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The mosquitos loved the wet heat of the jungle. The five uniformed men could wear no repellant. The chemical smell would be a dead giveaway to the enemy. They hacked their way through green foliage, sweating profusely while swarms of insects sucked their blood.
Second Lieutenant Clooney worked point with a machete and drawn .45-caliber handgun. If the enemy made contact, he would likely die first. A second man, Sergeant Hennessy porting a rifle followed his leader. This was his third mission, the first after he had sewn on his third stripe. Then came Private First Class Jones lugging the long-barreled gun named Daisy on his shoulder. Buck Privates Montague, Norbert and Brown came last, each wrapped with belts of bullets and heavy boxes of still more belts. Without their precious loads, the platoon’s mission would be futile.
The soldiers’ boonies slipped on stinking mud and water to their ankle-tops. Random roots and booby traps threatened to topple them or give them nasty leg breaks, which would terminate their top secret mission. Though injury might be preferable in the privates’ judgment to forging onward to victory, Hennessy had made it clear he would kill malingerers. He had done so in the past. In truth, he had also fragged two of his officers on prior missions, a fact known to Clooney.
They had been carried upriver in a river patrol boat and left on a muddy bank. The boat was long gone. They were now a couple of klicks inland moving as fast as possible toward a low rise that overlooked a small village overrun by Viet Cong. The Cong were rumored to be led by a young woman who loved mutilating captured US troops with her knife.
The massing of black pajamas at this place was unusual. Intelligence had provided an almost unbelievable picture of high value targets working feverishly through the weeks before the Tet holiday. Everyone who read The Stars and Stripes knew the war had been won already. These die-hard Cong had apparently not gotten the message. Daisy would announce the truth for all to hear. The men would return to garrison heroes to spend their last few days in the war zone drinking and smoking weed.
Hennessy stumbled but caught himself. Daisy swung left and right in Jones’s sweat-slippery hands. The lieutenant held his hand in a fist. Everyone froze and slowly crouched. Two fingers came out of the lieutenant’s fist. Hennessy drew his knife and ducked into the forest to the right. He signaled for Montague to follow suit. The lieutenant stayed perfectly still while Montague set down his box and belts and drew his knife. He slipped into the jungle to the left.
Jones, Norbert and Brown knelt and waited. Ten minutes passed. The only sounds were low hums of insects and an occasional jungle noise. Montague returned first. Without a word, he wiped his blade on his pants and picked up his load. Emerging from the forest, Hennessy signaled the lieutenant with two fingers as he sheathed his knife. When the corporal was ready to move on, Lieutenant Clooney signaled. The platoon pushed on.
Now that contact had been made, it was only a matter of time before the enemy attacked. The platoon moved more swiftly than before. They passed two lifeless Cong bodies on the trail. Necks sliced neatly, each corpse was missing his right ear. Clooney knew his men had taken the ears as prizes that would verify their kills. The brass liked to use bullet counts to estimate kills. The men knew better than to rely on guesstimates. The lieutenant drew from his shirt pocket a special deck of cards and dealt one card on each dead body.
Close now to their objective, Hennessy signaled each man to be especially wary. They ascended the slight slope to the hilltop looking down on their objective: the village where men and women in black pajamas patrolled. They set up Daisy and placed the belts and boxes with additional ammunition close at hand. It was as important to keep the ammunition flowing into the machine gun as to keep its barrel directed for maximum effect. It was early afternoon, so the use of belts with tracer shells was not important now. In the darkness, those would be vital.
On the rise, Clooney took the leftmost position and the sergeant lay on his belly rightmost. Daisy was at the center, with the other three privates ranged to the right of her. They had drilled for attrition. Each man knew exactly what to do.
The hardest part of any mission was the waiting. As they observed their objective, they knew this mission was going to be different.
In the first place, the numbers of VC were too high. They had expected perhaps twenty enemy combatants. Here over one hundred twenty milled around. They had also expected only one or two bigwigs among the enemy. Instead, over thirty leadership soldiers were meeting in the village. Hostages lined the center of the village square, some looking distinctively like captive Americans.
The lieutenant signaled his sergeant to fall back and discuss the matter.
“Sergeant, we have an unusual situation before us.”
“Yes, sir. It’s a target rich environment, but it’s nothing like the briefing prepared us for.”
“Are you and the men ready to follow through?”
“Yes, sir. I’m confident we have the ammo and the spirit. No one is hurt. Unless present enemy company is expecting imminent reinforcements, we should be fine.”
“Mr. Murphy is here somewhere, Sergeant.”
“I agree with you, Sir. What do you want to do about that?”
“I want one man to fall way back and radio headquarters.”
The sergeant signaled Norbert. “Grab a radio and get instructions from the lieutenant. You may just have gotten lucky.”
Norbert eagerly grabbed one of the two radios and listened carefully to his commander’s instructions.
“Norbert, you’re to drop back along the trail and signal headquarters we’re looking at one hundred fifty VC at our objective site. Tell them we’ll need napalm ASAP or we’ll be overrun. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir!” he said.
