CUE: Riders on the Storm, THE DOORS
The days had stretched long, and the nights seemed to go on without end. C Company had been out for months without a break. The mechanized companies that stayed out in the field were supposed to be given stand-down times. These were two- and three-day breaks from action in which the company could enter the base camps to refit the machines of war and rest the troops. It was a time when those who lived life in the bush could take real showers, drink a beer or two, and sleep in an actual bed. Three months had passed since the company had been inside the base camp wires for a night. Promises for stand down kept coming from battalion command, but we were simply handed new orders and new areas of operation instead. We were beginning to become a bit the worse for wear. I remember one day when the company met another mechanized unit from the 2nd Battalion of the 22nd Infantry (Mech) on the road. They were in clean uniforms, and their tracks all looked as if they had just come through a car wash. In comparison, we looked very much like members of the Hells Angels, caked with trail dust, some wearing headbands and sunglasses, with hair and mustaches untrimmed and uncombed. It was a stark reminder of how long we had been out.
The rumors of the coming incursion into Cambodia had buzzed through all of Vietnam via the jungle grapevine. Everyone knew it was going to happen. Our group sincerely hoped we would finally be pulled out of the field and given a stand down, rather than having to charge off into another country looking for the NVA.
The radio messages from the higher-ups became more and more secure and were often only for the ears of Captain Meilstrup. Those of us on the command track had a sneaking suspicion we were about to be thrown into the invasion mix. To our joy, one night Meilstrup emerged from the track after receiving one of those “ears only” messages from the colonel and announced we were not going to Cambodia. It seemed the headquarters types had finally noticed how long C Company had been out and were giving us a break. We were to go south into the Renegade Woods to secure it for the engineers who were engaged in pulling down that formidable forest. Then we were to be sent back to the base camp of Tay Ninh for a well-deserved stand down.
This was terrific news. While the rest of the battalion was involved in refitting and preparing to cross the Mekong River in a general invasion of the NVA strongholds in Cambodia, we were to have the relatively easy job of guarding a bunch of bulldozers for a week or two. After that, we would finally get a couple of days inside the wire. The morale of the company jumped tremendously, and we settled into the routine of making sure the engineers didn't get shot. I can't tell you why, but during this stint of duty, I had a gnawing feeling that something was about to drop on our heads.
The message that came over the secure set was for the ears of Captain Meilstrup only. We all exited the track, and for a long time the captain was alone, talking over the rushing frequencies that could only be tuned in by those who had the same secure setup on the other end. When he came out, he told us to take a walk so he could talk with the first sergeant for a moment. We strayed off a little distance in the darkness and stood shuffling our feet and dreading what was being discussed. After a short time, Meilstrup started off in the direction of the other tracks, and 1st Sergeant Strain motioned us back. What he said caused our hearts to sink: “We're going to Cambodia.”
The other invasion units had all been preparing for several weeks. Each company was brought into the base camps, the troops rested and the equipment refitted or replaced in anticipation of heavy action. Then the invasion companies were moved east to a staging area along the big river. There they camped and waited until the go order was issued. This seemed to have been true of all units except C Company, 1st of the 5th. Our case seemed to have been different.
We were unceremoniously plucked from our mission of securing the engineers in the Renegade Woods and flung on the road to the Tay Ninh base camp. We assumed we would get the same treatment as all the other units. We looked forward to a few days’ rest and recreation inside the wire while the tracks and weapons were made ready for invasion. This turned out to be a misconception. As we neared Tay Ninh, we halted along the side of the road, and a small army of resupply people came out, bringing us fuel, food, and more ammunition than we had ever had at one time. We never even got close to going inside the base-camp wire. In a couple of hours, we were back on the road and charging straight for the staging area. Stand down had once again proven to be an unrealized dream, and now what lay ahead of us was the first combat invasion of a foreign country by US troops since the end of the Korean War.
Dark was closing when we pulled into the staging area. It was a huge congregation of APC units from all over. Some of them appeared to have been waiting for days. We were the last to get there. Tired, threadbare, and stretched to the limits of endurance, C Company, 1st of the 5th, went into its defensive circle and settled in for the night. At 3:00 a.m., a hand shook me from an exhausted sleep. It was Captain Meilstrup. He instructed me to pass along the order for the company to load up and prepare to move out. We were to be the point element of the invasion.
I have often reflected on this moment. There we were, a combat company that had spent an extended amount of time out in the bush without a break. We were a combat company that had not been sent into the base camps to rest and get ready for this major offensive. We were the very last unit to arrive at the staging area, where some had been waiting for days. All this was true, and yet we were making our way toward the river, in the early morning darkness, as the spearhead of the invasion force. It was incomprehensible, and yet, it was somewhat of a compliment. Tired as we were, the men at the top had chosen us to be the first into the fray.