Fire in the Streets

by Eric Hammel

  ***

  Chapter 29

  For Marines whose whole combat experience in Vietnam had been stomping the bush or occupying rural firebases and base camps, the Citadel was an eerie, confining place. Even during the slack evening hours of February 12 and through the dark, cold night, the sounds and sights of battle were somehow more intense, more troubling than anything these men had yet experienced in Viet­nam. Many of Major Bob Thompson's Marines slept simply because they were exhausted, but many stayed awake that first night in the Citadel and worried about the possibility of violent death.

  The U.S. Marine battalion's plan of action was simple and direct. According to General Truong's staff, the 1st ARVN Air­borne Task Force was in possession of a solid line about halfway down the Citadel's northeast wall, a line that stretched southwest along Mai Thuc Loan Street, from the Dong Ba Gate to the northern corner of the Imperial Palace. Though it had suffered numerous Tet losses that had not yet been replaced, the truncated Marine battalion was still nearly as large as all three ARVN airborne battalions combined. Thus, at dawn, 1/5 would march out of the 1st ARVN Division CP compound in column of com­panies; deploy behind the ARVN line; and mount an immediate attack through the airborne units, directly into the NVA front line.

  Leading the battalion tactical march would be Captain Jim Bowe's Alpha/1/5, followed by 1st Lieutenant Scott Nelson's Charlie/1/5. The battalion CP group would follow Nelson's company, and the reserve company—Captain Fern Jennings's Bravo/1/5—would bring up the rear of the column.

  At 0800 on February 13, 1/5 moved out of its bivouac area along the southeast wall of the 1st ARVN Division CP com­pound. Leading the way down Dinh Bo Linh Street was Corporal Vic Walker's squad of Alpha/l/5's 1st Platoon. The platoon's other two squads were in column behind Walker's, and the re­mainder of Alpha/1/5 and Charlie/1/5 were arrayed in similar fashion.

  Corporal Walker did not like anything he had seen in Hue— least of all the uniformed NVA soldiers he could now see as they darted across the narrow street several blocks to his squad's front. Walker thought about firing on the enemy soldiers, but they seemed to be too far away, and he did not want to hold up progress. Three blocks southeast of the ARVN compound wall, Corporal Walker turned left up Tinh Tam Street and led his platoon toward the Citadel's northeast wall, which was marked by a prominent tower at the end of the street. The platoon to the rear of Walker's kept going down Dinh Bo Linh, and the rear platoon followed it. Thus, Alpha/1/5 would be approaching the ARVN line from the rear in two columns.

  About 100 meters along Tinh Tam Street, just as Corporal Walker's squad was approaching the wall and the tower, a gaggle of ARVN soldiers climbed down from positions atop the wall. They were laughing and smiling as they passed the U.S. Marines, but none of them attempted to speak to Vic Walker or his men. Quickly, the ARVN soldiers passed Walker's squad in the oppo­site direction and disappeared from view.

  When the Marine pointman reached the base of the tower, he turned right (southeast) and crossed in front of the tower entryway. The second man in the column also crossed in front of the entryway, but, as Corporal Walker was stepping across, it started raining Chicom grenades from atop the wall.

  It was 0815, and the point squad of Alpha/1/5 was still over 200 meters northwest of the ARVN airborne's supposed front line.

  Walker's pointman was hit by grenade shrapnel, and the concussion knocked him out. Walker took shrapnel in the hand, but it was not a serious wound, and he could use the hand. None of the Marines at the base of the wall or farther back could see the men dropping the Chicoms. The Marines fired blindly the whole time, but the cascade of deadly missiles never let up. The rain of grenades was constant for nearly fifteen minutes.

  Several more of Walker's men were injured by shrapnel as they clung to the wall, which loomed a good seven meters over their heads. Finally, it was time to move the wounded men back. As several Marines stepped across the tower entryway to collect the unconscious pointman, the first NVA soldier anyone had seen atop the wall leaned over the edge and tried to shoot the fallen Marine and his two rescuers. Corporal Walker was ready for him. He emptied an entire M-16 magazine into the NVA soldier and rushed to the rear with the rest of his squad. Walker and the others took cover in several buildings on the southwest side of Nguyen Thanh Street, which ran parallel to the wall.

