This is a writing by SGT Ted Rice, who served in C Co, 3rd Plt, 2nd squad, 2/12th from 9/66 to 8/67 and was part of the first deployment of the battation to Vietnam. This article is some recollections he had about participating in Operation Junction City and later the Battle at Suoi Tre.
History the word broken down is (His Story). Here is my story………
A thunderous explosion rocked my head and left my ears anesthetized. Bullets were flying all around us. My body recoiled as I threw myself, prone to the ground, rifle forward looking for the hordes of enemy soldiers coming at my position. Lunging toward the foxhole I groped for my helmet and my web belt with ammo and canteens. Renta and I were both looking for our helmets. I found one, but as I grabbed it with my hand my finger felt what seemed to be a dent or hole in it. I handed it to Renta because I thought it was his. As flares lit the darkness my eyes darted inside the helmet liner to the white of letters. This was my helmet, as I would store letters in the helmet liner while on operations. I recognized my letters, but they were ripped and a little shredded. My middle finger was caressing the hole as my mind raced. I felt my heartbeat quicken, my palms were dry but perspiration beaded on my forehead, lips and wrists. What’s next, I wondered? Concentrating hard on where the hail of bullets may come from I suddenly felt hot perspiration trickling down my ear onto my neck. But wait, my fingers reaching the lobe of my left ear felt sticky blood. Blood! Did I say blood? A cloud of panic suddenly surrounded me as my thoughts ranged from, where is the hole in my head? How much of my head is missing? Has shock caused me to feel no pain? Unless I'm dreaming I feel no pain. I suppressed the urge to scream but panic tore at my self control. I felt for the obvious entry and exit wounds in my skull, as I again suppressed the urge to yell. Instead my voice rasped to my partners, "I'm hit!" "Do you need a medic”, asked the foxhole to my left? I felt no holes in my head and my ear was not missing, just a cut on the ear, for which I received a band-aid. As I gathered my emotions and the rest of my gear I noticed a bullet hole in one ammo pouch and two canteens shot through. This was too close!
Earlier we had been searching through an enemy base camp along the Cambodian border. It was a long and narrow encampment and we had found a large cache of rice bags (with Uncle Sam's picture on the bags) and snipers, but no large enemy force, so we didn’t get through it all in one day. Our battalion commander had put Alpha company in one perimeter and us (Charlie company) 400 meters away in another. Alpha sent an ambush patrol on the main trail. They didn’t like their spot so they were moving to what would be a better location when the shooting started. The listening post in front of our perimeter heard movement and opened fire on them. They returned fire which hit my foxhole. We had just experienced friendly fire (coming from our own guys). I had been wounded by my own troops. Now back in Dau Tieng (our base camp), my company commander stepped in front of me, as he pinned the Purple Heart to my chest, and handed me the citation, he saluted. Close calls: Each of us had a story by now. I guess we were finally veterans.
Our radio operator (Rosignol) told Bruce Peterson he heard it from battalion and Peterson told the rest of us. That's the way these rumors usually get started. Rumor has it that 2nd Battalion 22nd Infantry mechanized (armored personnel carriers) left a couple of days ago to start our next operation. That means we'll be leaving the relative safety of this place too. Some say an NVA division is operating in this area. The only fact in all of this is that every time we leave, fewer of us come back alive and unharmed. Someone always gets hit. According to Rosignol, 2/22 ran into heavy enemy resistance going northeast on highway 14 toward the old French Fort at Loc Ninh. Bravo Company 2/22 crossed the river, flanked the enemy and drove them away. Two men were wounded and two dead, along with two track vehicles lost. Something else Peterson heard in the chow line this morning kind of gave me the chills. On March 18th while they were looking for a place to ford the Suoi Samat River, Alpha Company, 2/22 lost their acting company commander and two other dead. Brigade headquarters ordered them to cross to the northeast side of the river. On the morning of the 19th Lt. Colonel Ralph Julian was confident his battalion would cross. They tried and tried but couldn't find a crossing. This really pissed off our brigade commander Col. Marshall Garth. He cut off all hot chow, cold beverages, water, etc. The only resupply they got was gasoline, oil and necessary parts to keep the tracks and tanks rolling.
We are sitting here cleaning our rifles and equipment from the last operation. We can hardly wait to finish so we can go to the enlisted men’s club and soak up some suds. The beer really tastes good here in the heat. We are sitting with a six-pack in front of each of us. A beer pops, someone at another table is slurring his words. As I take a drink I feel the coldness slide down my throat. After a few cold ones, I feel numbness on my tongue, my reflexes are less alert. As the tide of stress rolls out, the tide of relaxation rolls in. I'm laughing now at the closeness of the bullet, and the tense adrenal experience of the last operation. Not much tension now, no pain either. It feels good to laugh and to hear everyone else laughing too. All too soon it will be back to serious business again. It seems the drunker you get the better you can sleep.After several beers, and now feeling no pain, several of us decide to raise some hell. You see, the French, along with building the village of Dau Tieng, and the villas as headquarters for the Michelin rubber plantation here, also built this two story Olympic size swimming pool. Just like the dammed Army to put us on duty during the day cleaning our weapons and at night put the pool off limits. It's bad enough we are out in the dammed jungle for three weeks at a time but even when we are in base camp we can't use this pool. I guess we're here raising hell now to show them how we feel.
