Fire in the Streets

by Eric Hammel

  The twin failures to seize MACV and close off Highway 1 were crucial. They point to the greatest weakness of the Commu­nist plan: its unyielding rigidity. Once rebuffed, the 804th NVA Battalion's commander apparently was unable to grasp that the next best action would have been to isolate MACV from outside reinforcement. The same is true of the 4th NVA Regiment's commander, and the 810th NVA Battalion's commander. These ultimately decisive early battlefield errors were symptoms of an across-the-board failing in the way the NVA trained its officers and selected them for promotion. All plans were promulgated from the top; midlevel initiative was not so much frowned on as forbidden. In Hue, these were fatal flaws.

  *

  Despite the damage the NVA inflicted on Alpha/1/1, the company reached MACV at about 1445, as did the 1/1 CP group and Golf/2/5, which had sustained only minimal casual­ties. So, nearly 300 Marine infantrymen, five Marine M-48 tanks, two U.S. Army M-55 quad-.50 trucks, and at least two straggling 7th ARVN Armored Cavalry Battalion M-41 light tanks were now on hand to meet the renewed efforts of 4th NVA Regiment's four infantry and two sapper battalions to secure southern Hue.

  ***

  Chapter 10

  As soon as Golf/2/5, Alpha/1/1, the 1/1 CP group, and the Marine convoys had fully closed on the MACV Compound, an ad hoc group of Marine, Army, and Australian officers led by Lieutenant Colonel Ed LaMontagne began fashioning a viable defensive outlook for the MACV Compound and several neigh­boring installations. The brain trust for the committee included Major Frank Breth, Captain Jim Coolican, and Major Wayne Swenson, the 1st Marine Division liaison officer assigned to the 1st ARVN Division. The three Marine officers were old friends who had trained Marine lieutenants together at The Basic School, in Quantico, Virginia, before being ordered to Vietnam the previous summer. As such, they constituted a well-oiled team, tactically competent and immensely combat-experienced. Falling in with this group was Major Walt Murphy, the 1/1 operations officer, who had accompanied Golf/2/5 into the city. As luck would have it, the extremely talented Murphy had served as a tactics instructor at Quantico with Breth, Swenson, and Cooli­can.

  As raw materials, the brain trust had Gunnery Sergeant J L Canley's hastily reorganized Alpha/1/1; five Marine M-48 tanks; two ARVN M-41 tanks; two Army M-55 quad-.50 trucks; and a hodgepodge of MACV advisors, administrators, clerks, and Marine security guards. How could these elements be melded into a tactically sound fighting force occupying tactically sound defensive positions? The first strategic decision was to expand MACV's holdings as far north as the southeastern ramp of the Nguyen Hoang Bridge across the Perfume River.

  A particularly important addition to MACV's holdings was Doc Lao Park, an open area on the bank of the Perfume River beside the Nguyen Hoang Bridge. Though the park was exposed to fire from Communist positions along the north bank, it pro­vided an otherwise perfect helicopter landing zone (LZ) from which many wounded could eventually be evacuated.

  As MACV troops in Doc Lao Park engaged in a desultory and inconclusive exchange of fire with NVA troops holed up in multistory buildings on the north bank of the Perfume, the first medevac bird to reach Hue arrived overhead. It was a Marine CH-46 cargo helicopter out of Hue-Phu Bai Airfield. While the CH-46 circled out of range above the clouds, several of the most serious emergency medevac cases were rushed up from the MACV dispensary bunker. When the wounded had been staged in the park, the helicopter was called in. As it settled down amidst a cloud of dust thrown up by its rotors, the rear ramp was lowered and the crew chief began heaving out boxes of ammuni­tion. Under no enemy fire whatsoever, a handful of litters were loaded into the CH-46. Then, as onlookers yelled to the crew chief to tell him there were many more wounded still to be evacuated, the helicopter rose swiftly into the afternoon sky.

  For long minutes after the CH-46 lifted off, neither side fired. It was dead quiet. After a long lull, the Marine brain trust gathered in the open, right behind a Marine M-48 tank, hoping to see what was happening on the other side of the river. No one had a clue.

  Major Frank Breth was staring hard, scanning the foot of the Nguyen Hoang Bridge, when, all of a sudden, he saw a huge cloud of dust and debris emerge from right beneath the north­eastern bridge ramp. This was the backblast of a recoilless rifle. Unbelievably, Breth even saw the round that was heading across the river directly toward him. The 57mm recoilless rifle round blew a tremendous hole in a massive stone wall directly behind the M-48 tank, and the thirty or so NVA soldiers in the riverfront buildings once again peppered the park with small-arms fire.

