by Doug Houser
One day when Sergeant Windsor was at company headquarters in Dong Ha, Lieutenant Huntington called for him to come to his tent. The lieutenant said, “Charlie, I’ve been doing some thinking.” Right away, Sergeant Windsor suspected there was trouble brewing, but he said, “What about, Sir?”
“I’ve come to learn that when the pockets of the uniforms of NVA bodies are searched, they frequently have letters from home or some other kind of papers or orders that identify their unit. As you know, we’re never able to ascertain on whom we’ve called artillery missions. So, here’s what I’ve been thinking. When one of our patrols spots lights, two members of the patrol could sneak down to the nearest lights, silently kill a couple of the NVA there and search them for documents.”
Needless to say, Sergeant Windsor thought this was the most hair-brained scheme he had ever heard. He imagined two Marines sneaking through the pitch dark jungle, trying to find a couple of isolated (yeah, sure) NVA soldiers, being able to locate them, somehow, without being detected, killing them without making a sound, searching the bodies and then somehow, while avoiding detection, sneaking back and rejoining the remainder of their patrol. Sheer madness. Nothing but. He said, “Sir, I can envision several problems.”
“Like what?”
“First of all, how would these two get from the patrol’s location to the lights without getting totally disoriented or lost in the jungle? And how do they do this with an NVA unit that’s moving?”
“I’ve thought about that. Check it out. First off, this will have to be done once the NVA unit has stopped for the night. I think we usually find this happening around four AM, maybe a little later. The two will start out in a given direction or azimuth. As they proceed, they will have to find areas where they have a clear line of site back to their patrol’s location. See this cardboard tube? I’m suggesting that they put it on the end of a flashlight and point it directly toward the main body of the patrol and turn the flashlight on. When the patrol spots their light, they give them a revised azimuth to the NVA lights over the radio. This would be repeated until the two get too close to use the radio, but by then they’ll be close enough to proceed on their own.”
Sergeant Windsor thought, wow, that might actually work. That made him even more concerned. Charlie said, “OK, so say that actually works. How do they kill the NVA, silently?”
“I’ve thought about that too. Stilettos. Have you had training in how to effectively use a stiletto in that environment?”
“No, sir.”
“I have. I’ll teach you. It’s pretty basic, actually. What other questions do you have?”
“You say you’ll teach me. What does that mean?”
“It means that I am going to tag along on a patrol with you, and you and I are going to try this.”
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t interfere with the basic patrol. You can stick me in the middle somewhere and forget I’m there until we spot lights.”
“Your interference with the patrol isn’t what concerns me, Sir. Until this moment, I had actually thought that I might live through the next eight months of my tour. If we really do go through with doing this, I’m not real confidant about that.”
“I’ll make you a deal. You do this with me and I’ll make sure you don’t get killed while we’re doing it. The rest of the time is on you.”
Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at that. But, deep down, he figured his goose was probably cooked. Charlie had one last question. “Who else knows about this?”
“Right now, just you and me. We’ll tell the rest of the patrol after we get out there in the bush. We’ll have to swear them to secrecy. There’s no way we can let the Captain find out about this. You know him. No imagination.”
As Charlie left the Lieutenant’s hooch, he was thinking, “Are officers born crazy or do they get that way after they’re commissioned?” Not surprisingly, that was a thought that all enlisted men had at one time or another. It was also a thought shared by most junior officers with regard to career officers. But Lieutenant Huntington wasn’t a career officer, so when did he become crazy?
Lieutenant Huntington scrounged a couple of stilettos from somewhere and he started to train Sergeant Windsor in their use. At first, they worked in daylight. After several sessions, they began training in the dark. Finally, on numerous occasions, they went out into the bush, in the dark and did their final training. By this time, Charlie was totally confident that he would be able to find and kill NVA soldiers with his stiletto, in the dark.