A thunderous explosion rocked my head and left my ears anesthetized. Bullets were flying all around us. My body recoiled as I threw myself, prone to the ground, rifle forward looking for the hordes of enemy soldiers coming at my position. Lunging toward the foxhole I groped for my helmet and my web belt with ammo and canteens. Renta and I were both looking for our helmets. I found one, but as I grabbed it with my hand my finger felt what seemed to be a dent or hole in it. I handed it to Renta because I thought it was his. As flares lit the darkness my eyes darted inside the helmet liner to the white of letters. This was my helmet, as I would store letters in the helmet liner while on operations. I recognized my letters, but they were ripped and a little shredded. My middle finger was caressing the hole as my mind raced. I felt my heartbeat quicken, my palms were dry but perspiration beaded on my forehead, lips and wrists. What’s next, I wondered? Concentrating hard on where the hail of bullets may come from I suddenly felt hot perspiration trickling down my ear onto my neck. But wait, my fingers reaching the lobe of my left ear felt sticky blood. Blood! Did I say blood? A cloud of panic suddenly surrounded me as my thoughts ranged from, where is the hole in my head? How much of my head is missing? Has shock caused me to feel no pain? Unless I'm dreaming I feel no pain. I suppressed the urge to scream but panic tore at my self control. I felt for the obvious entry and exit wounds in my skull, as I again suppressed the urge to yell. Instead my voice rasped to my partners, "I'm hit!" "Do you need a medic”, asked the foxhole to my left? I felt no holes in my head and my ear was not missing, just a cut on the ear, for which I received a band-aid. As I gathered my emotions and the rest of my gear I noticed a bullet hole in one ammo pouch and two canteens shot through. This was too close!
Earlier we had been searching through an enemy base camp along the Cambodian border. It was a long and narrow encampment and we had found a large cache of rice bags (with Uncle Sam's picture on the bags) and snipers, but no large enemy force, so we didn’t get through it all in one day. Our battalion commander had put Alpha company in one perimeter and us (Charlie company) 400 meters away in another. Alpha sent an ambush patrol on the main trail. They didn’t like their spot so they were moving to what would be a better location when the shooting started. The listening post in front of our perimeter heard movement and opened fire on them. They returned fire which hit my foxhole. We had just experienced friendly fire (coming from our own guys). I had been wounded by my own troops. Now back in Dau Tieng (our base camp), my company commander stepped in front of me, as he pinned the Purple Heart to my chest, and handed me the citation, he saluted. Close calls: Each of us had a story by now. I guess we were finally veterans.
Our radio operator (Rosignol) told Bruce Peterson he heard it from battalion and Peterson told the rest of us. That's the way these rumors usually get started. Rumor has it that 2nd Battalion 22nd Infantry mechanized (armored personnel carriers) left a couple of days ago to start our next operation. That means we'll be leaving the relative safety of this place too. Some say an NVA division is operating in this area. The only fact in all of this is that every time we leave, fewer of us come back alive and unharmed. Someone always gets hit. According to Rosignol, 2/22 ran into heavy enemy resistance going northeast on highway 14 toward the old French Fort at Loc Ninh. Bravo Company 2/22 crossed the river, flanked the enemy and drove them away. Two men were wounded and two dead, along with two track vehicles lost. Something else Peterson heard in the chow line this morning kind of gave me the chills. On March 18th while they were looking for a place to ford the Suoi Samat River, Alpha Company, 2/22 lost their acting company commander and two other dead. Brigade headquarters ordered them to cross to the northeast side of the river. On the morning of the 19th Lt. Colonel Ralph Julian was confident his battalion would cross. They tried and tried but couldn't find a crossing. This really pissed off our brigade commander Col. Marshall Garth. He cut off all hot chow, cold beverages, water, etc. The only resupply they got was gasoline, oil and necessary parts to keep the tracks and tanks rolling.
