By:

Brian Pinkstaff

RECONDO RECON POINTMAN

“The Luckiest Point Man in the World!”

Recon Platoon, E.CO, 2 BN, 3^rd BDE, 60^th Infantry Regiment, 9^th DIV, US ARMY

Republic of Vietnam

 December 1968 – September 1969

“Pinky’s” Rule # 5.56

                                    As I walk point, I carry my CAR,

I scour the trail near and far,

My weapon is loaded with 5.56,

And I know the trail may conceal many “tricks”,

Such as Enemy, Explosives and Sharpened Sticks!!!

I trust my senses, and I know I’m FAST,

When I find the enemy, I’ll give him a BLAST,

If I don’t shoot first and best, then I’ll be DEAD,

So I’ll always make sure, to put one more in HIS HEAD,

Remember this and remember it WELL,

If you’re not the BEST, you’ll be shot or blown to HELL!!!

When the mission is over and you take five,

Always give thanks to GOD, that you’re still alive,

Back at Base Camp, you’re exhausted and tired,

So find the Hootch, the Club or the Bunker to get “unwired”,

For tomorrow it’s likely to start all over again,

Your face drawn tight and nerves razor thin,

Pray to GOD that’s it’s YOU, HE’S Chosen to WIN!!! 

AMBUSH: 11APR69, the Delta, Republic of Vietnam

BACKGROUND:

The last couple of months of my unanticipated shortened tour by Nixon’s withdrawal of troops in August of 1969, Recon’s operational effectiveness was so devastating to the enemy that “Contact” became a game at the time for us.  The enemy knew who we were, some by face and name, and called us “The Death Squad!”  Sometimes, they’d run in advance of when we came their way, if it was daytime and they could make us out.  We’d find fresh tracks, but often no VC!  When I asked why, our Tiger Scout Nugyen Hung said, “They see us come, they Didi Mau’d, they know we Cockadau them!”  To translate this means, “They see us come, they go quickly and they know we will kill them if we find them!”  Being an elite group of fighters like the “Green Faces and Berets” we had and still have “Dead or Alive” bounties on our heads.  That was definite proof of our “celebrity” status and we were proud of it! 

We were making a direct favorable impact on the war against our enemies whether psychologically and/or physically, just like they were trying to do to us.  

However, the people back home didn’t support us.  Others, though, that did not believe as the “protesters” did and all the free nations of the world, appreciate our individual suffering and sacrifice. 

America’s gut wrenching divisive actions and feelings stem from the debauchery of the treasonous acts of some very key and influential U.S. citizens.  1) Defense Secretary Mc Namara (Tonkin Bay lies) to start the war.   2) President Johnson’s lies to America with a No-Win strategy for “family” profit and pay back. 3) Former President Clinton worked for the behalf of and allied himself with North Vietnam.  4) Senator John Kerry’s use of lies, cowardice and other deceitful acts to protest the war by giving aid and comfort to the enemy through his treacherous conduct and his direct testimony against all US veterans. These actions immediately and negatively affected US policy in Vietnam and escalated the increased destruction of America’s soldiers and world freedom fighters. 4) The North Vietnam sympathizer and “show boat”, Jane Fonda who accomplished several treasonous acts including handing over Social Security Numbers and secret messages from our men, “prisoners of war in the famous Hanoi Hilton, North Vietnam” to the North Vietnamese prison guards.   Some of these men died directly and in extreme pain because of her actions.  Later, medals from the North Vietnamese government were awarded to her and now former President Clinton whose pictures hang in the “Communist Hall of Fame”.  Together, these treasonous people got us in, killed us off and then disgraced us for eternity.  Many still, here in the year 2007, turn their “back” and “close their hearts” to we veterans but that’s another story. 

I was obviously more than glad we were alive and well for the most part and to have done our job while total insanity ruled our world.  We were to fight and die but not win and then come home hated.  INSANE!

My unit was a “tip-of-the-spear” type unit.  As being the recon unit for a RECONDO (Reconnaissance/Commando) battalion, we were a “tip-of-the-spear” all the way to 9^th Division HQ.  We were his “mud turtles”.  As mentioned earlier, when I left Nam, the Delta was pretty clean of VC as documented in other books and printed material I have read.  I served in Vietnam from DEC68 – about SEP69 and was considered overseas for a total of 1 year 4 months and 2 days including my Hawaii assignment (DD214).  There will be more on Hawaii later.

