Master Chief (24 page)

Amazingly, the unfortunate VCI frantically tried to get back on his feet. However, his equilibrium was a bit off and he could never quite get there. I was amazed because my past experiences had always shown that when a person was hit in the head with a 7.62mm or 5.56mm projectile, the skull disintegrated, leaving a tattered mess of skin, matter, and blood. Sometimes, the brain would be lying on the ground in one unit. If I hadn’t witnessed the incident, I wouldn’t have believed it. Within another minute one of the PRU shot a bullet through the fellow’s heart, thus ending his futile attempt to escape and his hopeless condition. The results of that particular mission were seven VC/VCI killed and seven VCI captured.

During the night of November fourteenth, units of the local VC/NVA 309F Main Force Heavy Weapons Battalion blessed us with over eighty rounds of 82mm HE mortar rounds from four separate locations to confuse the ARVN 7th locating equipment and to delay their 105mm counterartillery fire. The enemy also probed our perimeter unsuccessfully. Fortunately, the mortaring didn’t interfere with our nightly flick.

The next day, Waneous and I drove to Saigon, where we returned crypto gear and radio equipment. Later, after we arrived at SpecWar, Lieutenant Morrow told me that SpecWar had officially received word to withdraw all SEAL platoons from Vietnam. I for one was ready to get out of South Vietnam; I’d had enough of the new rules of engagement. The air in the SpecWar staff offices seemed electrified. Everyone was excited and ready to return to Coronado, California, or Little Creek, Virginia, depending upon who was from SpecWar Group 1 or SpecWar Group 2. Lieutenant Todd rode with Waneous and me as
far as Ben Luc, where we left him with Mike Platoon. He was to be the last OIC of NavSpecWar’s Vietnam Detachment Golf. After we reached Dong Tam and spread the good news, everyone sat around in our bar until late, talking about how great it would be to return to the beautiful Silver Strand.

November seventeenth was one of those days that I dread. Mojica and I loaded the sector Huey slick with cases of ordnance for Ba To’s hamlet. During our usual five cups of hot tea with Ba To and his family, Mojica and I explained to the Hoa Hao leader that we were returning to the States to be with our families for a while. I presented him with an envelope containing a few thousand piasters and thanked him for being our faithful friend and comrade. Thankfully, we had very little time for awkward conversation before the sector ships returned from the Vinh Binh subsector. Lord, how I hate good-byes, I thought to myself. Mojica and I shook hands with Ba To and several of his faithful men and quickly loaded the helo. The old man seemed stunned, and stopped smiling when he realized the finality of our departure. As our helo slowly lifted off, I sat down on the edge of the port door while my jungle boots tapped the helo skids nervously. I continued waving at Ba To and his brave Hoa Hao followers even though I wasn’t smiling anymore either. Finally, the helo’s nose dipped over a flooded rice paddy and gained altitude as we slowly banked to port and over the tiny hamlet below. As that little village disappeared underneath the helo, I knew in my heart that Ba To and his small hamlet would not survive the war much longer.

The next morning, Doc and I loaded the back end of our pickup full of ordnance and drove to the Vinh Kim subsector. Because I was unable to utilize the sector slick for the following few days, I coordinated with Major Bigelow and Captain Campbell and was given permission
to leave our last load of ordnance for Ba To’s hamlet with them. The ammo, grenades, pop flares, 40mm HE rounds, M-72 LAAWs, 7.62mm belted ball, 5.56mm ball, M-18 claymore mines, and so forth, would be kept in their MACV magazines until Ba To and his men could transfer the ordnance by shanks mare to their hamlet. I also gave Dai Uy Campbell all of our Sam Giang district 1:4,000 split vertical aerial photographic mosaics, maps, and office supplies to aid the professional support of their ARVN counterparts.

About noon, Commanders Schaible and Del Guidice arrived at our barracks from Saigon. Schaible was relieving Del Guidice as the CO of NavSpecWar Group Vietnam. “Captain” Schaible had been my SEAL Team 1 commanding officer from 1968 to 1970. “Captain” Del Guidice had been the CO of the same team from 1962 to 1964.