We are sitting here cleaning our rifles and equipment from the last operation. We can hardly wait to finish so we can go to the enlisted men’s club and soak up some suds. The beer really tastes good here in the heat. We are sitting with a six-pack in front of each of us. A beer pops, someone at another table is slurring his words. As I take a drink I feel the coldness slide down my throat. After a few cold ones, I feel numbness on my tongue, my reflexes are less alert. As the tide of stress rolls out, the tide of relaxation rolls in. I'm laughing now at the closeness of the bullet, and the tense adrenal experience of the last operation. Not much tension now, no pain either. It feels good to laugh and to hear everyone else laughing too. All too soon it will be back to serious business again. It seems the drunker you get the better you can sleep.After several beers, and now feeling no pain, several of us decide to raise some hell. You see, the French, along with building the village of Dau Tieng, and the villas as headquarters for the Michelin rubber plantation here, also built this two story Olympic size swimming pool. Just like the dammed Army to put us on duty during the day cleaning our weapons and at night put the pool off limits. It's bad enough we are out in the dammed jungle for three weeks at a time but even when we are in base camp we can't use this pool. I guess we're here raising hell now to show them how we feel.
Today is 19 March,1967, seven more days until Easter and we are building bunkers. They have added K/P and Guard Duty. Most guys go to church and pray more in this year than the rest of their lives back in the world. When you are face to face with your creator on a daily basis you check in with him a little more frequently. You think a lot more spiritual during those times while you're on point or as you're moving silently through the jungle. Trusting your instincts and relying on who you really are is spiritual. Maybe everyone doesn’t pray, but nobody makes fun of you for it because, you may have something better than him. Imagine Easter here in a place God must have forgotten.
As rumor has it tonight is our last shower for three weeks enjoyed under the airplane fuel tank filled with water and warmed by the hot sun. Tomorrow we begin Operation Junction City. We are suppose to climb into the big belly of those C-130 airplanes and fly from the safety of Dau Tieng to the old French fort at Suoi Da. Two infantry battalions, 2/12 and 3/22, leaving from our safe surroundings to God knows what. The old French fort brings back memories of history and the French in Indochina, how they poured troops and equipment into the jungles and their humiliating defeat by the Viet Minh at Dien Ben Phu. Our enemy are called the Viet Cong but we call them VC or sometimes just Charley. They say the French left an air strip and camp. The Special Forces have it now. It sits right by the at the base of the only mountain we can see; Nui Ba Den or Black Virgin Mountain. Rumor is that the VC owns the mountain except for another Special Forces camp on top. A funny story that keeps going around is the well that supplies that camp is outside the wire. The VC and Special Forces share the well. Nobody will tamper with the water and there is a sort of unspoken truce. Neither side will fire on troops getting water. After landing at the air strip at Suoi Dat, we will chopper in to a clearing in the jungle code named L-Z (landing zone) “Gold” near the abandoned village of Suoi Tre, on the other side of the mountain. The 2-77 battalion of artillery will fly in as a forward fire base to support the whole operation
Today I was awakened by a screaming sergeant; I wonder how I will be awakened tomorrow. Rush to chow, rush to finish eating, and rush to get our gear together, hurry up, hurry up, and wait. Wait in the chow line. Wait for a formation. Wait for the airplanes. It reminds me of the joke about the man who has to bail out of the airplane to meet a truck and his chute doesn't open. The poor guy can only think that the damned truck will probably be late too. After an hour and a half of waiting for our airplane we can expect a nice cool ride in the sky to kick off operation Junction City. Now that we are airborne the temperature cools but there remains the cold sweat because that old uncertain fear is grabbing at my stomach again. After a safe and uneventful landing at Suoi Dat we get to wait some more. Oh well, our company is last to lift out today so I'll close my eyes and get some shut eye.
An explosion shocked me awake and I grabbed my gear for instant action. It was our own artillery, firing from behind us here at Suoi Dat. That blast came over our heads in the direction of L-Z “Gold”. Coming from behind and over our heads made it sound that much louder. Maybe there was some truth to all those rumors about VC and NVA (North Vietnamese Army) activity in our area. In just a few minutes we are seeing the first wave of choppers returning. I guess Charlie was ready and waiting. One is really hobbling back, shot up badly, each rotor out of sync, something is wrong with that chopper. It landed close to us so we went over to take a closer look. No more rumors, this shit is for real now! One stabilizer bar shot off clean and some 20 bullet holes in the cabin. The pilot said three choppers were blown up in the first lift. The 3rd Battalion, 22nd Infantry had some casualties but we don't know how many. Charlie had our bombs and artillery shells that had failed to explode on impact when we dropped them on him. They had carried them into the clearing of our landing zone (Gold), attached wire and detonated them from the tree line. I guess there was also a sizable enemy force in the tree line bringing fire on the choppers with automatic rifles.
