“Lieutenant, our team is angry about the deaths of Capt. Barnes and Sgt. Blankenship, and we want to avenge their deaths. We need you to help us do this,” Sgt. Watson whispered.
He went on to lay out the rationale for this request.
“We want you to lead a combined patrol of the men from Countersign and Killer Kane, so we can go back to the Antenna Valley Pass and ambush the bastards who killed our friends. Our team talked it over, and we decided we wanted you to lead this patrol because we know you are not one of the patrol leaders who just goes out and hides from the enemy. You ambushed that Caucasian guy in Elephant Valley, and you were not afraid to try to ambush some VC on your last patrol. Your team says you are aggressive, and that is the kind of team leader we need on a mission like this. Besides, we know you go to the S-3 and request patrols, so no one would be suspicious if you requested a patrol near the Antenna Valley Pass.”
At first I thought the idea was a bad one. I knew it would be risky to go back into an area that was mined, but I also was aware of the dangers of ambushing a well-used trail far from any friendly units. I also did not like the idea of taking Marines from another patrol along with my men since I would not know these men and how they would react under my command. I also was aware of the eccentric and manipulative character of Sgt. Watson. My initial reaction to his idea was to reject it, but then I felt the rage well up inside me about Tom Dowd’s and Eric Barnes’s deaths. Despite my misgivings, I told Sgt. Watson to come with me into the hootch, where I took out one of my maps of Antenna Valley so the two of us could study it. He pointed out where Team Countersign had been inserted on a ridgeline north of the pass and the path they had taken before they hit the land mine that killed Capt. Barnes and Sgt. Blankenship. I noticed that the Antenna Valley Pass was both long and very narrow with steep mountains on the north and south sides, which would make it an ideal place to establish ambush sites. The more I studied the map with Sgt. Watson, the more I liked his idea of setting an ambush in the pass. I told Sgt. Watson to choose four of the best men from Team Countersign, and I would pick three of my best men to make up the combined patrol using my call sign of Killer Kane. I also had him swear to secrecy about what we intended to do on this patrol. He waited for me on the back porch while I went to the S-3 office to request a patrol for Killer Kane that would take us into the Antenna Valley Pass area.
When I entered the S-3 office, I saw that Maj. Welzant was not there, but MSgt. Clovis Coffman was, so I approached him and casually asked him where he thought my next patrol would be. He and I had had conversations previously about where I would take my team, so he was not surprised when I asked him if he thought he could send our team into the Antenna Valley Pass area. He went over to the large S-3 situation map on the wall and looked at the active and planned recon team NFZ’s, focusing his attention in the area around Antenna Valley. After a quick glance, he turned to me and informed me that no decision had been made yet about where to send Killer Kane on its next patrol. Before he could make a suggestion on a NFZ for my team, I pointed to the situation map and queried him about the feasibility of assigning Killer Kane to an NFZ on the south side of Antenna Valley near the “Old French Fort,” an abandoned concrete blockhouse the French had built during the First Indochina War. Clovis Coffman was a battle-hardened Marine who had been awarded several Purple Hearts and the Navy Cross for valor, and I could tell he sensed that I might have something in mind when I requested such a patrol. But all he said was, “Lieutenant, you need to be careful here because Capt. Barnes’ team hit that land mine on the north side of the pass, and there may be more mines there. I recommend you stay off the ridgelines and that trail below in the valley, or you might end up getting killed.”
I replied, “Don’t worry, Top, we will be careful and not take any risks. Just take your trusty grease pencil and give us an NFZ near the ‘Old French Fort,’ and we will try to find a good OP site to observe that trail.” He took his grease pencil and gave my team an NFZ exactly where I wanted it, and he even pointed out several good LZs we might use inside of it. I waited for a few minutes until I heard him get on the landline phone to the Division G-2 and pass on the grid coordinates for Killer Kane’s next patrol. When he hung up the phone, I thanked him and left the S-3 office.
Later that night, Sgt. Watson and Cpl. Robert J. Garcia joined me on the back porch for a planning session. I included Cpl. Garcia in our conspiracy because he had impressed me with his skills as a point man, and I knew with the danger of land mines it was essential that he be mentally prepared to avoid them when we moved down to the valley floor for our ambush. We decided that the best approach was to be inserted into an LZ on a ridge adjacent to the one that Team Countersign had used on its tragic patrol. We would then move cross compartment, avoiding any trails and ridge lines, to a position where we could observe as much of the trail as possible, but low enough so we could quickly get down to the trail to establish an ambush. We looked at the contour lines on the map and a few black and white aerial reconnaissance photos of the pass that I had obtained from Lt. St. Claire’s S-2 shop so we could plot a good patrol route. Sgt. Watson, Cpl. Garcia and I were the only people involved with the planning of this ambush patrol.
I had wanted to include LCpl. Bart Russell on this patrol because I considered him one of the best recon men in my platoon, but I decided to leave him behind and have him go out with our other team, Brisbane, since they were short one man and they needed a good point man. Instead of taking LCpl. Russell, the patrol would include another officer, one making his first patrol as an observer, Lt. Tom Williamson. Maj. Lowrey wanted Tom to make his first “snap in” with our team. I was not worried about having Tom go with us since he had impressed me with his knowledge and attitude in the few days he had been with the company. I liked his aggressive outlook. Still, I felt a patrol like this one needed the special talents of someone like Bart Russell, and his absence was a cause of concern for me.
