15 Months in SOG (33 page)

The day after, we had the change of command ceremony, and I surrendered my precious B Company to its new commander. Afterward, the CO called me in his office and pinned a couple of medals on me for my scrapbook. Then gave me a surprise I wasn’t expecting.

“Nick, we’re gonna put a hit on the VC in Marble Mountain. It goes tomorrow at 0800. A and B companies will be air-landed on top, and the troops will work their way down to the ground.” The massive mountain, about four hundred meters to the south of our camp, was honeycombed with caves from the marble quarrying that had occurred there before the war. VC were in there all the time, and occasionally took a pot shot at us or the 3d Marine Amtrac Battalion on the far side. Fortunately, for the most part, they stayed quiet, and in return, so did we. When they got too aggressive, we would shoot at the side of the hill or mine the approaches to the place. That was usually enough to keep the occupants of the mountain quiet. There were rumors that the VC had a hospital, resupply storage, and even R & R barracks inside the place.

I never wanted to know bad enough to go find out if the rumors were true or not, and felt like saying so, when Colonel Donahue continued.

“The 3d Marine Amtrac Battalion will surround the base of the mountain and police up anybody that tries to get away. Since you’re not tied up with anything, I want you to go over and be my liaison with the Gyrenes. It should be a piece of cake. We’ll have four hundred men on the mountain and six hundred surrounding it.”

I accepted his casual confidence in the coming operation and left him visualizing the coming glory the little battle would bring. He never got a chance to go over the border so the coming operation would probably be the only combat action he would have a chance to get in on his entire tour.

I’d looked at Marble Mountain many a long hour when I passed the hours as night shift OD (officer of the day). Ten times what we were putting on the mountain wouldn’t be enough to cover the numerous cave and cutaway areas of the forbidding rock massif. The mission would probably be a first-class cluster fuck, in my opinion. Suppressing a shudder, I looked up at Marble Mountain as I walked back to my room. I knew I’d have another long and sleepless night in store for me.

I reported to the headquarters of the 3d Amtrac Marines the next morning at 0600 hours. All I had was a pistol, water, and a knife. My intention was to stay well back of the action and simply report by radio to Colonel Donahue what the Marines were up to. I didn’t even check out a rifle, since I figured a pistol would be more than enough for what I was going to do. I took old Houmg with me to be my radio operator; the new B Company CO had the services of my old team of bodyguards and radio carriers. Houmg was armed, as always, with a well-used M-16 and his Montagnard knife.

As I drove around the dark mass of the mountain, I prayed the VC would let us come and go in peaceful ignorance. I was damned shaky about the whole scheme and grateful I didn’t have to lead the men due to land on top in two hours. The first problem was the size of the chopper force; only five choppers were going to be lifting our troops to the top so it would require several hops to transport everyone there. The element of surprise would be long gone before any action against the enemy commenced.

They would have plenty of time to get ready for us. Any contact on the way down would be initiated by the VC. Just maybe, the VC would fade away and let us thrash around a while. We couldn’t stay long, so they could hide out a bit, then
walk back in and take over after we left. That’s what I crossed my fingers would happen.

Houmg and I reported in to the Marine battalion HQ for briefing by their S-3. Their whole operation rested on the assumption that CCN’s landing on top would cause some reaction by the VC inside the mountain. Then the Marines would react to the VC action. Otherwise, squads of men would have to be sent to search the numerous caves and corridors cut throughout the interior of the mountain.

“I don’t know, Major,” I noted to the Marine staff officer. “Those folks have been using that place for years. It’ll be damn hairy, and we’ll be at their mercy. At best, they’ll just move out and let us blunder around chasing shadows. If they want to be contrary, they’ll suck us in, then kick our butts.”

The Marine briefing officer countered my objections. “We’ve covered that in our plans. Our men will have CS grenades and gas masks with them. If the VC hit us, the troops’ll pop some tear gas and withdraw. Then we’ll flood the area with long-lasting nausea gas. Charlie will be sorry he ever fucked with us, believe me.” The confident Marine was too clean and well organized to be anything more than a professional staff office. That in itself was a red flag.