One of the reasons for their visit was to familiarize Schaible with all of the SEAL platoon locations, potential LDNN and adviser locations and support, platoon morale, etcetera. Captain Schaible was very impressed with November Platoon’s intelligence or N-2/S-2 room, and the luxury of our living quarters, lounge/bar, and screened-in outdoor movie theater. Dai Uy managed to get Captain Schaible’s permission for our platoon to attend the Vietnamese Airborne School and jump from one of the old C-119 flying boxcars before we departed South Vietnam. Naturally, our motive was to earn Vietnamese jump wings.

I spent most of November nineteenth preparing Tam’s debriefing in preparation for his polygraph test. Later that afternoon, November Platoon went to the Seawolves’ area and played volleyball until dinnertime. During our drive across Dong Tam, our jeep had another of its many flats. Our platoon first lieutenant, Roger Hayden, was soon tasked by Senior Chief to “take care of the problem.”

After dinner, Lieutenant Fletcher, Lieutenant (jg)
Kleehammer, and I were invited to a sector intel community party at Mr. Bai’s home in My Tho. Because it was evening and the two routes from Dong Tam to My Tho were subject to road ambushes, Dai Uy twisted Lieutenant (jg) Washburn’s arm and convinced him to have his MSSC crew take the three of us to the Cuu Long restaurant, on the edge of the My Tho River near the old U.S. Army 9th “Juicy Fruit Row” beer joints, and wait for us until after the party. Once we were there, we caught a pedicab that took us to Mr. Bai’s home.

The party was a slow starter until OSA Al and Jake finally arrived at 1910 hours, followed by Lieutenant Zig (NILO). Eventually several of the 525 crowd arrived, as did Chief Muoi (National Police), Chief Hue (PSB), Province Chief Colonel Dao, the Chieu Hoi adviser, and others. After everyone began to relax and enjoy the hors d’oeuvres and the bar’s selections, Lieutenant Zig came over to me and inquired about taking over our intelligence information nets with our dossiers and other files. I assured him that I would assist him in any way I could and that I would leave all dossiers and other material at N-2 with Lieutenant M.

Shortly afterward, OSA Al came over and asked how I authenticated the information I recovered from Phu’s two agents. I chuckled and admitted that that was my weakest point. I explained that I was forced to compare their information with other intel reports from 525, S-2, enemy OB, Green Hornet plottings, mosaics, elicitation from Mr. Bai, Sao Lam, the assistant PRU chief, and others. I also told him that Tam and Phu—agent handler and principal agent—were probably working for PSB, but that I wouldn’t be able to confirm that until after Tam’s polygraph test in Saigon. We then discussed the problems of establishing and managing so-called unilateral intelligence collection nets in South Vietnam and other foreign countries. It was an interesting
conversation. I thought of Big John T., who was in ’Nam in ’69 and ’70 A lot of water had gone under the bridge since ’69, when I was a PRU adviser. By 2215 hours Dai Uy, Trung Uy, and I departed so that we would have time to prepare for our early departure from Dong Tam the next morning for the day’s parachute jump.

Reveille was at 0530 hours on November twentieth. In spite of the rainy season, it was an unusually clear and beautiful day. However, some of the guys didn’t appear to be focusing on the beautifully brilliant sunrise. I knew how they felt. About half of the platoon hadn’t had the opportunity to jump since their graduation from Airborne School at Fort Benning, Georgia.

After Senior Chief had Little Bear Guano take his mattress outside for its daily airing and drying, we loaded our five-ton truck with our steel pots (helmets), pistols, or revolvers and headed for the Vietnamese Airborne School located on the Tan Son Nhut air base just north-northwest of Saigon. Tan Son Nhut was the location of the South Vietnamese air forces, U.S. Air Force, Army, Navy, Marine Corps, Air America airdales, and international traffic from all over the world.

Because Dai Uy Fletcher had attended the Vietnamese Airborne School in ’69 and knew his way around, we stopped at the Airborne School’s headquarters. Within a few minutes Dai Uy returned with a Vietnamese staff sergeant who guided us to a concrete pad adjacent to a warehouse where Vietnamese Airborne students were busy suiting up in the original T-10 parachutes—that is, no canopy modification or steering toggles. In a short while we were issued our main and reserve parachutes and assigned a rectangular space near the aircraft loading area for suiting up. Fortunately, we had plenty of time to get organized. I wasn’t surprised that some of the guys couldn’t remember exactly how to put on their jump
gear—I probably wouldn’t have either if I hadn’t had the opportunity to jump over the last couple of years. Chief Bassett and I speedily assisted those who needed help and had just completed our second check of each man when the old World War II C-119 boxcar pulled up for loading.