Bart Russell was the son and grandson of Marines. His desire to become a Marine was so strong he left college to join the Corps and to volunteer to fight in South Vietnam. He was tough, highly intelligent, aggressive and skillful, the perfect field Marine. He had all the tools needed to be a patrol leader, and he would have been one had he been more senior in rank. Sgt. Watson assured me that he and his men, along with Cpl. Garcia, would be able to compensate for not having LCpl. Russell on this patrol, but he agreed with me that LCpl. Russell was one of the best Marines in the entire company. Throughout my time as a patrol leader I often solicited the advice of LCpl. Russell and Cpl. Garcia since they were highly experienced and capable men who seemed to have an almost instinctive knowledge of the craft of ground reconnaissance. Their advice and assistance proved invaluable to me and our team time and again.
Robert Garcia, the perfect point man.
When I went over the roster of men making up the patrol I felt very good about its composition. In addition to Sgt. Watson, Cpl. Garcia, and Lt. Williamson, the patrol included Cpl. Jeptha Carter, Cpl. Maxwell B. Carter and four other junior enlisted men: Daniel Bowser, J. D. Morris, Davis Powell and a Marine named Swatsell. With the exception of Lt. Williamson, who was new to the company, each of the enlisted men was a seasoned reconnaissance Marine. As I reflected on the capabilities of the men who were to make up this patrol, I thought of the rosters of baseball and basketball teams I had played on as a youth. Similar to a sports team roster, these patrol rosters placed the best men in the positions where their skills and talents could prove the most beneficial. This roster had “All-Star Team” written all over it.
The next day, Sgt. Watson and I went over the particulars of the patrol so I could write my patrol order and arrange for an overflight of our intended NFZ. We paid special attention to the equipment we were to carry. In addition to the two PRC-25 radios, we included an M-60 machine gun, two 7 × 50 binoculars, an M-79 grenade launcher, and one of the new, experimental Stoner carbines. We also made sure that each man carried 300 rounds of ammunition and two M-26 fragmentation hand grenades and one CS tear gas grenade. Since we were going on an ambush patrol, we wanted to have all the firepower we could carry. Also, since we intended to use CS gas before we entered the killing zone of our ambush, we decided that we would make sure each man had a new filter in his gas mask and make sure the masks had no leaks. Every recon team member always took a gas mask as part of his standard patrol equipment, primarily because recon teams could use CS gas to cover a withdrawal under fire during a meeting engagement with the enemy. In our case, however, we needed to use CS gas in the killing zone because we wanted to determine if any wounded enemy were feigning death before the search team entered the killing zone to search it. A wounded or unwounded enemy would not be able to remain immobile once he breathed the CS gas, so the search team would be alerted and take the necessary precautionary action. We also took along several three-foot parachute cords that we could use to secure any captured enemy and a few extra field bandanas to cover their eyes while we transported them back to base. Mentally, Sgt. Watson and I walked through the patrol route, the selection of the ambush site, the occupation of the ambush site, the conduct of the ambush, and the search procedure for the killing zone.
After I wrote my patrol order, Sgt. Watson, Lt. Williamson and I went on an overflight of the NFZ, the one we had been assigned by MSgt. Coffman on the south side of the Antenna Valley Pass. After going through the motions of identifying insert and extract LZs, I had the pilots fly over the north side of the pass so I could identify the insertion zone we wanted to use for our “real” patrol. The more time I spent on overflights, the better I became at finding terrain features on the ground that I had previously plotted on a map. Using my wrist compass to orient my map, I was able to find terrain features on the ground from a helicopter with relative ease. I could then talk to the pilots over the headset and direct them to the LZs I wanted to observe. As part of my routine on an overflight, I took along a Polaroid camera so I could photograph the insertion and extraction LZs. These photos could then be used during my patrol order to familiarize the team members with the LZs and to brief the insertion pilots prior to liftoff on the day of the patrol.
On this overflight, both Sgt. Watson and I had on intercom headsets so we could talk to the pilots. Sgt. Watson knew exactly what the terrain looked like for the “real insertion” since he had covered the area with Team Countersign a few days earlier. The pilots did not know we were looking for an LZ outside of our NFZ when I asked them to make a few passes on the north side of the pass. They probably assumed we were interested in seeing if there were some alternate LZs in the vicinity.
Upon our return to Camp Reasoner’s LZ Finch, I told Sgt. Watson that I would issue my patrol order the next day at 1300, and we would conduct our ambush training immediately afterward. I also informed Lt. Williamson of our little conspiracy and asked him not to talk to anyone about it. Tom agreed and seemed eager to participate. Tom would later develop into an extremely capable patrol leader and a close friend. That evening after dinner, I went to the S-2 office and reviewed several patrol reports from recon teams that had patrolled near the Antenna Valley Pass. Then I walked over to the Division G-2 to see if they had any recent information on the enemy units operating in this area.
