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Southwest of Fire Support Base Moore
Excerpts for David Hackworth's book Steel My Soldiers' Hearts, Chapter 7
black print is from Chapter 7 - photos and blue print are additions based on research
"Sua Sponte, Pro Dios et Patria, et Fratern"
Preface End of Chapter 6
Southwest of Fire Support Base Moore - 26 February 1969
The moment I entered the 1st Brigade TOC, I knew something ugly was going down. Shock waves of tension bounced across the large sandbagged bunker housing the brigade’s nerve center – that “shit’s happening” vibe. Captain Edward Clark met me at the entrance. He wasn’t smiling. “Sir, there’s trouble,” he said “a LRRP team’s in a hot LZ, Colonel Hunt’s having kittens.”
LRRPs (long range reconnaissance patrols) were small all-volunteer recon teams, highly vulnerable, tasked with serving as the eyes and ears of the commander and slugging it out only when they had to. In short, one of the most dangerous jobs in Vietnam.
Clark took me to Hunt, who was monitoring the brigade radio net. He looked like a stockbroker who’d just gotten word the market was in the toilet. I marched up to him still in court martial mode. “Colonel Hackworth reporting as ordered, SIR!” Cadet Hackworth gave his acting CO one of the most exacting salutes he’d ever thrown, but Hunt was too preoccupied to notice. He pointed to a large map standing next to a bank of squawking radios.
“Colonel, we put a LRRP team in here,” he said. “They’re in trouble. A helicopter’s gone down trying to evacuate the wounded, they’re surrounded and they’ve taken heavy casualties – sixteen WIA out of eighteen men.” He seemed on the verge of losing it. From what he’d just told me, he was probably flashing on his crashing career.
“We’ve lost commo. We don’t know their exact location, only that they’re somewhere in here.” He jabbed his finger around a four-click area on the map. The lost LRRPs were members of the 9th Division Ranger Company – E/75th – damn good men. “We’ve got to get them out,” Hunt said, leaving unmentioned his own role in getting them in. So the sonofabitch isn’t going to fire me, I thought. I felt as if I’d been unbuckled from the electric chair seconds before the switch. Or had I been? Of course, he meant you’ve got to get them out. You. The Hardcore. A brutal mission – imagine the U.S. Coast Guard ordered to search for a swimmer lost at sea during a storm somewhere between Hawaii and California.
When I asked Hunt what aircraft we had to lift in reinforcements, he told me all that was immediately available was a brigade LOH, a small bird with a pilot, co-pilot and room for two people in back. There were generally four LOHs at the brigade aviation platoon, and each battalion would normally get the use of one for some part of every day. The LOH was the bird we used to make recons, run emergency missions and for C&C. But to use it to move an eighty-man rifle company to rescue eighteen trapped LRRPs and an aircrew? Why not hunt grizzlies with paint-ball guns?”
I gave Hunt a look that said – loud and clear – I’m not going out there and doing anything with just a LOH. “Musselman’s working on getting more birds,” he said quickly, reading my expressions. The LOH gave me a C&C bird for immediate recon and to establish commo with the embattled LRRP team. I took another look at the map. They’re about forty klicks away, I thought – twenty minutes to get there.
I asked Musselman to have the LOH fired up. Then I grabbed the TOC phone and called CP to brief Bumstead: “Contact DeRoos, Move him to a PZ ASAP. Tell him to prepare for a night insertion. I’ll brief him once he’s airborne.” After that, I gave Chum Robert a heads-up: “Grab your gear and meet me at the pad." I asked Musselman to tell the aviation commander who’d be leading the air package to come up on my command frequency and work out DeRoos’s pickup with Bumstead.
Thank God Hunt hadn’t fired my most experienced commander, DeRoos, that morning. As I made for the bunker exit, Hunt rushed up. “Colonel,” he said, “do everything you can to extract them.” I wheeled around
.
“Colonel Hunt, if I get these people out, you will never fuck with my battalion again. You just tell me what you want and when you want it done, but keep off my ass when I’m doing it. Do you understand me?”
Hunt the bully disappeared. In his place stood a little boy waiting outside the principal’s office for his turn to get the belt. Looking down at his polished boots, he slowly wordlessly nodded his head.
The brigade aviation officer, a captain, lifted off with me upfront beside him. Chum, with his backpack radio, buckled into the two seats behind us. Once airborne, I radioed DeRoos on the aircraft’s FM radio to make sure he and his boys were heading to the PZ. “Sounds like a royal rat fuck to me, boss. Over” Gordy: cheerful, irreverent, cool.
“Roger that, but we’ll unfuck it. I should be over the contact in a few minutes. I’ll find out what’s happening and work out a plan. Call me once you’re on the way and I’ll fill you in. Over.” “Wilco, Harcore 6.”
I began to man the radio like an air traffic controller moving tin, flipping from frequency to frequency to talk to Bumstead at Battalion, to monitor DeRoos’s progress and to listen to the distress calls coming from the Rangers themselves.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.” The Ranger radio operator was trying to get help, but his one-way calls for assistance did neither of us any good whatsoever. As long as he transmitted, he couldn’t receive. “Get off the fuckin’ radio,” I yelled. “Put on a leader. Someone who can tell me where you are, where we can land. What’s the best way to get into this thing? I’m looking for you in the dark!”
All that came back were more “Maydays.” But I did pick up one telling clue: Whenever the RTO came on with his Mayday message I could hear a firefight going on in the background. Grenades or RPG rounds exploded and AK-47s and M-16s were on rock-and-roll. They were still alive, but from the sounds of the rat-a-tat-tats and booms, they wouldn’t be much longer.
We’d been flying for twenty minutes, so I knew we were near the ballgame. And then I looked out to the east and saw a flicker, a barely discernible tiny red light.
There! “Look over to the left at ten o’clock,” I told the pilot.
It was now almost dark. He turned the bird and minutes later we saw the silhouette of the downed Huey aircraft, the red light flashing on top, sitting in what looked like a drainage ditch. “Going nowhere anytime soon,” Chum said. Circling over the fight, I went from the Ranger freq back to battalion freq trying to find out where DeRoos was, all the time hoping to talk to the LRRPs. But I got only “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”
DeRoos reported in. He was on his way.
“Great, Gordy. We’ve found them and we’re looking for an LZ. I can’t talk to the guys on the ground. You may have to go in cold.” I told him to have his pilot vector on my signal and come to us, then I flipped back to the LRRPs.
“Mayday! Mayday!”
“Looks like I’m talking to myself,” I shouted to Chum. I’d been in fights like this with the 101st, but never in a situation where I couldn’t talk to a leader or RTO on the ground. A commander’s in serious shit when he can’t commo with the guys in the fight. The scene below was surreal-red and green tracers arcing in the sky underneath us, the mangled chopper with its blinking red beacon, gun flashes all around the bird. It was as if I were looking down on a Fourth of July celebration busted by the cops, a circle of blinking lights with that holy-shit beacon flashing dead in the middle.
“Work up a wall of steel around those cats,” I told Chum. “Start way out and walk it back slowly until its a couple hundred yards around the chopper. Then keep it up until I tell you to lift it.”