One day, soon after Charlie felt like he was fully trained in the use of his stiletto, he was called to Lieutenant Huntington’s hooch. The Lieutenant began, “Charlie, we’ve got a mission for your team. G-2 thinks elements of the NVA 224-B division have moved across the DMZ into the Hai Lang Forest, in force. They want you to go up there and determine how large the force is and try to determine if that’s really their unit designation. I think this is the right time to put our plan into action. We’ll be inserted about eight to ten clicks to the West of their suspected location. We’ll then snoop and poop our way East until we find them. We don’t want any choppers giving away our position, so there won’t be any planned resupply. Have the men pack ten days’ worth of rations, batteries and double the t/o for ammo. The chopper will pick us up on the LZ at 0600 tomorrow morning. Like I said before, put me wherever you think best in the marching order. Questions?”
Pulling out his map, Charlie asked, “Where’s the insertion LZ?”
The Lieutenant pointed to a spot on the map and replied, “Benji’s patrol used this LZ about three months ago and it was OK for the chopper. We have no idea if there are any bad guys in that area now.”
“Are we going back there for extraction?”
“Hopefully not. After we call in the artillery on whoever we find, we’ll attempt to locate an LZ out of their range, but closer in.”
“Frequencies and call signs?”
“The patrol is Gold Fish. It will use our standard frequency. When we go off on our own, you and I will be Gold Fish 6. I’m going to get an additional frequency this afternoon for Gold Fish 6. I’ll carry the extra radio. I’ve told company that I’m tagging along so I can begin preparing for possible promotion recommendations. They bought that. If there’s nothing further, I’ll see you guys here at 0530.”
“Aye, Aye, Sir.”
At 0530 the following morning, the Lieutenant exited his hooch and was greeted by Sergeant Windsor’s eight-man patrol. They were sitting on their packs, some talking softly, most of them merely waiting. Charlie approached the LT and reported that all the men’s weapons, ammunition and packs and equipment had been inspected and they were ready to go. Lieutenant Huntington thanked him and said, “Let’s get on over to the LZ then.” They all wore jungle camouflage trousers, tops and boots along with similar looking hats they referred to as “go to hell hats.” They had attached various bits of foliage and cloth to their rifles to break up the visual outline. Packs and radios had received similar treatment. Their faces, hands and arms were also camouflaged in colors similar to their clothing. Using camouflage sticks and the buddy system, they had made each other’s exposed skin match their uniforms. The men had taken great pains to do a thorough and effective job without any encouragement necessary from superiors. Everyone knew that their survival depended upon remaining undetected by the enemy. Charlie would apply Lieutenant Huntington’s camouflage in the chopper. Someone had already camouflaged the extra radio that Charlie gave to the Lieutenant.
It took about eight minutes to walk over to the LZ where a CH-36 Sea Night helicopter was already waiting, with rotors turning slowly. They walked up the rear ramp and sat down on the chopper floor. The crew chief said something into his mouthpiece, the chopper shook a little for a couple of seconds and then they were airborne. To confirm their destination, Lieutenant Huntington pulled out his map and po
inted to a spot for the crew chief to see. He relayed the coordinates to the pilots and almost immediately gave the LT a thumbs-up signal. Charlie painted the Lieutenant’s face, arms and hands. Then there was nothing to do but look at the jungle below them as they headed northwest. Fifteen minutes later, the chopper began to descend. When they were at an altitude of about five hundred feet, the chopper lurched into a steep left turn and a sharp descent. In mere moments they were on the ground in an LZ that consisted of elephant grass about four feet tall. As they exited the rear of the chopper, the members of Gold Fish scattered in all directions and disappeared into the jungle surrounding the LZ. Immediately upon the last member of the patrol jumping off the rear ramp, the big helicopter was, once again, airborne.
