Shadow Warriors: Inside the Special Forces

Special Forces had a long history in Vietnam.

In 1954, the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu by Ho Chi Minh's Viet Minh ended French colonial rule in Indochina. Vietnam was separated into independent northern and southern halves, and Laos and Cambodia also gained independence. In 1959, North Vietnam adopted a new constitution, based on Communist principles and calling for the reunification of Vietnam. From the end of French rule until that year, the North had supported the Viet Cong insurgency in the South, though not as wholeheartedly as in the decade to come. The insurgency had nevertheless grown ever stronger in the countryside during that time, owing in part to Viet Cong success in persuading the country's people that their cause was better than the government's, and in part to the South Vietnam government's seeming indifference — or blindness — to security outside the cities.

In May 1959, however, the North's support of the Viet Cong took a big leap forward: The North Vietnamese Central Committee deemed the moment ripe to increase military efforts against the South. Corollary with that decision was a plan to construct a logistics network through southern Laos and parts of Cambodia (and bypassing the demilitarized zone then separating North from South Vietnam). This network came to be called the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Its construction proved to be the decisive act of the war in Southeast Asia.

Meanwhile, in July 1959, twelve U.S. Special Forces teams (from the then 77th Special Group — later the 7th), together with a control team, arrived in Laos to help the French[8] organize and train the lackluster Laotian Army. This was a clandestine operation — primarily because the French were not eager to lose face yet again in Southeast Asia. The Green Berets arrived as "civilians," wearing civilian clothes and carrying "civilian" identification cards; and they were paid out of "civilian" (that is to say, CIA) accounts.

No obvious connection exists between the decision to build the Trail and the arrival of Special Forces troops in Laos, yet the two are intertwined. The continuing association between U.S. Special Forces and the Ho Chi Minh Trail turned out to be a major factor in the part Special Forces played in the war in Southeast Asia. The link took many forms — direct and indirect — and a few of them will be mentioned here.

The Trail itself was not a trail, of course, but a communications-and-transportation network, a command-and-control structure, and a system of troop-staging areas. Its facilities and capabilities — especially in its early days — were primitive, yet also astonishingly robust. One of its strengths was its very primitiveness. A freeway not only represented a vast expenditure of capital and labor, it was an easy target. A dirt road could support a much smaller volume of traffic, but most damage could be easily repaired by men or women with shovels. The traffic volume problem was easily solved by constructing a network of many roads — and by patience. And since these roads were virtually invisible under the cover of the tropical rain forest, it was hard to discern a definite target.

That was the real strategic significance of the Ho Chi Minh Trail — its security. Throughout the war, the North Vietnamese were able to use Laos and Cambodia as sanctuaries. Though such sanctuaries were never total or absolute, U.S. and allied forces were severely limited in their ability to attack them.

In fact, the best opportunity for putting a cork in the Trail was probably early in its existence. Its presence was beginning to be recognized by 1961 and 1962, but it hardly seemed a factor in the war. Perhaps 1,500 North Vietnamese troops a month filtered down into the South, an insignificant number compared to the tens of thousands per month (including tanks and other heavy weapons) that later used the Trail. As a result, few in authority took it seriously, and that generally remained the case until it was too late to do anything about the Trail without committing massive forces — and by then political considerations had ended any chance for such a commitment. It was a big mistake. Another one was the belief held by most American military commanders that the war would be decided by slugging it out with heavy firepower and conventional forces. The Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese never bought this concept. To them the war was at times a conventional war, at times a "people's" war, and at times a guerrilla war; they chose the mode of combat that best suited their advantage — and our disadvantage.

It is credible to argue that if the United States or South Vietnam had found some way to permanently block the Ho Chi Minh Trail in 1962 or 1963, then the massive American intervention three or four years later might not have had to happen — and perhaps the war in Vietnam would have turned out more happily.

WHITE STAR

In 1961, early in his brief presidency, John Kennedy was faced with a mess in Laos — part Communist-backcd insurgency, part dynastic struggles between competing princes, and part power grabs by military leaders. All of which was made more complicated by virtue of the complex ethnic makeup of the country. In addition to ethnic Laotians, the backcountry was inhabited by semiprimitive Kha and Meo tribes, who were both disliked and distrusted by the Laotians. Though the tribesmen were often superb soldiers, the Laotians were not eager to arm or train them.

The initial power struggle in Laos followed close on the heels of the Geneva Conference of 1954, which gave Laos independence. On one side was the Royal Laotian government, officially headed by a titular king but in reality led by neutralist Prince Souvanna Phouma. On the other side were the Communist insurgents, the Pathet Lao, led by Souvanna Phouma's half brother, Prince Souphanovong, and supported by the North Vietnamese (though they were always more interested in South Vietnam). Until 1959, the Pathet Lao occupied the two northern provinces, but worked to expand on that base. From 1959 until 1961, amid coups and countercoups, the situation grew even more complex, with the emergence of a right-wing power base under General Phoumi Nosavan, who seized power in December of that year. Meanwhile, the neutralists had lost U.S. backing (which went to General Nosavan) and threw in with the Pathet Lao, while at the same time begging the Soviets for help. The Soviets were ready to give it — though predictably most of their assistance went to the Communists.

According to the classic "Domino Theory," "We had to do something about Laos." If Laos fell to the Communists, could South Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand be far behind? Though history has proved the Domino Theory wrong, it made a lot of sense then.

Earlier in 1961, following the withdrawal in 1960 of the French Military Mission to Laos, U.S. Special Forces were officially admitted into Laos — their presence was no longer clandestine; they could wear U.S. uniforms, including their green berets — and were designated by the newly established U.S. Military Assistance Advisory Group Laos (MAAG Laos) as White Star Mobile Training Teams.

These teams performed many tasks: Some became instructors in recently opened Laotian military schools. Others went into the field with the Laotian Army as conventional operational advisers. Others provided medical assistance or coordination and communications services; gathered intelligence for MAAG Laos; or worked closely with the minority hill peoples, where among other things they formed, equipped, and trained Meo and Kha military companies.

It was in this last mission that the White Star teams made their lasting mark. In the hills of Laos, Bill Yarborough's vision of Special Forces was tested and proved. Here also the Special Forces organization and leadership learned the lessons they brought with them not long afterward, when they were assigned to take on the mess in Vietnam.

The White Star teams were fortunate in their leadership.

One commander, for example, Lieutenant Colonel John T. Little, had learned the Bill Yarborough lesson well: that only part of the Special Forces mission in Laos was to show indigenous soldiers how to march, shoot, and communicate. In a message to the troops in Laos, dated September 22, 1961, and titled "Civil Assistance," Little laid down the parameters that were to guide the White Star teams. These are extracts:

In an insurgency situation, the guerrilla is dependent on a sympathetic population. Counter-guerrilla operations must, therefore, have as one objective winning the population's cooperation and denying the enemy their sympathy.An imaginative program of village assistance, properly backed by the military and civil authorities, is one form of psychological operation which will contribute significantly both toward this objective and toward the achieving of U.S. goals in Laos.You arc not in competition with other U.S. agencies… you are the spearhead and focal point for the injection of these activities until Laos civil assistance teams are trained and operational.Upon arrival in the village, pay a courtesy call on the Chao Muong [the district political boss]. Do not talk shop on the first meeting. Just make friends.Deal directly with the Chao Muong. Do not work through his subordinate. Always work through one man — the chief.Make a statement on graft. Let the Chao Muong know that under no circumstances will you tolerate graft, and if you detect it, your aid will stop. If corruption starts, the villagers will tell you. You do not need to search for it.Always make the villagers share the workload. Let them know that all these projects are village projects, not U.S. help for the helpless. Once you do one project all by yourself, the villagers will forever after expect this from your team. Do not give them something for nothing. For example, a good approach could be: "I will try to get a tin roof for your school house if you will build the school and furnish all other materials and labor.Try to present our ideas to the Chao Muong in such a fashion as to make him think it was his idea in the first place. Let him win full credit for the completion of any project. Do not issue orders to him or demand an instant decision. When you approach him with an idea, let him have a night to think about it. But the next day be sure to gently push him toward a decision.Initially your weapon is talk. It must be interesting, arousing, intelligent. You are a master salesman for the United States. Some pitfalls for newcomers: drinking too much at social functions (keep your mind clear for business); getting involved with native women (creates jealousy and hate, and makes you a setup for anti-U.S. propaganda); being arrogant, sarcastic, or belittling in your conversation (these people are hypersensitive and proud, and you will come to a dead end if they dislike you). Maintain the proper team attitude of good-natured willingness and endless patience in the face of resentment to change and complete apathy. Be tactful, be tolerant. Show exceptional tolerance to the children and the very old. Be courteous, be relaxed, and do not be in a hurry.For success in this mission, observe the native customs. For example, when you are visiting a village, inform the villagers that you are coming so that the people can assemble. The Chao Muong always makes a political speech on these occasions. Never force your way into a village where broken branches across the trail indicate a closed celebration. Follow the native custom of removing your footgcar when going into a village house. Learn the customs of your region.Make sure the United States gets credit for all U.S. items distributed. When the Chao Muong makes a speech to the citizenry about the tools and supplies they are to receive, make sure he tells them that the equipment comes from America.The sky is the limit in what you can achieve. You cannot make a new Laos in one day, but it only takes one day to start. Now is the time to start beating the enemy at his own game — the winning of men's minds, emotions, and loyalty to the concepts that motivate us: freedom, justice, individual human rights, equality of opportunity, and a higher living standard.

Lieutenant Colonel Little's message also discussed practical programs for medical support and sanitation; aid to education, agriculture, and transportation; improvements to marketplaces and children's playgrounds; and the like. All of these projects were in addition to the primary task of helping to train military forces.