“Point” was the tip-of-the-tip-of-the spear!  Although too scary and deadly for most, I loved this position for its challenge and I walked point a lot for my Recon unit during the timeframe from January until a very ‘significant’ 12 April 1969.  Following an enemy ambush on this date, we lost two of our senior leaders to severe wounds.  As a result, in Base Camp, there was an election held by the remaining men to decide who should lead us.   I was told I could not participate, see or hear the discussion and election.  When called to, I was asked, as a Sergeant E5, by the men unanimously to serve as Acting Platoon Leader/Sergeant until additional leadership was assigned to us.  Consequently, I had to relinquish my normal Point duty but was always ready to assist, advise or assume “point” depending on the situation.  Now, I was almost totally dependant on others’ abilities versus being in control myself up front.  I was uneasy.  It took some getting used to.  I was 20 years old.

I was called forward to Point though fairly often (if the situation warranted it or was “ultra spooky”) until around 12 August 1969 when we turned in our weapons and started assembling to return to “The World”, America.  Usually when called to the front, it was to make “sensing decisions” about the direction of travel or assessment of danger in order to minimize casualties and accomplish the mission.  Or, it could be a booby-trapped area or suspected/ “enemy advertised” YOU DIE (Tu’ Dia!) minefield and/or bunkers and such.  Walking across an open minefield by sensing the “hot” spots is not your everyday walk in the park.  I can recall at least 8 occasions.  This story can be about horror, humor or true wonderment.  Its perspective is for the reader/beholder.  For me, it is all those things and more.

For those that do not know, the “Point” position is the first person to typically walk into hostile and/or booby-trapped enemy territory.  Enemy territory was also completely around us, 24x7.  It could be military or private (terrorist) action involving bombs, booby-traps, human body-waves, suicide bombers (men, women, children and babies), animals, reptiles, poisoning, ground glass, diseased infection…and so on.

Booby-traps consist of Poisoned Pointed Stakes called “Pongee” stakes.  Pongee stakes were often tipped with human feces.  There were trip-wires tied to explosives, land mines, snakes and any other means to harm or kill you and/or others you can imagine.  Point is a VERY DANGEROUS place; you are the “tip of the spear”.  The Point man leads the rest of his unit and feels totally responsible for any harm that comes to his fellow members, even if it is remotely within or should have been in his sphere of influence.

Life expectancies at that time for point men were historically very short.  Sometimes, the average expectancy was only a matter of minutes.  Most of the time, it was usually measured in hours or just a few days.

Like I mentioned, I walked “Point” for Recon.  Our battalion was designated the “Go Devils” by German Field Marshall Irwin Rommel himself in Africa during WWII while he saw our guys chopping his lines to shreds quite quickly.  He said, “Look at those Devils Go!”  My place in this famed Brigade was being a member of the Reconnaissance platoon in this prestigious Recondo Battalion.

Recon.  What does that mean to you?  We were naturals.  We were Army.  We were all volunteers in Recon.  Rank meant little to us in the field.  Respect meant everything.  We were a camouflaged grease painted small unit that traveled fast and light.  For us, it meant we were on call 24x7 for any mission, anywhere against any size force in any weather.  What type of missions might we go on?  Army, SEAL & Green Beret missions such as: pilot rescue, invisible village election protection, prisoner acquisition, enemy movement monitoring and/or destruction, Search and Destroy, Jitterbug, general intelligence and ...  Sometimes, you could reach out and touch them and sometimes they were just inches from your head.  We operated day or night.  Land, Sea and Air.  When we went by land, we generally walked.  We operated with the Navy off of their PBR boats for river insertion, extraction and support.  We were recently authorized a Navy/Marine Corps medal.  These men were a great group of guys.  Any boat we rode on took superb care of us.  In a firefight or not, we were their first priority.  At times, they just couldn’t figure us out.  We weren’t “Officially” SEALS or Berets but we did the same type of missions.  As I said, we were naturals.  In the air, we rode the Huey slicks.  Some of us flew long enough to earn Air Medals.  We performed our missions along what I call “The Belt”.  That was an area that stretched from the South China Sea West into Cambodia.  Our primary Area of Operations was to the western half of the belt and our Secondary Area of Operation continued west through the Plain of Reeds and into Cambodia.  The Plain of Reeds area was “No-mans land” and was a “free-fire zone”.  There you are “free to kill” without trying to determine if the target was friend or foe.  If they weren’t yours, they were enemy!

