Charlie Company, 1/5, was part of the Marine Corps attack force that recaptured Hue City, after this very important cultural and political center was overrun by thousands of NVA and Viet Cong forces during the infamous Tet Offensive of 1968.
The First Platoon of Charlie Company, known to me as Charlie One, was an integral element of Charlie Company’s attack strategy. During the battle for Hue City, which housed the formidable Citadel Fortress and the Imperial Palace within it, as the commanding officer of Charlie Company, I relied heavily on the fifty-one brave Marines of Charlie One and their platoon commander, Nick Warr. This reliance Was, in fact, a dubious honor, because Charlie One was often assigned as the company “point” element, which like any backhanded compliment, is not always a good thing. Obviously, the situation on point is tough and dangerous. It’s kind of like being a human lighting rod. Charlie One got the job because the Marines of Charlie One had a sixth sense about it, a sort of innate awareness of direction and cause. They were dedicated, tough, and dependable. They were also very human, and they managed to somehow maintain a sense of humor, despite the often difficult and sometimes downright terrifying situations they were confronted with. And they were very vulnerable, because, after all, they were for the most part just kids. Nick was a kid, a blunt, skinny kid himself who often reminded me of a scholar or professor. He seemed not to want to be there, like many of those who served during the Vietnam War, but he made the very best of it. He looked out for the welfare of his Marines, and he was alert and tactically sound. As a Marine platoon commander, he spoke his mind, and while I didn’t always agree, I listened.
As the house-to-house, street-to-street fighting progressed inside the Citadel, Charlie One, along with all the Marines of Charlie Company, paid a heavy price for every foot of real estate that we wrenched away from the enemy. First of all, this was not the typical jungle warfare we had trained for, and secondly, during the initial stages of the battle, our staggering superiority of supporting arms, artillery, air strikes, and naval gunfire was limited because of the fire restrictions on the Palace walls. That hurt, and it cost lives.
Nevertheless, the Marines of Charlie Company didn’t let up. Once the full force of our supporting arms kicked in and we effectively began using the awesome firepower of the six recoilless rifles atop each Ontos, along with the overwhelming blast power of the tanks, the tide of battle turned. Rather than the traditional “search and destroy” mission so commonly practiced to hunt down the elusive Viet Cong, the battle for the southeastern corner of the Citadel became a bluntly effective “destroy and search.” House by house, block by block, the defensive structures of the NVA, previously the beautiful homes of upper-class Vietnamese, were systematically destroyed, and along with them the NVA defenders.
Toward the end of the battle for the Citadel, the remnants of Charlie Company took an NVA position near the Imperial Palace. I remember pulling down from a spindly pole, a blue, yellow, and red NVA flag. This was not the imposing flag that had taunted the Marines from a distance atop the Imperial Palace walls, but rather a smaller regimental-sized flag that hung precariously from its flimsy pole near the entrance to the Imperial Palace. In a word, the taking of this flag spelled defeat for the NVA aggressors. There was not a lot of joy or excitement at this “deflagging.” Rather, a begrudging sense of accomplishment and pride exuded from all present. Appropriately, the flag had several holes in it and was sprayed with spots of dried blood. This impromptu ceremony was not recorded by the press, although they had filmed some scenes during the previous days, and my family in Florida recalled seeing some news of Charlie Company, First Battalion, Fifth Marines, on the TV. It was only then that they knew why I had not written for almost a month. I also remember leaving Hue City, our mission accomplished, only to be ambushed outside of the city, yet another bloody encounter with an enemy that was down, but not out. Obviously, the war did not end with the recapture of Hue City.
In fact, in my opinion, the war really ended before the tumultuous battle to retake Hue City began. It ended early on in the minds and hearts of the American politicians and many of the American people, the dissenters, who unfortunately did what hundreds of thousands of NVA and Viet Cong could not do. They broke the military’s will to win, restricted the military’s ability to act effectively, and in many ways diminished the sacrifices of those who served and the fifty-eight thousand who died protecting the rights and privileges of those of us who remain. Charlie One did everything they could do to reverse that tide, but it was already too little, too late. Too bad.
Finally, I must say that it is a privilege to add in some small way to Nick’s chronology of this battle, entitled Phase Line Green. It is a poignant, personal story of real Marines in real battle. No holds barred. Over the years as a twenty-six-year veteran of the FBI, I’ve fought other skirmishes in other places, but never any so gut-wrenching, never so prolonged, never so final. Many distant memories, some good and some bad, were resurrected by reading Phase Line Green, and they’ve become a working part of my persona. So has Charlie One.
My gratitude to those who died. My hope for those who remain.
Semper Fi
Scott A. Nelson