After three more hours of waiting, hoping they will come to their senses and send us home before we end up in all that shit, we finally get choppered into L-Z “Gold”. Automatic weapons fire is still coming from the tree line. Our gunships are lacing machine gun fire into the tree line.There are several of them, maybe two squads. Shit, after three hours there are still this many. How many do you suppose were there to start with? Below us are the three blown up choppers still burning. One has just the tail section remaining. Seeing the wreckage of our helicopters is quite an awakening. A couple of choppers in our lift hovered at about 8 feet and soldiers had to jump out. Reiger broke both ankles. He was our first casualty. After landing and fighting our way into the tree line of the jungle, we headed on a westerly course until we came to a river where we found an enemy base camp, battalion size and unoccupied; thank God! Charlie had split but he had discarded all sorts of empty bottles containing medical drugs, such as morphine, etc. We radioed that information to brigade headquarters at Tri Be (another Special Forces camp near the Cambodian border). We headed back toward L-Z “Gold” and our position for the night. It was a small clearing but big enough for resupply. After the resupply choppers left things were very quiet. We were overcome by a clammy uneasiness. That same uneasiness as when you know you have a sickness coming but you don't know how sick you’re going to get.
The dirt is really sandy here, thank God, because we wasted so much time after finding that enemy base camp. One man can dig, one standing guard, and then put out the claymore mines. We still have time to fill our canteens for the next day and eat our cold C-rations. Three of us to a foxhole tonight means 33% more sleep. Guard duty for one hour and sleep two.
This is the loneliest time of all, this last shift of guard duty. So often when Charlie hits, it's this time of morning just before dawn. Everyone must be thinking the same things on guard duty. First, you go over the previous day piece by piece, and then reflect. How important was that base camp? Why did Charlie plant bombs in our L-Z? Just who were we up against? And then there were the red ants yesterday that dropped down my neck from a tree that I brushed against. Those little bastards bite so hard and it hurts so much. The only way to get rid of them is to just smash them through your shirt because you can't get all of them out in time. Have you ever tried getting a 50 lb. pack, a claymore mine and machine gun ammo off your back, then having your buddies slap you on the back to crush these little varmints before they eat you? All the while they are biting the hell out of you. Then there are the thorns, from every rotten plant in the jungle, tearing at your clothes and ripping at your skin, not to mention the endless pattern of vines and roots to trip you when you’re so tired the only reason you keep moving is because the guy in front of you is moving too. After all this, you wonder, what the hell did I accomplish today? Well, you lived another day in Charlie's land while some weren't quite so fortunate. You’re one day closer to that great silver bird flying you back home to the world. Yes, back home was the next thought and that one thought engulfs you until your hour is up and you say your prayer and you’re thanks for one more chance at tomorrow.
Yesterday, when 2-77 artillery choppered a battalion of howitzers into L-Z Gold, they were given orders to build bunkers with overhead cover. This meant going to the edge of the clearing to cut trees with an ax, machete, or whatever source was available. Those clever engineers use demolition cord. They just wrapped this cord that looks like clothesline rope around a tree, so many wraps for each inch of diameter, and attach it to a blasting cap and detonate. "Timber, fire in the hole," next thing you know, the tree is down. It's too easy. Master Sergeant Andrew Hunter took his detail of men down to the southern portion of the clearing to start cutting logs for the T.O.C. (tactical operations center). It seemed rather peaceful to him as the steady swing of the ax slowly cut the trees. He could hear the echo as the ax hit the tree. “ It sure would go a lot faster with a chain saw”, he thought, “but they probably won't be here until morning when they are no longer needed.” Little did he know. By nightfall all 18 guns had been put into position, bunkers built, ammunition was flown in and two companies of infantry from 3rd battalion to man the perimeter of defense were set for the night. An ambush patrol of 12 men was in position a few hundred meters away on a trail and a listening post of five men were put about 300 meters in front of the foxholes. The outpost is a common defense warning system for this type of defense. The outpost gets run over and it warns everyone else of an attack. Other than the quiet, the only hint of warning of what was to come happened that night just as the sun was going down. Captain Bradley, the artillery observer, decided to go up for a ride in his OH-23 "snoopy" chopper. On his way over the tree line and about 1000 meters out he spotted 30 or 40 VC. It was just about dark, so Captain Bradley called artillery instead of an air strike on them. According to the Captain, 10 or 12 VC were killed.
Back in our clearing, at 0500 hours, March 21, a "Stand to" was held to muster every man to alert because the early morning hours are more susceptible to an enemy attack. “Stand to” is a normal practice when there is danger of an attack and it lasts for about an hour.