It is my recollection that for the time period of January to April 1969, we led the division in legitimate body count.  We were only authorized a maximum strength of 23 personnel. When we went to the field, we had a maximum realistic strength of about 18 men as the others were generally wounded in the hospital.  This made for six 3-man “killer” teams, three 6-man teams or two squads of 9 and so on.  At times, there were resultant individual night missions for some of us.

We wore the elite “Tiger Striped” fatigues, camouflaged berets, special weapons, special equipment, ammo vests (mine held 25 magazines), smoke grenades, explosives grenades and concussion grenades. I carried no water, 1 can of Fruit Cocktail and 1 can of Tuna for emergency rations, a SCUBA Diver’s knife, dog tags (if not in “sterile” uniform) and any meds for the mission…  The Radio Telephone Operators (RTOs) carried the PRC 25 radio weighing around 30 pounds with battery.  M-60 machine gunners carried their weapon, a starter belt and some backup ammo.  M-79 grenade launchers carried the same for their weapon and bags of ammo and extra batteries.  Some carried Claymore mines and some carried LAWs (Light Anti-tank Weapons), Pop Flares and more…  Some of us, me included, wore no shirt, no socks and no underwear.  Since we were in the Mekong Delta, we were constantly wet so we tried to dry out as fast as we could by maintaining minimal clothing.  We wore no external body armor like our warriors do today.  Skin or one layer of clothing was our only armor.  The leeches would find their way through anyway.  “Jungle Rot” was prevalent.  Malaria pills were not used because they’d likely lead to a compromise your position due to a violation of “sound discipline” because of increased “potty” breaks due to diarrhea, which we seldom ever could afford to take or took.  Most carried no water due to the extra weight and the fear of violating “sound discipline”.  We mostly relied on the land for our food and rain for our water (stored rainwater in dry season).  For me, food consisted of whatever I could find (including the occasional rat, snake) or …

In the early days when I first met Hung, (Home) our Tiger Scout and we were out in the field.  He’d ask, “See Hootch?”  “Yes”, I’d reply.  Hung would say, “We go, girlfriend’s house!”  Hung always seemed to have a girlfriend in every hootch we’d break near.  Hung was a real playboy.  We were lucky to have him.  We’d go and share nourishment, refreshment while I gathered information.

Over time, I had sampled the countryside’s thoughts on the war by speaking with them through Hung and heard that it didn’t matter to them who was in power.  They had been fighting someone for these 1,000+ years!  I realized how fortunate we were as Americans and how hopeless this war was.  We won our units’ battles but there was no cohesive “win” strategy in the administration.  We were fighting for our lives but most Americans didn’t care!  Some hoped we’d die!  Not-to-mention, we (US) seldom kept the land we won and abandoned it which then went back to the enemy.  Life for the rice farmer did not matter what party was at the head of government.  The rice farmer always gave a percentage of rice production and life for them has never changed for them for over 1,000 years!  He didn’t care.  We weren’t making his life better.  We were staying alive.

Given the feelings of the Vietnamese that the war didn’t matter, they would be tempted to support their own like anyone else.  I felt fortunate for us that we had the flexibility to accomplish the mission and minimize casualties.  We could choose different azimuths or direction of travel.  We did not have to go in a virtual straight line like the Line Companies.  We had freedom of movement and we were committed elite killing professionals!  We were going to come back successful and alive!  There was no doubt.  I never heard or felt doubt being expressed in any manner.  If we couldn’t adapt and overcome to get it done, no one could!  It was then time to call in for fire and aerial support from any branch(s) of the services.  The support was EXCELLENT.  We had what I call, “007” license to kill and authorization to utilize any means necessary in order to accomplish the mission.  Life was at the razor’s edge.  We had all the ammo and explosives etc. we wanted but there was just one thing trying to stand in your way.  That was DEATH and in the end, only GOD can help you there!  And to think, I felt walking point with these guys was the safest place in Vietnam to be.  IT WAS!