I was applying another basic 101st SOP – blister the ground around the encircled force. There’s nothing like well-directed artillery fire to discourage an attacker. Not only does it tear his ass, it also delivers the message his prey’s no longer helpless, easily overrun. This trick saved several of our units during the Battle of Dak To, but it was dangerous, a round could fall short, strike within the perimeter. Hopefully, the fire would buy us the time to sort out what was going down on the ground. Maybe the Artillery God would be kind.
I tried the Ranger radio net again.
“Mayday, Mayday. Christ, someone help us.” Again the one-way commo. Surely the RTO could see our bird orbiting in the dark. Surely he knew I needed to talk to him. Must be his radio was screwed.
“Hardcore 6, this is Blue Jay 6. I’m about twenty minutes out. Got gunships and slicks. Request sitrep.”
Music. A full-on fucking Army marching band.
Blue Jay 6 was the 9th Division aviation commander, Lieutenant Colonel Bill Crouch. He’d performed a miracle by organizing the birds and picking up part of Claymore in an amazingly short period of time. “Blue Jay, we’re looking for an LZ,” I radioed back. “Will brief you on the plan when you get here.” Blue Jay reported back that he had a Cav troop to do the heavy lifting. And as a plus, the Air Cav knew the terrain – they’d inserted the LRRPs earlier that evening.
FROM STOGIE 21; My observation from supporting the Rangers in a number of fights was that they were always cool and professional. I too took exception to the description of the Rangers in "About Face."
I know the book refers to Bluejay 6, the 9th Div Avn commander, being over the fight that night but there was no C&C ship there during the critical hours that Stogie was operating in and around the contact. During the Ranger insertions earlier that afternoon, Stogie was operating independently with no C&C oversight and no direction from the Bde. During the critical two hours from 19-2100 there was no C&C bird on station with our only instruction from Brigade (Bde) being to "reinforce the Rangers in contact."
When we got back over the fight we (STOGIE) had plenty of air over the contact - because we were alone. LaPotta (I believe) had crashed due to a blade strike and his Huey was laying at the bottom of a deep dark hole in the jungle. There was no moon as I recall and it was difficult to see down into the hole unless you were right over the top of it.
When we arrived the second time about 1900, the Rangers were backed up in a tight perimeter around the bottom of this hole. It was easy to spot but only from directly above - where you could see the enemy's tracers converging on them from several sides. As soon as I got back over the fight with my flight of five Stogies I knew that suppression with the cobras was going to risky if not impossible without fratricide. A Spooky would be better and one was "on call." I spent a few precious minutes trying to get the "on-call" VNAF Spooky to fly to our location and help with the fire support. The night was dark but clear and any aircraft navigation lights would be visible for miles. The only aircraft visible for several miles around us was the VNAF Spooky. I got radio contact with him and had him drop a flare for positive ID. After we verified his location, though we needed him badly, the VNAF gun ship WOULD NOT come to the fight. We saw no other aircraft in the vicinity during the critical stage of the fight which was, for us, the first three Stogie assaults. Since we had no effective suppression, I knew an assault would be high risk. At that time I had a brief discussion with the two other slick pilots to see if either one of them wanted to try the first assault. I'll never forget CPT Jordan's reply, "21, you're in front."
If a Division C-2 (C&C) bird had been up there, I would have known. Typically, the commander owning the ground, in this case the Brigade since the Rangers were under Bde control would be the HQs that provided the C-2 - but the Bde had no bird up either. By doctrine, the Quick Reaction Force (QRF) that conducted the rescue would normally be from the Brigade's battalion that owned the ground (AO) which in this case I took to be the 4/39th.
About this time, Chum, an amazing map reader, reported that the artillery folks had just told him the LRRPs had requested a marking round and then gone off the air. “They’re a little north of the downed bird,” he said. “Will fire my reference round.” How he could know all this in the dark at a hundred miles an hour was simply beyond this dumb grunt’s comprehension.
Suddenly right out of nowhere, the pilot said, “We’ve got to break off.” I turned. “What do you mean, ‘break off’?” “Yellow light. We’re running out of gas.” Oh, Jesus! “How much we got left?” “About five minutes’ worth at the most.” “And how far out are the slicks?” “Maybe fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes? I could have strangled the guy for taking off on a mission with his bird running on empty. I needed to be on station when the flight commander arrived with DeRoos’s company so I could tell him where to land his birds and DeRoos what to do once he got his folks on the ground. But long before then we’d be out of fuel.
I couldn’t leave Gordy high and dry to come in blind. We’d found an LZ he could use, a large open rice paddy about 600 yards from the downed chopper, In just another few minutes I could brief Crouch or the Cav commander and either one of them could run the show while we refueled.
“We’ve go to break off now.” The pilot’s voice was tight with anxiety. “We barely have enough fuel to make it back to Moore.”
I made the most risky decision I’ve ever made. It came more from my gut than my head – as if I were in a speeding car and suddenly there was a boy chasing a ball ahead and I had nanoseconds to avoid hitting him. There were four easy operations; turning left, turning right, flattening the kid or, in this instance, turning around and heading back to the firebase. And there there was option five, the hard way, landing in the center of the inferno.
God knows I wanted to see Hunt go down in flames – and if those Rangers perished, his career would die with them. Hey, man, you ran out of gas, a small inner voice whispered. Let Hunt stew in his own juices. He stuck these men in this trap. He was the one who violated the most basic principles of LRRP employment. Now let him pay.
But then another voice said, Yeah, but he won’t really be paying – not like those twenty-two boys down there.
“Get your shit ready,” I told Chum. “We’re going down.” “Fine by me. Sounds like fun.” The pilot was the only one with any horse sense. (The brigade aviation officer, a captain,) “No way, sir, I’m not gonna land. I refuse to land.” The man was no coward – just a smart kid who didn’t want to barge in uninvited to a VC barbecue where he could very well end up as the main course turning slowly over a very hot grill.
“Think again,” I said. I laid the mean end of my pistol against the side of his helmet. “You’re going to land this sonofabitch right now. Park this fucking thing or I’ll blow your brains out.”
If he’d thought it through, he would’ve known I’d never do it – I’d be committing hara-kiri as well as taking Chum and himself with me. Not so smart. But maybe the steel against his helmet stopped him from thinking. In the years since, I’ve often wondered what would’ve happened if he’d called my bluff. He could’ve replied, “Go ahead and shoot, but you’d better ask yourself who’s going to fly this bird.”
In any event, I got his attention. We went down like a runaway elevator, flared and hovered above and to the side of the down Huey. Slugs zipped around the LOH like lightning strikes. When we got maybe six or seven feet off the ground, hands started desperately reaching for and grabbing the skids as a few of the survivors tried to pull our little bird from the sky. They were actually shaking the bird. Both Chum and I started kicking them away.
“Jump,” I yelled, and we both bailed out – to find ourselves stuck knee deep in mud as the LOH hauled ass up, up and away. Bet that chopper jockey needed a shovel to clear around his pedals.
I turned to Chum. “If Prazenka could see us now, he’d think we were both crazy.” Chum knew the gospel according to Prazenka – a simple, smart stuff from my reconnaissance platoon sergeant in Italy, my infantry-leader role model. I could hear him loud and clear; “Never volunteer for anything in combat – and don’t ever take a chance when the odds are not in your favor.” Chum gave me a look that said he had no doubt.
