Jungle Warriors, Crime Fighters

by Doug Houser

  The general approached KC, smiling and said, “Nice to see you again, Lieutenant.” The major and the colonel approached but the army general ignored them, saying, “Ok, let’s get started. I need the three squad leaders to come forward.”

  The three Marine Sergeants split from their ranks and joined KC and the army general. He turned to his right and called out, “Sergeant Williams, front and center. Gentlemen, Staff Sergeant Williams will brief you on our helicopter procedures, the call signs and frequencies we’ll be using while you’re airborne and on patrol, how we’ll be in contact for picking you up early this evening, prospective LZs for insertion and extraction. Sergeant Williams, see to it.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Lieutenant, come inside. I’d like to speak with you.” The general proceeded inside his tent and KC followed as ordered.

  “Son, I’m pretty sure that I can read between the lines on this. I think that you came up with this idea and your bosses didn’t like it. But when you succeeded in pulling it off, they immediately changed their minds. Is that about right?”

  “Yes, Sir, I think that sums it up.”

  “I’m going to go out there and introduce myself to them. I won’t address what we’ve just chatted about so as to not cause you any trouble. But I wanted you to know that I appreciate the fact that you came to me and that I wish my own operations people had come up with the idea instead of you. It’s now my plan that once my troops are done with their job in the valley that I’ll have them sweep the areas that you’ve identified on their way back. Then I’ll send the choppers to bring them the rest of the way. After that, my troops can assume these distant patrol responsibilities. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Lieutenant. Good luck.”

  “Thank you, Sir. You know, Sir, it’s just occurred to me that as long as we and you are based here in such close proximity, we should set up some sort of ongoing liaison system.”

  “We should. I’ll address that with your commanding officer. Let’s go.”

  As soon as the army general exchanged pleasantries with the senior officers of the 3rd Marines and they all agreed to establish a permanent liaison system with each other’s units, the three Marine officers left. By that time, the patrols were airborne. When they reached the road, KC was feeling so good that he couldn’t resist saying, “Colonel, Major, watch the road carefully for mines and keep an eye out for snipers.” The look on their faces was priceless and it was hard for KC not to crack a smile.

  During the following few days, the patrols ran mostly without enemy contact. On one occasion, some NVA movement was spotted in the distance and an artillery fire mission was called in on the area. Other than that, things were fairly quiet but for a random rocket or mortar round being fired into the 101st Airborne’s compound. One of those rounds killed the division executive officer, a man KC had not yet met. On another day, a relatively heavy rocket barrage was launched into the 3rd Marine’s compound but no casualties resulted. During those short few days, Major Forrest, who had just arrived in country, leaned heavily on KC’s experience and knowledge of the NVA. Each night, he kept KC in the COC until long after 2400 hours and then sent someone to wake him shortly after 0500. KC didn’t mind the long hours. He knew it wouldn’t last long, plus, he figured any help he could provide would serve the major well, once KC had gone home.

  On the fourth day after the patrols had begun, KC’s orders arrived. Orders home had also arrived for another Marine, First Sergeant Henry “Top” Jackson. An impromptu party was scheduled for 1800 in the tent that served as the staff and officer’s club. Colonel Moretti said a few kind words about the service of these two Marines, proposed a toast and everyone cheered. About the time that most were on their second drink, the sound of fireworks was heard, coming from the direction of Quang Tri City. Everyone figured that the Tet holiday, the Vietnamese New Year celebration, had officially begun and the accompanying agreed-upon ceasefire would be welcomed.

  However, after about fifteen minutes, the explosions intensified, and then Marine machine guns began to fire. Soon after, incoming rockets and mortars landed within the compound. It was confusing because everyone knew that Tet was the biggest holiday in Vietnam and that a ceasefire had been agreed to by North and South to include U.S. bombing in the North and all ground and air action throughout the South.

  By 2200, all hostile activity had stopped. Reports came in that Khe Sanh had been hit with a continuous barrage of artillery rounds and that a heavy ground attack was ongoing in Hue. Beyond that, things had returned mostly back to normal as far as KC and Sergeant Jackson knew. They had another drink and agreed to meet at 0700 for a Jeep ride up Highway 1 to Dong Ha and then a C130 flight to Danang where they’d board World Airlines, the civilian-run charter. And then they would fly home.

  Chapter 3

  In the morning, the sun was bright and all was quiet when the two homebound Marines met at the motor pool. They jumped into the Jeep and their driver immediately headed out for the Dong Ha airstrip that was nothing more than steel matting laid out in a jungle clearing. Their short trip north was uneventful but when they arrived at the airstrip, things didn’t look so good. There were blown-out craters in the steel matting and there were no planes or personnel anywhere. KC and Sergeant Jackson went to the little shack that served as the dispatch center and found a lone lance corporal on duty.

  “When’s the next C-130 flight?” KC asked him.

  “There are no scheduled flights. Can’t you see the damage to the runway? I have no idea when repairs can be made. I have no idea when flights will run again.”