Another legendary Special Forces officer — arguably the greatest operational Special Forces officer of them all — Lieutenant Colonel Arthur D. "Bull" Simons, also left a strong mark in Laos. Simons was a big, exceedingly unhandsome man, a magnificent leader, and a specialist in bringing the toughest jobs to a successful conclusion.[9] Because he was too busy makingthings happen in the field to punch all the tickets needed to advance to general officer's rank, he retired as a colonel. Recognition did come, however. Simons's statue was recently dedicated at Fort Bragg. No one deserved it more.[10]

In late 1961, the Pathet Lao controlled the strategic Bolovens Plateau in southern Laos. The Plateau occupies most of the Laotian panhandle region, with North and South Vietnam on the cast, Cambodia on the south, and Thailand to the west; and it is mostly inhabited by Kha hill tribesmen. The Ho Chi Minh Trail ran between the plateau and the Vietnamese border. The mission of Simons and his Green Beret colleagues was to organize, arm, and train the Kha tribesmen into guerrilla bands, then to drive the Pathet Lao off the plateau, and finally to send the guerrillas into action against the Trail. They succeeded in the first two of those aims, but the attacks on the Ho Chi Minh Trail never materialized. By then the 1962 Geneva Accord had intervened, and the Special Forces had to pull back from Laos.

In 1962, various U.S. governmental agencies proposed three very different paths for achieving an acceptably stable situation in Laos: One, put forward primarily by the Joint Chiefs, argued for a full-scale conventional military intervention — slugging it out with the Pathet Lao on the battlefield — yoked with the bombing of North Vietnam; this was essentially the same plan the JCS tried in Vietnam. A second proposal put forward primarily by the CIA and the Special Forces,[11] argued for a counterinsurgency solution, since it seemed to be beginning to work. And last, the diplomatic community argued for a negotiated settlement that would somehow harmonize all the major factions, turn Laos into a safe, "neutral" country, and secure the withdrawal of foreign military support. This last was the solution that was adopted, and it was codified in the Geneva Accords.

It's no surprise that the United States complied with the Accord's terms and withdrew its military forces, nor is it a surprise that North Vietnam (though a signatory) paid no attention to them. The Ho Chi Minh Trail was already far too vital to the success of its campaign against the South.

This situation continued for the remaining years of conflict in Southeast Asia. Though the United States "cheated" a little, and now and again "attacked" into the North Vietnamese border sanctuaries in Laos (and Cambodia), political and diplomatic constraints blocked the major military operations that might have ended the Trail's usefulness to the North Vietnamese. Meanwhile, the North Vietnamese never stopped expanding the Trail and making it more secure.

VIETNAM

Before turning to the role U.S. Special Forces played in Vietnam, it's helpful to review the United States' military involvement there and how the strategy for countering the Communist threat evolved.

United States military involvement in Vietnam actually goes back to 1950, shortly after the outbreak of the Korean War, when the Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG) was formed. This initiative resulted from a Joint Chiefs of Staff belief that Indochina was the key to holding Southeast Asia against the Communists. In those days, the MAAG's mission was relatively small — mainly liaison with the French, who were then deeply involved in fighting Ho Chi Minh's insurgents.

During the years following French withdrawal, however, when the Viet Cong gain in momentum began to place South Vietnam at great risk, the primary responsibility for the security of South Vietnam fell to the United States. No one else was eager to take the lead.

As a first step toward meeting this responsibility, the National Security Council (NSC) directed the JCS to develop a Vietnamese Defense Force capable of providing internal security. The JCS determined that a force of approximately 89,000 would be required; the mission of designing and training this force was passed to the MAAG.

In December 1954, the MAAG chief, Lieutenant General John W. O'Daniel, and the Vietnamese Minister of Defense agreed to an Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) force structure that called for the creation of three territorial and three field divisions. The territorial divisions consisted of thirteen locally recruited and trained regiments that would assist civil authorities with internal security operations. The field divisions were designed to be more "strategically mobile," and specifically to provide defense against an invasion from the north until reinforcements from the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) could be rushed to the scene.

Over the next five years, this force structure changed considerably. Under MAAG's direction, the ARVN evolved to a conventional force that mirrored the structure and methods of operation of the U.S. Army. In 1955, the National Security Council raised ARVN's manpower allocation to 150,000; MAAG then scrapped the three territorial divisions in favor of six new light infantry divisions, which were similar to American divisions and no longer regionally oriented. Another field division was also added, bringing the total number to ten (six light and four field). By 1959, the light divisions had been further transformed into standard heavier infantry divisions, and the field divisions had become armored cavalry regiments.

Meanwhile, the Viet Cong insurgency in South Vietnam continued to grow. Civil authorities were increasingly overwhelmed, and the ARVN was more and more called upon to assist in counterinsurgency. MAAG's mission, once simply to design and train the ARVN, now included recommending a strategy for employing those forces against the insurgents.

In 1960, Lieutenant General Lionel C. McGarr assumed command of MAAG. Faced with the formal establishment of the National Liberation Front that year, and the activation of the Peoples' Liberation Armed Forces, McGarr and MAAG began to develop a counterinsurgency plan for 1961. The plan focused primarily on offensive operations designed to destroy guerrilla forces in the field. The objective was to "find, fix, and destroy the enemy." This was even before President Kennedy blessed other, more unconventional approaches to counterinsurgency.

In spite of the growing involvement of MAAG and the ARVN in counterinsurgency operations, the guerrillas continued to gain strength, and Viet Cong infrastructures and control increased rapidly, especially in rural areas where the government had little presence or influence.

In response to the worsening situation, the Joint Chiefs of Staff sought to upgrade MAAG. In November 1961, they proposed the creation of the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam, and on February 8, 1962, MACV was activated under the command of General Paul Harkins.[12] MACV's mission was the same as its predecessor's: to "assist the government of South Vietnam in defeating the Communist insurgency"; and it took the same operational approach: to destroy the enemy's field forces through large-scale operations. MACV doctrine and tactics were also conventional: making extensive use of helicopters and air mobile operations to attempt to surprise and "fix" guerrillas.

The MACV approach was not totally conventional, however. During that time MACV also attempted a pacification program (a kind of heavy-handed civil affairs operation), and in January 1962, the "Strategic Hamlet Program" was initiated. This program grew out of two distinct plans: The first had been proposed by MAAG before the activation of MACV; the other (the one preferred by the regime of South Vietnam's President Diem) had been proposed by the British Advisory Team, headed by counterinsurgency expert Sir Robert Thompson.

At that time, the insurgency had been building for approximately six years, and the six provinces near Saigon had become Viet Cong strongholds with well-established infrastructures — an obvious threat to the capital. In MAAG's view, the government had little choice but to start clearing the areas closest to home. Thus, the MAAG plan would begin with the pacification of the six provinces closest to Saigon.

MAAG's target date for the pacification of these provinces, as well as Kontum Province (approximately twenty miles to the north), was the end of 1961. Once that was accomplished, the priority would shift to the Mekong Delta and the Central Highlands; the rest of the country would follow. The target date for the pacification of the entire country was the end of 1964.

The plan proposed by Thompson and the British was based on the successful British counterinsurgency in Malaya and was focused on the implementation of strict security measures by the civil guard and the self-defense corps. They proposed to launch it initially in an area of weak VC activity, not the insurgent strongholds in the provinces surrounding Saigon, and with the ARVN playing a supporting rather than a leading role.

The final result, the Strategic Hamlet Program, was a compromise between the two plans. It consisted of three phases:

In the first phase, intelligence would be gathered concerning the area targeted for pacification, and the political cadre expected to administer the area would be trained. The second phase called for large-scale ARVN sweep operations in the target areas, aimed at driving out Viet Cong guerrillas. In phase three, the ARVN would hand over control of the areas to the civil guard and the self-defense corps, who would establish permanent security. At the same time, much of the local population would be forcibly resettled in fortified villages, where they could be presumed to be safe from attack.

MACV hoped that all this would somehow win over the hearts and minds of large numbers of rural Vietnamese.

On March 19, 1962, the Strategic Hamlet Program began with an ARVN sweep, code-named "Sunrise," through Binh Doung province north of Saigon. The operation was not a rousing success. The area of the sweep was close to Viet Cong support bases and heavily infested with VC. That wasn't a problem for the ARVN troops, but it turned out to be very difficult for the civil forces whose mission was to follow up and root out the VC infrastructure. After the ARVN forces conducted the sweep, the troops left, but the sweep operation had neither destroyed nor neutralized the existing VC infrastructure. This job was left to the civil forces, who simply could not do it.

Meanwhile, the local peasants were taken from their homes and the land they farmed for a living and forced into tin huts in euphemistically named "strategic hamlets," that were in reality refugee camps. The population resettlement left these people feeling more alienated from the regime, rather than less.

Despite complaints from U.S. advisers, not only were these failures repeated as the program grew, but no serious attempts were made to fix them. MACV's focus was on military operations to destroy the guerrilla forces, not on long-term pacification, the program's supposed purpose. Thus the Strategic Hamlet Program never had a unified command structure; and MACV, always primarily interested in the military sweep operations, continued to provide little support to the civil guard or the self-defense forces, whose mission was long-term security.

The South Vietnamese government, meanwhile, blatantly falsified reports: Less than a month into the program, for example, the government claimed more than 1,300 operational fortified hamlets; six months later, the number was 2,500; and when Diem was assassinated in November 1963, less than two years into the program, the total number of hamlets reported was more than 8,000. Most of these were fortified on paper only.

MACV made no serious attempt either to challenge the Vietnamese assertions or to correct the situation on the ground.

THE CIA AND ARMY SPECIAL FORCES

The Strategic Hamlet Program was not the only attempt at pacification. In late 1961, Army Special Forces began to implement the CIA-conceived Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG) Program, whose goal was to deny the VC access to food, supplies, recruits, and intelligence in the Central Highlands of Vietnam — and, it was hoped, to block or at least severely hinder NVA access into Vietnam from the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

The Highlands were inhabited primarily by an assortment of minority groups and primitive tribes going under the collective name of Montagnards — Mountain People (the name was supplied by the French) — though other minority groups and tribes lived in other out-of-the-way parts of the country, having long ago been driven out of the more fertile lowland plains by the Vietnamese (many of these other groups also participated in the CIDG). As in Laos with the Meo and the Kha, the Montagnards and other such groups were held in contempt by the Vietnamese, who thought of them as savages. The Vietnamese government was never enthusiastic about turning Montagnards into a counterinsurgency force, since such a force might casily turn against any Vietnamese.

Because of these tensions, the CIDG program was at first run solely by Americans — specifically the CIA and Special Forces — and was only loosely connected to the Strategic Hamlet Program. Although the program was conceived and funded by the CIA, the task of designing a specific strategy and implementing it fell to Special Forces. In November 1961, two Special Forces A-Detachments were deployed from the 1st Special Forces Group in Okinawa to begin the program.