Thoop, thoop, thoop, I was awakened by the telltale sound of VC mortars leaving their tubes and then the crashing explosion raining down on L-Z “Gold” less than a half mile away. That is definitely Charlie because he fires very fast so he can get his licks in then move away before we can detect what clearing he is firing from and put him out of business. Soon our artillery is firing counterfire. That means firing into every clearing in the area in the hopes of hitting his mortars. Sure as hell, here comes a volley of artillery for our clearing. They aren't suppose to be firing at us. As I press myself against the dirt and get my head below ground I am thankful as hell for digging a deep foxhole. Alpha company, from our unit, has one killed and a couple wounded. Coming from our own guns that's pretty tough to take. As if we didn't have enough to worry about! Immediately after the dust had settled, the radio operator informed us that L-Z Gold was under ground attack. He said the VC has launched a full scale attack and 3rd Battalion 22nd Infantry is getting overrun. It is impossible to relate to you the fear of that moment. Getting overrun by hordes in human waves doesn’t leave much unsaid. My bones felt hollow and my stomach felt digital tension as though you just dialed it in and then kept adding to it. My knees were weak and my hands were sweaty. Third Battalion forward observation post was overrun. Soon one of the two quad 50’s (four 50 cal. machine guns mounted on a small trailer and having 1/4 inch steel protection) would be disabled by VC recoilless rifle fire.The other was overtaken by the VC and as they were turning it to fire, our artillery took it out by a round fired point blank at the quad fifty. The Infantry dropped back to fallback positions, at times engaging in hand to hand combat. The Artillery lost a few guns and then dropped the remaining guns level firing point blank at the enemy. As they ran low on HE (high explosive) shells, the Captain remembered the new beehive rounds. These fire clusters of steel darts like a huge shotgun.They repelled a couple of attacks but figured it was just a matter of time until they ran out of ammo.
The order to saddle up and get ready to move had already been given, when someone realized we had not flown out the water cans from our resupply the night before. It was Bravo company's turn to stay behind for extracting water cans and Alpha had to get their casualties out, so Charlie Company (us) and the Recon platoon from Battalion headquarters Company get to save the day. Our force of about 120 men is a pretty short battalion. Each company has a general population of 200 men but rarely do we get more than 100 into the jungle on operations. Damn, it seems we always get the dirty jobs, and this sounds like the dirtiest yet.
In no time we are off and moving fast, stopping periodically in the bamboo thickets, Thorns from bamboo are ruthless scratching my arms and tearing my clothing. The closer we get to the clearing the louder are the sounds of battle until we finally reach the clearing and get a view of the battle scene we are approaching. At that time the VC started dropping mortars our way but Charlie Company with 3rd platoon (mine) in the lead broke into the clearing (LZ Gold) and within about 100 meters we met a hail of bullets. The enemy has realized our presence. We are pinned down by withering fire and cannot join the right flank of the beleaguered 3rd battalion 22nd Infantry Regiment trying to protect the Artillery. My own position, third or fourth behind Audius Ruiz, our point man that day, left me and Dennis Rantz and a third member behind the cover of a large termite mound. It afforded us ample protection as long as we didn’t poke our heads above. We didn’t want to stay down as there was no telling if the enemy was advancing on us if we were not looking so we sort of took turns getting a quick peek. When we did poke a head above there was a hail of bullets hitting our mound of cover throwing dirt all over us. When we returned fire we weren’t quite sure if we hit anyone or quite sure where we were firing. But at least we were returning fire. After about fifteen minutes of this or maybe it was only five we heard the roar of the 2-22 track vehicles. First came the APC’S (armored personnel carriers) then came a row of tanks. The APC’S quickly formed a skirmish line behind us and to our left with the tanks following to their right. They started moving rapidly firing everything they had as did the tanks. As they came roaring through the clearing they routed the attacking VC who began to retreat from the clearing to our front in the direction from which they had come. The APC’s were running over VC, tossing grenades and firing 50 caliber Machine guns. With the VC routed the jets finally appeared, dived and dropped their entire ordinance in the one strike. It was total mayhem but looked somewhat coordinated from our perspective and I was glad as hell that they were on our side. As the armored personnel carriers finished their run they came back to the artillery and the shortened perimeter (the fallback positions) the 3/22 infantry had moved to. At this time we moved closer to the right flank of their perimeter and were told to dig in. Dennis Rantz all 6 ft. 4 in. and I, 5 ft. 7 in. dug a five minute foxhole just in time. The tanks pulling in behind us gave us comfort but just for a second because they soon opened a volley of fire and we dived in our new foxhole which was deep enough for both of us to get below ground. I did say the ground was sandy and easy digging. It saved our lives. Off to our left someone wasn’t so lucky because we soon heard the cry for medic. In another half hour we moved again and had to dig another foxhole. Rantz and I dug three foxholes that day. Later in the afternoon we had to do a search of the clearing from where the VC had attacked and then retreated. It was a hot day and all the blood that had spilled and the smoke from battle and bodies and body parts still on the ground had a gruesome smell of death and it just hung in the air with the heat.
At the end of the day the body count was 647 enemy dead and 10 captured. It is estimated that another 200 enemy was killed as a result of the aerial and artillery bombardments. Our losses were 33 killed and 187 wounded.
Colonel Garth (our brigade commander) arrived at the battle scene in the afternoon, climbed on the hood of a jeep and gave a little speech of appreciation for a job well done. Our brigade did receive a Presidential Unit Citation for this battle. Lt. Colonel John Vessey who commanded the 2/77th Artillery and later became a 4 star General and Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff (the highest rank in the military). This was the largest body count of the war for a single day battle. We of course couldn’t see or hear him because we were being very attentive to his security and our own. This was a quiet ending to a very hectic, long emotional day.