  As soon as Breth shook off the effects of the blast, he saw that the Marine M-48 tank was engaging the enemy soldiers on the far bank with its turret-mounted .50-caliber machine gun. Though Marines and MACV troops in the park spiritedly re­turned the enemy fire, their M-16s and M-60s lacked the range and hitting power to have much effect on the buildings the NVA were using for cover. They were just wasting valuable ammuni­tion.

  In a few moments, Breth noticed that there was an ARVN M-41 tank directly to his left, at the foot of the bridge ramp. But the tank was doing nothing. Breth immediately ordered Army 2nd Lieutenant Fred Drew, a scrappy young advisor, to accom­pany him to the ARVN tank to learn why it was not returning fire.

  The two officers ran across an open stretch and clambered up onto the M-4Ps rear deck, in relative safety behind the turret. Both began hammering on the turret hatch with their rifles, hoping to rouse the tank commander. Nothing; there was no response. At that, Major Breth noticed that the .50-caliber ma­chine gun mounted on the turret had a full box of ammo affixed to it. "Hey, Drew," Breth yelled above the din of gunfire, "how about loading for me?" Lieutenant Drew nodded, so Breth stood up, yanked back the machine gun's charging handle, and opened fire.

  As Major Breth fired across the river, he could see chunks of riverfront buildings 300 meters away being tossed into the air wherever he laid the stream of .50-caliber tracer. But just as his fire was becoming effective, Breth ran out of ammunition. Again he banged on the turret, but there was no sign of life within the twenty-six-ton tank. By then, however, it was quiet again.

  Moments after the heavy exchange ended, a second Marine CH-46 arrived over Doc Lao Park. As soon as the helicopter began descending through the cloud base, the NVA resumed firing, this time with at least one .51-caliber heavy machine gun, an ideal antiaircraft weapon. Once again, the M-48 tank opened fire with its .50-caliber cupola machine gun, and the Marines and MACV troops joined in with their ineffective M-16s and M-60s. The NVA had fire superiority, however, and there seemed to be no way to overcome it so the CH-46 could set down.

  The cavalry arrived. Two Navy riverine patrol boats (PBRs) stationed at the nearby Navy LCU ramp dashed out into the stream and hurled a devastating fire with their dual .50-caliber machine guns. Within moments the PBR gunners were tearing the riverfront buildings apart. The NVA .51-caliber fire was completely shut off, and most of the NVA. infantry weapons became quiet once again.

  As soon as the NVA fire was cut off by the roving PBRs, the CH-46 set down. Casualties were loaded aboard. As it lifted away into the clouds, another CH-46 set down, and the rush to get wounded men aboard was repeated.

  For most of the emergency medevacs, the Navy PBRs saved the day. For several of the wounded Marines and soldiers, how­ever, help came too late. Among the latter group was Specialist 4th Class Frank Doezma, who had been seriously wounded in both legs while manning the machine gun on MACV's watch-tower at the outset of the night attack. Though Dr. Steve Bernie and his MACV medics kept him alive for over twelve hours, Doezma died from shock and blood loss before his medevac bird reached the triage center at Phu Bai.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  Golf/2/5 was not directly involved in the new MACV defensive picture because it still had to get to the 1st ARVN Division CP compound. While many Golf/2/5 Marines temporarily beefed up various new defensive posts outside the compound, Captain Chuck Meadows strode deeper into the embattled enclave to find out what
was going on. The battle he had fought and the signs of other battles he had seen along the way from the An Cuu Bridge simply did not jibe with any of the information Meadows had ever received about Hue. Clearly, he had stepped into something very soft and very deep.

  After checking on the wounded Alpha/1/1 and Golf/2/5 Marines, Captain Meadows quickly found his way to the MACV tactical operations center (TOC), a sandbagged bunker near the center of the compound. The first person Meadows saw inside the TOC bunker was Lieutenant Colonel Mark Gravel, who was arguing with a tall, distinguished-looking Army colonel—the MACV Advisory Team 3 commander, Colonel George Adkisson.