After unassing ourselves from the mud, we looked around and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. I’d been in shit storms like this as a squad leader and as a platoon sergeant, and I knew it wasn’t hopeless if we got the lead out in a hurry. The troops on the ground were bunched together in a tight cluster, seemingly leaderless. In the dark, I couldn’t distinguish between aircrew and Rangers, but they all wanted one thing – a fast ticket out – and I couldn’t blame them.
I’d seen such fear before, especially during the bad days of the Korean War. If we didn’t get a hold of these guys, get a little discipline and a defensive perimeter going in a hurry, we might find ourselves very dead. Very soon. “Okay, Chum, bring the artillery fire in closer. Put it over and around the outer edge of the tree line while I get a perimeter together.” I grabbed Rangers and aircrew by the back of their jackets and seat of their pants, shouting and pulling and pushing until we had a half-assed, 360-perimeter around the downed bird. Almost every man was wounded but they were game.
FROM Jack Schloerb ; The only other key element to that mission was Lt. Col. Hackworth and the role he played. Sometime after the 1st chopper crashed, just to the left of my position, I heard and saw this individual yelling and walking up on our position through the jungle. I knew it was an American but I'm thinking who the fuck is this. He barely had time to assess the situation and started barking orders. In his first book About Face, he was clear on the role he said he played.
At no point do I recall him putting us in a perimeter. A defensive perimeter around the clearing was maintained at all times, if not the crash of that helicopter would have taken out a number of men on the ground.
On the battlefield when things are bad it takes only a few brave men to turn things around. It’s been my experience in battle that out of ten men, only one or two are natural fighters. But once a fighter shouts “Follow me” and charges, the rest are inspired to follow. In this instance, the Rangers – even bloodied – remained fighters to a man.
The downed Huey occupied about a third of the clearing, leaving more than enough room to bring in single choppers. Beyond the clearing were trees and nipa palms, and from the gun flashes I reckoned a small force of VC were scattered out there among them. Chum’s artillery whistled over and splashed in, for sure the most joyous sound the men had heard in a spell.
Bwump. The VC had to be thinking, Uh-oh, they’ve got reinforcements in there.
Bwump. They’ve got the big stick.
Bwump. They’re using it.
Bwump. Better make tracks.
The enemy fire seemed to shut off as if we’d flipped a light switch. Chum was busier than a one-armed juggler at a circus: adjusting artillery fire, spraying the nearby bush with his M-16, and switching our one radio from his artillery to my infantry frequency. Just then Stogie 21 checked in on my freq. The Air Cavalry had arrived! “Hardcore 6, Stogie 21. Five minutes out. What are your instructions? Over.”
I told Chum to get ready to close down his artillery.
“Stogie 21,” I yelled. “Hose down the outer north-south tree line with your Cobra as soon as we shut down the arty and be prepared to insert one lift at a time on my strobe when I yell. We’re tightly wrapped around the downed bird. You can see its red light flashing. Keep your fire to the outer edge of the tree line. OK, here we go, we’re shutting down the arty now – the last rounds will be Willy Peter.”
I gave Chum his radio and he flipped back to his arty freq and gave them their shut-down instructions.
Hell is a burning chopper inside your perimeter with fuel and ammo exploding left, right and center. I knew the landing was going to be hairy. The LZ next to the downed chopper was some twenty yards long and fifty yards wide, about the size of a small parking lot. But then there were those trees. If we lost another bird, the game was over. But, like bringing in the artillery fire, it was a chance we had to take. The gain – the rescue of the trapped men – overrode the risk
Another problem was visibility. There wasn’t enough light for the pilots to see their way down, and the LZ was now blacker than a serial killer’s soul. After we got the artillery shut off, I took the radio from Chum, strapped it on my back, and put my strobe light inside my steel pot and held it upside down over my head as though it were the Olympic torch. Now the Cav pilots could see the strobe light, but the VC couldn’t.
I changed back to the infantry freq, then, still holding my pot on high, walked to the center of the field. Stogie 21 said he had the strobe in sight.
“Stogie 21, we’ll do one bird at a time. Have ‘em approach from the west at 600 feet and when they see the strobe, flare and come straight down. I’ll talk each aircraft in. Lotta mud here. Keep your Cobras hammering the woods to the north.”
“Claymore 6, you set to bring in your grunts?” I asked DeRoos. “Make sure they know they’ve got friendlies on the deck and once they unass the birds they’ll be escorted to their seats – just like at a play.” “Wilco, Hardcore.”
I’d worked this same maneuver a fair number of times compared to those we had done up in all those trees and mountains. But the Highland pilots were used to small landing zones, while here the pilots kept telling me there wasn’t enough room on my LZ to set a bird down with a sick chopper splayed across it. It was too dark. Too risky. Too many trees and a bad approach. They wanted to go for a large LZ in a rice paddy off to the west.
While the final decision to land belonged to the pilots. I killed the idea. Their LZ wasn’t secure – Gordy’s guys could be landing smack on top of a VC unit. The lead pilot was twenty-one-year-old Warrant Officer Dan Hickman, (now O-7 in Army Guard and living in NC ),who fortunately had the balls to go for my plan. He was flying Stogie 21, a Huey slick, and was accompanied by two more Stogie slicks, two Cobra gunships and – according to my battalion log – a 9th Division slick tasked with the job of getting out their downed aircrew.
“I couldn’t see the LZ and do a normal approach,” Hickman said. “I had to line up where I thought it was and drop down blacked out and wallow across the top of the jungle till I saw your strobe. Then I dropped straight down, which was tough, as we were heavily loaded with your troops and full load of fuel.”
“Come left. Come right. You’re dead over us now. Drop, drop, drop,” I radioed him. He hit like a sledgehammer, but didn’t get stuck in the mud.
FROM STOGIE 21 ; As soon as we refueled, we got word the LRRPs were in contact and to return to the contact area. This time - same three slicks and two cobras, but without the LOH. Before take-off, I had my crew chief remove the pilot doors to improve visability and we rode to the sound of the guns. It was just about EENT( a little after Sunset). . I think we had a flare ship on call also but am not sure at this point. Enroute, I got word from the Bde TOC to pick up a platoon from C, 4/39IN at FB Moore and to try to reinforce the rangers. I was lead (21) with Stogie 24 and 26 behind me. I believe that Stogie 33, and 34 were the two Cobras backing us up. There was a VNAF spooky "on call" for the mission also.