Ted E. Rice (former Sgt. E-5)
3rd Platoon, Charlie Co.
2nd Battalion 12th Inf.
3rd Brigade, 4th Infantry Div.
Current contact info:
Ted E. Rice
1303 Mariners Pl.
Anacortes,Wa. 98221
Phone: (425) 221-6842
Email: ted@tlbell.com
As rumor has it tonight is our last shower for three weeks enjoyed under the airplane fuel tank filled with water and warmed by the hot sun. Tomorrow we begin Operation Junction City. We are suppose to climb into the big belly of those C-130 airplanes and fly from the safety of Dau Tieng to the old French fort at Suoi Da. Two infantry battalions, 2/12 and 3/22, leaving from our safe surroundings to God knows what. The old French fort brings back memories of history and the French in Indochina, how they poured troops and equipment into the jungles and their humiliating defeat by the Viet Minh at Dien Ben Phu. Our enemy are called the Viet Cong but we call them VC or sometimes just Charley. They say the French left an air strip and camp. The Special Forces have it now. It sits right by the at the base of the only mountain we can see; Nui Ba Den or Black Virgin Mountain. Rumor is that the VC owns the mountain except for another Special Forces camp on top. A funny story that keeps going around is the well that supplies that camp is outside the wire. The VC and Special Forces share the well. Nobody will tamper with the water and there is a sort of unspoken truce. Neither side will fire on troops getting water. After landing at the air strip at Suoi Dat, we will chopper in to a clearing in the jungle code named L-Z (landing zone) “Gold” near the abandoned village of Suoi Tre, on the other side of the mountain. The 2-77 battalion of artillery will fly in as a forward fire base to support the whole operation
Today I was awakened by a screaming sergeant; I wonder how I will be awakened tomorrow. Rush to chow, rush to finish eating, and rush to get our gear together, hurry up, hurry up, and wait. Wait in the chow line. Wait for a formation. Wait for the airplanes. It reminds me of the joke about the man who has to bail out of the airplane to meet a truck and his chute doesn't open. The poor guy can only think that the damned truck will probably be late too. After an hour and a half of waiting for our airplane we can expect a nice cool ride in the sky to kick off operation Junction City. Now that we are airborne the temperature cools but there remains the cold sweat because that old uncertain fear is grabbing at my stomach again. After a safe and uneventful landing at Suoi Dat we get to wait some more. Oh well, our company is last to lift out today so I'll close my eyes and get some shut eye.
An explosion shocked me awake and I grabbed my gear for instant action. It was our own artillery, firing from behind us here at Suoi Dat. That blast came over our heads in the direction of L-Z “Gold”. Coming from behind and over our heads made it sound that much louder. Maybe there was some truth to all those rumors about VC and NVA (North Vietnamese Army) activity in our area. In just a few minutes we are seeing the first wave of choppers returning. I guess Charlie was ready and waiting. One is really hobbling back, shot up badly, each rotor out of sync, something is wrong with that chopper. It landed close to us so we went over to take a closer look. No more rumors, this shit is for real now! One stabilizer bar shot off clean and some 20 bullet holes in the cabin. The pilot said three choppers were blown up in the first lift. The 3rd Battalion, 22nd Infantry had some casualties but we don't know how many. Charlie had our bombs and artillery shells that had failed to explode on impact when we dropped them on him. They had carried them into the clearing of our landing zone (Gold), attached wire and detonated them from the tree line. I guess there was also a sizable enemy force in the tree line bringing fire on the choppers with automatic rifles.
After three more hours of waiting, hoping they will come to their senses and send us home before we end up in all that shit, we finally get choppered into L-Z “Gold”. Automatic weapons fire is still coming from the tree line. Our gunships are lacing machine gun fire into the tree line.There are several of them, maybe two squads. Shit, after three hours there are still this many. How many do you suppose were there to start with? Below us are the three blown up choppers still burning. One has just the tail section remaining. Seeing the wreckage of our helicopters is quite an awakening. A couple of choppers in our lift hovered at about 8 feet and soldiers had to jump out. Reiger broke both ankles. He was our first casualty. After landing and fighting our way into the tree line of the jungle, we headed on a westerly course until we came to a river where we found an enemy base camp, battalion size and unoccupied; thank God! Charlie had split but he had discarded all sorts of empty bottles containing medical drugs, such as morphine, etc. We radioed that information to brigade headquarters at Tri Be (another Special Forces camp near the Cambodian border). We headed back toward L-Z “Gold” and our position for the night. It was a small clearing but big enough for resupply. After the resupply choppers left things were very quiet. We were overcome by a clammy uneasiness. That same uneasiness as when you know you have a sickness coming but you don't know how sick you’re going to get.