The strategy developed by the SF, called the Village Defense Program, was simple and defensive in nature:

The A-Detachments would locate themselves in an area, win the trust of the people and local villages, and begin to prepare simple defenses. They would meanwhile recruit and train men from local villages with the aim of forming a small paramilitary "strike force" designed and trained to provide the villages with a full-time security force. They would provide reinforcements to villages under attack, patrol between villages, and set ambushes for the VC.

Once the SF had established an effective strike force, they would begin to organize and train "village defenses." These groups received basic training in weapons handling, were taught to defend and fortify their own villages, and fought only when their own village was under direct attack. Each village was provided with a radio, which allowed them to contact the SF teams and the strike force for reinforcement in the event of trouble.

Once the village defenders were established, the SF teams supervised programs to improve the quality of life for villagers. They established infirmaries and provided minor medical treatment, constructed shelters, improved sanitation, and generally helped in any way they could. As soon as a mutually supporting cluster of villages had been established, the process began all over again, and the perimeter was pushed out farther to include other villages.

The success of the two A-Detachments was extraordinary, and by April 1962, forty villages in Darlac Province had voluntarily entered the program. In May 1962, eight more teams were sent from Okinawa to Vietnam, and the success continued. In July, the CIA requested sixteen more SF teams, and by August, approximately two hundred villages were participating in the program. Overall, the Special Forces defensive strategy, focused on denying the Viet Cong access to the indigenous population and the resources they could provide, was working very well.

It differed markedly from the Strategic Hamlet Program in that it was able to provide an effective presence, and it involved no forced resettlement.

MACV TAKES CHARGE

As the size, scope, and effectiveness of the CIDG continued to grow, it became doubtful whether the CIA had the personnel and resources to manage the number of SF troops involved. Washington therefore decided to switch control of SF operations from the CIA to MACV. The transfer (called Operation SWITCHBACK) was completed in July 1963. Once MACV was in command, both the missions assigned to Special Forces and the execution of the CIDG program began to change.

The change was for the worse. MACV understood neither the nature of special operations nor the special requirements of counterinsurgency.

For starters, MACV viewed SF involvement in the CIDG program as "static training activities," and felt the Special Forces would be better used in more "active and offensive operations." As a result, Army SF were largely removed from their role in administering and expanding the CIDG Program and were instead assigned to provide surveillance along the Cambodian and Laotian borders and to conduct offensive, direct-action missions against Viet Cong bases.

This mission change began in late 1963, and was completed near the end of 1964. On January 1, 1965, Colonel John Speers, the commander of the newly organized and established 5th Special Forces Group, issued a letter of instruction outlining the mission assigned to the group by MACV. These were "border surveillance and control, operations against infiltration routes, and operations against VC war zones and base areas." All of these missions clearly reflected MACV's offensive strategy and focused on finding, fixing, and destroying the enemy forces in the field.

In order to free up U.S. Special Forces for offensive operations and border surveillance, the responsibility both for administering the CIDG program and for training strike forces and village defenders was transferred to the Vietnamese Special Forces (LLDB). Unfortunately, the LLDB possessed neither the skills nor the leadership of their U.S. counterparts, and worse, they came equipped with the normal Vietnamese contempt for the minority populations on which the CIDG Program had focused. As a result, many gains made earlier in "winning" the population were lost.

In a further change, the government of Vietnam integrated the CIDG Program's strike forces into the ARVN, and MACV began employing them in an offensive role, for which they had never been intended.

Before long, the strike forces were being airlifted from one place to another, in support of Special Forces raids, surveillance missions, or conventional ARVN operations. In October 1963, MACV unveiled a plan to use CIDG strike forces, in conjunction with SF, to "attack VC base camps and interdict the infiltration of men and supplies from North Vietnam."

Removing the strike forces from their local area of operations and employing them in areas unfamiliar to them drastically reduced their effectiveness. This in turn not only weakened the mutually supporting village defense system of the original CIA-SF designed program, but without detailed familiarity with the local terrain, strike forces became little more than marginally trained infantry.

Partly to exploit the success of the program and partly to make greater military use of CIDG camps and villages, MACV tried to expand the program — and quickly. CIDG camps began to be located for strictly military reasons, without regard to political or demographic realities. For example, camps were set astride suspected infiltration routes or in areas of heavy Viet Cong or North Vietnamese Army (NVA) activity. Neither served the original purpose of population control.

Meanwhile, in spite of the best efforts of MACV, ARVN, and all the U.S. and Vietnamese government agencies involved, the situation in Vietnam worsened. By the end of 1964, the Viet Cong were conducting coordinated regimental operations. In early January 1965, the insurgents attacked and seized the village of Binh Gia, only forty miles from Saigon. In reclaiming the town, ARVN forces suffered 201 men killed in action, compared with only thirty-two confirmed VC killed. This event, and others like it, ultimately led to the commitment of U.S. combat troops to Vietnam.

The first U.S. division to be deployed as a whole was the 1st Air Cavalry Division. Once in country, in November 1965, it was immediately deployed to the Central Highlands, one of the areas of greatest VC strength, to begin search-and-destroy operations. They quickly encountered and attacked a large concentration of Viet Cong and North Vietnamese in the la Drang Valley. The battle resulted in 1,200 enemy killed in action, with the 1st Cav losing only a comparatively small 200. This success reinforced the Army's belief that attrition was an appropriate strategy. The victory also reinforced MACV's conviction that North Vietnam was behind the insurgency (though North Vietnam troops were not actively involved until the United States itself began sending regular troops).[13]

More U.S. troops followed, in ever greater numbers — and MACV continued its strategy of attrition, supported by the application of maximum firepower, until U.S. troops began to be withdrawn from Vietnam.

CARL STINER

The Army sent Carl Stiner to Vietnam in 19 e tells us about his tour there.

Stiner:

I completed the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth in mid-June 1967, and was given a couple of weeks' leave to resettle my family (in Columbus, Georgia) before heading to Vietnam.

Half of my class had already served there; the other half was now going. Four of us, all close friends and all majors (though one was on the list for lieutenant colonel), had been assigned to the 4th Infantry Division.

We flew on a commercial chartered flight with something like two hundred other replacements, and arrived about dark at Long-Bin, the Army replacement center just outside Saigon. By midnight, after we'd been in-processed and issued our personal combat gear, and had received briefings on the general situation and the threat, we and over a hundred other replacements of all grades were loaded onto a C-130 and headed for drop-off at our respective unit locations.

Aboard the C-130, we sat on our duffel bags and held on to cargo straps stretched across the fuselage about sixteen inches off the floor. The 130 landed three or four times before reaching Pleiku in the Central Highlands, where the 4th Infantry Division Headquarters and its main support base were located, arriving just before daylight. We continued to in-process, and we received our specific unit assignments. All four of us ended up in the 1st Brigade, located at a firebase named Jackson's Hole near the Laotian Border. We were then given detailed briefings on the tactical situation in the 4th Division area of operations, and were issued weapons and ammunition. During our brief stop at Division, we had time for a welcome hot breakfast, where we were joined by a couple of staff officers who gave us a heads-up on Colonel Richard "Zoot" Johnson, our brigade commander at Jackson's Hole. We learned that Johnson was an impressive man — part Indian, a tough warfighter, and a totally dedicated "no-nonsense" officer. We looked forward to serving under him.

At 1500 hours, the four of us boarded a UH-1 (Hucy) and headed about twenty-five kilometers west to Jackson's Hole.

During our in-briefing, we had been told that an intense battle was under way involving a battalion of the 1st Brigade and a suspected NVA regiment: suspected, because when the first shots are fired, you don't really know the nature and size of the enemy unit; as the battle develops, it soon becomes apparent what you are up against.

As we approached the firebase, we could see several artillery batteries firing in support of the engaged battalion. To keep out of their way, we flew through a designated "safe-fly corridor." After landing, we were ushered into a bunker, where we were told that Colonel Johnson wanted to talk to us before he made our assignments, but he was up taking part in the fighting and might not be back before morning. We were then given a C-ration meal and briefed on the current battle.

It later became clear that Colonel Johnson would not return that night, and we were told we might as well get some sleep. Sounded good to me; we hadn't had much since leaving the States. We rolled out our air mattresses and poncho liners on the dirt floor of the bunker, but didn't get much sleep: A 155mm artillery battery was firing directly over the bunker. Every time it fired (all night long) dirt fell right down on us out of the sandbags that had been placed on top of the bunker for overhead cover.

Soon after Colonel Johnson returned to the camp early the next morning, he sent his sergeant major to invite us to join him for breakfast. Meanwhile, the four of us had been discussing possible assignments. The three of us who weren't then up for promotion had agreed to ask for assignment as infantry battalion S-3's (operations officers). And we would recommend the fourth, Major(P) Maurice Edmonds, for the brigade S-3 job. Since Edmonds was about to be promoted, he was most deserving of higher responsibility. Owing to our training at Leavenworth, we all felt competent to do any job, but we wanted to be operations officers, which was in keeping with our backgrounds.

Over breakfast, Colonel Johnson welcomed us to the brigade, and then told us that he had checked our records a couple of months earlier and had picked us for the exact assignments that we wanted.

Before we left for our units, "Cherokee" (Johnson's call sign and the name we came to call him) gave us some serious advice and guidance:

"We are operating in NVA country," he told us. "They are good fighters and must be respected as such — a heck of a lot tougher and more capable than the VC, which are few in this AO [area of operations]. You can expect to encounter, and be attacked on short notice by, regimental-size units — and you must always be prepared for such action.

"Therefore:

• "All air assaults should be supported by a substantial and sufficient artillery preparation of the LZ [landing zone].

• "Never maneuver a single company by itself. Always move two together. [A month before our arrival, the 173rd Airborne Brigade had lost the greater part of two companies moving separately into an NVA ambush at Dak To.]

• "Never occupy a night defensive position with only one company. One company cannot last the night against a regimental-size attack. But two with appropriate artillery fire support can.

• "Always have rifle companies reach night bed-down locations in sufficient time to dig defensive positions and register their DEFCONs [defensive fire concentrations] with every artillery unit in range before darkness.