Due to our killing efficiency, low casualty rate and varied types of successful missions, several of us have a price on our head today.  As far as I know, there was not one person I killed that was not the enemy.  We have nothing to be ashamed of.  We did do a lot of damage to the enemy and for that we are still “Wanted, Dead or Alive” as War Criminals!  The NVA and the Hanoi government do not remove this designation.  Up to this time, I have considered any risk to be very low although at times my senses are alerted.  I know we will not go back.

No, we did not commit atrocities.  We fought with honor and bravery.  I have no regrets about the men I killed.  I am confident we killed a lot of brave and honorable enemy.  Anyone who knows, respects “Sir Charles” the VC.   I killed so many I quit counting.  My mind couldn’t really accept the horror, so I though of the enemy as “Squirrels”; like when I was back home in the Missouri Ozark Mountains hunting squirrels.  After the mission was complete, I’d think of how many squirrels I bagged.  The limit was 5 in Missouri and some times I’d come back and say I bagged my limit today.  The thing that haunts me still today is their facial expressions.  They were going to die; they knew it and nothing would change it.  They had looks of pleading, hopelessness, anger, surprise… and always fear.  Their EYES said it all!  Most of the men I killed were less than 10-15 feet away some, point blank.

Ambush & when, “GOD CALLED TO ME”

One particular morning (April 11, Vietnam; April 10^th US), while we were saddling-up to go out, I felt different.  This was my mom’s birthday in Vietnam time and it was as if someone was whispering to me.  So, all of a sudden a thought came to mind to take another weapon with me this day.  I was going to need it.  My Commando Automatic Rifle (CAR) hadn’t failed me yet so at first I tried to ignore it but the feeling wouldn’t go away.  The feeling had even more urgency to it so I asked our medic, Doc Rockwell, if I could borrow his .45 Cal. pistol that day and of course he said yes, “Sure Pinky, Go Ahead” as I could see he wasn’t going to take it and he was about to lock his footlocker.   After checking it for ammo and making sure it had a round in the chamber so that it would hold 8 instead of 7 bullets I switched my knife to the other side and strapped it on.  Few of us carried side arms and all of us carried extremely strong and sharp knives.  I carried a Diver’s knife so it wouldn’t rust.  I could throw it and a machete from varied distances very well.

This particular day we were operating in the daylight primarily performing Air Mobile Ops doing multiple recon insertions and extractions.  We were working very hard to find “Sir Charles”.  I was feeling fairly but cautiously secure about things (I had already learned that when you feel comfortable in Vietnam, you are most vulnerable and Charlie knew it too). We had been inserted twice already and most of us had expended many of our grenades blowing bunkers but most did not fire their rifle including me.  It was going to be very bad day.  I worried when things went too smooth.

It was a sunny day, light to no wind, hot (100+ degrees F) and a humid delta mid afternoon.  When, in the air and on the way back to base camp after extraction, we received a radio call that a group of about 15-20 enemy were spotted trying to escape in a sampan and we were called in to intercept and/or destroy.  I was walking point and would lead one of the two 9-man teams.  Wesley (Earl) Fowler would lead the other.

It was Dry Season (no rain for a very long time and very hot).  We landed softly with me hopping quickly off of the helicopter skid (most of the time I would jump down from generally from about 10-30 or more feet depending on landing conditions and how “Hot” the LZ was. 

I liked the psychological impact it must have had on them to see this “crazy green face” jump from a perfectly good helicopter when it is landing at that very area anyway.  They figured if I was crazy enough to do that and open up on them or return fire while alone, then I’d do anything!  And that scared them!  Plus I shot only tracers so each hit also burnt the enemy with Red Phosphorus fire coming out of the end of each bullet.  (Once, I started a fire in an enemy’s midsection and that’s when I learned the true meaning of the song PURPLE HAZE by Jimmie Hendrix.)  Also, not only could they hear the bullets whiz by, they could SEE them!  It added significantly to the psychological impact.  When the rest of the team came in, the enemy was off balance and we then had the initiative.

With dried rice stalks whirling from the helicopter blades like a tornado, we landed in the open on the sun baked light gray concrete-hard rice paddies about 100 or so meters from the jungle and began proceeding to our objective.  Our teams split, like a Y, and my squad went left, the other went right for a “blocking force”.  After passing through about 15-20 meters of vegetation, I encountered a “Box Opening” in the jungle about 75x50 yards with an approximate 3-6 foot deep brown water filled canal running slightly diagonal from my right to left front towards the opposite end of the rectangular opening.  On the right, the canal seemed to go into the corner jungle immediately and on the left it went only a few feet past its bank ahead before the jungle formed again.