The next morning I wrote my patrol order and went over it with Tom Williamson to see if he could spot any problems with it. He made a couple of useful suggestions, and I incorporated them into the patrol order. At 1300, Sgt. Watson brought the members of the patrol over to my back porch, and I gave them the order. At this time I also told them that we would concentrate on the trail running east and west in the pass, and we intended to ambush this trail if we observed its use by the enemy. When I finished reading my order, I asked the team members if they had any questions or any insights that might benefit us. One of the Marines from Team Countersign said he had been on two patrols in this area, and he knew that there were several good OP sites on the north side of the pass that would give us clear observation for 500 meters or more in each direction. I asked him to point these potential OP sites out on my map. This information would prove very valuable to us while we were on the patrol.
We then went down to the helipad area and test-fired all of our weapons with the exception of the grenade launcher. Then we went over the hand and arm signals we would be using on the patrol because our team was a combination of two teams from separate platoons, and I did not want to find out on the patrol that we used different hand and arm signals. Since we rarely talked on patrol, these hand and arm signals needed to be fully understood by each member of the patrol. It was essential that everyone could quickly and accurately communicate in silence. We also positioned everyone in their respective positions for the patrol, and we rehearsed our quick reaction drills for countering an ambush and breaking contact to include our use of CS gas grenades during both situations. I inspected each man’s gas mask to ensure the filters were new, required each man to don his gas mask, and made them clear their masks to ensure there were no leaks. Finally, we divided the team into three elements: two security teams of two men each and an assault element for the ambush consisting of six men. Each element was briefed on their responsibilities. We then spent an hour going over how we would conduct the ambush, practicing several iterations of the various phases for the ambush: moving into position, posting security for the assault element, conducting the ambush, searching the killing zone, and executing a safe withdrawal. Just before evening chow, I again gathered the team together and asked them if I had missed anything or they had any last-minute suggestions on how to improve the patrol. No one spoke up, so I said we needed to get a good night’s sleep that night, and I reminded them that no one outside of the patrol should know about our intentions.
The next day, March 31, I attended the briefing of the insertion pilots in the S-3 office. Maj. Welzant gave the pilots the coordinates of the boundaries of the patrol’s NFZ and the primary and secondary insertion LZs. He also gave them the latest intelligence on the enemy situation. I gave two Polaroid photos to the pilots that I had taken on the overflight, but I did not tell them of my plan to land in an entirely new LZ 1,000 meters north and west of the NFZ. When our team boarded the helicopters for the insertion, I took a moment to tell the pilots that we might have to land in another LZ since I was worried about land mines near the Old French Fort.
After a 30-minute flight south toward An Hoa and the Hiep Duc Mountains, we approached the Antenna Valley Pass. When we were within a few miles of the pass, I told the pilot that I had a new LZ for the insertion, and I pointed it out to him on my map. He did not question my change of plans, but simply nodded his head, took my map, examined the location of the new LZ, and handed it back to me. In less than a minute, the pilot located the new LZ on the ground, and we began our descent. We began a steep dive, giving the team just enough time to take their weapons off safe and prepare for our landing. As we drew closer to the ground, the air in the helicopter changed from cold to cool and then hot, all within the space of a few seconds. At altitude, the air inside a helicopter is cool and rather pleasant, but as the helicopter descends, the air inside becomes hot and humid rapidly.
When we stepped outside into the elephant grass on a narrow ridgeline, we were met with a blast of hot air, like stepping into the mouth of a furnace. We moved off the LZ into some thick brush as the helicopter rose and joined up with the chase bird and the gun ships. The pilot radioed us and asked us if we were “all secure.” I replied that we were on the ground, had not taken any fire, and had seen no signs of the enemy. The pilot wished us luck, and soon the sounds of the helicopters’ rotor blades faded into the distance. Sweating intensely and feeling apprehensive as we always were immediately after landing in an insertion zone, we spent 20 minutes sitting quietly, our ears straining to pick up any indication the enemy had spotted us and were moving toward us. During this time, all we heard were the normal sounds of the jungle, the chirping of birds, the hum of insects, and the whistling of the wind in the tall elephant grass.
Confident that the enemy was not near the LZ, we began our patrol. Cpl. Bob Garcia and Cpl. Jeptha Carter led the way as point and backup point, followed by me and the rest of the patrol. As we moved through the thick brush, I marveled at the way Cpl. Garcia moved. He seemed to glide noiselessly through the thickets and elephant grass with slow, deliberate motion, aware of everything around him. From time to time, he would raise his hand to signal us to stop, and then I would watch him scan the area ahead and cup his ear to pick up any faint sound that would indicate the presence of the enemy. Nothing seemed to escape Bob Garcia’s attention. Every man on the patrol knew we owed our lives to Bob and the skills and experience he possessed. Bob Garcia was to the job of point man what Picasso was to art—a master of his craft.
We headed in a southeasterly direction going downhill until we came to an open area in a ravine with a small stream running through it. The stream ran downhill 500 meters toward the trail that ran through the Antenna Valley Pass. It was evident that the ravine had been cultivated at some time in the recent past because a small plot of rice paddy hugged the floor of the ravine, and the irrigation dikes for the paddy had been tended within the past year. I thought it strange that someone would tend such a small plot so far from any habitation. I did not know whether this plot had been farmed by an innocent peasant or the VC. Regardless of the source of the cultivation of this small rice paddy, I considered it a danger area and treated it as such.
As we began to move, we heard voices coming from the trail to the south. We froze in our tracks. After a few minutes the male voices moved away to the west, and we were left in silence again. Although it meant more time and effort, I decided to move around the open area to the south staying inside the thick brush. We were hot and sweating heavily as we pushed through the thick brush, but it was safer than moving through an open area where we could become an easy target for any enemy lurking in the vicinity.