  KC and Top shook their heads dejectedly and walked back outside. Then both looked up simultaneously as they heard a plane approach. They looked toward the sound and saw an old DC-3 coming in to land. The plane touched down, swerved a couple of times to avoid craters and pulled up adjacent to the shack. Painted on the side of the plane was “Air America” and they realized that it was the military version of the DC-3, designated as the C-47 and that this one was owned by the CIA. There were gashes, dents and bullet holes all over the fuselage and wings of the plane. KC was amazed that the old relic would even fly.

  The two pilots emerged from the shot-up plane and headed over toward KC and Top. After perfunctory greetings, KC asked where they were headed. When the pilot informed him that their ultimate destination was Danang, KC immediately asked if he and Top could hitch a ride with them.

  The pilot responded, “Sure, no problem. But don’t go anywhere. We’ll only be here a couple of minutes. You can go get aboard now if you want.”

  The two didn’t need to be told twice. They immediately headed for the plane. Not surprisingly there weren’t any standard or even web seats on board, but that was the least of their concerns. They just wanted to continue on their journey home. A few minutes later, the pilots returned, said that they’d be in Danang in about an hour and went forward to the cockpit, which consisted of an instrument panel, two steering yokes and two captain’s chairs. Each pilot flipped a couple of switches and one of the propellers began to turn and then the engine belched white smoke and fired. When it had reached idle speed, the same procedure took place with the other engine and soon they were taxiing. When they reached the end of the runway, the plane did a one-eighty and began its takeoff run. They made one quick jerking move to the left, straightened out and were airborne. An hour later, they touched down in Danang and taxied to what served as the passenger terminal. KC and Top thanked the two CIA pilots for the ride and deplaned. With great anticipation, the two men went inside only to discover that the whole place was deserted.

  Undeterred, KC and Top decided that on this sprawling air base, there must be someone, somewhere, that could help them get a flight home. They didn’t have to go far until they found a makeshift office. Inside, there was a Marine Gunnery Sergeant sitting behind a steel desk. Top Jackson said, “Gunny, we have orders home. Are you the one who schedules us on a
flight?”

  “Sorry, all World Airways flights have been cancelled and there’s no word on when or if their flight schedules will resume.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “First thing this morning. The base got hit hard last night. You were here, weren’t you?”

  “No, we just flew in from Dong Ha.”

  “Really? This place has been shut down all morning. You come on a chopper?”

  “Air America C-47, we have no idea why it landed in Dong Ha.”

  “Yeah, nobody knows what those guys do or why they do it. Was that plane all shot up?”

  “Sure was.”

  “It takes off from here, heads to who knows where, is gone sometimes one day, sometimes as long as a week and then returns. It’s really strange. I can’t think of any reason for them to land in Dong Ha though.”

  “Well, what can we do to get out of here?”

  “I have no idea. The only thing I can do is to get you a ride to the transit center. You can wait there until flight schedules resume.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “About five miles.”

  KC and Top went outside to wait for ground transportation. Top said, “Sir, I have some buddies over at the supply depot. It’s close to here and I’d like to stay nearby, keep my eyes and ears open and maybe get info on what’s going on. If you’re going out to the transit center, maybe you could catch a ride to the supply depot each morning and I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

  KC knew that the transit facility was within walking distance of a motor transport battalion where a couple of his buddies from basic school had been stationed. He figured they might know something and he could have someone to hang out with while he waited. KC told Sergeant Jackson, “That sounds great, Top. I know some guys out at motor transport and you never know, maybe they can find something out, too. Maybe one of us will get lucky and get us a flight out of here.”

  “Let’s hope so. Here comes our transportation.” An old van pulled up and the two climbed aboard. When they arrived at the supply depot, Top Jackson got out and said, “I’ll see you here tomorrow morning. Until then, keep your powder dry.”

  KC and the driver proceeded east a few miles and arrived at the transit center. KC went into the office. A Marine Sergeant sat at an old wooden desk and greeted KC, “Good morning, Sir, what can I do for you?’

  “I’ve got orders home, but when I got here this morning I was told that all flights had been cancelled and that I could stay here until further notice.”

  “Yes, Sir, you sure can. We have totally empty officer’s quarters at the moment. I’ll show you the way.”

  The Sergeant got up and led KC outside, around the corner of the building and up a hill. They climbed a stairway to the second level of a building and circled around to the front on an open walkway. The Sergeant opened a door and showed KC inside. The room was empty except for two bunk beds, one on each side of the doorway. The Sergeant then went outside and pointed to a bunker across an open area, toward the street. “Sir, that’s where we go when there’s incoming.”

  “What kind of security do you have here?”

  “There are a couple of machine guns but that’s about it. There never has been any trouble here until now. We don’t have a perimeter, if that’s what you mean, Sir.”

  “Ok, where do I get something to eat?”

  “Sir, there’s no mess hall here. We issue C-rats three times a day in the office. There’s a motor transport battalion just up the road. They have a mess hall that might be better than eating C-rats, Sir. I think that they’d let you eat there.”

  “Thanks. And what about transportation back to the airbase?”

  “Sir, there won’t be any until the flight schedule has been restored.”

  “Wow, things really are a mess, huh?”