• "Leave night bed-down locations before daylight and at varying times so as not to establish a pattern. And always recon by fire before starting your movement — just in case the NVA has moved in around your position during the night."

This sage advice reflected not only Johnson's tactical proficiency and competence, but also what he had learned in fighting the NVA. It proved very beneficial to us in fulfilling our responsibilities in our days to come.

Before I move on to my unit, the 3rd Battalion, 12th Infantry, I'd like to give you a general overview of what we were facing. But please be aware that as an infantry major, I had very little knowledge of the overall strategic situation in which I found myself. My focus was very simple: to take the fight to the enemy, and to win every battle with minimum loss of life to our troops.

I can point out, however, that our position set us athwart one of the major funnel outlets for the Ho Chi Minh Trail, which explains the predominant presence of NVA rather than Viet Cong forces. The Trail had "exits" and troop staging and resupply facilities in the vicinity of the most strategically important locations. Dak To was one such location. Our mission was to deny the NVA control over this area. If we had failed to put the cork in that bottle, disaster would have soon followed. The NVA could have taken control of the Central Highlands carly in the war.

I didn't have to go more than a couple of hundred yards to join my unit.

The previous year, the 4th Division had deployed as a unit from Fort Lewis, Washington, and had suffered quite a few casualties during its first year in Vietnam. Replacements had been received and integrated into my battalion throughout the year, but now it was time for the original members to complete their tour and return home. When they left, the battalion would be down to about fifty percent strength, requiring a large number of replacements (officers, NCOs, and new enlisted men) and an intensive training program to bring the entire battalion back up to combat proficiency. Most new replacements had never met one another; all of them would have to be trained and integrated into the battalion.

A fourth rifle company was also added to each battalion in order to increase its overall effectiveness.

For a month, my new unit, the 3rd Battalion, 12th Infantry, was given the mission of firebase security for the brigade headquarters. The battalion was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Pat Volmer.

Because it was my responsibility as the battalion operations and training officer, I quickly developed a training program, which was blessed by Lieutenant Colonel Volmer. As a first step, officers and NCOs with the most experience in Vietnam were cross-leveled between companies within the battalion to create a common base of experience, and within a couple of days the program was under way.

The area around Jackson's Hole turned out to be an ideal environment for training, since just about every day each unit was likely to experience some form of low-level enemy activity — sniper activity or maybe a mortar round near where they happened to be — just enough to let everyone know they were involved in serious business.

The battalion recon platoon consisted of only twelve men. Its normal modus operandi involved insertion of four-man teams for a four- or five-day mission. During this time they'd observe and report, but would call for extraction if there was any risk they'd become decisively engaged. This method of operation tended to leave a large time gap between their observations of enemy activity and any possible successful response to it.

I had a somewhat different concept, which I tried out on the battalion commander, and he approved. The concept was to reorganize and train a much more capable platoon, which would function like Rangers; they would set ambushes rather than just observe and get extracted. Once the ambush was sprung, we would react immediately with on-call preplanned artillery and mortar fire, followed by the insertion of (minimally) a rifle company. This new platoon consisted of four squads of nine men each. Each squad was organized as two M-60 machine gun teams, and every man was armed with an antipersonnel claymore mine. This concept proved to be extremely effective — and the new platoon suffered very few casualties.

After six to eight weeks of day-and-night intensive training, we completed the program. We then deployed by helo to an area called VC Valley, which was located about forty kilometers east of Jackson Hole and fifteen kilometers south of An Khe (the 1st Cav Division main base).

VC Valley was a remote, desolate, and sparsely populated area, surrounded by very high mountains and controlled by an NVA cadre of squad-and platoon-size forces (its inhabitants had been impressed into growing crops for them). Our mission was to "clean it out" — an ideal mission for a newly formed and trained battalion, because the occupying NVA forces were present in only small units. In fact, the enemy did not turn out to be the biggest challenge there. Instead, it was the infection caused by the bite of a small green mite, which left boil-like sores that wouldn't heal. Everybody had them.

While conducting our operations, one of our rifle companies discovered a "lost tribe" of about 500 people living in carved-out caves in a mountain-side — together with their chickens, pigs, monkeys, and water buffalo.

The Vietnamese government decided to evacuate the tribe to the Edep E Nang Refugee Center, a large camp near Pleiku, made of several hundred tin buildings. One problem: The people refused to leave without their animals. They agreed to be flown out only if we would load the chickens, pigs, and monkeys on board with them, and we had to promise to bring the water buffalo later.

Just about every Chinook (CH-47 twin-rotor helicopters) in the division was tied up for four days on this operation. And the water buffalo required special treatment. They were too mean and unpredictable to risk internal loading and hauling inside aircraft. They had to be captured, tied in cargo nets, and then sling-loaded underneath Hueys.

The battalion commander saddled me with this mission, probably because I grew up on a farm. I selected eight of our best "cowboys" and developed a technique that worked. We'd spread a cargo net on the ground and land a Hucy on it. Then as the chopper lifted off to chase the water buffalo, eight "cowboys" would sit four on each side, holding the cargo net. When we were directly over one, and about five feet above its back, we'd drop the net on the buffalo, the chopper would quickly move to one side and a little lower to the ground, and we would jump out, pull the net around the buffalo, and wrestle him to the ground. Then we'd tie his legs together and arrange the net for sling-loading. Once all this was done, the Huey could fly to the refugee center with the buffalo slung underneath.

After three days, we had caught something like thirty buffalo and reunited them with the lost tribe.

By then, the division commander, Major General William Peers, had learned of the "roundup" and shown up to personally observe the action. After he watched for a while, he observed that it was the most entertaining and daring rodeo operation he had ever seen, but allowed that we had perhaps returned enough water buffalo to the lost tribe, and terminated the operation.

The successful accomplishment of the mission came at the expense of two broken arms, a broken leg, and multiple bruises. Morale was high, and I'm sure that everyone involved in the "roundup" who completed their tour will have told their children and grandchildren all about it.

After three weeks, we had also successfully accomplished our main mission of "clearing out VC Valley." We had killed, captured, or driven out NVA cadre, and destroyed all their training devices and supply storage facilities.

Near the end of October, we were ordered to move to Dak To to relieve the 2nd Battalion (Mechanized) 8th Infantry — a two-day operation involving a helicopter extraction back to Pleiku, followed by a convoy move some forty kilometers to the north. We arrived as planned at 1400 hours, which would allow the battalion we were relieving enough time to reach Pleiku before darkness. The move was uneventful.

Until recently, Dak To had been the home of a Special Forces A-Detachment, which had moved about fifteen kilometers west to a newly established campsite called Ben Het. Ben Het was only about six kilometers from the triborder area where Laos, Cambodia, and South Vietnam came together, and set astride a major infiltration artery of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. A single dirt road led from Dak To to Ben Het, and a key bridge located about midway had to be kept secured.

Dak To itself was nothing but a name; it had no facilities, no nothing, except for a short asphalt airstrip. The closest village, Tan Can, was a mile to the east; a provincial headquarters and a small U.S. advisory detachment were located there. We established our "firebase" alongside the Dak To airstrip and the road that led from Konthum to Ben Het. There was no other choice.

When we arrived at Dak To, we were greeted by the 2nd Battalion, 8th lnfantry, lined with all their armored personnel carriers and other vehicles ready to go to Dragon Mountain (the 4th Division base at Pleiku). One of their mech platoons, however, still guarding the key bridge on the road to Ben Het, had to be relieved so they could rejoin their parent unit; and one of our own rifle platoons was dispatched immediately to relieve them.

We had already determined in advance the security we would have to get into position before darkness, and our teams and units were ready to assume their positions, but the other battalion was scheduled to pull out in about an hour. That didn't leave us much time to coordinate the final details of the relief operation, but everything worked out okay nevertheless.

Before the other battalion had moved out, I began to grow very concerned about the mountains to our south, which could give the NVA a significant advantage. The lower ridgeline, two or three kilometers away and a thousand feet high, was dominated by Hill 1338, which controlled the whole area, while the entire ridgeline was about eight kilometers long.

When I asked the outgoing battalion S-3 about the last time he'd had anybody up on that ridgeline, he replied, "You don't have to worry about that. Our recon platoon just conducted a sweep of that whole ridgeline a couple of weeks ago, and there's nothing up there but a lot of orangutan monkeys. And besides that, we dropped several Chinook-loads of fifty-five-gallon drums of persistent CS gas[14] in the valleys leading to the backside of those mountains. This should hinder any infiltration attempts. It's almost impossible to get through that stuff.

"You are really going to enjoy being the 'Lord Mayor of Dak To,' " he concluded. "It's very quiet up here, and too far away from division headquarters for them to bother you."

I did not share either his confidence or his judgment. On this same ridge, the 173rd Airborne Brigade had lost half of a battalion three months earlier. It was key terrain, if I ever saw it. Whoever controlled that ridgeline controlled the whole valley — the main avenue of approach all the way from the border to Kontum. Surely, if the NVA ever had designs on controlling the Central Highlands, they would most certainly occupy that ridgeline and Hill 1338. Why fool with the Special Forces camp at Ben Het if you could bypass it and occupy this dominant terrain as a location for your heavy-weapons firing positions?

The very next afternoon (even before I could get out to coordinate with the SF team at Ben Het), a critical piece of intelligence dropped in our lap when the rifle platoon securing the bridge captured an NVA recon team. We quickly learned through interrogation that they were from the 2nd NVA Division and had in their possession sketches of the division's operations plans for taking Dak To. Hill 1338 was to be the location of the division headquarters, while the ridgeline (which we came to call 1001) was to hold the main firing positions for their heavy weapons. And we were the main target: fish down in a fishbowl.

When I told the battalion commander that we'd better get a couple of companies up on that ridgeline, and fast, he agreed. "If you can get the airlift together," he told me, "we'll do it tomorrow afternoon."

Because our parent brigade headquarters had remained at Jackson's Hole, some seventy kilometers away, we had been put directly under the control of the 4th Division at Pleiku. That's the way it works when you are operating apart from a brigade that can no longer support you.