  As Captain Meadows eavesdropped, Gravel picked up a radio handset and continued what appeared to be an ongoing argument with someone in Phu Bai, at the Task Force X-Ray CP. Gravel was asking why he and Golf/2/5 needed to continue on to the Cit­adel. More than Gravel's words, the tone of Gravel's voice signaled to Captain Meadows that events were running completely counter to any understanding he had of the situation in Hue. As Gravel continued to argue with Task Force X-Ray, Meadows stood si­lently at the margin of a small crowd, taking it all in. Meadows was struck by how emotionally wrung out Gravel appeared.

  Captain Meadows concluded that Adkisson was trying to dissuade Gravel from continuing his mission across the Perfume, and that Gravel was trying to convey this to Task Force X-Ray. For his part, Colonel Adkisson felt he could do no more than marshal the arguments; he had no authority to order Gravel to remain at MACV.

  Gravel did not understand that Adkisson was trying to per­suade him not to cross the river; he had reached the same conclu­sion on his own and was explaining why to Task Force X-Ray. Whatever was going on between Adkisson and Gravel did not matter; Task Force X-Ray was arguing against aborting the mis­sion. When an unseen, unknown Marine general at distant Phu Bai turned aside the arguments he thought he was presenting via Lieutenant Colonel Gravel, Colonel Adkisson stopped arguing.

  Apparently, Task Force X-Ray's commander, Brigadier Gen­eral Foster LaHue, was receiving his orders direct from III Marine Amphibious Force (III MAF) Headquarters, in faraway Danang. Gravel remained under firm orders to continue with his mission. What's more, Task Force X-Ray had added the stricture that Golf/2/5 was to conduct its mission without using its mortars and without the aid of air or artillery support. When Lieutenant Colonel Gravel blurted an objection in an incredulous tone, he was told that he was not to destroy or even damage Vietnamese property, particularly the Citadel's historic struc­tures. Task Force X-Ray did not identify the source of this stric­ture, but Gravel had the distinct impression that it came from high up, perhaps as high as the White House.

  Although Colonel Adkisson felt that Gravel's mission was unreasonable and perhaps suicidal, he provided directions to guide Golf/2/5 into the Citadel by the route least likely to be massively defended.

  *

  Acting on Colonel Adkisson's advice, Chuck Meadows planned to follow Highway 1 across the 400-meter-long Nguyen Hoang Bridge; turn left on the first big street (still Highway 1); and proceed about 300 meters to the turnoff to the Thuong Tu Gate, which led into the south corner of the Citadel. Once through the gate, the company would have a straight two-kilome­ter run into the 1st ARVN Division CP compound. This route from MACV into the Citadel was thought to be lightly defended, and it was. But that was relative; it was very well defended where it mattered.

  The Marine company left the vicinity of the MACV Com­pound at 1610, January 31. At the southeastern end of the bridge, just two blocks north of MACV, Captain Meadows left two of his three 60mm mortars and one of his rifle platoons in reserve.

  Lance Corporal Barney Barnes, whose squad of 2nd Lieuten­ant Steve Hancock's 2nd Platoon was to be the company point, found two ARVN M-41 tanks at the foot of the bridge's south­eastern ramp. Barnes tried to get the tanks to lead the way, but he was firmly rebuffed by the ARVN crewmen. Their tanks were all that remained of the main body of the 7th ARVN Armored Cavalry Battalion, and they had had enough war for one day. Lance Corporal Barnes was infuriated but could do nothing more.

  As the Golf/2/5 mortars were being set in beside the bridge ramp, Lance Corporal Barnes's squad pointman stepped out onto the span. The rest of Lieutenant Hancock's platoon scattered right and left along the walkways bordering the roadway, and the Golf/2/5 CP group and 2nd Lieutenant Mike McNeil's 1st Platoon followed Barnes's squad. Behind them were Lieutenant Colonel Gravel, a radioman, and a Marine interpreter—all on foot.

  The bridge was so long that none of the cautiously advancing Marines could see over the crest of the arched roadway. There was nothing to be seen ahead but sky and the top of the looming wall of the Citadel. There was the sound of distant gunfire to keep the troops alert, but no sign of the enemy anywhere near the bridge.

  The moment the lead fire team of Lance Corporal Barnes's lead squad crested the arch, it was fired on by an NVA machine gun set inside an open-topped guard bunker at the northwestern end of the bridge. From the path of the green tracer rounds, it was easy to see that the grazing fire was initially unable to strike any of the Marines. However, ricochets caroming off the steel trusses endangered everyone. From his vantage point in Doc Lao Park, on the south bank, Major Frank Breth saw a spectacular cascade of sparks as hundreds of bullets and ricochets struck the steel trusses.