My intention in the canal was to take a direct route cutting across the length of the opening and get us to the river as fast as possible.  However, my Platoon Sergeant Mark Brockway, signaled me to stay in the canal and take it into the jungle to the left.  Mark thought it would be quicker, which was his call.

We were in a bit of a rush to get to the sampan so I had to move a little faster than my instincts were telling me to do.  Like I said, it was hot and sweat dripped from my nose tip, eyebrows…  My nerves were on “super razor thin edge”.  It’s going to be “Quick Draw” time soon.  My eyes and ears were alert to the SLIGHTEST MOST MINISCULE hint of danger; searching by sight, sound, feeling and “instinctive feeling”.  While I was in the waist deep canal and having just reached the jungle, I noticed a camouflaged VC poncho lying on the dike to my right.  I looked around and stepped up the dike to investigate it.  All around and under everything seemed fine.  My instincts were calm but adrenaline was pumping hard; something wasn’t quite right.  My “5” Platoon Sergeant Brockway called out, “What is it?”  I answered, “Just a VC poncho!”  I put it down and cautiously took 2 more steps towards the jungle in the water away from it when to my right rear; I sensed movement and detected a dark flash of an image.  VC!  In Vietnam, very close unusual sudden movement usually meant death to someone immediately! 

It was an enemy soldier VC within arms length not 5 feet away!  Here I was, in the middle of a canal and getting shot at “POINT-BLANK” from a fully automatic enemy held M-16!  I instinctively knew not to spin around on a vertical axis by staying straight up and turning.  LIFE OR DEATH CHOICE!  Death wish defeated.  That would lead to “point –blank death”, so I immediately swiveled to my right “bending over at the waist” to get as close to the water as possible while trying to get under his line of fire.  I chose to live!  GOD was ready to grant my wish either way!  So, I purposely laid my torso out across the water sideways so I could still return fire and let gravity give me the falling motion and momentum to go under water and briefly disappear.  When I hit the water, I continued twisting my body towards the right.  I came up quickly and I continued to briefly return fire and dodge his fully automatic stream of bullets while the muzzle blast was jerking and gunpowder specks were burning my face and rocking my head.  I saw the flashes; felt the heat as each enemy muzzle blast kept ripping at my face and head.  It felt like my face and head was being ripped apart.  I was told I yelled out that I was hit.  I probably did.  It felt like it.  My tactical movement, as I mentioned, took me twisting and rolling while briefly going under water.  The Old Reliable Newspaper article from 21may69 http://www.2nd60th.org/Old%20Reliable/or21May69/or21may69pg3.jpg, says that “I wheeled and fell”.  That has always bothered me because to me it makes me seem like I bungled things when I was actually wheeling, firing, ducking and doing the alligator roll (so I could quickly come up and shoot again).  I got off 7 rounds total and felt sure I’d killed the enemy.  As I had said, “There’s the quick; and then there’s the dead!”  Then the article says I didn’t miss the second time around when the enemy rose again to fire.  My Assistant Platoon Sergeant, Tom Longoria thinks he shot him also so maybe we both killed him.  Anyway, he was dead and no longer a threat.

I didn’t know it at the time but I feel certain that GOD had directed one of my limited bullets to puncture the “Communist Green” Rifle Propelled Grenade (RPG) launcher the enemy (who was a 2 star VC General) was planning to use against us.  He planned to fire it at the rest of the team out in the tall open grass and reeds after he eliminated me.  My bullet struck just in front of the RPG firing mechanism making the hand held shoulder fired rocket useless.  The RPG was penetrated on my side of the fire-fight so I knew it was from me.  Their ambush plan was turning into a very bad day for them. We hadn’t lost anyone yet.