By 0850 hours a Vietnamese jump master came over and motioned us to load the aircraft by its off-loading ramp. By hand signals, we were assigned the starboard side’s seats. I was the fourth jumper in our fourteen-man stick. Once the noisy old craft managed to lift itself from the runway, it wasn’t long before the jump master signaled for us to “Stand up!” and a short time later to “Hook up!” to a steel cable that was located overhead. Finally the J.M. motioned for all of us to shuffle up tightly to the side door with our left hands on top of our reserve parachutes and the static line loops in our right hands.

While the red light on the top right of the starboard door was shining brightly, the Vietnamese Airborne J.M. controlled Dai Uy, who was the first man in the stick, by placing his left hand on Fletcher’s right shoulder. Once the red light went off and the green light flashed on, the J.M. yelled,
“Di Di
,” or “Go,” and slapped Dai Uy’s shoulder hard. I noticed that Dai Uy, Trung Uy, and Senior Chief, who were in front of me, were watching the Vietnamese jump master intently for his last hand signal. Even though this was my forty-ninth jump, I admit that I still had butterflies in my stomach.

Suddenly, the green light came on and the jump master yelled,
“Di Di! Di Di!”
Within ten seconds all fourteen of us had exited the old C-119 rattletrap that was flying approximately 125 knots and at twelve hundred feet elevation. After I had counted “one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand,” I looked up at my canopy and noticed there were no holes and that my parachute had completely inflated. I scanned the DZ and noticed
that I was drifting rapidly toward a group of fifty-five-gallon barrels that were surrounded with rows of concertina wire. By looking between my jungle boots, I noticed that the ground wind was moving us along at about fifteen knots—that was normally the maximum wind speed for administrative jumps. Just before I landed, I saw Eberle make a perfect parachute landing fall—feet and then head. Because he was slow to get up and run around his canopy to collapse it, he was dragged for another one hundred yards into the concertina wire. I didn’t have time to do much laughing—I soon realized that I would have to make a good PLF to keep from getting hurt on impact, and I also would have to really hustle around to the apex of my parachute to collapse it quickly before I was dragged into the wire. I hit the ground so hard that my helmet flew off and my head rang for a week. I also bruised my right knee and elbow, but I was okay. That was one of the hardest DZs into which I had ever jumped. Poor Chief Bassett landed in the middle of the concertina wire and came to a screeching halt. It took a half dozen of us to get his canopy and suspension lines freed from the wicked wire. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, but there were a lot of bruises, cuts, and two sore heads. Still, that was one day when everyone was happy and didn’t worry about the war or the political situation at home. The parachute jump was great for our morale.

The following day, I covertly prepared Tam for the next day’s polygraph test by telling him, as a cover story, that we were going to Saigon to CIMEC to visit a VC Hoi Chanh who had been a member of the VC Military Region 2 (Central Nam Bo) headquarters combat training section. I explained to Tam that I believed the Hoi Chanh would have information valuable to Phu for individual targets in the northern area of Cai Lay and Cai Be districts. Tam appeared to be very pleased and was properly motivated to go.

Later that day, Doc and I received the results of our chief’s exam—Doc passed and I failed. That meant I would have to attend the six-month Radioman B school at the Naval Training Command, San Diego, before I would be capable of passing the technically difficult radioman technician’s exam. I wasn’t happy with the thought—I still hated anything that had wires in it.

Dai Uy, Tam, and I departed Dong Tam at 0630 hours for Saigon. I spent the next two days preparing Tam’s polygraph test and waiting for the results and his debriefing by the examiner. The three major areas that I had the examiner cover were: (1) Tam’s relationship to the Dinh Tuong province’s Police Special Branch; (2) Tam’s knowledge, if any, of a special undercover agent; and (3) Tam’s involvement, if any, in the thefts that took place within November Platoon’s barracks.

By the end of the second day, the examiner’s conclusions were: (1) Tam admitted that he was carrying out errands for PSB but wasn’t getting paid for his troubles; (2) Tam knew nothing about the special undercover agent; and (3) Tam was involved in the barracks thefts of November Platoon’s belongings. I said nothing to Tam of the polygraph test results. Later, I gave him 500 piasters to catch a Vietnamese bus back to My Tho.