  The 2nd Platoon halted, and Chuck Meadows made his way forward to Lance Corporal Barnes's position. When he arrived, Barnes was trying to get an M-60 machine gun set up to counter the NVA .51-caliber fire. Meadows concentrated on trying to get a feel for what his platoons were facing. It was doubtful that Golf/2/5 could move forward.

  The first casualties were being treated, and the main body of the company was still out of sight of the NVA machine-gun team. The M-60 team opened fire, but in a matter of seconds the machine-gun team leader was shot dead. At that point, the leader of the 2nd Platoon's next squad, Corporal Lester Tully, took matters into his own hands.

  While the NVA machine gun was concentrating on the M-60, Corporal Tully ran up the walkway and reduced the NVA machine-gun position with a hand grenade. Five NVA soldiers were killed in the blast, and several others were seriously wounded. As soon as the NVA machine gun was silenced, Lieu­tenant Hancock's entire platoon rapidly crossed to the north bank. There, the platoon set up a hasty defensive perimeter and began gathering and treating its casualties.

  *

  Lieutenant Colonel Gravel arrived on the north bank of the river only moments after the main body of Golf/2/5. When he got there, several seriously wounded NVA soldiers were still flopping around inside the grenaded guard bunker. Coldly, Gravel instructed his Marine interpreter to interrogate the ones who were still able to talk. Though none of the NVA were of sufficient rank to know much about the NVA plan or order of battle, the details they provided went a long way toward clarifying the picture and bolstering Gravel's opinion that he and Golf/ 2/5 were definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  While the interrogations were proceeding, Gravel personally radioed back to Colonel Adkisson's TOC to request that vehicles be sent across the bridge to evacuate the wounded and the enemy prisoners. To his amazement, the request was denied. Furious, Gravel immediately set out, back across the bridge, to find vehi­cles and volunteer drivers.

  In short order Gravel returned from his angry hike to MACV with several trucks—at least one Marine 6x6 truck and the Navy stake-bed truck that had accompanied the earlier rescue effort to the causeway. Also accompanying him were several civilian vehicles that had been hot-wired and commandeered on the spot. In addition, on its own, one of the Army M-55 quad. 50 trucks made its way across the bridge. Like Lance Corporal Barnes before him, however, Gravel had been unable to activate the crews of the two ARVN tanks deployed beside the south bridge ramp.

  As Major Walt Murphy, the 1/1 operations officer, and several other volunteers from the 1/1 operations section jumped off the 6 X 6 truck, Marines from the 2nd Platoon of Golf/2/5 began loading their dead and
wounded comrades onto the vehi­cle. Suddenly, there was a large explosion in the midst of the riflemen and the battalion staffers. Several onlookers thought it was a B-40 blast, and someone even reported the cause as a satchel charge tossed into the crowd by an NVA sapper. Lieuten­ant Colonel Gravel thought it was a hand grenade that had fallen from the body of a dead or wounded Marine. Whatever the source, the result was devastating. Many Marines were wounded, Major Murphy the most seriously of all. A spray of shrapnel had erupted upward beneath the bottom edge of his flak jacket.

  Long before the dust of the blast had settled, the quad-.50 gunner began dismantling the nearest buildings with his hideously effective antiaircraft weapon. Whatever NVA soldiers remained in those structures certainly died in the hail of half-inch bullets.

  Another fierce response came from the driver of the 6X6, Private First Class Nolan Lala, a Marine whose irreverent attitude toward authority was legendary in the 1st Motor Transport Bat­talion. Lala, who had had several close calls in ambushes along Highway 1 in previous weeks, had been in continuous danger since picking up part of Alpha/1/1 at Phu Bai that morning. Though Lala's nerves were about shot—he had requested relief from driving duties earlier in the week—he had acquiesced that morning to taking one last trip because of the critical shortage of lead drivers. And he had volunteered to accompany Lieutenant Colonel Gravel back across the bridge to rescue fellow Marines. When the blast erupted beside his truck on the afternoon of January 31, Lala erupted back. He fearlessly stood up in the truck's vacant .50-caliber ring mount—there were not enough drivers to provide the luxury of assistant drivers or gunners—and added his fire to that of the quad-.50 truck. Then, when someone told Lala that a full load of wounded and dead Marines was aboard his truck, he sat down in the driver's seat and drove back across the exposed 500-meter span—in reverse.