of the barrel. He had test fired it on the range and found that the bullets struck at the right edge of the light.

  “You put the light on the guy’s right shoulder if he’s facing you, and the rounds should hit him close to dead center,” Brown said.

  Gerber nodded and moved on. Bocker had been in radio contact with Smith and Tyme and had spent nearly twenty minutes explaining the mission to them using a variety of code words and double-talk. When he was finished, Bocker looked as if he had run a road race, but he thought that Smith and Tyme understood and doubted that anyone else did. The VC, if they had monitored the transmission, should have been thoroughly confused.

  Novak appeared at one point. He was wearing his combat gear and carrying his liberated machine gun. “Captain, we’re about ready to leave. I’m going with the Mike Force to Cu Chi.”

  “Okay, Greg. I’ll advise you on the radio when we need you. Your TOT will be nine minutes after the assault starts.”

  “Understood.”

  Gerber grinned. “See what happens when you disobey orders? I asked you not to lose the camp, and now we have to go through all this nonsense to get it back.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” he said in mock seriousness.

  “Don’t sweat it. Hey, and good luck. I’ll buy you a beer in the team house a little later.”

  “Thanks, Captain. Good luck to you.” Novak looked as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t think of anything. “Good luck,” he repeated and then turned, heading for the runway.

  Gerber watched the big man trot off into the night. “Good luck,” he mumbled under his breath. “We’re all going to need it before the day is over.”

  At three-thirty he held the final briefing in Henderson’s team house. They went over the plan one last time, checking the details and talking about problems that they thought would arise, working through them for solutions.

  Finally there seemed to be nothing else to say. Everyone understood his job and was prepared to do it. The equipment was assembled and ready, and the Vietnamese strikers were on the airfield waiting to board the choppers. The preflights had been finished, and the crew chiefs and door gunners were standing by.

  Gerber looked at the men a final time. From face to face. Then he nodded. “Let’s do it. Be careful and good luck.”

  As the men got to their feet, he called to them, “I’ll buy the beer in the team house at noon. Won’t be cold, but then neither will we.”

  That brought a laugh. The apprehension that Gerber felt seemed to vanish for a moment. How could these men fail when they seemed to be worried about how cold the beer was going to be? He knew exactly how they could fail but pushed the thought from his mind. By noon the camp would be his again.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE FLIGHT LINE AT MOC HOA

  Gerber walked up the line of Huey helicopters sitting there with their engines shut down and the aircrews waiting in the backs. The loads for each of the choppers had been designated, and the men of that load had stacked their equipment, mainly weapons, spare ammo and first-aid kits, by their choppers. This airlift wasn’t like a normal one into the field where the enemy might be lurking. This was an actual assault on an enemy-held camp. It was the first time it had been tried, as far as Gerber knew.

  Fetterman approached, looming out of the dark. He took off his boonie hat and wiped the sweat from his face using the sleeve of his fatigues. “Everyone’s ready, Captain.”

  “Okay, Tony,” said Gerber, consulting his watch. “I make it another fifteen or twenty minutes before the attack on the west wall starts.”

  Fetterman nodded. “This is going to be a strange one, sir.”

  “Yeah,” said Gerber. “I hope I’m not riding into the Sioux with eighty good men.”

  “So you know,” said Fetterman. “Not many Americans remember the Fetterman massacre.”

  Gerber felt the urge for a cigarette, a cigar, a cup of coffee, anything. Instead, he leaned against the cargo door of one of the Hueys and put a hand on the M-60 machine gun mounted in the crew chief’s well. “You’ve referred to it occasionally. I always wondered if you were related.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m afraid so. Captain Fetterman, formerly brevet Lieutenant Colonel of the Eighteenth Infantry, was a great-great-grandfather. His eighty men didn’t last long against the two thousand Sioux.”

  “I wonder if he felt like I do now. Like we’re about to ride down into that trap.” As he said that, Gerber realized that it was the second time that night someone had mentioned a massacre. First Custer and then Fetterman.

  Fetterman leaned his weapon against the helicopter next to Gerber. He crouched and looked up. “I doubt it. From everything I have ever read, Captain Fetterman was sure that he was going to beat the Sioux. Never considered the possibility that the Indians might know what they were doing.” Fetterman grinned, his teeth nearly glowing in the dark. “Besides, he didn’t have artillery support, air support and nearly a thousand reinforcements that would be landing within ten minutes of the first attack.”

  “No, I guess he didn’t.” He started as the running lights on the helicopter snapped on. He glanced up the line and saw that the lights were flashing on most of the choppers. “I guess we had better get going.”

  “Yes, sir. Good luck.”

  “Same to you, Tony. Buy
you a beer when this is over.”

  Fetterman grinned again. “I think that’s what my great-great-grandfather told his sergeant major.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement.” He watched Fetterman walk away, disappearing into the dark that wrapped the airstrip. A moment later he heard someone shout “Clear!” and the turbine of the Huey next to him began to whine. He stepped back to the pile of equipment and crouched with the other men, watching the Huey’s blades begin to swing as the engine roared to life.

  The crew chief, who had been standing to the left and rear of the helicopter, watching the turbine to make sure that nothing burst into flames, stepped close to Gerber. “You can load now.”

  Gerber stood, grabbed his gear and watched as the strikers with him did the same. Washington loomed out of the darkness carrying his weapon and his medical bag. Gerber watched him approach and climb on board. Gerber got in after him and then tapped the aircraft commander on the shoulder. The man turned, saw Gerber and then stripped off his helmet.

  Gerber unfolded the rough map he had drawn of the compound. Over the noise of the Huey, he yelled, “You know where you’re supposed to land?”

  The man put a gloved finger on the map, in the center of the redoubt.

  “Right. Remember, you got the fire control tower here, which is twenty-five feet high. And you got antennae on the commo bunker that you’ll want to avoid.”

  “Got it, Captain,” said the pilot.

  “Should be plenty of room to land in the redoubt. Stay to the north side.”

  “Sergeant Fetterman briefed me on this. We know what to do.”

  “I know,” said Gerber. “Just trying to cover all the bases.”

  The copilot reached over, touched the AC on the shoulder and pointed to one of the radios. The man turned in his seat and slipped his helmet on.

  Gerber moved back to the troop seat, grabbed at the ends of the seat belt there, but then let go of them. The last thing he needed to be doing was trying to unbuckle his seat belt in a hot LZ, and the landing at the camp would be hot. He relaxed slightly as the aircraft came to a hover but tensed again as the nose dropped and they raced along the runway. A moment later they shot into the sky.