We picked up the first platoon of Infantry from Fire Base Moore and got back over the contact about 1900 with a fresh squad of Infantry on each slick. There was another JayHawk (9th Div) slick that had crashed beside the LRRPs trying to get to them earlier. The LRRPs were taking considerable fire from what looked like three sides at this point. We tried to figure how to get some suppressive fire (Cobras) on the perimeter but could not coordinate with the ground or see well enough to shoot accurately. As I recall there were numerous dead and wounded and at one time I recall there only being seven LRRPS left in the fight. I called the VNAF Spooky several times and he flew all over South Vietnam, but would not come to the fight. After several long minutes of trying unsuccessfully to get suppression on your perimeter, and with no other help available, I finally decided to made the first assault - a single ship vertical decent into the LRRP perimeter - blacked out (no lights) till last few feet and then used the belly landing light to avoid hitting ground personnel or the crashed slick, then black-out again. There were bodies and prone soldiers in the tight perimeter - no one was kneeling or standing at this point - there was a strobe light on the ground marking the LZ and the ground solid - I know because I hit hard. I was concerned about not crushing anyone as I was so heavy I could not stop until I hit the ground. It was fast and tight - we cut tree limbs on both sides going in - tracers and bits of trees filled the air. The first squad leaped out and when no one loaded any wounded (?) we pulled out of the hole the way we came in. Stogie 24 tried next, but could not get in. Stogie 26 (CPT Jordan) went next and made it in to drop off a second squad but picked up no wounded. It was only a short hop to Moore so I went back, picked up another squad and made another (third Stogie - my second) assault into the one-ship LZ, now talking with a ground leader who said that they had cut down some brush so the tail rotor would clear this time.
groundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundgroundAs I came out of the hole on my second insertion of C Co elements, the voice on the ground radio changed and instructed me to continue with one ship lifts till we had put a Co into the position. The new ground commander said the enemy were backing off because of the reinforcements and the ground fire was slacking. In light of the stabilizing tactical situation, I argued that it was too dangerous (because of blade-strikes) to continue trying to reinforce the LRRPs in the one ship hole and would make better sense to move reinforcements into a nearby rice paddy, perhaps 200 m away. The ground commander said he did not know where I was referring to so I came in low (perhaps 200ft) over his posn and directed his attention with my search light to the paddy. I received considerable machine gun or automatic weapon fire in the process but got the ground commander oriented. The commander and I agreed on the 2nd LZ solution so I got the flight of three slicks back in formation and we put the remainder of C Co into the paddy. The two elements linked up - no more gound fire - and I brought the 4/39th commander out on the last flight and dropped him off at Moore. Then the Stogies went back to Dong Tam.
Out jumped DeRoos and his RTO, followed by a squad of grunts led by Jerry Sullivan from Rex Fletcher’s Claymore White Platoon. “The concept of going into someplace that we didn’t know about, in the dark, had a pretty high pucker factor,” Sullivan recalls. “I remember approaching the LZ and seeing the strobe light and tracers and thinking, We’re all going to die.”
After Hickman’s brave example, Stogie 26, flown by Warrant Officer Elmore Jordon, and Stogie 24, piloted by another captain, followed. The Hardcore worked with them around FSB Moore and they lived up to their reputation that very bad night when they fearlessly flew through a sky full of machine-gun fie and bitching flying conditions. One by one, choreographed as precisely as the Rocketts, the birds dropped off grunts and took off into the night. Hickman actually had his crew chief remove his pilot’s door so he could lean way out and get a better look. “Not sure if I could have spotted that tight LZ if I hadn’t leaned out,” Hickman told me.
When I asked if the ground fire was heavy, he replied, “There was shooting when I got there, but during my approach I was so intent on missing trees and not killing anyone by crushing them that I honestly couldn’t say.”
From my end, the noise was wild. Thump, thump, thump the rotors beating time to the whoo-crump of the Cobras’ rockets hitting the outer tree line. But once the Stogie Cobras worked over the jungle and after Hickman and his pals got in with the first insert, I heard no more enemy fire. “We were scared shitless,” Sullivan remembers. “Not only that, we really didn’t know what we were getting into. I mean, we knew there was a LRRP team in trouble but really didn’t know if they were surrounded by a thousand VC or fifty, or if the whole team had been wiped out. When we first went in and we were taking a lot of fire, some of us were talking about whether or not the gooks had gotten the M-60s off the downed ship and, if so, we might be in serious trouble. When we got down on the ground, I found out that not only had they not taken the, but our guys already had ‘em in the perimeter.”
“Reinforce the perimeter,” I told Gordy as Hickman lifted out. “Send the Rangers and aircrew back here as you put your people in and when you’ve got your company squared away, slowly push your perimeter out.” Again, Gordy, unflappable. “Wilco, sir. Can I keep the Rangers?”
I grinned. “Nice try, Gordy. But no most of ‘em need to see a doc. Send ‘em over to Chum – he’ll back-load ‘em. And button down the perimeter – get it STRAC. Yell if you need help.” I gave Chum the job of bringing in the rest of the birds and evacuating the wounded men as they reported in from the perimeter. A new bird would land, Gordy’s troops would debark, and Chum would load the wounded for the flight back to the hospital at Dong Tam.
A quick study and cool under fire, Chum was also one strong mother. When a guy was slow to get on an outgoing bird, Chum just picked him up and tossed him into the aircraft as if he were a sack of potatoes. He was the kind of guy I’d be happy to have in my foxhole anytime, anyplace. After that it was a yawn. About halfway through the job, after the aircrew and the Rangers were evacuated, DeRoos and I walked the perimeter. “Good job, DeRoos,” I told him. “I know you’re organized for ambush but you’ll have to stick here till morning. They’ll never try to evac that bird in the dark. I’ll set up a radio relay and make sure you’re covered.” “Roger, sir. Get us some water and rations in the morning. I brought a Two Niner Two so we can get a commo check with our guys at Moore ASAP.”
“Affirmative. Have your arty FO get the firing data from Chum – we’re going out on the last bird. And in the morning, try to figure out what caused this rat fuck.”
Although he wasn’t on this mission, thirty-two years later, long after the smoke had cleared from the battlefield, E/75th Ranger Bill Cheek tracked down five of the seventeen survivors and pain-stakingly reconstructed what happened that night. According to Ranger Cheek, earlier in the day, the 1st Brigade scrambled a strong hunter-killer force for a “hot intell” mission. The gung-ho Ranger, up for the task, “joking referred to the operation as a ‘Superman Mission’.”
At dusk, two Huey slicks escorted by a pair of Cobra gunships, dropped the hunter-killer team into an LZ in an open rice paddy, just to the west of where Chum and I landed two hours later, It was a cold LZ.
FROM STOGIE 21 ; The incident was a LARGE, three-ship LRRP insertion that occurred 26 Feb. I flew lots of missions for the Rangers out of FB Moore, but this is the only one where we inserted three teams at once. Normally, they were single ship missions.
Stogie 21, 24, 26 inserted the LRRPs late that afternoon - perhaps under Bde control, but we had no CC bird (B Troop, 3/17th Air Cavalry was attached to the 9th Div - OPCON to 1st Bde) and talked to no one during the mission other than the Rangers. For the insertion, we had 3 slicks, two guns, and a scout. I (21) was the slick lead and mission commander. After loading the Rangers, we made two false insertions south of FB Moore with the scout marking each LZ with smoke and then inserted on the third "real insertion". However, when we made the real insertion, the smoke grenade set a grass fire that burned out of control in the clearing we used for an LZ. It was decided not to abort (by the Rangers I think) and then Stogie's five birds left the area to refuel.
“Sergeant David Stone was point man and the team leader for the hunter team,” Cheek recalls. “On landing, Sergeant Stone noticed many places on and around the LZ where the reeds were bent over as if someone had recently been sitting on them. He reckoned a large enemy force had just vacated the area because the reeds were bending back up as he watched.”
Most likely, it was a large infiltrating enemy force coming out of Cambodia with orders not to get decisively engaged. They were probably taking ten when they saw the insertion birds, realized the LRRPs were on to them and hightailed it into the woods.
From Jack Schloerb ; As I recall:
We were inserted by 3 helicopters into a field with wood lines on either sides of us. This small open area had grass about ankle to knee high. This was perhaps an old abandon/not workable rice paddy and it was on fire. This fire was small and did not impede our movement into the near by wood line. I recall an old timer saying that "this fire is not a good sign". We proceeded into the wood line in a column. I was walking about 5th from the end.