After crossing the ravine, we began to ascend the opposite hill, struggling under the weight of our full packs and the intense heat. The patrol moved slowly and methodically, thanks to the skills of the two point men, Garcia and Carter. Still, it took us nearly two hours to climb to the opposite ridgeline, a distance of only 300 meters from the bottom of the ravine. On the ridgeline, I set up security by breaking the patrol into three groups. One group of three men would face up the ridgeline to the north while another three-man team would look south toward the valley. These two groups would cover the two most likely avenues of approach along the ridgeline and protect the middle group consisting of me, the primary radio operator, our Navy corpsman, and Lt. Williamson. I drafted a Position Report (PosRep) and had the radio operator send it to the radio relay station on Hill 452 for retransmission to Camp Reasoner.
While I was on the ridgeline, I noticed that it afforded very good visibility of the trail in the pass below, so I decided to set up an OP on the ridgeline and begin watching for foot traffic on the trail. It was extremely hot, but we found a small stand of 15-foot-high brush and bamboo that afforded some shade from the sun. For the rest of the day we took turns using our two sets of binoculars to scan the western and eastern approaches of the trail. The only traffic on the trail that we observed consisted of a dozen or so civilian farmers dressed in the ubiquitous black pajamas moving in both directions. They might have been VC, but since we did not observe any packs or weapons, we assumed they were not and let them pass unmolested.
As darkness fell on our first day, we ate our evening meal of C rations and then assembled the patrol 100 meters further up the ridgeline where we could hide for the night. Throughout the night we could hear artillery fire in the distance and see the occasional flare as it hung from its parachute, lighting up the black sky as it drifted toward the earth, sending ominous shadows across the landscape. The night passed peacefully for Killer Kane, and the cool of the night was a welcome respite after a day in the hot, tropical sun.
Our second day was spent moving over to another ridgeline farther east where we thought we had a better chance to observe any enemy moving into our ambush site. This was accomplished after two hours of negotiating some steep terrain which required us to literally crawl uphill to reach the next ridgeline. We found a spot approximately 100 meters north of the trail that was ideal for our purposes, so I chose it for our OP. I was pleased to see that we could observe over 200 yards along the trail in either direction and to be able to fire our weapons into any killing zone we set up below.
Sgt. Watson and I, along with two other Marines, moved down the ridgeline to the trail to reconnoiter a possible ambush site. We found one almost immediately near a stream that crossed the trail. After stopping for a half hour to fill our canteens with the fresh mountain stream water, we moved along the trail for another 50 yards until we found another excellent ambush site with a small grass-covered berm that would provide both cover and concealment for a small ambush team. We stayed in this second ambush site for two hours. Only a few old peasants walked by us, so we decided to abandon the ambush for the day and move back up the ridgeline where we had left the observation team.
The last few hours of the day were devoted to establishing the best location for our combination OP and fire-support site on the ridgeline and quenching our thirst with the cool, clean water we found in the stream earlier. As the tropical sky turned a murky blue and a thick mist descended over the ridgeline, we moved to another safe harbor site farther up the ridgeline and deeper into lush green foliage. Under a cloudless sky, filled with bright stars, we spent the night enjoying the cool mountain breezes after a day of intense heat and humidity.
The morning of the third day of the patrol was breathless and windless, a clear indication that the day would be an unusually hot one. The valley below us was shrouded in a grey mist, but the rising sun was soon beginning to clear it away. I had originally intended to use two security elements and an assault element for our ambush, but the terrain we found offered us a unique opportunity: the chance to use our OP site team as both a security element and fire-support element for the ambush team 100 feet below us. I decided I would stay with the OP team of five men while Sgt. Watson would take the other men down to the valley floor to set up an ambush in the first ambush site we had found the previous day. LCpl. Dave Powell and I each took binoculars and watched the trail. I took the portion of the trail to the west. As I scanned the terrain below me, I found that I could see anyone approaching from the west as far away as 1,000 meters and track their advance right into the killing zone. We had one radio with us in the OP, and Lt. Williamson took the other radio with him down into the valley. With this arrangement, I could use our radios to inform the ambush team well in advance of any enemy moving along the trail toward their ambush.
Only a few minutes after Lt. Williamson radioed us to tell us the ambush site was manned and ready for business, LCpl. Powell whispered to me that he saw VC 500 meters away on the trail moving west toward the ambush. I quickly scanned my binoculars to where he pointed and saw three VC. They were all dressed in black pajamas and carrying packs and weapons. Two of them wore the distinctive pith helmets of the communist forces. I took the radio and contacted Lt. Williamson, informing him that three armed VC would enter his ambush in approximately five minutes. I then had the four Marines with me get into good firing positions so they could fire into the killing zone, adding our firepower to the Marines below. I told them not to open fire until Sgt. Watson triggered the ambush.
What seemed like an eternity passed before we saw the lead enemy soldier walk into the killing zone below us. A second enemy soldier, following the first by about ten yards, entered the killing zone, and we heard the sharp report of Sgt. Watson’s M-14 rifle, followed almost simultaneously by the rifle fire of the other members of his ambush team. I aimed at the lead enemy soldier and fired 5 or 6 rounds at him. He stumbled but did not fall. He disappeared into the high elephant grass on the far side of the trail, and I continued to fire at him although I could not see him. I could see one body in the killing zone, but no others.