To tell the truth, I’d heard BS like that before, and mostly from the staff desk-warriors who never heard a round crack close by their ear. Charlie was smart, tough, and mean. I doubted whether a little tear gas was going to do him a trick. But, I’d learned the folly of arguing with a determined senior officer; that was like pounding my head against a rock, so I shut up and nodded my seeming acceptance of the current wisdom.

“Whatever you say, Major. I’ll join one of your rifle companies during the operation. My orders are to pass on information from our people as they proceed down the mountain.” I hurried out of the S-3 shop and fell in with one of the Marine units slowly trudging out of the compound and taking up positions along both sides of the dirt road. At the wave of
their commander’s hand, they started walking toward the dark mountain, which was just then becoming visible in the early morning light.

The Marine grunts were old hands at that sort of stuff and spoke little while staying ten yards apart as the unit snaked its way down the road. Most of the men carried M-16s, and all had two or three CS grenades hooked somewhere on their web gear. Neither Houmg nor I had brought gas masks since we never anticipated using them. If the Marines did start using the antiriot grenades, we would have to get away as fast as possible or accept the consequences.

We finally reached the base of the mountain and took up positions around the old marble quarry entrance, a cavelike opening many meters across and high. Several trucks could have driven inside the hill at the same time. I stayed well away from the opening and waited for the airborne phase of the operation to start. It was almost 0800, and according to the voice on the radio, the first load of troops was airborne.

I watched as an empty chopper flared off the top of the mountain and rolled right, heading back toward CCN. The first men were on the ground, far above me. I could imagine their anxiety as they waited for the arrival of their comrades. Then a second and a third, until all five choppers had lifted away and rolled overhead, returning to the CCN chopper pad for another load of human cargo. It took over an hour before I was informed that everyone was on the ground and the troops were starting down. So far, they had seen no sign of the enemy. I reported that to the Marine lieutenant colonel who was in charge down at the bottom of the hill. He nodded and returned to his radio, talking to one of the other company commanders among the three Marine units surrounding the base of the mountain. He seemed to be a more field-oriented Marine, with the steadiness of years of command behind him. In his fighting gear, with his helmet and sunglasses on, he was the picture of a fighting Marine officer.

Houmg and I settled down beside an old roadside shrine. It
gave us shade and some cover if any snipers were thinking of plinking away at us. For a couple of hours, it stayed quiet. The reports from the men coming down the hill were always the same: “Negative sign of enemy.” I had hopes the men would make it all the way to the bottom without seeing any sign of the enemy.

Around 1000 hours, old Houmg, who was watching the hill while I listened to the radio, pointed up toward the hill. “
Dai Uy
, look.”

Shading my eyes, I could see several men rappelling down a rocky slope about five hundred feet above me. They would stop partway down the face and, dangling from their tiny safety lines, poke at openings in the rocky face of the sheer bluff.

I was just about to say something about how exposed they must feel when shots rang out, and the men scooted on down their ropes, disappearing into the trees at the base of the sheer face. “Contact,” the radio needlessly informed me. “A Company has been fired upon. There’s a casualty. He’s fallen off his rappel rope.”

“Who was it?” I queried. I was grateful my old unit was on the far side of the mountain.

“Lieutenant Brice. He fell into a rocky crevasse, and his current location is unknown.”

“Roger,” I replied. “I’ll see if we can send some men up to help you look for him.” The firing above me had quieted. “Anything further on the contact?”

“Negative. They shot at us from some small openings in the face of the cliff. They must have pulled back. We don’t see anything now.”

I got on the radio and called the Marine command post. Quickly, I reported what had happened to the CCN troops. The Marine commander made no promise when I asked for men to go look for Brice. “As soon as we’ve swept the hill, I’ll make some available.” It was the best I could get from him, even though I wasn’t sure that Brice was dead. Later, when
we finally found him, it was clear he had been killed instantly, but at the time, I was plenty agitated at the Marine CO. I struggled to control the sharp retort that flashed to my tongue. He was obviously more concerned about his men and their mission than my man.

Rather than get myself into trouble, I slammed the phone into its cradle and stomped away, back to my little spot in the shade of the shrine. Everyone was tense and alert, but nothing more happened until some of our men came out of the trees at the bottom of the hill. I went over to Captain Woods, the A Company commander. I explained what the Marine colonel had said.