I contacted Division and requested and got ten Hueys and six gunships for the air assault. This would give us enough lift to put eighty riflemen on the ground in a single lift. But finding a good place to put them down again proved much harder. Only one small grassy knoll on the eastern end of the ridgeline would accommodate ten Hueys landing at a time. Everything else in the neighborhood was triple-canopy jungle. It's possible to clear a landing zone in that stuff, but difficult and time-consuming: much too difficult in the time we had. In that jungle, clearing an LZ just large enough to accommodate a single Huey would take a couple of days and several air strikes of 750-pound bombs and hundreds of rounds of 155mm and 8-inch fire. And besides, our only artillery was a 105mm battery with six tubes.

That meant we were forced to use the clearing for the air assault.

On October 28, 1967, at 1500 hours, C Company began the air assault. This was preceded by an artillery prep of the landing zone, consisting of about 150 rounds of 105mm howitzer fire. When the I Iueys set down, the LZ proved to be cold, and the first lift of eighty secured it, then waited for the second lift to arrive before they moved as a company toward the woodline.

The helicopters took about twenty minutes for the turnaround, and the second lift arrived with the remainder of the company. The lift was expected to continue until the second company (B Company) had also been inserted.

As soon as C company was complete, the company commander began his movement toward the woodline, which was about 100 meters away. Chest-high elephant grass provided good concealment for the formation. After advancing fifty meters inside the woodline, the point squad began receiving very heavy fire from a well-dug-in NVA position, which was concealed by spider holes with overhead cover. Although they'd been hit by artillery during the prep, they'd held their fire until the squad was inside their position, thus forcing C Company to temporarily pull back without reaching the woodline.

During the exchange, the NVA deliberately shot about half of the members of the point squad — one of their favorite tricks; they knew that U.S. forces would not leave their wounded or dead on the battlefield. Once the U.S. wounded were on the ground, the NVA would go back down into their holes to await the inevitable U.S. artillery barrage, which would be followed by the company's attempt to recover their casualties. As the company launched another attack, the NVA would attempt to shoot more, all the while holding the company forward of the NVA's main defensive position without compromising its true location. If the American attack had not been successful by darkness, the company would find itself in a very vulnerable position — not properly dug in to defend itself against an NVA attack — with the likelihood that the NVA would drag the U.S. dead and wounded off during the night (they carried body hooks for this purpose).

As a result of all this, B Company, now approaching the LZ, was waved off and returned to Dak To by the battalion commander, who was airborne and controlling the operation.

Meanwhile, the C Company commander had requested artillery fire on the enemy position, and the battalion commander had also requested immediate air strikes. After a couple hundred rounds of artillery fire, the company commander decided to make another push in order to try to recover his wounded personnel. This time he was able to reach the treeline before most of the company came under a hail of withering fire. It was now obvious that he was up against at least an NVA company and perhaps a well-dug-in larger unit.

Several flights of close support aircraft arrived shortly after that, and the airborne forward air controller began to put strikes on the enemy position. Afterward, C Company was able to advance far enough to reach the point squad and recover the dead and wounded.

During the air strikes, it proved possible to lift in B Company, and they were able to link up with C Company. By nightfall, and after hundreds of rounds of artillery and mortar fire and many more air strikes (including napalm), both companies had advanced approximately 300 meters inside the woodline, several NVA had been killed, and their position had been overrun, while our troops had suffered fifteen to twenty casualties. A couple of captured NVA soldiers revealed during interrogation that they were part of a battalion of the 2nd NVA Division. Their division had moved into the area two to three weeks earlier and now occupied the lower ridgeline.

Throughout the night, we continued to defend our two companies with close artillery support, while at the same time pounding the area farther down the ridge with air strikes and artillery fire. Throughout the night, periodic enemy mortar fire was received from Hill 1338, which dominated the ridgeline. This was the terrain over which our two companies would have to advance the next morning.

Before movement began the next morning, October 29, it was decided to send a recon patrol up Hill 1338 to determine if it was occupied. Before they'd gotten a third of the way up, the patrol was pinned down by enemy fire, but they were able to disengage and returned to report that the fire was coming from an enemy position constructed with concentric and interconnecting trench lines.

Based on this report and contact the previous evening, it was obvious that we were up against more than a battalion of NVA — and maybe a regiment. All this information was reported to Division, along with our assessment that reinforcements were definitely needed: All indications were that a major battle was in the making.

In the meantime, the best thing our battalion could do was get a third company up on that ridgeline and try to clear it far enough back to protect the airfield (where reinforcements would have to land) from direct enemy fire. While we were doing this, we could attempt to keep the NVA forces on Hill 1338 under control by fire until a major attack could be mounted against them.

Division bought our recommendation, and the next morning, October 30, the third company, A Company, was lifted up to the ridgeline. Throughout the day while the 3rd/12th pushed down the ridgeline, with two companies in the lead, advanced elements from the First Brigade, our parent brigade, began arriving, along with advanced elements from its other two organic battalions. Next day, the two companies pushing down the ridge were only able to advance a couple of kilometers, even with the assistance of continuing air strikes. Several very intense engagements were fought, some at very close range. (One sergeant won the Distinguished Service Cross when he used a shotgun with double-0 buckshot to fight off an NVA squad charging directly at the company command element.)

Searches of dead NVA revealed that some of them were carrying photos of girlfriends and canteens taken from soldiers of the 173rd Airborne Brigade that had been killed in that same area in June. These discoveries enraged our own soldiers, and increased their determination to make the NVA pay a high price for the Americans they'd killed earlier on this same battleground.

By late afternoon, the First Brigade headquarters had arrived, and they were now in charge. On the following day, another battalion from the First Brigade, the 3rd Battalion, 8th Infantry, had also closed. Convoys of heavy artillery (155mm and 8-inch) from Division were also on the way.

On November 1, the 3rd/8th Infantry was inserted farther down the ridgeline, a little farther to the south on Hill 837. This put them directly astride the infiltration route supposedly blocked by drums of persistent CS gas. During the insertion, the LZ was hot, and several soldiers were killed or wounded, including the battalion commander. Nevertheless, support from air strikes and helicopter gunships made it possible for the entire battalion to close at its new location before darkness. The 3rd/8th Infantry then found itself heavily engaged, under siege, and isolated from reinforcements for the next few days. They were unable to get replacements in or to evacuate its casualties and dead. Every helicopter that approached the LZ was either shot up or shot down.

During this period, their defensive perimeter was penetrated several times, leaving little doubt that the enemy's intent was to overrun and wipe out the battalion.

Finally, Arc Lights were brought in — flights of nine B-52 bombers dumping hundreds of tons of 500- and 750-pound bombs — and the siege was broken. This gave the battalion the opportunity to bring in much-needed replacements and to evacuate casualties (the dead had to be brought out in cargo nets slung underneath Hueys). The intensity of this action made it apparent that the 3rd/8th Infantry was likely facing another regiment-size unit from the 2nd NVA Division. In fact, the intelligence folks were saying that the entire 2nd NVA Division could well be deployed in those mountains, with the objective of taking Dak To and advancing farther down the road to Kontum. Success in this would give them control over the major routes leading through the Central Highlands, with a straight shot on to Pleiku. Once there, they'd control most of the Central Highlands.

Reinforcements continued to pour in, and by the fourth of November, three U.S. brigades, reinforced by twelve battalions of artillery, were fighting in the Dak To area. The battle for Dak To was turning into one of the largest and bloodiest battles of the war. It lasted until near Christmas.

Some of the heaviest fighting was still to come.

After clearing most of the ridgeline, our battalion was given the mission to seize Hill 1338. Our plan of attack called for A and C Companies to attack up separate ridgelines, with the Recon Platoon (approximately fifty soldiers) in the center and maintaining contact between the two companies. Operating under the assumption that the 2nd NVA Division headquarters was located there, we decided to place continuous artillery fire on the hill's summit. Our minimal hope was to neutralize its effectiveness until we could get to the top.

The attack itself turned out to be a trenchline-by-trenchline fight, lasting three days, day and night. The NVA had rung the entire mountain with interconnecting bands of trenches, dug six to seven feet deep. Inside the trenches, they'd carved out little seats of dirt so their soldiers could sit with their backs facing downhill toward the advancing companies. At each position was a case of 82mm mortar rounds. They'd take up a round, strike the fuse on the ammunition box, and fling the round back over their heads toward our advancing troops. It was literally raining mortar rounds.

These positions were so secure that artillery fire had little effect on them, unless a round by chance landed directly in one of the narrow trenchlines. The most effective weapon turned out to be napalm flown in by A-4 Skyraider propeller-driven airplanes. Skyraidcrs were slow, but very accurate, and the troops loved them. Much of the napalm was brought in "danger close" — fifty to one hundred meters in front of the advancing troops. This resulted in some casualties to our own troops — but by choice; the alternative was worse.

When we finally reached the summit, we discovered that a few of the NVA troops who remained there had actually been chained to trees to make sure they staved and fought. We also discovered that, sure enough, the 2nd NVA Division headquarters had been located there. By then, what was left of the division had withdrawn down the backside of the mountain into the valley, but the area was by no means secured.

One of the more memorable experiences during my tour occurred later that evening at the Dak To airfield. For several days, a steady stream of C- 130s had been landing day and night, bringing in unit reinforcements and ammo (one of them had already been destroyed by mortar fire), and I had gone down to meet and orient ten just-arriving replacements, about to go to C Company on Hill 1338—a pair of lieutenants straight out of Officer Candidate School, two new sergeants, and six privates. As they were off-loading from a C-130, a helicopter was also arriving, carrying a cargo net loaded with soldiers' bodies to a Graves Registration Collection Point near the C-130. There the casualties would be placed in body bags and then transloaded to the C-130. As the helo was maneuvering to set the load down, something went wrong and the load was accidentally dropped about eight feet onto the tarmac. The crunching of bodies and breaking of bones had to leave an indelible impression on the new replacements.

As soon as the helicopter moved off, I gathered the new replacements, welcomed them to the battalion, and gave them an orientation about on-and off-loading from a helicopter. 1 then wished them good luck and told them that when they arrived (after a ten-minute flight) they would be met and welcomed either by the company commander or, most likely, by the first sergeant.

Except for the two new lieutenants, and possibly the NCOs, none of them had met until three days earlier, when they'd been in-processed at brigade rear at Pleiku. There they'd received their orientations, drawn their gear, and zeroed their weapons. And now they were only ten minutes away from combat.