  “Yes, Sir. Sir, I’ve never seen anything like this around here. The flights have pretty much run on schedule and most of the guys that stay here are just waiting for someone from their unit to pick them up. Most of this place is never used. Now, I’ve got lots of men staying here.”

  “Ok, Sergeant thanks for your help. I think I’ll get myself squared away in the room for now.”

  The Sergeant left and KC surveyed the area more closely. Looking at the bunker, the first thing he decided was that with essentially no perimeter defense, he would definitely not ever go in there. One satchel charge thrown in the doorway would probably kill everybody that was inside. He’d rather take his chances with incoming.

  KC went around the walkway and went down the stairs and looked out into the area beyond the building. There was a large field with civilian shacks about a hundred yards away. He walked across the field and came to a dugout area with sandbags surrounding it. Inside, there was a machine gun, and two members of the machine gun team. KC asked them where the rest of their machine gun team was. The machine gunner replied, “They’re over at the transit center getting some shut eye, Sir.”

  “How many rounds of ammo do you have?”

  “About three thousand, Sir.”

  “Where’s your infantry?”

  “At our base, up the road, Sir. There aren’t any grunts here. Just the other machine gun team that’s about forty yards west of us.”

  “If somebody attacked through here, you’re really vulnerable, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir. We mentioned that to our squad leader when they put us here and we were told that our job was to provide security for the transit center, so just do it.”

  “Ok, here’s what I think you should do. Since you don’t need your two ammo carriers to be mobile, prepare a firing position for them on your left and right. At least that will provide you a little bit of flank security. I’ll go over to the other machine gun position and have them do the same thing.”

  “Yes, Sir, good idea. We’ll do that right away.”

  “Good luck. Hopefully we won’t get attacked.”

  KC met with the other machine gunner and then returned to his room, totally dissatisfied with the security of the transit center. He decided that if the center got attacked, he’d stay in his room, perched on the top bunk that he had shoved up against the wall on the hinged side of the door. His plan was that if NVA soldiers attempted to storm the center, he would kill the first soldier who entered the room and use the soldier’s rifle to fight off the rest of the attackers. KC realized it was a weak plan that had lots of holes in it but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with a better idea. Thinking about his current situation, KC decided that he would much rather be out in the jungle with a small patrol, surrounded by a large enemy force, than be where he was. At least in the jungle environment, he would be with guys he could trust, were competent and well trained. Here, he had no confidence in anyone. Getting home seemed like it was less and less likely all the time.

  Chapter 4

  KC decided to get the C-rats, have dinner in his room, and get some sleep. In the morning, he’d go over to the motor transport base and look up his buddies from basic school. Then he’d try to get a ride to the supply depot to meet Top Jackson and share info.

  KC went down to the office to get his evening C-rats. Knowing what was inside the cardboard box, he said, “Sergeant, may I please have two of these, I didn’t have any lunch.”

  “Certainly, Sir. If there’s one thing we have plenty of, it’s C-rats.”

  “In that case, how about one beefsteak and one ham and limas?”

  “Coming right up, Sir.”

  Back in his room while his “dinner” warmed up, KC realized that having C-rats for dinner certainly wasn’t the worst thing that had happened over the last couple of weeks. Trying to get home had consisted of one obstacle after another. But tomorrow was a new day and maybe the guys at motor transport would have some good news. He ate everything in both boxes, climbed on
to his bunk bed and was quickly asleep.

  A loud explosion woke KC from a sound slumber. Other sounds of distant explosions came from the west, probably at the airbase. Then, what sounded like a mortar round explosion came from the direction of the open field to the south. One of the machine guns then fired a short burst. KC wondered if there was an attack underway or if it was just poor fire discipline. He cracked his door and peeked out. It was dark and quiet. When he saw nothing, he opened the door wider and searched the open field, as best he could. There was no apparent movement. He closed the door and went back to bed. Hearing no more incoming, KC went back to sleep.

  Early the next morning, KC walked the half-mile up the road to motor transport headquarters. At the gate, he told the guard he was looking for Lieutenants Witt and Bonner. The guard said that they’d most likely be in the mess tent and pointed the way. KC entered the tent and immediately saw Lt. Greg Witt sitting with a gunnery sergeant. When KC approached, Witt jumped up, pumped KC’s hand and shouted, “Keith Huntington! Wow! Am I glad to see you here. After all I’ve heard about what was going on up north, I was worried about you.”

  “Probably not quite as much as I was,” KC replied. “But to tell the truth, I’m more worried now than I’ve ever been. I’ve got orders home but there isn’t any way to leave. What do you know about this mess we’re in?”

  “Oh, it’s a big one, for sure. The NVA ground offensive is hot and heavy down in Hue and we heard that they stormed the U.S. Embassy in Saigon. Everything is all confused here. We ran a resupply convoy over to One-One yesterday and nobody was there. No explanation, nothing. When we got there the gate was locked and the place looked like it was abandoned. Oh, please excuse me, Lt. Huntington, this is Gunnery Sergeant Masters. Gunny, Lt. Huntington and I are buddies from basic school.”