Woods was sweaty and tired, but didn’t get upset. “That’s okay. Sergeant Iverson was still on top of the cliff and saw him fall. He says he can find the spot. I’m sending a recovery team after him now.”

“Any chance he’s still alive?”

Woods shook his head. “I don’t see how. He was right in front of the opening where the VC shot from, and he fell well over a hundred feet into rocks. Goddamned SOBs. Shot him without warning. It was plain murder.”

I nodded sympathy, but wondered if Woods thought he’d ever be warned before the enemy opened up on him. This wasn’t the Old West or anything, but I understood his feelings. We tended to put a different slant on things when we were the getters, rather than the givers. I went back to my radio. Houmg was signaling that somebody wanted to speak to me. It was the Marine colonel. He wanted to see Captain Woods over at his command position. Woods instructed the men who were going after Lieutenant Brice, and then headed down the road toward the Marine CP (command post).

I went over to the latest group of men to come down the mountain. One of the American sergeants was smoking a cigarette while he relaxed in the shade.

“How was it?” I asked.

He blew a heavy stream of smoke into the hot air. “Rugged.
There’s ten thousand little holes all over the damned place. Charlie can come and go at will. We’ll never be able to shut him outta here, no matter what we do. We’d have to take cement and cover the whole damn hill solid.”

Woods came back from his meeting with the Marine. “The Marines are going to send men into the caves along the base. We’re the reaction force if they get into trouble.”

“Oh, shit. I knew they would. Those poor grunts are gonna get hammered now, you watch and see.”

“Nick, I’m gonna go up and stay with my other two platoons. Do me a favor and take over Brice’s platoon here, will you? You make the decision on what to do. I’ll call you if we need you for anything.” He took off at a trot, leaving me trying to frame a good reason why I couldn’t comply with his request.

I watched while numerous heavily armed Marines carefully entered the big hole that was the main opening into Marble Mountain. They moved deeper into the cave, while I brought my platoon up to the entrance and deployed them where they could fire into the huge opening. Then we waited.…

It didn’t take long for Mr. Charles to react to the uninvited incursion into his stronghold. Echoing throughout the cavernous mountain was the sharp cracking of rifles. The high-pitched
crack
from the M-16 and the deeper
ker-pow
of the AK-47s. Fumes of tear gas stung my eyes, and through their white clouds stumbled the ghostlike silhouettes of men running out of the opening. The VC had done just what I feared. They had waited until the Marines got deep inside, and then opened up on them from hidden nooks and crannies. It was a miracle that most of the men involved got out alive. The tear gas had done what the Marines had hoped. It had given the pinned-down Marine grunts inside a chance to get up and run like hell for the exit and safety.

The Marine captain in charge of the search teams came up to me. “I have a couple of men down inside. I want your folks
to cover me while I go after them. My guys are still fighting off the effects of the tear gas.”

I had talked with the Marine officer earlier that morning. He was a good guy, and I wanted to help him if I could. “Okay, but we’ll have to wait until the CS clears. My men don’t have masks.” The captain, named Guenther, nodded. He was a fine-looking fellow, as opposed to most Marines, who were usually ugly brutes, at best. At least, compared to us handsome army types. With his tall, well-built frame and dark moustache, à la Clark Gable, he was probably a real lady killer.

Captain Guenther continued. “I’ve got men KIA in a couple of different passages. The worst one is where I’m headed. I could use your help if you want to come along.” He stared at me with the hard question evident in his eyes: “If you have the balls for it, soldier.”

Now, I wasn’t going to let any Marine outdo me, so of course I agreed. Bad mistake. Wouldn’t I ever learn?

In a few minutes, the gas fumes cleared, and we carefully eased our way back into the cave. The lingering smell of the CS gas made our eyes water and our noses sting and run, but not to the point of quitting. Guenther sent one of his lieutenants and some of his men one way and turned down a different dark opening, with me, Houmg, and a couple of Marines right behind him. The rest of my platoon was spread around the inside of the big cave, to cover us as we came out.