When I emerged from the water and started to fire again, a voice called from high above yet right in me that I’ve never heard before and could only be GOD’s, boomed down to me and said, “BRIAN, GO HERE!”  Immediately, there was a very strong intense beam of light many times brighter than the sun on the clearest day shining down and “spotlighting” a certain place that I should go.  In Broad Daylight, here is beam from heaven.  It pointed to a hook in the same mud dike, as the poncho and was on about 15-20 meters further inside the jungle and deeper into the enemy ambush.  I broke unhesitatingly towards the spot as fast as I could in the water with my back to the ambush.  I knew that my rear would be well guarded.  I heard Longoria and Duran open up but knew I’d be GOD safe so I kept going.  I sensed that if I were to stand any chance of all at living, I had to get to that spot!  It turned out that from this position, I was in about the same distance in as the sampan.  It was a big one.  Its gunnels were about 3 to 4 feet above the water.  At the same time, my new position guarded our left flank and made it harder for Charlie to circle around the whole team.  By holding this position, it minimized the damage to the team from that direction.  It also threw Charlie off balance a little while because I was invading VC space by myself and therefore; must be a little “Beaucoup Dinky Dau” or as we would say, crazy, unpredictable and feared.

Now here I am (in the canal), hunched down with my shoulders barely above the brown water and about as close to the soft muddy hook as I can get and still be mobile.  The sunlight filtered through the sparse Nippa Palm and Coconut Trees.  I could see pretty good to my front and right front.  I checked around me and saw an open-faced bunker across the canal straight behind me.  I knew it wasn’t occupied ‘cause I’d be dead already.  Dense jungle was behind that and around to my front on the left.  I poked my head quickly up and down and saw 12-15 of the enemy receiving guns and ammo from over the side of the big dark sampan by enemy on board.  I tried to fire but my weapon was JAMMED!  I cleared it with my diver’s knife, fired it once and it jammed AGAIN! So I cleared it again with my knife and could only count on 1 round for sure from it.  I had new brass and a new magazine with plenty of LSA and it was difficult to register what was causing it to jam.  My CAR never jammed, yet here it was.  Now I realize I know I can be in a real hurt.  Cut off, mostly surrounded with a jammed CAR with 1 bullet for sure and a .45 pistol with 8 bullets plus 1 bullet in my CAR against several of the enemy.  There are only 9 bullets total that I can count on.  I figured 8 for them and 1 for me if necessary.  I would not be taken prisoner!  They would have had a field day torturing me to a slow sure death and collecting their reward.  They would dance all night with my head stuck on a pole if they had the chance!  I thought, count your rounds; each one has to do some killing!  Just before, I was so looking to inflicting serious harm to the enemy; now, on the turn of a dime, I was in a real pickle!  No panic but this was a tough situation and the nerves tightened up several levels more that I didn’t know were there.  Now there were Beau Coup enemy.  Given my “limited” firing capability and the fact that I had no grenades because I had used them earlier to blow bunkers, I called out as loud as I dared when there was just a slight lull to the shooting to find out if anyone else had any.  Martin Duran was the closest man to me and he signaled no.  How frustrating, I could see several of them arming themselves and I’ve got them with their pants down but I was basically powerless to do anything about it unless my immediate suicide was necessary for the team.  At that point, it wasn’t.  It was suicide enough just being there.

I am still hunkered down in a canal; an open-faced enemy bunker behind me; the water was just below my shoulders; my CAR was out of the water and I had the .45 pistol in front of me in both hands ready to fire.  In this position, as I swept the area around me by moving my eyes and barely moving my head, I decided to keep the pistol low, pointed towards the enemy and stationary to minimize movement and because it made for quicker more focused surveillance and reaction.  I didn’t have to concern myself with the thoughts and actions necessary to move the pistol.  I figured I would have time to move the pistol to the target if I spotted anything to the sides but right now to the front and to the right of me is where the action is.  By now I was scared, very scared.  My body felt like it was going to explode!  I had the training, instinct and the will to live.  A VC Major apparently made it his mission to take me out.  He would be my next ““point-blank”” kill.  I was sweeping around me and had just returned my vision to my front when another enemy soldier popped up on the other side of the dike so close I could reach out and touch him.  I am now staring down the barrel of an AK 47 and I can see the silver colored barrel pointed right at my head.  I felt the blasts of “point-blank” automatic fire on my face again as I fired the .45.  In the seconds we exchanged fire, my face was burning and rocking again but I could tell my 3 rounds hit him; one in the center of his chest, one in his throat and one in the head.  His head must have exploded or something because my mind will not let me remember what happen to him.  All I can remember is that he was being moved backward and I knew he was dead.  I thought about trying to retrieve his AK but in order to do so I would have to expose my position over the dike and I would be very vulnerable.  I chose to stay put.  Now I was down to 5 of “them” bullets.