Lt. Williamson’s excited voice came over the radio telling me that Sgt. Watson was going to search the killing zone, so I had everyone in our group cease firing and shift their positions so they could cover any escape routes the enemy might take to the east and west of the ambush site. Cpl. Carter and I moved quickly down the ridgeline to the ambush location while LCpl. Powell scanned the valley to the east and west to make sure no more VC were coming in our direction. We did not want Sgt. Watson and his men caught unawares in the valley if more VC were on their way to find out what all the firing was about. When Cpl. Carter and I got to the ambush site, we found Sgt. Watson and the others searching one of the bodies. The other VC was missing and presumed dead since his pack and pith helmet lay in the trail, and there was a blood trail leading into the high elephant grass on the opposite side of the trail. Cpl. Carter had an M-79 grenade launcher, and he fired several 40 mm grenade rounds into the area where the VC was last seen. We decided it was too dangerous to search for the body of this VC in the high grass, so we took the body of the dead VC and placed it off the trail where it could not be seen. We took care to make sure the ambush killing zone had nothing in it that might warn the VC that it had been used. We even policed up the grass near the trail and covered the blood with dirt. Sgt. Watson wanted to continue to occupy the ambush site, but I decided we were now compromised since the third VC had probably escaped unharmed and would be warning his comrades of our presence. I decided it would be best to move back up the ridgeline to our OP and observe the trail from that location. If we saw any more VC we could call in artillery on them.
It was nearly noon when our team reassembled in the OP on the ridgeline. There Sgt. Watson showed me what he had found after searching the killing zone. He had taken the two pith helmets, a red propaganda flag, some Vietnamese cigarettes, a magazine with 15 rounds of ammunition in it, and a plastic poncho. I asked him about the weapons we saw the enemy carrying, and he told me he had retrieved one of them but he did not want me to report it in my SALUTE report to Camp Reasoner. He explained that he had the weapon disassembled in his pack and he wanted it for “trading material” back in the rear. He contended that if it was reported, the S-2 would take it, and he would never see it again. I told him I would think about it, but that I did not like to withhold anything of intelligence value from the S-2. He gave me a curious look, and then in his heavy Irish accent, he said, “Andy, you are right. We should never withhold a single shred of important intelligence from the people in the rear. I know you will always do what is right, but we need these weapons because we can get all sorts of good things for our team back in the rear with them. We can trade them to the Air Force for their AR-15 rifles, survival equipment and camouflage uniforms. We can take them over to the First Marine Air Wing and trade them for pilots’ gloves and whiskey. We can get ARVN rucksacks and other goodies we need. So you see, I know you will do what is right, won’t you?”
Sgt. Watson had a way with words, and I knew he was doing his best to manipulate me, but I did not think it was the time or place to waste any time discussing this matter, so I simply nodded my head that I understood. I could see the logic of his argument, but it irked me to know he was using me and trying to make me complicit in his conspiracy to obviate our orders to turn over all captured weapons. I wanted to think about what was the correct course of action, so I decided I would not report the capture of this weapon in my SALUTE Report and wait until our return to Camp Reasoner to decide on its disposition. My silence was taken as acceptance by Sgt. Watson. He took the pieces of the weapon out of his pack, and with a broad smile, he reassembled it. Displaying it with pride, he showed me a well-worn French MAT-49 submachine gun. It was prize trading material, indeed.
There was a hot shimmering haze covering the Antenna Valley Pass that afternoon, but we only observed one VC on the trail. He, like his unfortunate predecessors, was moving toward the west. He had a large pack on his back that he had camouflaged with leaves. He often looked up at the ridgelines above him and his gait was both cautious and rapid. It was obvious that he suspected Marines were nearby, and it was possible he had been sent to ascertain what had happened to the VC we had ambushed earlier in the morning. I decided not to call in an artillery fire mission since observed fire would clearly tell the VC that Marines saw him and were nearby. Instead, I thought it better to let this one VC go in the hope that a larger group might be following him. With this in mind, I later called in and registered two artillery missions on the trail; one to the west and one to the east, each about 1,000 meters distant. Although we watched the trail until daylight faded into dusk, no more VC used the trail that day.
The next day, 3 April, our fourth day observing the pass, I modified our ambush somewhat. I had Lt. Williamson stay with the OP element while I went with Sgt. Watson down into the valley to our second ambush site. On our way down to the ambush site, Lt. Williamson reported that several Vietnamese civilians carrying baskets on poles were moving on the trail in a westerly direction. As we got within a few yards of the ambush site, we saw these civilians passing by rapidly. After they had passed, we asked Lt. Williamson if the trail was clear, and he told us it was. We had hardly gotten into position when Lt. Williamson radioed us again and told us that two VC were approaching our ambush site from the east and that they should be in our killing zone in a few minutes. I asked him if he could see any VC behind these two, and he said he could see for 1000 meters behind them and no other VC were in sight. I had asked this because I knew the VC would often divide their forces into front and rear guard elements when they moved large units, and I thought these two VC might just be scouts for a larger force following them. It was possible that the civilians we had just seen pass in front of us had been sent ahead of the VC as scouts but there was no way of knowing this. With the information provided by Lt. Williamson, we prepared to ambush the two VC he had spotted.