We walked slow and deliberate, in similar movement of a typical 5 man reconnaissance mission. I recall seeing choi hoi (trans:open arms) leaflets on the jungle floor and 1 or 2 care tins. We walked for some time through the jungle and a small stream. After some time we stopped and watched/listened. Being a new guy, I was watching most intently through the jungle in front of me, convinced that we would be attacked at any time.
As war would have it; through the jungle, I could see a figure slowly walking directly towards our position. He was wearing shorts and had a pistol at his side. I attempted to signal Lizote (later to be the only KIA of the mission) who was next to me but looking the other way. I was cautious not to yell to him and alert the approaching enemy. I braced myself sitting up against a tree with my M-16 under my arm. This individual walk right up to us. He was within 5-8 meters and directly in front of me. Our eyes met, he turned to run and I emptied my magazine and missed. I have a hard time with that to this day. Immediately, 3-4 LRRPS jumped up, asked what I was firing at, and chased after the enemy. They were back within minutes, questioned me again and we regrouped and moved out. We next came to an open rice paddy and stopped, each of us 3 meters apart or so as before.
A point element of 4-5 LRRPS proceeded first into the rice paddy towards the wood line about 50 meters in front of them. They stopped and got low behind the rice paddy dyke. Within minutes a point element(of a much larger unit) of about 6 NVA came out of the wood line. They proceeded directly toward us, unaware of our presence. Upon coming within 10 meters of our position the LRRPS open fire and all of the point element were immediately killed. By the time the brief skirmish ended we were met with RPG fire which hit the trees above and wounded many.
At this point, time to me was unclear but the fire fight was intense. By the time the first lull in the firefight had occurred - all but 1 was wounded and Lezote was dying. The only area to get a Medovac in was to the open area in front of us, (toward the enemy), with nothing but jungle to our rear.
Pat Lafferty on the far left, Gary Jones is next, that is David Stone in the middle, the guy behind Stone and to his left is Rick Ehrler, the last one is Tony Hanlon
Something gave Ranger Stone an uneasy feeling. The terrain did not jibe with the map, and the matted-down grass bothered him. His sixth sense, developed during dozens of such missions, shouted danger, danger, danger. A veteran patrol leader, he quickly moved the force off the LZ into the nearby woods and stopped when they came to a clearing. He then wisely called for a marking round to check his position. In case he was in the middle of a large enemy force, he’d be able to bring in the artillery big stick. Just at that moment, Sergeant Wes Watson, who was at the rear of the column, saw an armed enemy soldier dressed in khaki about fifteen meters away. But before he could take him out, the guy disappeared into the darkness. Then a single shot was fired.
Sergeant Stone realized the team had lost surprise and prepared for the world to fall in. He set his force up in a tight perimeter and waited for the artillery marking round. “Suddenly four dinks walked into the clearing. A Ranger yelled, ‘La dai, motherfucker,’ and when they ran, they joined the ranks of the KIA.”
Sergeant Stone threw a grenade. It hadn’t gone more than a foot when an explosion went off behind him and blew him out of the wood line into the clearing. Hit in the back by shrapnel and momentarily stunned, his shocked brain tried to connect his grenade with the explosion that came from the opposite direction.
Then more explosions clobbered the perimeter.
FROM Richard Schimel ; We touched down in a rice paddy and made it to the small berm to collect ourselves, it was a cold LZ. From there, we took up our positions and began our patrol. We were assembled into a hunter-killer team, I was part of the 12 man killer team and probably towards the rear of the patrol. Can't remember for the life of me who was in front or back of me.
The day was un-eventful until we stopped for a break. Suddenly, someone yelled "lai de"(spelling) meaning come hear. As we looked up, there was a VC with what appeared to be an AK-47 on his shoulder scrambling into the woods. I think the majority of the team opened up AND WE MISSED HIM. A couple of men chased briefly into the brush but found nothing.
When evening came and we were beginning to check our our night position, the team was lying on the ground in a defensive position. The fellow next to me (name unknown) pointed through the brush and asked "do you see that"? I saw a couple of men in kacky uniforms and asked what that was? he responded, "that's the NVA, we're in trouble" It was almost immediately our hunter (point) team made contact. A few minutes later, all hell broke loose. We began taking heavy rifle and rocket fire. It seemed like every rocket was right on target.
Anyway, to make a long story short, we wound up with 15 wounded and 1 killed, Lazzotte died later in the hospital. He had part of his head taken off. He screamed all night like you never heard anything like it. The guys who could took care of him as best they could. The others kept up positioned and tried to patch us the best they could. I remember (Sgt. Chesser I believe) took some of my medical for Lazotte. I had multiple wounds and would up leaving my torso unpatched. Chesser cut my boot off and patched my leg the best he could.
All the time, all the men maintained position and kept up the defensive fire power. The few who could manouver, kept us tactically sound and treated us the best they could. Sgt. Stone I believe and Jack Schloerb, at Schloerb's suggestion recalled a small clearing he thought would be a good LZ. He and Stone took off and checked it out. Upon return, they began moving everyone to that site. Jack Schloerb carried me and I believe Chessor also helped at times.
When we got to the clearing they had us laid out (myself and many others were totally incapacitated at that time). The first chopper came in and immediately crashed. I thought it had been hit with rocket fire, just a few years ago, I learned that it had hit a tree. It landed very close and was smoking and screaming, I thought it would blow and finish us off, but it didn't. I remember a couple of rangers running out to pull the pilots out. Once retrieved, they came back to our position and were laughing, they knew each other. Kind of sick humor I thought at the time, but that is how much control these guys had at the time.
The first helicopter that landed, LANDED WITH NO TROOPS ON BOARD, IT WAS EMPTY. At that time, we were placed on the helicopter by our own ranger team members, I was put on last. The chopper could not get off the ground, so I was taken off to wait for the next bird.
The second helicopter landed, AND THAT ONE LANDED EMPTY ALSO, NO TROOPS ON THAT ONE TO GET OFF EITHER. At that time, I was again put on the helicopter and was evac-ed. We reached (only now finding out we went to Dong Tam) the hospital and some of our rangers who were not on patrol were there waiting for us. I remember the first seargent , a tough ombre, in his startched fatigues yelling to get us out of chopper. He grabbed my dirty, bloody ass and carried me to the stretcher. From there the rest was somewhat blurry. I lost my spleen, had serious stomach and leg damage and was KO'd for a few years. But still in better shape than many others. I remember seeing Lt. Hill in the hospital, very pleasant even though he was tore up real good.
Thirty-two years after the saga, Ranger Watson, who had taken his advanced individual training (AIT) in my “Stay Alert, Stay Alive” battalion back at Fort Lewis, said the minute the team landed, a VC LZ watcher spotted them. “A few minutes later, we started taking heavy small-arms fire,” he recalls. “We returned fire and that brought a barrage of RPG fire aimed at the trees above us, creating air bursts – which is what caused so many casualties so quickly.”
The RPG was pee-bringer of a shoulder-fired weapon, deadly effective – with all the punch of a 90 mm recoilless rifle and deeply feared by our grunts. In a strict infantry fight, the VC AK-47 and RPG outgunned the U.S. M-16 rifle and LAW, the shoulder-fired Light Antitank Weapon. Without U.S. Tac Air, chopper and artillery fire, American infantry in Vietnam would have sucked hind tit every time.