The firing picks up again and someone yells, “Brockway’s been hit!” (I found out later that he was trying to visually check my position)!  They shot him through the mouth and the round came out his jaw.  Another major alarm went off in my gut that we were getting seriously into some deep trouble.  There is another lull and Longoria yells, “I’m going to Sarge!” (Brockway).  I yelled out, “Tom don’t go, they’ll shoot you!”  I knew Tom would be exposed with his back to the enemy, as he would have to scramble up the bank of the canal in order to get to Brockway’s position.  He called back, “I’ve got to get to Sarge!”  With that, I can see him slog through the waist deep water and begin scrambling up the bank when the enemy shoots him in the back (he still carries the round today as it is too close to his spine to be removed).  We’re in trouble now.  Any hope of them trying to break me out of my situation I felt just went down the tubes for any help soon.  I’ve got to do something.  I can’t stay here much longer.  Now, the enemy knew I was originally alive when shooting started at me for a second time but they couldn’t be sure we both didn’t kill each other.  They would check it out soon and probably throw a grenade in my position first to make sure I was dead because, at best, they knew the second guy wasn’t successful either.

All of a sudden a VC pops up about 50 feet away and starts running from my right front to my left though the sparse Nippa and headed to the dense jungle as he was trying to outflank us and circle around behind me.   (Overcoming my position was critical for them because it blocked their use of the canal to slip through so they’d try and encircle us.)  I snapped a pistol shot at him and then realized that I had time for a good shot and kill him.  Now I was down to 4 of ‘them” bullets.  As he was running across my front, I was aiming and tracking the pistol right with him.  He was in mid-stride, in the air, when I fired and he started tumbling in the air so I knew he was certainly hit bad and probably dead. 

I learned later that I hit him in the left rear ribs and had blown out his right front ribs and chest but he lived long enough to somehow swim across the river, hold the farmer family at gunpoint and demand they treat his wound before he died on their table. 

Now I’m down to 3 of “them” bullets and my instincts tell me its time to go.  The firing lulls a bit then and I know this is the time to move.  I know I HAVE to!  I holler to Duran, “I’m coming out of here!”  He hollers back, “How?”  I hollered, “Underwater!”  “Yes, UNDERWATER so don’t shoot!  Just hold your position and I’ll be there in a bit”.  I prayed no enemy understood English.  If they did, I was dead!

My escape route made sense to me.  I had grown up on and around The Sheppard of the Hills, Table Rock Lake, and Branson, Missouri Ozark Mountain area.  I lettered in Basketball, Baseball, Football and Track.  I was voted “Most Athletic” my High School graduating year.  I was an avid water skier.  I skin-dove, free dove to over 50’ and was a Certified SCUBA diver.  I was very comfortable on land, in the woods, on the water and/or under the water!

I glanced around and thought to myself, “It’s risky, but I’ve got to make my move now!  The time is RIGHT now.  I re-estimated the distance and quickly envisioned myself swimming so I could get some idea of distance underneath.  I hyper ventilated 3 breaths and submerged.  At the shallow bottom, I checked my visibility.  I knew it would be bad but it was near zero.  All I could see was the dark form of my hand less than 3” from my face.  I started to move forward and my beret came off.  I smiled a little and thought, “If I die now, do I die with or without my beret?”  I quickly decided, “With!” and began feeling for my beret.  Luckily, it was located and retrieved fast.

I quickly and cautiously surfaced, stuffed the beret in my pants, hyperventilated a little more and went under again.  I wasn’t sure the enemy couldn’t see me, so at first I didn’t move.  This was just in case the enemy knew what was happening and shot in the water where they expected me to be.  There were no shots, explosions or movement so I started moving forward.  I was careful not to move too fast and make waves on the surface.  If there was anyone up there with a weapon or a grenade I was dead for sure. 

I had killed many the same ways and like I had mentioned saw their eyes as big a saucers wide with fear when they surfaced just before I killed them.  Sometimes, instead of just shooting them when they surfaced, I’d just follow along and drop a grenade (I especially liked the Concussion type because it was safer) in the water.  The grenade would explode and a little later a body would come to the surface roll over and go back down.  You knew you just scrambled some enemy brains and they couldn’t harm you anymore.  It was great!  I beat them at their own game but their eyes have always been hard to deal with.  Yeah, it was kill or be killed.  Eliminate the opposition.  Protect your team/squad.  I’ll never forget their eyes and expressions!  They’d kill me if they could and I HATED them for that!