Our ambush site was a good one, a berm 20 yards long on the north side of the trail that afforded our ambush team excellent cover and concealment. There was a slight dogleg in the trail on the western side, which gave two of us an almost perfect field of fire for 30 yards. I was the westernmost Marine in our ambush team, so I covered this dogleg, along with Cpl. Garcia. We both crouched down behind the berm and leveled our rifles through the grass, moving as noiselessly as possible. As the minutes passed, we tried not to move because even the slightest sound might alert the enemy to our presence. Perspiration ran down our faces and stung our eyes. I silently released the safety on my rifle and took up a good firing position.
In a flash, we both heard the other members of the team open fire. It was over in an instant, and Cpl. Garcia and I had not fired a shot. Cpl. Garcia and I looked back at the other members of the ambush team, and we saw that Sgt. Watson was kneeling on the berm, his weapon trained on the killing zone in front of him. He had triggered the ambush and had killed both of the VC himself. All of the other shooting was redundant. We donned our gas masks, threw two CS grenades into the killing zone next to the bodies, and waited to see if the gas produced any movement by the VC. The CS gas drifted over their bodies and one of them moved slightly. Sgt. Watson fired two rounds into the moving VC and the movement stopped. While Cpl. Garcia and I moved out onto the trail to secure the approach from the west, two other Marines moved into the trail and covered the approaches from the east. Sgt. Watson and one other Marine searched the bodies and retrieved the gear they had been carrying. We then moved back up the ridgeline to the OP and rejoined Lt. Williamson and the three men with him. The climb back up the ridgeline was very uncomfortable due to the added weight of the enemy gear we had captured. The CS gas had also permeated our clothing and caused a stinging sensation all over our bodies when combined with our perspiration.
Since I had not seen the VC we had killed until after the ambush had been triggered, I did not know what they looked like or what they were carrying. As it turned out, we had obtained some very valuable intelligence from one of the two VC we had killed. Both VC were dressed in a combination of khaki and black clothing and both carried weapons and packs. One of them, however, was clearly different. He appeared to be an officer or senior communist cadre. He was the older and the taller of the two, and he carried a pistol and a dispatch case, two items that indicated he was an officer or party official. When we returned to the OP, we began to take an inventory of the weapons, equipment, and documents found on these dead VC. The smaller of the two VC had an NVA rucksack that contained assorted clothing, green plastic material, sights for a 12.7 mm heavy machine gun, several black and white photos of him and his family, and a sock filled with rice. He was also carrying a Chinese Type 50 submachine gun.
The taller VC, the one who appeared to be an officer or senior communist cadre, was carrying a U.S. Marine Corps haversack which contained some clothing, 9,800 South Vietnamese piasters, a canteen, a Chinese compass, a pair of East German binoculars and a leather dispatch case. We opened the dispatch case and found pens, ink, pencils, writing paper, a diary, communist propaganda material, a hand-drawn map of Antenna Valley, a list of names and villages, and two red flags with the communist hammer and sickle on them. This VC was carrying a U.S. M1911 .45-caliber pistol in a holster attached to a black leather Sam Browne belt. It was obvious from the weapon he was carrying and the documents in his dispatch case that he was an important person, probably a member of the Viet Cong Infrastructure (VCI) that exercised political control over the rural population in the area. After our inventory was completed, I reported the results of the ambush by SALUTE message to our base. Within minutes of sending our SALUTE message Maj. Welzant was on the radio informing us that he was sending helicopters to extract us a day early so we could bring back the contents of the dispatch case. He told me that there was a lot of interest in the dispatch case at the Division G-2 and to expect our extract helicopters in an hour or two.
At 1140, we were contacted by the lead pilot of our extract helicopters. He informed us that he was about 15 minutes from our position, and we should be prepared to use a smoke grenade to mark our position. I gave him a zone briefing and waited for him to arrive. Two Huey gunships arrived first to provide cover for the extract helicopters as they approached the LZ. The CH-46 pilot asked me to “pop smoke,” and I threw a smoke grenade into the center of the small LZ on the ridgeline. The pilot saw my smoke and asked me to confirm its color. A minute later, he landed his helicopter, and we all boarded it. As was our routine, I boarded last and made a quick head count to ensure we did not leave anyone behind. Once aboard, we sat on the floor as the helicopter slowly lifted off the ridgeline, struggled to gain altitude, and finally climbed to 1,500 feet. After four days in the intense heat, the cold air at 1,500 feet was both refreshing and invigorating, making our flight back to Camp Reasoner a welcome one (Team Killer Kane Patrol Report, 3 April 1967; see also Stubbe and Lanning, pp. 211–213).
When our chopper landed at Camp Reasoner, Col. McKeon, Maj. Welzant, Maj. Lowrey, and an officer from the G-2 section of the 1st Marine Division met us on the helipad. We dropped our gear in our hootches and immediately went to the S-2 shop for our patrol debrief with Lt. St. Claire. We turned over the dispatch case and the two weapons we had captured on the last ambush to the officer from the Division G-2, and then we gave our report to Lt. St. Claire. When the debrief was over, Lt. St. Claire and Col. McKeon asked me to remain behind saying they wanted to talk to me alone. As my team filed out of the debriefing room, I could tell by the demeanor of both Lt. St. Claire and Col. McKeon that I was in for some difficulty. I was not wrong!