  Corporal Walter Rosolie's squad moved up and tried to enter the gate portal. However, they too were turned back by the rain of Chicom grenades. As Rosolie's men pulled back, Walker's M-79 grenadier yelled from the building next door to Walker's that he could see into the tower and that he was going to shoot at an NVA soldier he could get his sights on. Before the grenadier could fire, Corporal Rosolie streaked across Nguyen Thanh Street alone. Instantly, every Marine opposite the tower poured blind suppressive fire into the structure. Rosolie made it to the tower entryway, disarmed an antipersonnel mine he found in the roadway, and lobbed one M-26 grenade after another into the tower and up along the top of the wall. Rosolie later reported that he had been able to see NVA soldiers run from the tower, along the wall, but he was unable to enter the structure because NVA inside were still firing back at him.

  The Marines were stunned to have run into such strong opposition so far behind the 1st ARVN Airborne Task Force's front line. They tried to get some hard information. It soon became apparent that the ARVN airborne battalions were gone, that they had withdrawn from their advance positions during the night, and that elements of the 6th NVA Regiment had advanced into the vacuum. Alpha/1/5, completely surprised, had not even been in tactical formation when Corporal Walker's squad ran into the NVA. Walker believed that the ARVN soldiers who had passed him moments before the fireworks began were really NVA in captured ARVN uniforms, but it is more likely that they were the ARVN airborne rearguard. Whatever the case, the entire 1st ARVN Airborne Battle Group was gone, and about two-thirds of the liberated area to its rear had been reoccupied by the NVA.

  Caught unaware, Alpha/1/5 suffered terrible losses. As the Marines groped to find weak spots in the enemy line across their front, the NVA brought more and larger weapons to bear. The Marines responded in kind. An M-48 tank was called forward, but as it neared the front, Corporal Vic Walker saw the telltale red streak of a B-40 rocket heading straight for it. The RPG missed the tank by inches, passed so close to Walker that the exhaust scorched his face, and landed in an alleyway amidst Walker's squad. Miraculously, the B-40 did not explode. The tank moved forward and pumped five 90mm rounds into the tower, but with no noticeable effect.

  As Captain Jim Bowe searched for a solution and waited for Battalion to decide what to do next, an enemy RPG team sneaked into position opposite the Alpha/1/5 CP group and let fly one B-40 rocket. Captain Bowe, the company exec, the company gunny, and just about everyone around them was injured in the blast.

  In all, in the morning engagement, two Alpha/1/5 Marines were killed and thirty-three were wounded, mostly from the 1st Platoon and the company CP group. Captain Jim Bowe, who had joined 1/5 only two days earlier, on the road between Phu Bai and Hue, was replaced by Alpha/ 1/5's senior platoon com­mander, an inexperienced second lieutenant.

  Alpha/1/5, already understrength when it reached Hue, was so badly hurt that it had to be withdrawn from the battalion front line to reorganize. Major Thompson ordered Captain Fern Jennings's Bravo/1/5 forward from its reserve position. Once Jennings's company was in possession of the left (northeast) half of Alpha/l/5's line, it was to resume the attack to the southeast. As soon as Jennings jumped off, Lieutenant Scott Nelson's Char­lie/1/5 was to launch a coordinated assault directly through the right half of Alpha/1/5 and also toward the former ARVN line, two blocks to the southeast.

  While these preparations were under way—an hours-long job because of enemy fire and unfamiliar conditions—Major Bob Thompson radioed the 1st Marines CP to request that Delta/1/5 be released from the control of 2/5 and shipped to the Citadel as soon as possible. Regiment said that it would honor the request bu
t that it would be a full day before Delta/1/5 could reach the Citadel.

  When Charlie/1/5 jumped off at 1255, it ran straight into NVA automatic-weapons fire bolstered by a shower of Chicom grenades and many B-40 rockets. The NVA. had hurriedly but effectively entrenched themselves within and around many of the buildings facing the Marine company, and they were able to fire their weapons from virtually any angle into all parts of the fragmented platoon formations, including the rear.

  Charlie/1/5 was barely able to inch forward as the Marines, novices at city fighting, trained on the run for a type of warfare none had ever faced. Devastating .51-caliber machine-gun cross­fire was the most dangerous hurdle in the crowded streets, where reverberating echoes made it almost impossible for the Marines to locate the source of the enemy fire. Ricochets were as effective as direct hits, and flying masonry chips were as injurious as bullets.

