Reds Can't Buck 1st Cav
By CHARLES BLACK
Ledger-Enquirer
Staff Writer
The firing from the
perimeter of A Company, Second Battalion, 12th Cavalry, began to die
down about
7 p.m. as darkness fell. There had been
only some sporadic sniper work done by the PAVN troops who had made an
unsuccessful counter-attack and who had then been pushed back by the
charging
First Air Cavalry Division company.
Lt. Bill Schiebler described
our situation to me as we lay on a poncho in a little natural bowl
behind a
tree trunk with the platoon spread out along a line a few yards ahead
of us.
“The reconnaissance platoon
from the First Battalion of the 12th is on that slope to our left. Lt. Col. (John) Stockton got orders to pull
his Ninth Cavalry out about 6 p.m. so we own this whole bunch of woods
tonight. We’re in a full perimeter
circle. Company B, First Battalion,
Eighth, is holding the big clearing back there where the choppers are. All the wounded are out. We
have plenty of ammo. I would say that
we’re in good shape. We have the
helicopters, the Air Force is
going to send Smoky Bear to drop flares and the artillery is supporting
us,” he
said.
The fire from the other side
had sounded like a battalion working out before it had been weakened by
the
American fire, artillery and air, and had died down.
Still, the little hill made A Company top dog so far as terrain
was concerned and the big GIs had slammed right into the PAVNs, running
them
out in a standup fight, so the night didn’t look too risky.
At about 8 p.m. we obtained
the password from a dark shape sneaking over from a little gully where
Capt.
John Fox had his company command post located.
We also got a message from Capt. Fox on the radio.
“Come on in for a
conference. Bring Charlie with
you. Tell him I’ve been saving him a
cigar,” the message on the radio went.
I had a memory of turning
down a big cigar offered by him back at Lt. Col. Earl Ingram’s
battalion
headquarters a long time ago and Capt. Fox saying “. . .some time I’ll
give
this one to you and I bet you’ll be glad to get it.”
It made me believe the
infantry commander lived up to that last name of his when we crawled
into the
crowded little gully, sprawled against a muddy bank, and I lit the
stogy. It was just the kind of gesture
needed at
the moment. We talked in whispers for a
while, Capt. Fox telling me what he thought had gone on during the day.
“The Cavalry scouts located
a field hospital, Charlie. They landed
in the rear with some of their rifle teams and moved right on up
through
it. They were sending prisoners back
all morning and killed 70 or 80 of these security soldiers back there
who put
up a fight.
“We landed here about noon,
back in that big landing zone where B Company is. The
Cavalry rifle teams - about two platoons of them I guess -
had pushed on up to here and been hit by a violent counter-attack. There must have been a battalion of PAVNs
dug in on this end who didn’t even know what was happening behind them. We came on in and got into the fight. We took most of our casualties beginning
about 2:30. We got a lot of fire then,
some from our rear. That was when the mortars were coming in, before
the
gunships got them,” he said.
I remembered the violence of
the fire then and also remembered the way the mortar barrage had
shattered my
own somewhat delicate nerves. The
hawkeyed helicopter gunners from Lt. Col. Stockton’s squadron had saved
that
situation by den behind a slope and slamming rocket and machine gun
fire onto
them.
“I think they have broken
contact except for snipers. They get up
in those trees and shoot down. It will
take more than what they have to get in this perimeter, I’ll tell you
that. These troops are splendid! They are aggressive, they move right into a
fight, and they are just too much for the North Vietnamese to handle. We will have plenty of air and artillery,
too. In the morning, we’ll move right
on ahead and scout out the area and see if we can pick up another
contact with
them,” he said.
He told me that a clearing
500 yards from us was “piled up with weapons and medical supplies. There is enough stuff to stock a full field
hospital over there.”
As Lt. Schiebler and I left,
sneaking back to his platoon’s position 10 yards away, I heard Capt.
Fox and a
sergeant working out a plan to go over and pick up the surgical tools
and
medicines which had been stacked in the field earlier in the fight.
“I don’t want them getting
that stuff back. I want to take it and
see that it gets to the Vietnamese refugee camps. The
Communists ran those people out of their homes and I want
them to have to supply them with medical equipment, if I can arrange it. Get all of that stuff that 15 men can carry
and get it inside the perimeter. If you
get into trouble, try to hide it and come on back, but don’t leave
anything for
them you don’t have to,” Capt. Fox said.
Lt. Schiebler and I whispered a challenge back - a half-moon was up now and the woods were very light - and eased into our own position. We put his poncho on the ground, pulled mine over us, and then smoked cigarettes and talked, cupping the ends of the cigarettes and whispering. We talked about the war, about home, about food, about what we figured the PAVNs would do during the night and in the morning, and unbelievably I went to sleep, quite soundly, waking up just at dawn after a completely quiet night.
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