What followed was a major league ass-chewing by both gentlemen. Their comments went this way:
Lieutenant, when we assign you an NFZ, we expect you to use that NFZ and not decide on your own that you will go somewhere else. Not only did you go into an area where two recon Marines, Capt. Barnes and Sgt. Blankenship, were just killed, but you fully intended to do this without telling anyone in advance that you were going to do it. We put you into an NFZ for a specific reason. By deciding on your own to go somewhere else, you not only placed your team in danger from friendly fires, you also disregarded the mission we sent you on. You may think it is cool to ambush the enemy, but that is not what you were sent to do. You could have gotten your entire team killed and, perhaps, jeopardized the operations the 5th Marines were conducting to your east. In short, you were disobeying orders, and you did not exercise good judgment. We have half a mind to give you an Article 15.
I sat there in silence feeling the sting of their comments. I knew they were right and that I had exercised bad judgment and risked the lives of my team for no other reason than my anger at the death of my friends. I also knew that I had not told the truth when I told everyone outside of my team that I was going into the assigned NFZ when I knew full well that I had no intention of doing so. I had also not been honest when I failed to report the weapon Sgt. Watson had hidden in his pack, or some of the other items we had found on the dead bodies. Lurking in the back of my mind I knew I had allowed Sgt. Watson to influence me to do things that I would normally not have done. The realization that he had chosen me for his scheme began to sink in. He knew I was a new lieutenant, and he thought he could take advantage of my lack of experience. I allowed this to happen because I placed emotion before reason, a serious mistake for an officer to make. My desire to avenge the death of my two friends caused me to willingly go along with Sgt. Watson’s scheme and to disregard my orders and to do so in a deceitful manner. I was wrong and I knew it. All I could do was sit in the debriefing room and listen to two officers I greatly respected berate me for my actions. When they finished, I told them the truth about why I chose to disregard my orders and conduct an ambush patrol instead of a reconnaissance patrol. They listened and then Col. McKeon said, “Lieutenant, you are new to the Marine Corps and to this unit, but that is no excuse for your rashness and disregard for orders. You probably deserve a letter of reprimand, but I am going to give you one more chance. Don’t make me regret it. From now on, you will carry out your orders to the letter. I am not sure whether you are brave or crazy—maybe both—but I don’t have room in my battalion for officers who disobey orders. Now go get cleaned up and go to chow. We will forget about this from now on, unless there is a repeat.”
Feeling very dejected and chastised, I went to my hootch, cleaned the camouflage paint off my face, shaved off the four days of beard that had accumulated while I was on patrol, took a cold shower, and put on a clean utility uniform. It was too late to eat noon chow, so I sat on the back porch and cooked a can of beans and franks and drank one of the Cokes in our refrigerator. I was dog tired, dejected, and alone in the hootch so I took what I thought would be a short nap, only to be awakened several hours later by Lt. Mike Henry, who asked me if I was going to evening chow in the mess hall. I got up and went with Mike to eat dinner, a meal I can remember clearly to this day; it was pork cutlets, mashed potatoes, tomato gravy, string beans and ice-cold orange Kool Aid. As I sat eating with Mike, Lt. Lenny Torres came up with Lt. John Danko, and they began to tell me about how excited everyone was over the documents that we had taken off the body of the VC officer. They told me that the Division G-2 had determined that the officer we had killed had been a district-level VC political officer who had just finished a round of meetings with other VC cadres in Antenna Valley. Of great importance was a list he carried that identified over 100 VC agents and cadres in Antenna Valley and the Que Son Valley. Later, Mike St. Claire told me this list of enemy agents was turned over to the CIA for their action. This information resulted in the capture or death of several communist spies and political cadres in these two valleys in southern Quang Nam Province.
Having just been subjected to a severe tongue-lashing from Lt. St. Claire and Col. McKeon, this exciting news did not lift my spirits very much, so I excused myself and went back to my hootch to clean my rifle and field gear. As I sat on the back porch I heard a voice from below call to me in a stage whisper, “Andy, are you there? It’s me, Sgt. Watson.” I looked over the edge of the porch, and there ten feet below me stood Sgt. Watson, still dressed in his dirty field uniform and his face still covered with green and black face paint. He said, “Andy, I heard you got your ass chewed for taking us out on patrol, so I thought I would come over and talk to you about it.” Then he added, “Let’s bring the team over. They are feeling a wee bit down after hearing about the trouble you got into. OK?”
I was really in no mood to talk and it annoyed me that Sgt. Watson still persisted in calling me by my first name, so I said, “God damn it, Sgt. Watson, I told you not to call me by my first name. Let’s maintain some military courtesy. OK?”
“Sure, Lieutenant, I’m sorry,” he responded with a feigned look of remorse that did little to convince me that he would not do it again. He left, but five minutes later, he returned with the other members of the patrol. They brought with them a case of warm beer, and soon we were talking about our patrol and how Capt. Barnes and Sgt. Blankenship had been avenged. As we drank beer and I heard these men talk, my sadness over the day’s events dissipated, and I found myself enjoying their company. I listened to them talk of home and girlfriends and boot camp and how much they enjoyed being recon Marines. Lt. Tom Williamson joined us later on, and we talked about his father, who was a career Marine who had fought in Korea and the early stages of the Vietnam War. We listened to Sgt. Watson relate his experiences in Kenya and Yemen with the Royal Marines and how this elite British organization differed from the U.S. Marine Corps.