The dirt is really sandy here, thank God, because we wasted so much time after finding that enemy base camp. One man can dig, one standing guard, and then put out the claymore mines. We still have time to fill our canteens for the next day and eat our cold C-rations. Three of us to a foxhole tonight means 33% more sleep. Guard duty for one hour and sleep two.
This is the loneliest time of all, this last shift of guard duty. So often when Charlie hits, it's this time of morning just before dawn. Everyone must be thinking the same things on guard duty. First, you go over the previous day piece by piece, and then reflect. How important was that base camp? Why did Charlie plant bombs in our L-Z? Just who were we up against? And then there were the red ants yesterday that dropped down my neck from a tree that I brushed against. Those little bastards bite so hard and it hurts so much. The only way to get rid of them is to just smash them through your shirt because you can't get all of them out in time. Have you ever tried getting a 50 lb. pack, a claymore mine and machine gun ammo off your back, then having your buddies slap you on the back to crush these little varmints before they eat you? All the while they are biting the hell out of you. Then there are the thorns, from every rotten plant in the jungle, tearing at your clothes and ripping at your skin, not to mention the endless pattern of vines and roots to trip you when you’re so tired the only reason you keep moving is because the guy in front of you is moving too. After all this, you wonder, what the hell did I accomplish today? Well, you lived another day in Charlie's land while some weren't quite so fortunate. You’re one day closer to that great silver bird flying you back home to the world. Yes, back home was the next thought and that one thought engulfs you until your hour is up and you say your prayer and you’re thanks for one more chance at tomorrow.
Yesterday, when 2-77 artillery choppered a battalion of howitzers into L-Z Gold, they were given orders to build bunkers with overhead cover. This meant going to the edge of the clearing to cut trees with an ax, machete, or whatever source was available. Those clever engineers use demolition cord. They just wrapped this cord that looks like clothesline rope around a tree, so many wraps for each inch of diameter, and attach it to a blasting cap and detonate. "Timber, fire in the hole," next thing you know, the tree is down. It's too easy. Master Sergeant Andrew Hunter took his detail of men down to the southern portion of the clearing to start cutting logs for the T.O.C. (tactical operations center). It seemed rather peaceful to him as the steady swing of the ax slowly cut the trees. He could hear the echo as the ax hit the tree. “ It sure would go a lot faster with a chain saw”, he thought, “but they probably won't be here until morning when they are no longer needed.” Little did he know. By nightfall all 18 guns had been put into position, bunkers built, ammunition was flown in and two companies of infantry from 3rd battalion to man the perimeter of defense were set for the night. An ambush patrol of 12 men was in position a few hundred meters away on a trail and a listening post of five men were put about 300 meters in front of the foxholes. The outpost is a common defense warning system for this type of defense. The outpost gets run over and it warns everyone else of an attack. Other than the quiet, the only hint of warning of what was to come happened that night just as the sun was going down. Captain Bradley, the artillery observer, decided to go up for a ride in his OH-23 "snoopy" chopper. On his way over the tree line and about 1000 meters out he spotted 30 or 40 VC. It was just about dark, so Captain Bradley called artillery instead of an air strike on them. According to the Captain, 10 or 12 VC were killed.
Back in our clearing, at 0500 hours, March 21, a "Stand to" was held to muster every man to alert because the early morning hours are more susceptible to an enemy attack. “Stand to” is a normal practice when there is danger of an attack and it lasts for about an hour.
Thoop, thoop, thoop, I was awakened by the telltale sound of VC mortars leaving their tubes and then the crashing explosion raining down on L-Z “Gold” less than a half mile away. That is definitely Charlie because he fires very fast so he can get his licks in then move away before we can detect what clearing he is firing from and put him out of business. Soon our artillery is firing counterfire. That means firing into every clearing in the area in the hopes of hitting his mortars. Sure as hell, here comes a volley of artillery for our clearing. They aren't suppose to be firing at us. As I press myself against the dirt and get my head below ground I am thankful as hell for digging a deep foxhole. Alpha company, from our unit, has one killed and a couple wounded. Coming from our own guns that's pretty tough to take. As if we didn't have enough to worry about! Immediately after the dust had settled, the radio operator informed us that L-Z Gold was under ground attack. He said the VC has launched a full scale attack and 3rd Battalion 22nd Infantry is getting overrun. It is impossible to relate to you the fear of that moment. Getting overrun by hordes in human waves doesn’t leave much unsaid. My bones felt hollow and my stomach felt digital tension as though you just dialed it in and then kept adding to it. My knees were weak and my hands were sweaty. Third Battalion forward observation post was overrun. Soon one of the two quad 50’s (four 50 cal. machine guns mounted on a small trailer and having 1/4 inch steel protection) would be disabled by VC recoilless rifle fire.The other was overtaken by the VC and as they were turning it to fire, our artillery took it out by a round fired point blank at the quad fifty. The Infantry dropped back to fallback positions, at times engaging in hand to hand combat. The Artillery lost a few guns and then dropped the remaining guns level firing point blank at the enemy. As they ran low on HE (high explosive) shells, the Captain remembered the new beehive rounds. These fire clusters of steel darts like a huge shotgun.They repelled a couple of attacks but figured it was just a matter of time until they ran out of ammo.