The Rangers blasted back with three M-60 machine guns, and XM-203 over and under – a combined M-16 and M-79 – and a dozen M-16s. The enemy backed off fast.
Even though Sergeants Stone and Charles Chesser were both hit, they worked on the other wounded Rangers. Ranger Warren Lizotte had a serious head wound with part of his brain exposed, and Sergeant Stone tended to him while Sergeant Chesser patched up the others. Lieutenant Robert Hill, the mission leader, was very badly wounded along with Sergeant Jerry Wilson. All told, sixteen Rangers were hit, but all except Lizotte, who was down for the count, bravely manned their weapons and hammered the enemy with heavy and sustained fire.
From conversation with Dave stone; The main fire fight was over by the time any slicks arrived!
Dave and (I cant remember) went to flag in that 1st slick (that crashed) He feels that he crashed it (small LZ) He had noticed from the air that the terrain didn’t match the map, knew they were lost or had been given the wrong map Never saw a marker round they had called (arty) "they were all squatting in the brush when the shots were fired, then the(several) grenades rolled in. one of them rolled right under Hill ( I think maybe hit him and rolled under between his legs on the ground) and went off, When they got up he saw Hill and thought he was in shock, and near death due to the location and apparent extent of his injury, he was not moving or responding. Dave went to attend the others and set up Def. as best could,( he had just been blown off his feet by a grenade and had shrapnel in his back, ,in the initial firefight he had to lay temp paralyzed in the open while the team returned fire over his body ! I forget who dragged him back into the brush by his ankle and he was able to move and walk again, so off he went) then later, not sure of time span) some one pointed out
Hill standing up pulling up nippa palms and throwing them over his shoulder apparently trying to clear an LZ .again Dave assumed he was delirious, an amazed that he was even standing! Warren Lizotte was a short timer who went on the mission at the last minute as a replacement for a sick guy.
The incoming fire had knocked out every Ranger radio. One PRC-25 had a light glowing in the frequency indicator box. Stone, hoping it could still transmit, started the one-way chant I picked up while on my way to the scene. “This is U.S. forces calling any allied forces. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is U. S. forces calling any allied forces, Mayday, Mayday.”
With the radio able only to transmit, Stone had a hot mike. He couldn’t bring in artillery or direct other supporting weapons. He was talking only to himself. Back at Dong Tam Ranger TOC, Huey pilot Warrant Officer LaPotta picked up the Mayday call, raced to his chopper and took off, not even waiting the required five-minute engine warm-up time in his rush to fly to his besieged Ranger buddies
Sergeant Stone turned on his strobe when he heard the circling bird. “LaPotta turned on his landing lights and came in hot on the small clearing. About twenty feet off the ground, the bird clipped a tree with its tail rotor and went into a wild spin, crashing on its side. The main rotor went flying, and the turbine roared out of control. The crew unassed the chopper, yelling, ‘It’s going to blow’ to Segeant Stone and Dennis McNally as they raced over to the downed bird to help.”
From Jack Schloerb ; Having been fresh out of state side training, it was repeatedly impressed on us to be aware of noticing any clearing while in the jungle because they could at some point be extraction points. AS a 9th Div LRRP our insertions/extractions were almost exclusively in the rice paddies. I had distinctly noted one point prior to our engagement. I could see the NCO's were putting their heads together to try and determine how to extract the many wounded. I crawled over to them and passed on that there was a small clearing about 50-100 meters back that could possibly accept a chopper. None could recall this. SGT Wilson looked me square in the eyes and said, "Are you certain". I said "yes". He said to the other NCO's, "I'm going with the new guy on this one, He looked at me and said," Let's go back,...take me there". With that Wilson and I proceeded back and we found the clearing. "Damn", he said, "your right we can get a chopper in here". "It looks just big enough".
We got back to our unit and proceeded to all move back to the small clearing. Everyone helping each other along the way. I helped Richie Schimel along the way, who unknown to me had received over a dozen shrapnel wounds. I recall LT. Hill had received a severe wound to his leg and was bleeding profusely.
The first helicopter descended to receive the first group of wounded. It touch the ground and the first group were loaded. Upon it's ascent, having gotten about 20 or so feet in the air, the tail rotor which controls lateral stability, hit a tree limb and snapped off. The chopper began to spin in circles and crashed in our midst's below. Although the blades were no longer spinning, I can recall the loud noise of the motor and concerned if we were being fired on over all the noise. The wounded were immediately removed from the chopper which was now laying on it's side. A second and a third chopper finally came in and 2 sets of wounded were Medovaced. I was on the 2nd. I was later told that 6 men stayed on the ground throughout the night.
When things settled down and LaPotta figured the bird wasn’t going to explode, he returned to the aircraft and shut it down. The crew then removed the ship’s weapons and ammo and joined Stone’s people on the perimeter.
Ranger Warren Lizotte died a few hours after he was evacuated back to Dong Tam. Lieutenant Hill, Sergeant Wilson, Ranger Richard Shimel and a few other badly wounded Rangers never returned to the company.
Richard Schimel receives Purple Heart, and a handshake from Gen. Ewell
Huey pilot LaPotta was almost court-martialed for his heroic, but unauthorized and, some thought, reckless flight. Ranger CO Captain Dale Dickey went to General Ewell and got the charges thrown out with the best possible defense; Screw the regulations, he was trying to save my men.
For their gallantry, both Stone and Chesser were awarded the Silver Star.
So the rescue went smoothly, except for one hitch. All during he ground phase of the rescue, Bumstead kept radioing from the TOC, “King David, you’re doing a hell of a job” and “We have a cold beer waiting for you, King David. King David, you’re a hero.”
I wondered whether he raided Doc Holley’s Benzedrine supply. Finally I told him to get the fuck off the radio – that I needed it to run the show, not start a fan club. I suppose he wanted to get into the act, live vicariously. Or suck up after he’d blindly followed Hunt’s dumb orders to deploy Winston’s troops. To me, it was one more instance of my S-3 making an ass of himself, but I was too preoccupied – or too dense – to catch yet another warning signal.
From Bill Cheek ; I joined the 9th Div LRRPs ( E/75th) about 6 months after this contact.
When I read David Hackworth's slander in "About Face" of my old unit I was highly pissed off to say the least. As I said, I wasn't even in the unit at the time, but it didn't sound like anyone I knew. Once I found Hackworth's web site I set a plan in motion. I started off by picking his "Tale" apart sentence by sentence then insulting him at the end to get his attention. I told him that he is as "Phony as his 2nd DSC".
It worked, I got an email back later that day demanding an apology. I played a Detective Colombo routine ( playing dumb) on him by apologizing, then asking him another question to keep him talking. It worked better than I ever thought. The more he talked, the more he kept putting his foot in his mouth. Once I got him to admit he was wrong on a lot of points I demanded he apologize to the unit for his slander.
This battle with David Hackworth lasted 5 years. Getting him to admit he was wrong was at about the 2 year point. He had a syndicated column titled " Defending America" and promised he would post it there. I forget the exact year, but it was around July of 1998 or 1999 I think, but you remember when CNN was busted over the made up story about the Special Forces using Serin gas on American deserters in Laos, I believe it was known as the "Tail Wind" scandal. This is about the 3 year point.