I made a few slow powerful breaststrokes and was moving at a good clip when I slowed and came to rest on the bottom while I quickly weighed all the knowledge and odds I knew possible and decided to go further.  I would rather surface past the previous ambush site than come up at the very same place it all started so I took a few more cautious strokes and again settled on the bottom.  I listened for gunfire etc. and all was quiet so I slowly rose until my head and mouth were just slightly above the water and almost between Duran’s boots.  At that point, I quietly whispered to Duran, “Duran, I’m here, it’s me-Pinky”!  Martin said he almost jumped out of his skin too.  There was nothing for awhile and then here I am.  It really impressed him for always until he passed away in ‘05.

Anyway, Fowler was across the canal and higher up in the tall open stuff.  He hollered for Duran and me to come and he’d cover us.  There wasn’t any current fire and it just felt right so we slogged our way across and up the bank that Longoria had been shot on, and crawled a little bit to Earl (Wes we called him).  I motioned for everyone else to clear out and Earl said he was staying with me.  I said, “Then we’ll leap-frog back out of here and get to the open so Charlie would have to expose himself to get at us and we would be out of the way for the air strikes or gun runs from the Cobras and Huey gunships.

I traded weapons with someone and gave them my jammed CAR for their M-79 grenade launcher and proceeded to launch rounds.  I was dropping them and direct firing them into the areas I knew had “death” associated with them.  To my slight surprise, Fowler wanted to shoot the “79” and gave me his CAR to shoot.  Earl shot that 79 so fast that I was astounded how fast he was firing and reloading.  This was just one of the many “mental side notes” I have about the war.  So here he and I went, I’d shoot and he’d move and then, he’d shoot and I’d move.  We continued to do this until we reached a hootch on our way out. What was left of our team assembled at the hootch and we assessed the situation.  I was told I looked “white as a ghost!”  I remember sitting with crossed legs, dripping water, staring at the earth floor wondering, “What the hell just happened!”  Thanks to GOD, I was lucky to be alive!  Then, when the time seemed right, we made our break.  The other team was in the open were covering us as we ran and dodged our way out.  Two platoons of a line company came in shortly to reinforce us as Mike platoons.  The paddy was so hard and uneven and the cracks were so wide and deep.

We rendezvoused about 200 meters out in the paddy behind about an 24” tall dried dike.  No clouds in the sky and sun beating down. Upon retrieving my CAR, I asked if anyone had fired my weapon and no one had so I changed magazines.  I saw some enemy gooks running just inside the tree line from my right to my left so I thought I’d open up and see if the weapon would fire?  IT DID!  Incredible so I fired another magazine and it was “humming like a Singer”.

What!  I couldn’t believe it but it was so!  The new magazine with the new brass and the LSA lubrication was BAD!  I didn’t carry a new magazine in the starter position again!  I’d use one of my front 10 mags and slip the new one(s) in the vest in back.  Meanwhile, the Cobra gunships were making their runs and Charlie was running back and forth like chickens with their heads cut off.  There were rockets, automatic grenades and machine gun fire raining down on them all over the place.  It sure looked impressive!  The gunner would look over at us at the bottom of the run to check our position but he would forget that his guns were still turned on.  Pretty soon rounds and explosions started to head our way.  He’d realize his mistake most of the time and turn off his guns before we’d start reaming him out over the radio.  Sometimes I’d get so mad at the near misses I’d swear I’d shoot him down myself if he didn’t cut it out and “cease fire”!

After the gunships and Cobras blow the jungle up, the line Lt. in charge of reinforcements orders me to go back in where I just was so they could check out the damage.  I tell him no!  He’s got to be out of his mind!  He wants me to go back to the hell I just escaped from!  No way!  It wasn’t a matter of lack of authority that we didn’t automatically obey an order.  It was RESPECT for the man!  In Recon, there was no such thing as rank when we were in the field.  We talked for a little longer then I agreed to take him there a back way to where I was and then I’d walk drag from there back out.  That was agreeable to him so we formed up and proceeded to go back in…

The known score for this mission was 3 VC dead (a 2 Star VC General, a VC Major and a VC Sergeant), 2 seriously wounded Recon members (SFC Brockway and SSG Longoria), some captured weapons and a few “mementos”.