  Confused and inexperienced, Charlie/1/5 took heavy casu­alties, as had every Marine unit facing its first action in the city. But the survivors learned to shoot first and ask questions later, to clear rooms with grenades and heavy fire before stepping through doorways, and to blow entryways rather than step through doors or climb through windows. The lessons were painful and dearly bought, but they were immutable. One by one, the buildings down the first block facing Charlie/1/5 were reduced and scoured by the increasingly self-assured Marines.

  Staff Sergeant John Mullan, the platoon sergeant of Charlie/l/5's 1st Platoon, was overseeing Lance Corporal Edward Estes's squad in the fragmented assault. One block into the attack, Estes's Marines entered a shattered building—and found three women and two young men hiding there. Staff Sergeant Mullan tried to interrogate them in his rudimentary Vietnamese, but all he could get out of them was "Khong biet," ["I don't know"] and screams of "No VC!" Stymied, Mullan sent a runner back to the company CP to say that he had prisoners. He could not wait there, so he left a rifleman and a corpsman with, orders to cut the civilians down if they so much as moved.

  Just as Mullan was about to leave the building, he heard a loud explosion in the street outside and cries of "Corpsman, up!" He ran out the front door and saw a store of some kind directly across the street. There were shelves and showcases, which Mul­lan thought he ought to check for souvenirs. A B-40 had ex­ploded beside the store, which was being checked by Marines from Lance Corporal Estes's squad. A Marine had been caught in the open and sprayed with shrapnel in the face and arm. His flak jacket, which bore the brunt of the blast, undoubtedly saved his life. Staff Sergeant Mullan left cover to drag the wounded Marine into the store. As Mullan moved awkwardly in the open, he was struck by the fact that the NVA did not open fire on him. From the store, he dragged the wounded man back to the house with the prisoners because he knew the platoon corpsman was there.

  The wounded Marine was mad as hell. As the corpsman dressed his wounds, he kept demanding to shoot the prisoners, but Staff Sergeant Mullan told him he could not and tried to calm him down. When Mullan was sure the wounded Marine was not going to attack the prisoners, he crossed back to the store. The Marines in there had not been hurt by the B-40 blast, but they had been shaken up a bit by the concussion.

  The next building in Staff Sergeant Mullan's path was a boarded-up house behind the store. The NVA had the street covered with fire from the rooftops and from the windows of nearby buildings. The Marines had no means of blowing a hole in the objective, and the boarded-up doors and windows blocked direct entry. Mullan had no idea how his troops were going to enter the building, but he knew he could not wait where he was because the NVA were building up their line of resistance across his front. Sooner was better than later.

  Mullan stepped to the doorway of the store for one last look at the objective. Lance Corporal Edward Estes was beside him, and the survivors of Estes's squad were behind the squad leader. Mullan drew in his breath so he could blow his whistle to signal the attack. Before he could blow, however, the lights went out.

  The next time Staff Sergeant John Mullan opened his eyes— days later—he was aboard the hospital ship Sanctuary. His left eye was sewn shut and covered with a bandage (it eventually was saved), his broken jaw was wired shut, and most of his left ear was gone. He had numerous shrapnel wounds along his left side. For all that, John Mullan was a lucky man. Lance Corporal Edward Estes, who had been standing beside him when the R.PG detonated, was killed in the blast.

  Despite heavy and growing losses, Charlie/1/5 continued to press forward.

  *

  Though the NVA had opposed Alpha/1/5 along the com­pany's left flank, along the Citadel wall Bravo/1/5's renewed attack, which jumped off at the end of the noon hour, met no opposition until it had advanced nearly two blocks. At that point, Bravo/1/5 was just seventy-five meters short of the former ARVN airborne line. Then, at 1330, several M-48 tanks rolling up in support of Bravo/1/5 became the targets of a salvo of B-40 rockets, several of which struck home. While the tanks pulled back so their crews could assess the damage, the Bravo/1/5 Marines halted in place. The damage to the tanks was minor: a broken gunsight on one, and a ruined radio on the other.

  After a quarter-hour delay, two more tanks rolled up and Bravo/1/5 resumed the attack through moderate enemy fire. The heaviest resistance came from NVA soldiers manning the tower over the Dong Ba Gate, 1/5's assigned line of departure. The Marines overcame the resistance by firing three LAAW rockets and, from the tanks, four 90mm rounds and two hundred .50-caliber machine-gun rounds. As soon as the enemy resistance had ceased, Bravo/1/5 patrols scoured the area along the former ARVN airborne front line. No NVA were found, and no casualties were sustained.