Well buried in the back of that issue of Defending America after Hackworth ranted about it he referred to LRRPs ( not us by name) by saying " Hey guys, I'm sorry". Reading that pissed me off even more. I told Hackworth that his book with the slander of us will sit in libraries for years to come and demanded that if About Face ever goes into reprint I want that chapter changed. He did his usual routine of stalling and"Blowing Smoke out his Ass" at me and I found myself at sort of an impasse.
By now it had been 3 1/2 to 4 years when out of nowhere I got an email from Hackworth wanting my help writing his next book. Originally it was supposed to be titled " Hopeless to Hardcore" but was changed to "Steel my Soldiers Hearts". At first I told him no way in hell. All he has done is "Jerk me Around" and I don't trust him at all. I feared that he would take my words and twist them around to prove his claim that we are losers.
But after a phone call from my old Team Leader Norm Breece I changed my mind. Norm and I both agreed Hackworth was going to write it anyway so rather than let him do as he did before and make up what suited him I decided to work with him on that chapter.
After about 6 months and many phone calls to who ever I could contact that was on that mission I pieced the story together to show our side from the ground that night. As happens when trying to reconstruct and event seen by many different people, I came across contradicting statements. Rather risk giving Hackworth ammo a number of times I just left those statements out. Once completed I sent it to Hackworth and he did his usual of changing my word to his more "exciting self promotion" style of writing but the story did come out about the way I wrote it.
He never did use the word apology in it, but the closest he came was to refer to us as " Good men".
Once the book was put into print, out of nowhere I received an advanced autographed copy of Steel My Soldiers Hearts in the mail thanking me for my help in writing it. About a week after I got the book in the mail, there was a post card from Hackworth in the mail. This one asked me to send him the name of a local newspaper so he can arrange for them to do an interview with me as promotion for the book and get me some publicity by being in the news.
I ignored it but thought with an evil grin " Hey Hack, send Hilan Jones about $20,000 to help with the 9th Div LRRP newsletter/fund and I won't call a press conference and tell the world what an asshole you are.
As Gordy and I walked the extended perimeter, S-3 Jim Musselman rang and said, “Only sixteen Rangers are accounted for at the hospital. Are the two missing men with you?”
DeRoos did a check. No Rangers had attached themselves to his platoons. We worried they were captured, dead or lying in the bush too shot up to sound off. In the confusion of DeRoos’s people coming in and Rangers and aircrew going out in the darkness, neither Chum, DeRoos nor I had done a head count. Gordy ran a few small patrols out beyond our perimeter, but there was still no sign of the missing men.
With only three aircraft in each lift, it took three turnarounds to bring in all of the Claymore. Meanwhile, Stogie Cobras circled our perimeter. It was slow going – a platoon would be dropped off and then the slicks would return to the PZs near Moore to pick up another. While we were waiting for the last platoon to come in, Musselman radioed back. “All the Rangers are accounted for. The two that were missing walked from the 3rd Surgical Hospital helipad back to their barracks at Dong Tam – they weren’t wounded.”
What a good man Musselman was, I remember thinking. Here is was with dozens of worries on his plate, running a six-thousand-man brigade with a highly intelligent and super ambitious – the worst combination for a combat arms officer – loose-cannon skipper; yet he still found time to chase down the missing men and let up know they were OK. Musselman, who clearly had his soldiering priorities straight, well earned the two stars he eventually wore.
DeRoos established good commo with my TOC back at Moore and USAF captain Joe Connor, Tamale 14, agreed to keep a FAC (forward air controller) aircraft over DeRoos all night to provide radio relay and fire support if needed. So, as the last bird dropped off its load of grunts, Chum and I climbed aboard. From womb to tomb, the complete rescue phase of the operation took exactly four hours.
Appropriately enough, Dan Hickman, Stogie 21, first in after Chum and me, took us out. When he dropped us off at Moore, I got Hickman’s name and service number and put him in for a combat decoration. As is so often the case in war, my recommendation got lost somewhere along the way and Stogie 21 never got his medal. My apologies Dan, and thanks for the ride. The Rangers and the Hardcore both owe you one big time. DeRoos reported a brief exchange of gunfire when his troopers pushed out the perimeter and then all was quiet. He fine-tuned the perimeter, put out claymore mines and settled in for the night.
In the morning before the bird was lifted out, DeRoos’s patrols found the trails and places in the tall grass that were matted down and a fair amount of bloodstains. One patrol killed one VC and took two POWs. One of the prisoners told us “There are three VC company-sized base camps in the vicinity.” “There were a bunch of bad guys here,” DeRoos later said. “The Rangers were damn lucky they didn’t get snuffed out.” Several weeks later, on a visit to Gordy’s Claymore Company base camp, I noticed two aviation M-60 machine guns on his perimeter.
“I know where those came from,” I said. Gordy smiled. “The spoils of war go to the victor. And besides, we paid for them. That was one miserable night.”
End chapter 7
“In all the scrapes I've been in, in the five decades of chasing wars, this fight was the hairiest. It was also the biggest risk I ever took.”
David H. Hackworth 30 June 98
The Unit
No other combat recon units waged reconnaissance and intelligence - gathering operations under circumstances more difficult than those with the 9th Infantry Division in Vietnam. Despite this, the Reliable Reconnaissance Patrollers, Riverine Rangers, and Go-Devil Rangers manifested sound tactical doctrine and imaginative techniques in adjusting to the alien Mekong Delta environment and applied undeviating pressure against the Viet Cong havens and their supply lanes throughout the division term of service in Vietnam.
The Vietnam Rangers of the 75th Infantry were awarded the title of Neo Marauders by the Secretary of the Army, Stanley Resor, for having lived up to the standards set by the original Marauders during World War II. Army Chief of Staff Creighton Abrams who observed the 75th Ranger operations in Vietnam as commander for all US forces there, selected the 75th Rangers as the role model for the first US Army Ranger units formed in peacetime in the history of the United States Army. Today, the modern Rangers of the 75th Ranger Regiment continue the tradition of being the premier fighting element of the active army. The traditions and dedication to their fellow RANGERS continues!!
This history deals with the activities, personnel and accomplishments of Company E (Ranger), 75th Infantry during the period 1 February 1969 through 12 October 1970 and makes reference to the units who preceded the designation of Company E (Ranger), 75th Infantry.
Throughout history the need for a small, highly trained, far ranging unit to perform reconnaissance, surveillance, target acquisition, and special type combat missions has been readily apparent.
In Vietnam this need was met by instituting a Long Range Patrol program to provide each major combat unit with this special capability.
Rather than create an entirely new unit designation for such an elite force, the Department of the Army looked to its rich and varied heritage and on 1 February 1969 designated the 75th Infantry Regiment, the present successor to the famous 5307th Composite Unit (MERRILL'S MARAUDERS) as the parent organization for all Department of the Army designated Long Range Patrol (LRP) units and the parenthetical designation (RANGER) in lieu of (LRP) for these units. As a result, the 50th Infantry Detachment (LRP), formally the 9th Infantry Division LRRP (Provisional) assigned to the 9th Infantry Division, became Company E (Ranger), 75th Infantry Regiment.