After they were sure that no one was occupying the area around the LZ, the men slowly negotiated their way through the jungle toward the eastern edge of the LZ. It took about thirty minutes for everyone to reassemble. Now, they could only hope that if elements of the NVA 224-B division were, indeed, about five and a half miles to the east, that no one suspected that the chopper had inserted a reconnaissance patrol that was headed in their direction. If the NVA did think a recon patrol might be headed their way, they might very well send out patrols to look for Gold Fish, making their progress more difficult, if not downright dangerous. With this thought on everybody’s minds, Gold Fish set out toward the suspected NVA location. They moved in single file, separated as far as possible while just barely maintaining visibility of the man to their front. Everyone knew that the two best defenses against being wiped out that a recon patrol had were stealth and separation. Maintaining these disciplines were essential to their safety. It was the point man’s responsibility to maintain a pace appropriate to the jungle and terrain conditions. If he moved too fast, the others would have trouble maintaining sight of the man to their front and might make noise as they struggled to keep up. As terrain and foliage conditions changed, the rate of advance also had to change. Of course, if the point man moved too slowly, the patrol would spend too much time getting to where they needed to go, possibly running out of food before they got to their objective. It took a good deal of experience for an adequately skilled point man to develop into a great point man. He had to possess outstanding eyesight, hearing and even smell. Then he had to learn to feel the jungle’s undulations, the activity of the birds, the sounds of the animals that differed in daylight and at night. He had to notice any little detail that was out of place that could indicate the presence of the enemy. To do this effectively required absolute concentration without lapses. It was nerve-wracking work, but every point man knew that the lives of everyone in the patrol depended on his skill and how he applied it. Lance Corporal Cooley was an outstanding point man. Charlie, who had been a point man before being promoted to Sergeant, had seen in Cooley the required attributes and had personally trained him. So it was, that Lance Corporal Cooley led Gold Fish on its search for the NVA 224-B division.
Two days later, Lance Corporal Cooley halted the patrol and passed the word for Charlie to come forward. When Charlie arrived at Cooley’s position, Cooley pointed to a piece of high ground to his front. He told Charlie that if they could get up there, they would have an excellent vantage point to observe the suspected location of the NVA division they were looking for. He also pointed out what Charlie was already thinking; that if it was such a good vantage point for the Marines, if the NVA were where they suspected they might be, the NVA could already have positioned forces on that high ground as protection. Charlie went back and gathered the patrol. He told them that he and Cooley were going to scout out the high ground, alone. He ordered Corporal Stewart to call the high ground coordinates in to their artillery support unit, so that they would already be zeroed onto the position in case Charlie and Cooley needed covering fire to escape. The other members of the patrol disbursed to positions from where they could provide small arms fire support for the two scouts. Then Sergeant Windsor and Lance Corporal Cooley set out. At the patrol’s main body, after a tense three-hour wait, a radio call came back from Charlie. His report to the patrol was that, “Either they’ve not been here, or they were here and left or they’re here and we haven’t spotted them. Cooley thinks the birds are indicating the presence of a force out ahead and a little north. I think he’s right. We won’t know for sure until after it gets dark. The rest of you might as well join us up here. However, move slowly and quietly, ‘cause we’re not absolutely certain that they’re not up here, somewhere.”
Once the LT and the rest of the eight-man patrol were settled in on the high ground, they ate, cleaned and oiled their weapons, then sat back to relax and rest for a while. When it became totally dark, they all focused intently on the low ground located about 1500 yards to their northeast, looking for lights. At about 2400, their vigilance was rewarded. Lights were spotted a thousand yards away, apparently moving due south. Charlie and Lieutenant Huntington watched, together, the intermittently visible movement of the lights. At times there would be quite a few lights visible and at other times, nothing. It all depended on how thick the vegetation was, which, of course, the two couldn’t see but could imagine as the lights appeared and disappeared.