This was the way the replacement system worked in Vietnam. Replacements came in as individuals and not as units. In units, soldiers get to know each other well before they have to fight, and they develop relationships based on mutual respect, trust, and confidence — relationships that often endure a lifetime. Forming and completing training as a unit before commitment to combat is far more effective in every sense than an individual replacement system.

They reached their company on Hill 1338 and were integrated into its ranks as the company was preparing its night defensive positions.

Next morning, after dropping off much-needed ammunition, the first helicopter carried back the bodies of one of the two new lieutenants, a sergeant, and three of the privates to where they had arrived some twelve hours before. During their first night in combat they'd made the supreme sacrifice, even before they'd met all the members of their units.

The next day, as we swept over the ridge and down into the valleys that led to the backside, we found some amazing things: There was a swinging bridge, at least a quarter of a mile long, built underneath the triple-canopy jungle, so it could not be observed from the air. The NVA would use it to rush reinforcements back and forth between various battle positions. A dug-in hospital complex had been constructed along a stream in a valley on the backside of the mountain. It was so well-concealed that it was discovered only when a man from the point squad fell into a covered fighting position. A search of the area revealed complete underground operating rooms and enough body parts in a pile to fill a small truck.

We also learned that the NVA had taken far more casualties in the battle than the eighty or so that we'd taken in capturing Hill 1338.

About this time came the climax of another action that was part of the fight for Hill 1338: On an adjoining ridgeline about two kilometers to the west was a dug-in NVA gun position that for a few days had been shooting at the ammunition dump down at Dak To, so far without hitting it. From its "crack," we thought it was a 57mm recoilless rifle, well-concealed and protected in a cave. The gunner would fire only six rounds or so a day, obviously hoping he wouldn't be detected.

A reconnaissance patrol had been sent to the area where he was believed to be located, but hadn't found his position. For some reason he did not fire while the patrol was in the area. After that, brigade headquarters assumed the mission of neutralizing him; they leveled an eight-inch howitzer and fired directly at the shooter's position — but had no more luck than the recon patrol.

He continued to shoot, but not daily, and he varied the time on those days he did fire, then pulled the weapon back into the cave before counterfire could be placed on his position.

After a few days of this cat-and-mouse, he finally hit an ammo bunker filled with 155mm rounds — causing an explosion of something like 1,100 tons of various calibers of ammunition, including 8-inch and 175mm.

From my location on the 1,000-foot-high ridgeline, it looked and felt like an atomic explosion, with the mushroom cloud blossoming 1,000 feet above us.

A couple of moments after it went off, I called my Leavenworth friend, Maury Edmonds, who was still the brigade S-3, and said, "Maury, did you just get nuked? It looks like it from my location."

"I don't know what happened," he answered, "but there's eight-inch and 175mm unexploded shells lying all over this area."

The explosion was so intense that it caved in many of the bunkers, and it took days to clean up the mess, and several ammunition convoys to restock the ammo.

After the battle for Hill 1338, a lot of fighting was still going on throughout the brigade area of operation, and my battalion was given the mission to secure Hill 660, near the intersection of the Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnamese border. It also turned out to be a very hot area, and we continued to be involved daily in significant contacts until the twenty-seventh of December, our first day in a long time without enemy contact.

At this time some of the reinforcing units that had arrived at the beginning of the battle began redeploying elsewhere within the division area of operations. The First Brigade, with its three organic battalions, would now assume responsibility for the mopping-up operation, as well as security for the entire Dak To area of operation.

All our units had fought magnificently, and we were very proud of our accomplishments — essentially, thwarting the 2nd NVA Division's plans for taking control of the Central Highlands and the major infiltration route that would have permitted them either to cut Vietnam in two all the way to the coast or turn south toward Kontum and Pleiku.

I have never known a more dedicated and selfless group of men: men who were motivated for the right reasons and who were willing to lay their lives on the line for our freedom. We were fighting for what we believed in, what we thought was right, and 1 can never recall a time when a single soldier refused to fight or showed cowardice in the face of the enemy.

Near the end of the war, newspapers in the States carried stories of pot-smoking, rapes, and fraggings of officers and NCOs. None of that happened in my unit.

After the battle, the 3/12 Infantry received a Presidential Unit Citation for its accomplishments, and many individual soldiers received medals for heroism. When General Westmoreland visited our battalion around Christmas, he told us that our battalion had seen more combat than any other battalion in Vietnam.

IN retrospect I would like to emphasize our respect for the NVA soldiers. They were outstanding fighters, who had little material support beyond what they carried on their backs. They knew how to survive, and they were tough.

On the other hand, it's hard for me to understand the ways they chose to motivate their troops to fight. Or at least their ways were alien to our culture.

If they had one weakness, it was in their noncommissioned officers' corps. They neither trained nor trusted their NCOs with enough authority to exercise flexibility in reacting to changing battlefield situations. I'm baffled by a culture whose leaders will chain their troops to trees to make sure they remain in position and fight. It is equally hard to understand a culture where political indoctrination forms the basis for motivation.

Every NVA soldier carried in his combat pack a small bag of marijuana wrapped in plastic. Before each battle, the troops would assemble to hear a lecture by the political officer (one for each company). As part of this preparation process, everyone would smoke the marijuana. You could often smell the aroma a good distance away from their attack position, and you knew they were ready and coming when you started smelling it and started hearing the bugles blowing.

Once they'd launched, they stuck to their attack plan — without any obvious ability to change it — until they had either suffered so heavily they could not continue or had been ordered to withdraw.

During the Battle of Dak To of November and December 1967, we were involved in almost continuous daily fighting, yet we had inflicted heavy casualties on the 2nd NVA Division, forcing it to withdraw into their Cambodian and Laotian sanctuaries for refitting.

During this same period, the Special Forces detachments in the Central Highlands reaped the benefits of their Village Defense Program efforts to organize and direct the Montagnard tribesmen. Their outstanding work denied the Viet Cong supplies and recruits from the area tribes, and reduced the Viet Cong's capability primarily to small-unit activities such as occasional ambushes and weapons attacks.

The main threat, however, still remained: the NVA units using the Ho Chi Minh Trail to infiltrate into the "sanctuary" and resupply areas located in Laos and Cambodia, and from there directly into Vietnam, a one-night march.

In response to the change in mission assigned to Special Forces in 1965—"border surveillance and control, operations against infiltration routes, and operations against VC war zones and base areas" — most Special Forces camps had been relocated closer to the border near the main infiltration routes. Because their activities disrupted the NVA, they were prime targets. That meant in practice that they became vulnerable to attack by battalion- or regiment-size units at any time.

Two years earlier, there had been six SF A-Detachments (at Ben Het, Dak Pek, Dak Seang, Dak Sut, Poly Klang, and Plei Me) in what was now the First Brigade's operational area. All had been heavily involved in organizing and training the Montagnard tribesmen. But by January 1968, only Ben Het, Dak Pek, and Plei Me remained.

Although all of them had been well fortified, Dak Seang had suffered heavily during a three-week siege (all resupply had to be air-dropped), and the camp was closed. Dak Sut and Poly Klang, subjected to repeated attacks, had also been closed.

Two of the remaining three, Ben Het and Dak Pek, were close to the border astride major infiltration routes. Their exposed location made them very vulnerable. The A-Detachment at Plei Me was in better shape, since it was in a much less threatened location.

Ben Het, fifteen kilometers west of Dak To, and only ten kilometers from the triborder area, was a typical SF camp: heavily fortified bunkers with interconnecting trench lines; observation towers; rows of concertina wire fencing, interspersed with Claymore antipersonnel mines; fifty-five-gallon drums of phu gas (napalm); and a short airstrip — too short to accommodate aircraft larger than C-7A Caribous.

Two batteries of 175mm howitzers had been positioned there for support of SF teams operating across the border against NVA infiltration and base areas. A U.S. infantry company had also been placed there for additional security. With maximum charge (110 pounds of powder), the 175s could hurl a 500-pound high-explosive projectile thirty-six kilometers; they were highly effective against targets discovered by the SF teams.

Several ammunition convoys a week (including tanks for protection against ambush) were necessary to resupply the 175mm howitzers. That meant the road to Ben Het had to be swept at least twice a week for mines, with tanks covering the minesweeping teams.

Dak Pek was located on another major NVA infiltration route, forty kilometers to the north in no-man's-land. It was reachable only by air, and defended only by the A-Detachment there, mortars, and a contingent of loyal Montagnards. No U.S. artillery was in range.

Although these camps were located in our division's arca, MACV had primary responsibility for their security (most of their support actually came from the 5th SFG). Our division commander, Wajor General William Peers, was neither in the SF chain of command nor responsible for the security of the camps. Even so, he recognized their vulnerability and the valuable role they were performing against the NVA, and decided on his own to augment their support. Peers took his concerns to my brigade commander, Colonel Johnson, and told him to make sure they had all available support needed for their defenses.

By January 1968, after Maury Edmonds was promoted to Division G-3, I had moved up to become Brigade S-3 (operations officer), and so 1 got the job from Colonel Johnson to visit each camp once a week. There I would check their defenses to determine what ammunition and artillery support they needed (this would include establishing a fire-support channel with U.S. units within range), exchange intelligence information, and establish a communications channel for operations.

The day after the Colonel gave me the mission, I set out with the brigade aviation officer and the fire support coordinator to visit the two SF camps. For the next six months, I not only ran the brigade's operations, I was also closely involved with the Special Forces camps within the area.

The first time we showed up, the SF troops were initially a little stand-offish and apprehensive. I don't know why, but they probably suspected I'd come to find faults. But when I told them I had worn the Green Beret a little over a year earlier, had trained many of the teams now in Vietnam, and was now in a position to help them with "conventional support," they really opened up and welcomed us.

We went on to cheek their defensive measures as if we were in our own units, and except for mortar ammunition and preregistered defensive concentrations from artillery, we found them to be in pretty good shape (since Dak Pek was beyond artillery range, they had to be supported by air).

Though in the days ahead our visits proved mutually beneficial, our biggest payoff came from the exchange of intelligence information. I was very impressed with their operational activities against NVA infiltration; these had returned with intelligence information that might reveal future NVA plans for the area.