The order to saddle up and get ready to move had already been given, when someone realized we had not flown out the water cans from our resupply the night before. It was Bravo company's turn to stay behind for extracting water cans and Alpha had to get their casualties out, so Charlie Company (us) and the Recon platoon from Battalion headquarters Company get to save the day. Our force of about 120 men is a pretty short battalion. Each company has a general population of 200 men but rarely do we get more than 100 into the jungle on operations. Damn, it seems we always get the dirty jobs, and this sounds like the dirtiest yet.
In no time we are off and moving fast, stopping periodically in the bamboo thickets, Thorns from bamboo are ruthless scratching my arms and tearing my clothing. The closer we get to the clearing the louder are the sounds of battle until we finally reach the clearing and get a view of the battle scene we are approaching. At that time the VC started dropping mortars our way but Charlie Company with 3rd platoon (mine) in the lead broke into the clearing (LZ Gold) and within about 100 meters we met a hail of bullets. The enemy has realized our presence. We are pinned down by withering fire and cannot join the right flank of the beleaguered 3rd battalion 22nd Infantry Regiment trying to protect the Artillery. My own position, third or fourth behind Audius Ruiz, our point man that day, left me and Dennis Rantz and a third member behind the cover of a large termite mound. It afforded us ample protection as long as we didn’t poke our heads above. We didn’t want to stay down as there was no telling if the enemy was advancing on us if we were not looking so we sort of took turns getting a quick peek. When we did poke a head above there was a hail of bullets hitting our mound of cover throwing dirt all over us. When we returned fire we weren’t quite sure if we hit anyone or quite sure where we were firing. But at least we were returning fire. After about fifteen minutes of this or maybe it was only five we heard the roar of the 2-22 track vehicles. First came the APC’S (armored personnel carriers) then came a row of tanks. The APC’S quickly formed a skirmish line behind us and to our left with the tanks following to their right. They started moving rapidly firing everything they had as did the tanks. As they came roaring through the clearing they routed the attacking VC who began to retreat from the clearing to our front in the direction from which they had come. The APC’s were running over VC, tossing grenades and firing 50 caliber Machine guns. With the VC routed the jets finally appeared, dived and dropped their entire ordinance in the one strike. It was total mayhem but looked somewhat coordinated from our perspective and I was glad as hell that they were on our side. As the armored personnel carriers finished their run they came back to the artillery and the shortened perimeter (the fallback positions) the 3/22 infantry had moved to. At this time we moved closer to the right flank of their perimeter and were told to dig in. Dennis Rantz all 6 ft. 4 in. and I, 5 ft. 7 in. dug a five minute foxhole just in time. The tanks pulling in behind us gave us comfort but just for a second because they soon opened a volley of fire and we dived in our new foxhole which was deep enough for both of us to get below ground. I did say the ground was sandy and easy digging. It saved our lives. Off to our left someone wasn’t so lucky because we soon heard the cry for medic. In another half hour we moved again and had to dig another foxhole. Rantz and I dug three foxholes that day. Later in the afternoon we had to do a search of the clearing from where the VC had attacked and then retreated. It was a hot day and all the blood that had spilled and the smoke from battle and bodies and body parts still on the ground had a gruesome smell of death and it just hung in the air with the heat.
At the end of the day the body count was 647 enemy dead and 10 captured. It is estimated that another 200 enemy was killed as a result of the aerial and artillery bombardments. Our losses were 33 killed and 187 wounded.
Colonel Garth (our brigade commander) arrived at the battle scene in the afternoon, climbed on the hood of a jeep and gave a little speech of appreciation for a job well done. Our brigade did receive a Presidential Unit Citation for this battle. Lt. Colonel John Vessey who commanded the 2/77th Artillery and later became a 4 star General and Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff (the highest rank in the military). This was the largest body count of the war for a single day battle. We of course couldn’t see or hear him because we were being very attentive to his security and our own. This was a quiet ending to a very hectic, long emotional day.
Ted E. Rice (former Sgt. E-5)
3rd Platoon, Charlie Co.
2nd Battalion 12th Inf.
3rd Brigade, 4th Infantry Div.
Current contact info:
Ted E. Rice
1303 Mariners Pl.
Anacortes,Wa. 98221
Phone: (425) 221-6842
Email: ted@tlbell.com
OPERATION JUNCTION CITY AND THE BATTLE OF SUOI TRE