At 0230, Lieutenant Huntington and Charlie decided that it was time for them to mount up. They figured that if they headed a little south of due east they would end up close to the position where the NVA would settle into position for the following day, most likely around 0400. They performed a radio check, tested their signaling flashlight and their spare and headed out. At 0330, Lieutenant Huntington figured they and the NVA unit were about 500 yards apart. They found an area that had a direct line of sight to the patrol position and made radio contact. They then signaled with the hooded flashlight and waited for a radio response. They were told that the nearest NVA lights were 400 yards directly to their east and that they appeared to have stopped moving. The Lieutenant turned the radio off to eliminate any chance of the NVA hearing the noise caused by static. From this point on they would operate without any further guidance from the patrol.
The clouds had become somewhat thicker as the night progressed and the moon dropped toward the western horizon, resulting in an ever-darkening environment. There was no wind to cover any sounds the two might make as they tried to silently close the distance between themselves and the NVA. Shortly they were crawling. Lieutenant Huntington knew the NVA couldn’t see them, but he was concerned that they might not be able to find the NVA if it got much darker. Just as he had these thoughts, his concerns were alleviated by the hushed sound of voices directly ahead. He guessed they were about 20 feet away. After moving about ten feet closer to the voices, he stopped cold. He saw nothing, but thought he heard a whispered “F......F......F.....kin...........snake.”
Unbeknownst to the Lieutenant, Charlie had also stopped cold. Directly in front of Charlie, not more than two feet away, risen up and slightly swaying side to side was a puffed up King Cobra. Except for whispering an involuntary, partial expletive, Charlie was frozen in place. Almost immediately, he remembered the training they’d received. They had been told that no matter what, don’t allow yourself to be bitten by a King Cobra. Death within thirty minutes was certain without an injection of anti-venom. The horrible awareness that there was no possible way to receive treatment in that amount of time frightened Charlie to his very core. He thought, “Oh my god, I’m going to get killed by a snake. Here I am less than ten feet away from an NVA division and it’s a snake that’s going to get me. Oh, man. This must be what hell is like. I’m totally helpless, stuck here between a cobra and an NVA division. How long has it been since I saw this snake? Ten minutes? No. More like ten seconds. Oh, God, I’m scared. This can’t be happening. I’ve never been afraid of anything. Well, I sure as hell am now! Think!! There’s got to be something you can do. C’mon, think!”
A few feet away, Lieutenant Huntington realized that if what he heard was what he thought it was, there was only one kind of s
nake that Charlie could see in this darkness. It had to be the under belly and hood of a King Cobra standing up.
By now Sergeant Windsor was totally traumatized. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t call for help. He was absolutely helpless. He was desperate but the only thing occupying his consciousness was fear and the knowledge that he couldn’t further provoke the snake. He wondered if the Cobra was a male or female. Had he stumbled upon their nest? Yeah, must have gotten too close to her nest ‘cause they usually don’t hunt at night. His thoughts ran wild: “Oh, my God, did I just blink? Did the snake think that was an act of aggression? No, a snake can’t think. It just does what its DNA tells it to do. What am I doing thinking about this useless shit?”
Finally, Charlie resigned himself to his fate. What a pity, he thought. I’m so young. Then out of the corner of his eye, he sensed a flash of motion. The next thing he realized, a long arm shot toward the snake, a big hand held a stiletto that impaled the cobra in the middle of its hood. In a single motion, the cobra was flung in the direction of the NVA voices. In a matter of seconds, a blood-curdling scream rang out in the otherwise silent darkness. Before Charlie became fully aware of what had happened or was now happening, he received a sharp jolt from an elbow in the ribs. That alerted him to the fact that it was time to go. As he and Lieutenant Huntington slipped away, a second, horrible scream rang out. Later, they would both agree that the second scream came from a different voice than the first one. Still being as quiet as possible, they got to their feet and set off back to the Gold Fish position on the high ground.
“It didn’t take long for the story to spread among the platoon.” Peeps smiled at Nellie. “And, almost immediately, Lieutenant Huntington became known as King Cobra.”