As the hours slipped away and we consumed several cases of beer, Sgt. Watson led us in Irish songs of revolution, lost causes, and sadness. We finally ended our little party when the lieutenants in my hootch came out and requested we secure our party, since it was time for “lights out” in the division area. As we broke up, Sgt. Watson asked if he might make a toast before we departed. He stood at attention with a beer can in his hand and said, “To Killer Kane, To Capt. Barnes, and To Sgt. Blankenship.” We all rose and repeated the toast. Then my teammates from Killer Kane staggered back to their hootches, and I fell on my bunk and slept like a baby. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought to myself that I might be a failure as a recon platoon leader, but I was blessed by God to have the privilege of serving with such brave and loyal friends. I prayed to God that night that I would never fail them.
The next day, the Mutual Broadcasting System came by Camp Reasoner to interview me about the ambush patrol. They recorded the interview and told me that it would be edited and then broadcast over their radio stations in the U.S. in a week or two. I was warned by Maj. Lowrey to be careful about what I said to the press, so I was rather nervous when the interview began in the S-2 debriefing room. An enlisted Marine from the division’s public affairs office was also present. The interviewer seemed genuinely interested in what happened on the patrol, but he kept trying to ask me questions about how I felt when I shot at the enemy. When I told him I really didn’t think about anything other than killing the enemy soldier in my sights, I could see the Public Affairs (PA) Marine wince. Afterwards, the PA Marine took me aside and told me the interview went well, but I had to remember many members of the press corps covering the war were not our friends and they would use anything we said in an unguarded moment against the Marine Corps. Having no experience with the press prior to this, I made a mental note to always be on my guard when talking to the press. Later on, I would come to realize how truthful that Marine’s warning was.
After this patrol, I had another unpleasant encounter with the Marine Corps awards system. I was very impressed with the heroism of Sgt. Watson on the ambush patrol in the Antenna Valley Pass, and I still had the award recommendations I had written for Sgt. “Rabbit” Preston and another Marine for a previous patrol, so I decided to try again to submit the paperwork needed to recognize the bravery of these fine young Marines. I asked our Administration Sergeant, Staff Sergeant (SSgt.) John Cole, what I needed to submit an award for the actions of my Marines, and he gave me a copy of the 1st Marine Division order on the subject. I read the order and spent several hours getting statements from witnesses and writing my own statement for Sgt. Watson. I also made a copy of a sample award recommendation which was an enclosure to the order so I could closely approximate it for my three award submissions.
In the evening, I wrote up the award recommendation for Sgt. Watson and refined the two others I had written previously. The next morning, I submitted them to the company office, fully expecting that all three awards would be approved, since they clearly reflected uncommon bravery on the part of the three Marines. How wrong I was! Two days later, SSgt. Cole, who was a great help to me in preparing the award recommendations and made sure they were correct in every respect, gave me the bad news that the award recommendations had not even made it out of the battalion and had been returned with a note to keep them on file so they could be used for input for an “end of tour award.”
Needless to say, I was very disappointed with this news and asked to see Maj. Lowrey about it. Once again, he told me that it was currently the policy not to award medals for individual acts of bravery but to include these acts in an “end of tour” award. He went on to say that Bronze Stars would be awarded for individuals who had a record of superior service and instances of demonstrated heroism and that the others would receive Navy Commendation Medals. Everyone who went on patrol would receive one or the other of these awards at the end of their 13-month tour in Vietnam. He then astounded me with his next comment when he said, “There would be too many awards given if it was done every time a patrol got into a firefight because recon Marines do this all the time.”
I listened politely, but when he was finished, I told him I did not agree with this policy. I tried to point out that it was both unfair and detrimental to morale not to recognize quickly those Marines who risked their lives on patrol and performed exceptional acts of heroism and to do so each time these acts were performed. Not surprisingly, Maj. Lowrey angrily disagreed. Since I was in enough hot water already for my last patrol, I decided not to make more of an issue of it. It was, however, the beginning of my disenchantment with the entire Marine Corps policy concerning awards and decorations, the results of which would cause me to reject the policy completely in a very personal way.
This ambush patrol by Killer Kane in the Antenna Valley Pass marked the beginning of a new chapter in the way Killer Kane would conduct future patrols. While I had made several serious mistakes in judgment on the patrol, mistakes I was justly criticized for, the patrol proved to me that the only way to obtain really useful information about the enemy was to either capture a prisoner or search the bodies of enemy dead for documents of intelligence value. Before this patrol we were not unlike other recon teams in that we considered it essential to remain covert and only engage the enemy with air strikes and artillery fire. From now on, we would deliberately seek out the enemy and engage them at close range with small arms if the tactical situation looked favorable. We would continue to use the Stingray techniques of using supporting arms to kill the enemy, but we would not pass up any opportunity to kill them with small-arms fire also. We would be far more aggressive and spend less time hiding and more time seeking the enemy. We would ambush the enemy and attempt to obtain prisoners. Killer Kane was about to embark on a one-team campaign to kill the enemy wherever we found them and to ask to go on patrols in areas that everyone knew contained significant numbers of VC and NVA troops. Killer Kane was going on the attack.