  In the meantime, Charlie/1/5 broke through the NVA who had been resisting along its front. Or, perhaps the NVA, who were flanked by Bravo/1/5, prudently withdrew. Thus, by 1445, 1/5's two assault companies were in possession of a continuous front along Mai Thuc Loan Street from the Citadel wall to the northern corner of the Imperial Palace.

  At 1455, minutes after Major Thompson reported that 1/5 had finally reached its line of departure, Regiment ordered Thompson to stand down for the day and prepare to commence the battalion attack in the morning. Asked to submit a detailed plan by morning, Thompson replied in only five minutes. His plan was to continue the attack as soon as Regiment could lay on air and artillery—hopefully, 155mm and 8-inch fire from Phu Bai—as preparatory fire and on-call support. Thompson also requested that Regiment provide his battalion with CS tear gas.

  During the rest of the afternoon, 1/5 improved its positions along Mai Thuc Loan Street and dispatched patrols to the south­west to try to locate friendly units reportedly operating on that flank.

  *

  Early on the morning of February 13, after nearly two weeks of subsisting on rice and rain water, the Than-Trong family heard small-arms fire coming from just east of the Phu Cam Canal. At first the women feared that the NVA and VC might be massac­ring civilians. But Tuy-Cam's officer brothers, who were still hiding in the attic, sent a message down that they could see ARVN soldiers on the other side of the canal.

  Later that morning, the incessant, distant artillery fire sud­denly got closer and became more intense, and the racket of warplanes filled the sky. Eventually, the kitchen and a bedroom were blown up by an artillery or mortar round. Though no one was hurt in the blast, Tuy-Cam suggested that her brothers come down from their exposed attic hideout and join the rest of the family in the bunker.

  Tuy-Cam's older brother, An, told the cowering family that he thought their liberation was imminent, since ARVN and American troops routinely shelled an area they meant to attack. If the Than-Trongs stayed where they were, it was a toss-up if the family would be killed by friendly artillery or NVA mortars. Though An and his VNAF-cadet brother, Long, had the most to lose if they were caught on the streets by the NVA or VC, they recommended that the family abandon their home and try to reach friendly lines. At that moment another shell struck the house, causing extensive damage. After that, there was no debate. The family deci
ded to risk the 5.5-kilometer hike to the villa of Tuy-Cam's paternal grandfather.

  The family and its retainers had been out of touch for many days, and, when they left the compound, everyone was amazed to find the streets choked with other refugees. The Than-Trongs were swept along by the throng. It seemed that as long as every­one stayed on the main street, there was no danger from the Communist troops in the area, but anyone who broke from the crowd was gunned down. American or ARVN artillery was pounding the area, and several rounds fell into the crowd—with terrible results. But there was nowhere to hide and no alternative but to continue.

  The flow of the crowd carried the Than-Trongs along the south side of the Phu Cam Canal. At length, NVA soldiers ushered them and scores of others toward a prominent pagoda in which, as it turned out, the NVA had established a major field headquarters. In no time at all, a VC who had recently helped build an addition to the Than-Trong home identified An as an ARVN lieutenant who worked at the provincial headquarters. Long, too, was denounced. There was no way to deny the charges, so, to prevent reprisals against the rest of the family, the brothers allowed themselves to be blindfolded and led away without a struggle. Throughout the denunciation, Tuy-Cam's mother pleaded in vain. At the last moment, Tuy-Cam's sister, Tuy-Diep, gave An a blanket, and Tuy-Cam's grandmother gave her blanket to Long.

  Inside the pagoda, which was crowded with refugees, Tuy-Cam was hidden by a monk who knew the family well. The monk knew that Tuy-Cam was in danger of being denounced by neigh­bors who knew she worked for the Americans in Danang.

  Late that afternoon, the family reached a decision that death at home was preferable to death at the pagoda, among strangers and possible traitors. However, shortly after leaving the pagoda, the family encountered ARVN soldiers!

  Joining hundreds of fellow refugees, the family followed the throng down a broad boulevard. Everywhere Tuy-Cam looked were shattered trees, shattered buildings, shattered vehicles, and shattered human corpses. The clan could not find enough places to bed down in the first refugee center, a school, so it went to another, and then a third before it found places.