Brig. Gen. Frank D. Merrill
Commanding General, 5307th Composite Unit (Provisional)
In the fall of 1966, the 9th Infantry Division formed a division Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol (LRRP) Platoon after division commander, Maj. Gen. George S. Eckhardt flew to Vietnam on an orientation tour of the combat theater. Major General Eckhardt noted that each division contained a long-range patrol unit. He arrived back at Fort Riley, Kansas, where the Division was completing preparations for its scheduled December deployment to Vietnam, and ordered the immediate organization of a reconnaissance platoon for his own division. Capt. James Tedrick, Lt. Winslow Stetson, and Lt. Edwin Garrison were chosen as the officers for the LRRP Platoon. They interviewed and screened the records of 130 volunteer soldiers and selected the best 40. The provisional unit was known as the "War Eagle Platoon". In November of 1966, the LRRP Platoon completed the Jungle Warfare School in Panama. Captain Tedrick conducted an extra week of tropical training following the regular two-week course. Platoon members were shipped to Vietnam in January 1967.
At the Special Forces MACV Recondo School at Nha Trang, the entire 9th Infantry Division LRRPS became recondo-qualified, Meanwhile, the unit adjusted to its combat operating area. The division operated primarily in the lowlands south of Saigon, the Rung Sat Special Zone, and the Mekong Delta. Torrential rains and year-round water exposed patrollers to high rates of disabling skin disease. Reconnaissance troops often suffered extensive inflammatory lesions and rampant skin infections. And by the fourth month of tropical service, nearly three-fourths of all infantrymen had recognizable infections.
The Bear Cat - Long Thanh area east of Saigon was where the division was initially concentrated. The new base, Dong Tam, was constructed by dredging the My Tho river to produce enough fill to build a major installation in the Mekong Delta. It was located five miles west of My Tho in Dinh Tuong Province.
On 8 July 1967, the 9th Long Range Patrol Detachment (LRPD) was formalized. Borrowing General Marshall's World War II phrase, the Division LRPD was "well brought up." During June and July, the LRPD completed forty-three patrols and clashed eighteen times with enemy forces. Through August and September, the LRPD continued to fill. By October it had reached full authorized strength of 119 personnel and was rated fully operational. Each platoon contained a command section and eight, six-man teams.
Some teams of the division LRPD rendered reconnaissance for 2nd Brigade in Operation CORONADO and entered the Viet Cong Cam Son secret base area while other teams supported the 1st Brigade in Operation AKRON and uncovered a massive underground system of enemy tunnels and bunkers. The LRPD also conducted important military intelligence tasks for the Mobile Riverine Force within the Mekong Delta.
Major General George C. O' Connor activated Company E (Long Range Patrol), 50th Infantry, to give the 9th Infantry Division specialized ground reconnaissance support on 20 December 1967. The long-range patrol company absorbed the LRPD and was designated as "Reliable Reconnaissance" after the division nickname of "Old Reliable's." During January 1968, the Navy SEAL teams began joint operations with Reliable Reconnaissance. LRP's did this to gain training and experience in the Delta environment
The missions designated as SEAL-ECHO were the highly selective patrols. They were inserted by Navy patrol boats, plastic assault boats, helicopters, and Boston whalers. The SEAL-ECHO troops used supporting artillery and air strikes to destroy larger targets.
Maj. Gen. Julian J. Ewell assumed command of the 9th Infantry Division in February 1968. He authorized the Reliable Reconnaissance company to acquire a similar capacity to the 3rd Brigade Combined reconnaissance and Intelligence Platoon (CRIP) as a result of the Tet-68 battles. Company E received permission to employ available Provincial Reconnaissance Unit (PRU) personnel from the Central Intelligence Agency's Project Phoenix program
The PRU troops were hardened anti-communist troops dedicated to destroying the Viet Cong infrastructure. The PRU troops generally possessed very high esprit and great knowledge of Viet Cong operating methods.
From November 1968 through January 1969, the last three months of Company E's existence, the Reliable Reconnaissance teams conducted 217 patrols, and engaged the enemy in 102 separate actions. The company was credited with capturing eleven prisoners and killing eighty-four Viet Cong by direct fire. On 1 February 1969, the department of the Army reorganized the 75th Infantry as the parent regiment for long-range patrol companies under the combat arms regimental system. Maj. Gen. Ewell activated Company E (Ranger), 75th Infantry, from Company E, 50th Infantry. The Rangers were known as "Echo Rangers" or "Riverine Rangers," because they mostly dealt with river and canal reconnaissance - even though the company was only partially assigned to the Mobile Riverine Force. Ranger Company E took advantage of dry season conditions to harass suspected Viet Cong supply lines from activation until the end of April. The Riverine Rangers conducted 244 patrols and reported 134 observations of enemy activity. They clashed with the Viet Cong during 111 patrols and were credited with capturing five prisoners and killing 169 Viet Cong. When the 9th Infantry Division began phasing out of Vietnam in July 1969, the rangers renamed themselves "Kudzu Rangers" after the operational code word for the close-in defense of Dong Tam. The ranger company phased its teams out of the Kudzu business by 3 August.
On 23 August 1969, the Army formally inactivated Company E (Ranger), 75th Infantry. The provisional 'Go-Devil" Ranger company, also known as the separate 3rd Brigade of the 9th Infantry Division, formally established as an independent unit on 26 July 1969, was unaffected by this paper ruse. On 24 September, the U.S. Army Pacific reactivated Company E by General Order 705 and the U.S. Army Vietnam headquarters published orders re-assigning Company E to the 3rd Brigade, 9th Infantry was again activated on 1 October 1969 and the original Company E was discontinued and became the new Company E. The only difference was what they called themselves, they dropped "Riverine Rangers" and continued on with their newly acquired name, "Go-Devil" Rangers."
Company E (Ranger), 75th Infantry is entitled to the following:
Campaign Streamers: Vietnam
Counteroffensive Phase VI
TET 69 Counteroffensive
Summer-Fall 1969
Winter-Spring 1970
Sanctuary Counteroffensive
Counteroffensive Phase VII
Consolidation I
Consolidation II
CEASE FIRE
Decorations: Vietnam
RVN Gallantry Cross w/Palm
RVN Civil Actions Honor Medal
Traditional Designation: Echo Rangers
Motto: Sua Sponte ("Of their own accord")
Distinctive Insignia: The shield of the coat of arms
Symbolism of the coat of arms: The colors: Blue, white, red, and green represent four of the original six combat teams of the 5307th Composite Unit (Provisional) which were identified by a color code word. The units close cooperation with the Chinese forces in the China-Burma-India Theatre is represented by the Sun symbol from the Chinese Nationalist Flag. The white star represents the Star of Burma. The lightning bolt is symbolic of the strike characteristics of the behind-the-line activities.
Ranger designation rationale - - The rationale for selecting the 75th Infantry as the parent unit for all Department of the Army authorized Ranger units is as follows:
(1) Similarity of missions between those missions performed by Merrill's Marauders and the 75th Infantry, Ranger Companies in the republic of Vietnam and those of the 75th Ranger Regiment - - Operations deep in enemy territory.
(2) It returns to the rolls of the active Army Regiment having a distinguished combat record and a unique place in the annals of the United States Army.
(3) It provides the 75th Ranger Regiment and the United States Army with a common regimental designation identifying an uncommon skill.
Thanks to Herman Spoto for the research and putting this article together.
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