“After you make the communication, you’ll have compromised your position. You’ll have to make a run for the river. As you do, request a river patrol boat to pick you up. Get moving, but be careful.”
“I’ll do that, Sir.”
“Get moving. Good luck. And don’t even think of coming back here, no matter what you hear.”
Norbert moved quickly and silently back along the path to the river.
“Sergeant, can you think of anything else that will improve our situation?”
“Sir, prayer sometimes works.” This was the closest the sergeant had come to sarcasm. The lieutenant saw that he meant no harm.
“Get back to your position. It’s going to be a long afternoon.”
The men waited for the lieutenant’s signal. He did not want to waste the opportunity. Instead, he wanted to take down as many of the high level VC as possible with the first burst of fire from Daisy.
Clooney told Jones what he wanted him to do: “On my signal, rain down hell on those VC.”
When the black pajamas massed at the center of the village square, the lieutenant’s hand went down. Daisy began speaking in a continuous banter. The bullets sprayed the village square killing all the Cong within it. As Jones expanded his field of fire, the other VC dropped one by one. Belts fed Daisy as the enemy ran across the rice paddies toward their elevated position.
They came in a wave, but far enough apart from each other to cause the Americans to waste Daisy’s valuable ammunition.
The lieutenant signaled Daisy to stop firing to let the barrel cool down. Meanwhile he, the sergeant and the other privates used their rifles to kill as many Cong as possible.
The black pajamas were so disciplined they rallied when Daisy went quiet. A small figure in VC clothing ran to the center of the square and raised the head of one of the American captives. The lieutenant took careful aim with his rifle and shot the Cong figure in the head, but not before it had sliced through the neck of the captive.
The sergeant saw the VC were likely to overrun their position, so he ordered Jones to resume firing. As the bullets from the belt ran through the machine gun and out through the barrel, the black pajamas fell where they stood. Soon no more enemy troops were crossing the rice paddies. Daisy stopped shooting.
The lieutenant heard the sound of a jet engine high in the sky. His heart leapt thinking Norbert had gotten through to headquarters with his request for air support. On the far side of the village, the plane came in low, just above the top of the jungle. A stream made a cloud over the village that fell as the fire of napalm. The plane disappeared, probably going to its next fire assignment. The lieutenant watched the village burn.
Remaining on the hillock, Clooney ordered the sergeant to take a private with him and count the dead VC before nightfall. The sergeant eagerly took Brown. Both men used their knives to collect evidence of the dead. Clooney gave Hennessy the special deck of cards. Meanwhile, Jones took stock of Daisy, which he reported was still in prime operating condition, and the ammo with the tracer rounds was ready to fire on command.
The sergeant and Brown returned as the sun was setting below the treetops. They said one hundred fifty enemy combatants had fallen. All were dead. They produced the evidence in the form of ears cut from dead bodies.
“Sergeant, I’m afraid this day’s action is not over. We were lucky this afternoon. Out of curiosity, was the Cong I shot in the center of the square a woman?”
“Yes, sir, she was.”
“Then we accomplished our mission.”
“Sir, if this gathering of VC brass is what I think, we’re going to face one hell of a night.”
“In that case, have the men catch a few winks. I’ll stay awake. Spell me in one hour.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Darkness came suddenly. The night sounds of the jungle rose as the stifling heat turned to a cooler breeze. The lieutenant strained his eyes to catch any nocturnal movements signifying enemy actions. The sergeant relieved him so he could get an hour’s sleep.
Daisy spoke not long after the lieutenant fell asleep. Tracer shells lit up the rice paddies, which seemed to be crawling with Cong. The officer joined his men in repelling the enemy attack.
No matter how many they slew, the enemy kept coming. The numbers of VC were unlike any anticipated by intelligence. Clearly, a massive force was advancing on the machine gun’s position.
The lieutenant’s rifle ammunition ran out, so he switched to his side arm. His men were likewise forced to switch weapons. Daisy was now taking single shots and short bursts as her ammo was low. The sergeant rolled beside the lieutenant. He advised retreat.
“Sergeant, you and Brown retreat. Take the auxiliary radio and report to headquarters. Tell them we’re being faced with the enemy’s equivalent of a division’s strength. We require an immediate napalm attack on the village. Keep going until you reach the river. As you go, request a night pickup ASAP.”
“Are you staying here with Jones, Sir?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why don’t we send Jones? I’ll spell him on Daisy.”
“No. You go. I want you to tell headquarters our status. You can answer their questions. Be sure they realize this is not likely an isolated attack. We have indications the enemy is rising in great numbers. You know the drill.”
“I’ll follow your order under protest, Sir. I wish I could stay, but I’ll get Brown right now and retreat.”
The sergeant and Private Brown went down the trail with the auxiliary radio. The lieutenant and Jones continued the fight. Their only constraint was Daisy’s barrel heat. The barrel turned red hot and had to be cooled every few minutes. The lieutenant used his sidearm. Jones used his sidearm too.