Both camps were reporting that their "border watch teams" had heard what appeared to be road-building activities near the border. If they were not mistaken, these roads were aimed in the direction of the camps at Ben Het and Dak Pck.

By mid-February 1968, aerial reconnaissance operations had confirmed their reports: The NVA were building roads under the triple-canopy jungle; they were already two to three kilometers inside Vietnam, and were headed toward Ben Het and Dak Pek.

In coordination with both camps, the First Brigade assumed responsibility for interdiction of the road-building operations. Soon, air strikes against both roads had succeeded in delaying but not stopping the construction work. Recon teams confirmed that the NVA was using a clever tactic to deceive us. They had left the bomb craters unfilled, leaving aerial observation with the impression that our bombing had made the roads unusable. And then, at night, they had built bypasses around the craters and camouflaged them with vegetation. This could be quickly removed when the roads were needed for large-scale movement of troops and equipment, and replaced.

The NVA were putting a lot of effort into possibly taking out a couple of remote SF camps. "Why?" we asked ourselves. And this led to a larger question: "What is the real purpose of these roads? Are Ben Het and Dak Pek the final objectives? Or are they just intermediate objectives for a much larger operation?"

The answer — or at least parts of it — came as a result of a major intelligence breakthrough in mid-March.

A youngArmy captain, commanding a radio research unit attached to the First Brigade, succeeded in breaking the code for the NVA ground tactical operations net. For the first time, we had reliable information about near-term NVA tactical plans — that is, we were not getting strategic intelligence about the NVA master plan for Vietnam, only operational intelligence concerning our particular area of operations. But this was accurate and very useful.

This information was so crucial and sensitive that it was safeguarded with the highest security. Only those who had an absolute need-to-know had access. We were afraid that Major General Peers would pull our captain and his detachment back to Division, but he didn't. Instead, he would fly out to Dak To every day for a personal briefing.

As an aside: For about thirty consecutive days, brigade headquarters had been receiving a daily dose of incoming fire every afternoon — sometimes thirty rounds of 82mm mortar, sometimes fifteen to twenty rounds of 57mm recoilless rifle fire, and sometimes ten to twenty rounds of 105mm GRAD rocket fire (we feared this the most; no bunker could stop a GRAD rocket).

The weapons and gunners had reinfiltrated the area where we had earlier fought the 2nd NVA Division, and the ammunition was hauled in from Cambodia by sleds pulled by elephants. The fire was becoming more intense and accurate every day, and it was obviously coming from more and more firing positions.

Through this new intelligence source, we learned that the gun crews coming into the area were being instructed to "shoot at the Texas flag."

Only one flag flew in the whole brigade base area. Sure enough, it was the Texas flag — flying on a twenty-foot pole above the sandbagged tent where the forward air controller slept (he was a lieutenant colonel from Texas). The tent was directly above and slightly behind the brigade tactical operations center, and provided a perfect aiming point. The lieutenant colonel was awfully proud of his flag, but it had to come down. It remained inside his sandbagged tent for the rest of his tour.

From this new intelligence we also learned (almost daily) which units they planned to engage with fire, the coordinates of their firing positions, and how many rounds they planned to fire. Accordingly, we planned our counterfires to impact their locations about two minutes before their scheduled firing times.

We also pieced together that Dak Pek and Ben Hct were both targets for major ground attacks, which would most likely be supported by armor. It was likely that Dak Pek would be hit in early April. Once it was taken out, follow-on units could move through the mountains to our north and take positions near Dak To and to our rear. From Dak Pek, they could also head south toward Kontum and on to Pleiku.

Ben Hct was to be knocked off in early May. Dak To would follow.

Though we didn't know it at the time, this plan of attack would turn out to be supportive of the major attacks of the 1968 Tet campaign — a long-planned and prepared-for NVA and Viet Cong offensive throughout South Vietnam, designed to inflict heavy casualties and damage and thus achieve a major setback for the South Vietnamese government and a worldwide propaganda victory. Tet accomplished those aims — even though the Communists actually lost Tet militarily. Afterward the Viet Cong were practically destroyed as an effective fighting force, and the NVA also took a huge hit. The first recognizable Tet attacks took place at the end of January, but the campaign continued for some months after that.

What we did know was that unless we prevented the fall of Dak Pek and Ben Het, we at Dak To would be cut off and fighting in both directions.

While day-and-night air strikes continued to pound both NVA road-construction operations, in early April the 5th SF Group decided to bring in a MIKE Force (composed of Vietnamese Rangers) to attack the road builders and their security battalion near Dak Pek.[15] Once that was accomplished, they would reinforce Dak Pek defenses.

The Rangers were lifted into Dak To by C-123 aircraft, then air-assaulted into the Dak Pek area by helicopters with gunship support. When they reached the area, they were almost immediately engaged by a superior NVA force. Two of their accompanying twelve-man advisory team (an Australian captain and a U.S. SF NCO) were killed during the first few minutes.

Faced with overwhelming firepower, the losses of key advisers, and heavy losses of their own, the Mike Force broke off the engagement, leaving the remainder of the advisory team there. We were able to extract that team before dark, together with the bodies of those KIA (the defenders of Dak Pek were not involved in the action, and remained in place at the camp).

It took three days for the disorganized and retreating remnants of the Mike unit to be assembled at Dak To and flown out.

It was obvious that the NVA would eventually lay siege to Dak Pek and was willing to pay a high price for the camp. As air strikes continued, Dak Pek was reinforced with an infantry battalion from the 1st Brigade, together with thirty preplanned Arc Lights (a total of ninety B-52 bombers), which would be employed when the attack came.

The attack came in early April — by an estimated NVA regiment supportedby tanks — but was unsuccessful. Our preparations had paid off. The few surviving NVA withdrew back to the sanctuary from which they had come.

Ben Het would come next, and we expected the same-perhaps even more, because this infiltration route had greater strategic value. If Ben Het could be knocked off, it was a straight shot over a major road network to Dak To, on to An Khe (the division base for 1st Cav), and then to the coast and Da Nang.

Two major pieces of key terrain dominated Ben Het: a hill to the west, and another to the east — each within supporting fires distance of the other. It would be awfully tough to take Ben I let without controlling both hills. The 3rd Battalion, 8th Infantry (reinforced), was given the mission to occupy these hills and defend Ben Het. The plan called for air strikes on the western hill summit to clear a landing zone, followed by an artillery prep, and then by the landing of two companies. Once this hill was occupied, the rest of the battalion would occupy the hill to the east.

When the first flight, carrying a rifle platoon, touched down, they immediately came under fire from an NVA force that had already occupied the hill. Artillery fire was shifted to the hill's western back side, while the remainder of the two companies were landed at its eastern base. By nightfall they had fought their way up the hill, driven off the NVA force, and linked up with the platoon at the summit. The eastern hill was occupied without incident.

For the next two days, the two hills would be developed into defensive positions, completely bracketed by the fires of five supporting artillery battalions.

Meanwhile, the 7th/17th Air Cav conducted daily screens to the west of Ben Het to detect infiltration. When it was detected, the plan was to stop it with artillery and air strikes. But things did not quite work out that way. In spite of thousands of rounds of artillery, 846 close-air-support sorties, and 99 Arc Lights — all during a three-week period in May 1968—Ben Het and the two hills were hit by three regiment-size NVA attacks.

At first light on the mornings after each of these attacks, the 7th/17th Cav would pursue and engage the attackers all the way to the border. As one Cav commander reported back, "The foot trails through the dust of the bomb craters are three, four feet wide, and many are covered with blood and dragged body trails."

The NVA never succeeded in taking Ben Het, and their casualties must have been enormous. Yet after each attack they withdrew to their sanctuary to refit and come again.

During this same period, several smaller NVA units were also discovered in the hills only a thousand meters north of the Dak To airstrip, and Arc Light strikes had to be brought in danger-close (within 350 meters of friendly positions) to neutralize them. Somehow, at least a battalion-size unit had managed to get through, because on the night of the main Tet Offensive, this unit attacked the South Vietnamese province headquarters located in the village of Tan Can one kilometer cast of the Dak To base complex. Supported by an Air Force gunship, the SF-trained CIDG defenders acquitted themselves well. At least 125 NVA bodies littered the clearing around the village.

During the Tet campaign, practically every unit in the 1st Brigade area of operations was attacked, yet not a single unit's defenses were penetrated, and the NVA suffered heavy casualties.

In retrospect, we can assume that the heavy fighting during the November-December '67 battle for Dak To and in the April — May '68 fight for Dak Pek and Ben Het had significantly reduced the 2nd NVA Division's capability to accomplish their part of the Tet campaign.

Though the NVA and Viet Cong suffered heavily during Tet, that did not break their will or change their designs on the Central Highlands. Nightly bombing did little to stop the convoys rolling down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Both the glow of headlights and the green tracers from NVA antiaircraft weapons were clearly visible from the firebases our battalions occupied.

During the next two months of my tour, hardly a day passed without significant contact with at least a company-size NVA unit, and there were two or three battalion-size attacks against our battalion firebases as well.

Twice a week, a resupply convoy — usually fifty to a hundred trucks escorted by military police, helo gunships, and tanks — would run from Pleiku to Kontum, and then on to Dak To. Even though the jungle had been cleared 100–200 meters on each side of the road, the convoy was often ambushed by at least a company-size force. Sometimes the fighting was so intense that the tanks would fire on each other with beehive rounds (flechette) to clear off the NVA.

I rotated from Vietnam in July 1968. While I was there, the 1st Brigade, together with the Special Forces teams and their Montagnard defenders, controlled and defended the Central Highlands, never losing a battle, and never abusing, violating, or oppressing the people there.

All of us who were able to come home felt that the cause for which we fought and sacrificed was worthy, justifiable, and right — our own freedom and the freedom of those we had been sent to defend.

I have the utmost admiration and respect for all with whom I was privileged to serve, especially the soldiers of the 1st Brigade and the Special Forces teams, and for their sacrifices and accomplishments in relieving the plight of the Montagnards. I also share their sorrow over the tragedies suffered by the Montagnards after U.S. forces were withdrawn. Though all Montagnards endured terrible retribution from the NVA — many were killed, and many others died in reindoctrination camps — the extraordinary and heartfelt efforts of the SF teams who served with them saved many others, who now live in the United States as productive citizens.