Finally, the massing of Cong was so great, they had to use Daisy constantly in spite of the danger to the machine gun itself. Bodies piled on the access to the rise, but the Cong kept coming.
In the distance the lieutenant heard the sound of an aircraft, which swooped down on the village’s position to drop napalm. The chemical substance burst into flames and showed a version of hell with bodies writhing in agony as they burned. The night air was full of the stench of burning human flesh.
The attacking aircraft did not stop with one sweep. It came back again and laid another cloud of napalm over the village. The napalm burst into an inferno. This time, there were no signs of enemy action afterward.
The lieutenant went down the hill toward the paddies, harvesting the enemy’s weapons as he went. He returned to position the weapons so he and Jones could reach them in need. The lieutenant could not believe the attack was over.
The more arms he harvested, the luckier he counted himself. Jones nursed Daisy back to health and estimated the amount of ammo he had left to fire.
“Sir, we’re not going to make it till morning if they come in a mass attack again.”
“We’ll use the enemy’s AK-47s. We’ll then use Daisy as long as the ammo lasts.”
In the darkness, they heard, “Don’t shoot. It’s Hennessy and Brown. We’ve been ordered to remain with you on station until the Hueys arrive at dawn.”
Hennessy filled the lieutenant in: “Headquarters was totally surprised by the massing of troops at this locale up the Mekong. While they scrambled to form a rescue operation, they looked for signs in other intelligence that a Tet offensive might be planned by the Viet Cong.”
“We know what the answer should be, don’t we, Sergeant?”
“Yes, Sir. I see you’ve gathered AK-47s for the fight.”
“That’s right, Sergeant. I’m thinking we should hold fire with Daisy until we run out of AK-47 ammo. What do you think?”
“I think we’ll provoke a stampede that way, but the concentration will help with the kill ratio.”
The lieutenant and his men checked the AKs to be sure each had a max load of ammo. Damaged or empty automatics they discarded. They piled the good, fully loaded weapons in stacks for easy access. They kept their eyes on the rice paddies for Cong.
Two hours before dawn, the enemy charged across the plain again. The lieutenant and his men used the AK-47s first. This caused the enemy strategy to change from spreading out to massing, just as the lieutenant had surmised.
When the Cong reached the rise to the hill, Daisy began to rake the ranks of Cong. The enemy could not retreat as their reinforcements pushed from behind. Daisy’s ammo passed through not one row of troops but many. One bullet might kill three or four Cong. Bodies now piled five and six deep on the grade to the hill.
The machine gun ammo ran out at dawn. The lieutenant, the sergeant, Jones and the two privates held a handgun in one hand and a knife in the other. They fired and slashed as the enemy kept climbing over the bodies piled on the hill.
Out of the east came the American reinforcements, but the stalwart platoon could not be distracted. They were in the fight of their lives. Each man was wounded three and four times over. Still, they fought.
American helicopter gunships flew near the hill, their machine guns pouring a hail of lead into the teeming Cong force. Their fire came so close to the Clooney’s platoon, he tried to wave the reinforcements away.
In the daylight, the LZ flares showed the way for the medical helos. The medics ran into the melee on the hill to find the lieutenant and his men. He refused to be taken to safety until all his men were safe first. He had one further request before they escorted him to the medevac helo.
“Load Daisy on board. Without her, we wouldn’t be alive this morning.”
The medics saw the look in the lieutenant’s eyes. They complied with his order. Flying low over the jungle to the field hospital area, Lieutenant Clooney rode with Daisy by his side.
*
EVEN BEFORE HE WAS released from hospital, Clooney obtained the names of the intelligence officers who failed to give him correct information about the size and purpose of the enemy forces around the village he was ordered to attack. Headquarters tried to interdict him because of the embarrassment the intelligence failure had caused. But the Tet Offensive was one of the greatest blunders of the Vietnam War.
Captain Relish swore Clooney to secrecy before he told the full story: “Our computer systems knew the offensive was coming. The generals wouldn’t believe their computers. Now they’re trying to blame everyone else for their own failure. Take my advice: stay out of the political dynamics. Be glad you and your men got out alive. You’ll all get medals. Who knows? You might get the Congressional Medal of Honor. You certainly deserve it.”
Lieutenant Clooney did not want to leave the matter alone, and he managed to take his grievance to the four-star general himself.
“Son, you and your men are going to be commended. I appreciate your concern. The Army is learning lessons in this war that will be applied in all our future endeavors. I ask you to write your recommendations in a report for my eyes only. I guarantee your voice will be heard.”
Cooley took the general’s advice and wrote the report. It was classified so he could never see it again as he did not have the caveat access necessary. As to whether his recommendations were incorporated in the Army’s procedures, he never found out about that. He was discharged at the rank of captain and returned to civilian life.
From time to time, Cooley wondered what happened to Daisy, the machine gun that had made the difference in his platoon’s piece of the larger war. He rationalized that the event was only a study, an etude, in the larger enterprise. Because of that machine gun his platoon survived that night in the jungle, the first live action of the Tet offensive.