DEEP RECONNAISSANCE

Tom Clancy resumes:

Reconnaissance behind enemy lines is a traditional special operations mission — to put eves on otherwise hidden enemy activities. In Vietnam, because the enemy found it so easy to hide beneath triple-canopy rain forest or in tunnels, the need for deep reconnaissance was even more than normally pressing.

In the spring of 1964, MACV and the South Vietnamese Joint General Staff established a dedicated deep reconnaissance capability, called Leaping Lena, made up of CIDG and Vietnamese troops under U.S. Special Forces leadership. Its mission was to conduct critical, hazardous recon missions inside South Vietnam (though a few teams were also sent across the Laotian border against the Ho Chi Minh Trail, but with disastrous results). In October of that year, a control headquarters was established, called Detachment B-52, and the overall operation became Project Delta.

Throughout the war, Delta was involved in long-range reconnaissance against enemy sanctuaries and concealed enemy positions. This took many forms — reconnaissance-in-force missions (often using MIKE Force units), intelligence collection, directing artillery and air strikes, bomb damage assessment, rescue of downed pilots and allied prisoners of war, capture of enemy personnel in order to gather intelligence, deception missions, PSYOPs, photoreconnaissance, and many others — all deep within enemy territory. Teams would be inserted for several days, then brought out and debriefed. The program continued until 1970, when Detachment B-52 was deactivated.

Though Delta had a nationwide mission, other deep reconnaissance operations — Projects Omega and Sigma (Detachments B-50 and B-56) — had a more regional orientation. But their missions were otherwise very similar.

Deep reconnaissance across borders (into Laos or Cambodia, say) was by its nature a covert operation, and initially a CIA responsibility; but later it became a MACV-directed mission (though with some continued CIA participation), under what was called MACVSOG — the Military Assistance Command Vietnam Studies and Observation Group (it was called that for cover purposes). MACVSOG was activated in January 1964, and used Special Forces, Navy SEALs, Air Force Air Commandos, and Vietnamese to conduct covert and unconventional operations throughout Southeast Asia, but of course specifically against North Vietnam, the NVA, the Viet Cong, and the Ho Chi Minh Trail.[16]

MACVSOG was involved in a wide range of activities, not just deep reconnaissance. A great deal of effort, for example, was put into operations against North Vietnam: Agents were inserted, with the aim of setting up intelligence or resistance cells (most were captured soon after insertion and executed or turned). There were seaborne commando raids against the North Vietnamese Navy and North Vietnam's coast. There were psychological operations and dirty tricks. And teams were sent to observe the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Later, teams conducted raids against it.

Beginning in 1961, Special Forces personnel, under CIA direction, had been involved in cross-border surveillance into southeastern Laos. For the next two years, close to fifty teams sent over the border gave the Agency eyeball proof that the NVA had a strong and growing presence in Laos and were infiltrating at least 1,500 troops a month into South Vietnam. Between 1963 and 1965, for political reasons, this surveillance was halted. For those two years, Americans were not allowed to conduct cross-border deep reconnaissance against the Trail, allowing the NVA the opportunity to greatly build up and extend their facilities and capabilities. By 1964, it was estimatedthat at least 45,000 troops had infiltrated south, and the numbers were growing.

In March 1965—and after considerable struggle-the JCS finally convinced the Lyndon Johnson White House to allow MACVSOG to resume covert cross-border operations into Laos, with Special Forces personnel leading the teams. The SOG operational plan was ambitious (and just maybe workable). It had three phases: (I) Short-stay, tactical intelligence missions would identify NVA headquarters, base camps, and supply dumps. These would then be attacked by air strikes. This would be followed by (2) company-size raids against NVA facilities discovered by recon teams. This would be followed by (3) the recruiting, organizing, and training of local tribesmen living near the Trail to become the nucleus of long-term resistance movements against the NVA. This phase was based on the earlier — and successful — White Star Program in Laos. The overall aim of the plan was to interdict traffic on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

No one will ever know how well the plan would have worked. Using the preservation of the 1962 Geneva Accords as a reason, the State Department successfully opposed the implementation of the second and third phases, and severely limited the first.

The terms of the deal worked out with the State Department allowed teams into Laos to observe the Trail, but only a few of them could go in each month, their time inside Laos was extremely limited, they had to walk in (they couldn't use helicopters or parachutes), only a very small part of the border was open to them, and they could penetrate no more than five kilometers into the country (their area of operations was in all about fifty square miles). Targets that the teams identified could be bombed, but only after the American Embassy in the Laotian capital had approved the target, and the targets would have to be bombed by U.S. planes based in Thailand.

The man chosen to run this program was (by then Colonel) Bull Simons.

He quickly put together a field organization and headquarters staff, and recruited teams-usually three Americans and nine Vietnamese from one of the minority tribes, such as Nungs and especially the Montagnards.

The mission was to be totally covert, and the teams infiltrated into Laos were to be, in the jargon of the covert world, "sterile." That meant they wore non-American/non-Vietnamese uniforms that were made somewhere in Asia for SOG. The uniforms showed neither rank nor unit insignia.

In the fall of 1965, the first teams crossed the Laotian border; excellent results soon followed. After two years of unrestricted operations in Laos, the NVA didn't expect trouble. They'd gotten overconfident. SOG teams quickly identified truck parks and fuel depots, supply caches, bridges, and other storage sites. Air strikes were called in, with the BDAs (Bomb Damage Assessments) often claiming eighty to a hundred percent destruction.

Continued success resulted in expanded missions. Thus, in 1966, helicopters were allowed for insertion of SOG missions, though they could penetrate no deeper than five kilometers inside Laos. The team inserted could now, however, go another five kilometers on foot. In other words, the limit was now ten kilometers and not five. Missions would last up to five days.

Though the SOG teams' primary mission did not change — covert teams identifying targets on the Trail for air strikes — other missions came to be added, virtually identical to those conducted by Project Delta within South Vietnam:

Teams conducted BDAs, tapped NVA land communications, captured NVA soldiers to gain intelligence, rescued U.S. personnel who were evading or escaping capture, and inserted electronic sensors along the Trail to detect targets for air strikes. Thousands of seismic and acoustic sensors were placed, most of them by air, but SOG teams also carried many in on their backs. Larger teams came to be formed and used for conducting raids, ambushes, and larger-scale rescue.

In 1967, the depth of insertion by foot or by helicopter was allowed to grow to twenty kilometers; the size of the teams was allowed to increase, as was the number of teams per month (from a high of fifteen to forty-two); and Cambodia was added to SOG's area of operations (the NVA had significant facilities and operations there, including the main NVA headquarters in the south, called COSVN — the Central Office for South Vietnam). However, operations in Cambodia would be limited to reconnaissance, and missions were limited to no more than ten per month. There'd be no air strikes, no raids, no combat except to avoid capture. Teams were expected to avoid contact, and helicopters could only be used for emergency exfiltration.

Just as in 1966, SOG had much success in 1967. They'd caught the NVA napping. "For two years," Richard Schultz writes, Bull Simons and his "SOG teams had used surprise, diversion, deception, and operational deftness to outfox the NVA on the Trail." In 1968, that began to change. The NVA started countermeasures. The NVA's Laotian defenses "had become redundant, layered, and in-depth. Hanoi knew it could not sustain its war in South Vietnam without unfettered use of the Trail, and it took the necessary steps to defend it."[17]

The chief agent for this change was the Tet campaign, which consumed enormous quantities of supplies and enormous numbers of troops. The NVA had to have free movement on the Trail for Tet — and for the most part they got it — but they needed it even more after Tet. During the next two years, they exploited that strategic victory (though, to repeat, it was a tactical defeat). Tet convinced the White House (in both its Johnson and Nixon years) that the war in Vietnam was not winnable. The best outcome was thought to be a dignified withdrawal combined with help for our South Vietnamese friends.

Tet also had a number of practical consequences:

During the offensive, the SOG teams that would have been tasked for deep recon inside Laos and Cambodia were needed for fire brigade missions inside South Vietnam. Observation of the Trail suffered, of course.

Meanwhile — with characteristic ingenuity and common sense — the NVA were setting up their defenses. These were — characteristically — primitive, and terribly effective. As early as 1966, the NVA had placed spotters at high points (ridges or treetops) along the border to listen or watch for insertion helicopters. When helicopters were detected, the observers would communicate back to headquarters by radio — or by drums, bells, or gongs. Later, the NVA began to scout the possible helicopter landing zones — since there were only a finite number of these — and placed spotters to observe them. Antiaircraft weapons began showing up in ever-increasing numbers. (Lyndon Johnson's Tet-inspired bombing halt over North Vietnam released large numbers of personnel and equipment for expanding the Trail's security system.) Trackers began to hunt for SOG teams; they then coordinated their findings with follow-up military units. The NVA studied SOG operational patterns and methods (night movements, phases of the moon, and the like) and set up traps and ambushes. A very mobile, Ranger-like unit was formed to attack the teams. Spies in Saigon passed over plans and schedules to the NVA.

The consequences were predictable: Casualties during recon operations in Laos and Cambodia dramatically increased, while average team time on operations in Laos decreased from the Bull Simons goal of five days down to no more than two days. That was how long teams were able to avoid the NVA searching for them.

By 1970, the magic word out of the Nixon-Kissinger White House was Vietnamization. U.S. Forces would withdraw from Vietnam, white South Vietnam's forces would be given "all the help and support they needed" in order to take over the war. (It should not be forgotten that the American buildup had originally been justified as a way to give South Vietnamese forces time to grow strong enough to take care of their own war. That never happened.)

For the next two years, SOG recon teams continued to cross over into Laos and Cambodia. Large-unit incursions went into both countries to attack the Trail and the NVA command facilities located along it: In Cambodia it was a joint U.S. — South Vietnamese effort. In Laos, it was solely South Vietnamese — and a great disaster. Bombings came and went. The reconnaissance produced valuable intelligence, and there was considerable heroism, but the end game was in motion. The final moves were already determined.

In the spring of 1972, MACVSOG was disbanded.

Not many months after that, the NVA no longer needed the Ho Chi Minh Trail.