June 1969, Highway 1, Vietnam. I gave up my M16 for an M79 grenade launcher. That trade put me on point and set off a chain of fights that bled our platoon. One killed, several wounded. In this video, you get the breakdown, why the M79 was a liability, how the weapon swap made me point man, the ambushes we walked into, and the night fight on Hill 411.

 I’ll show you the perimeter, the claymore setup, the sapper breach, the medevac, and the casualty count. Then the lessons we learned the hard way. Weapon assignment, point rotation, and perimeter discipline. One trade that changed my war. No romance. Just the record. Let’s start. At the end of May and the first week of June, the platoon welcomed 10 new replacements.

By the end of June, there were two more. This increased the unit’s numbers, a welcome change after a long period of low strength. Most of the new arrivals were drafties just turning 20. June marked the beginning of several challenging months. The platoon experienced the loss of a soldier killed in action. Many others suffered wounds.

Getting new replacements was always a difficult process. It meant that experienced members were reassigned or had fallen due to combat or regular rotations. The fresh faces that joined at the end of May and in early June included John Delo, Ray Hamilton, Sergeant Ronald Owens, Sergeant Jerry, Ryan O’N, Barry Suda, Charlie Deppen, Robert Smith, Bill Davenport, and our new platoon sergeant, Staff Sergeant Robert Swindle.

 Danny Kerry and Frank Brown came in towards the end of June. Juan Ramos carried the M79 grenade launcher. This weapon was not favored by many. It only fired one 40mm grenade at a time. The grenade traveled 30 meters before arming and exploding. Alternatively, the launcher could fire a canister round. Nevertheless, the M79 was vital for the squad.

 Since Juan was the new guy, he took my M16 and handed me the M79. I carried it for a month, though I was not pleased. Lieutenant Baxter then assigned a new replacement named John Delo. John from Mississippi quickly earned that nickname. Standing at 6’2 in, he had a relaxed demeanor. Being younger than me, I was no longer the youngest in the platoon.

 I asked John if he would take the M79 while I carried his M16. He agreed. I persuaded Lieutenant Baxter to assign the M79 to Mississippi. I volunteered to walk point for the platoon. This decision got me the role of point man for the first platoon, a position I held throughout my tour.

 With training, I grew skilled at the task and preferred leading the way. The point man held the responsibility for the soldiers behind him. He guided the platoon through jungles, along trails, across streams, and through open fields, whether in daylight, darkness, or bad weather. He needed to know the direction rather than the exact location, to safely lead the unit.

 The pointman also looked for signs of the enemy, such as ambushes and booby traps, so he could warn the platoon of danger ahead. Sometimes things did not go as planned. He was often the first to encounter a sniper or enemy soldier. Sometimes the enemy allowed the point man to walk into an ambush. This would put the rest of the unit at risk.

 The point man had to learn to be aware of potential threats. After being in Vietnam for 3 months, I took a week off. I was grateful that the first sergeant arranged my absence. Every soldier received a week of rest and relaxation, which did not count against leave time. They also had a week of leave during their tour.

 When going on leave, we flew standby to various destinations. Some options included Australia, Tokyo, Bangkok, Manila, and Hong Kong. I set my sights on Australia. At the time, the platoon was stationed on Highway 1 near Firebase Debbie. On the day I was set to leave, I reminded Lieutenant Baxter about my need to catch the next supply chopper back to Fire Support Base Bronco.

 Lieutenant Baxter replied, “Captain Tyson said no supply choppers will be available for several days. If you want to leave, you can walk back to Fire Support Base Bronco.” I responded, “Absolutely, sir. I will do that.” A soldier from another platoon joined me as we walked east for several kilometers across the rice patties and through the hedge until we reached Highway 1.

 Once there, we headed north and continued walking until a convoy approached. We waved to attract their attention. Fortunately, they stopped. The soldier with me asked, “Can you give us a ride to fire support base Bronco?” “Sure, get in the back of the truck,” a sergeant answered. We both said thanks in unison. We ran to the back of the truck, tossed our gear over the tailgate, and found seats.

 The truck carried ammunition, and as soon as we settled in, it moved north toward Bronco. When we arrived at Bronco, and the truck came to a halt, I grabbed my gear, and climbed out. I walked to company headquarters, checked in with the first sergeant, took a shower, and changed into a clean uniform. I packed a small bag. The rules required us to wear khaki uniforms while traveling to and from the field and civilian clothes at our rest and relaxation destination.

I booked a flight out of fire supportbased Bronco on a C130 to Daang. After checking in, I found no available seats for 2 days. I decided to catch another C130 flight to Saigon. I checked in again. I found that the only available flight was to Tokyo the next morning. I decided to take that flight. It wasn’t Australia, but it wasn’t Vietnam either.

 At 7:00 in the evening, I explored downtown Saigon. The city pulsed with nightife. The streets were bright and there were many bars. I heard American music and laughter. I stepped into a bar for a drink. After I sat down, a woman approached me. She called me handsome and asked me to buy her a drink. She was my age, wearing a mini skirt, a revealing blouse, and heavy makeup.

 Her goal was to get me drunk so I would keep buying her drinks. Each drink cost $1 to $2 and came in a shot glass. The drink was just a Kool-Aid flavored concoction that the bar patrons called Saigon tea. She quickly finished her drink and requested another. Selling Saigon tea was profitable for the women. Once you ran out of money, they would move on to the next table.

 Since I was headed to Tokyo, I held off on any deeper conversations. I returned to the base and spent the night sleeping in a chair in the departure area, ready for my flight in the morning. I caught my flight, which would take me to Tokyo for 7 days. On the way, I chatted with the soldier sitting next to me.

 We were the same age, and he was a grunt from the First Infantry Division. David was 6 feet tall and weighed 165 lbs. He had been in Vietnam longer than I had. After landing, we cleared customs and went through the briefing, then headed to the same hotel. The cab ride was intense, but we made it safely. We checked in, changed into civilian clothes, and headed to the bar.

 After two drinks, David said he felt ill and had a fever. Later that evening, he felt worse. He began to shiver uncontrollably, had a high fever, and was sweating heavily. I called a cab and took him to the nearest military hospital. The doctors diagnosed him with malaria. He stayed in the hospital until he recovered.

 I felt sorry for him, but now I was alone. After returning to the hotel, I packed his things, checked him out, and took his luggage to the hospital the next day. I spent my seven days visiting David at the hospital during the day and going to bars at night. The bars in Tokyo were similar to those in Vietnam. A girl in a minikrt and revealing blouse would sit at my table, expressing how much she admired me.

 I remember how charming I looked as she requested more drinks. She was so persuasive that I believed her. As closing time approached, she vanished. I walked back to my hotel by myself. My time in Tokyo was all right, but not very thrilling. At least I had escaped the field and enjoyed hot meals, showers, and clean clothes.

 The trip back to my platoon was uneventful. I was happy to see everyone again. I never saw David again. I am currently sitting on a hill overlooking the Red Ball Highway 1. Last night, we spotted about 15 enemies and called for artillery fire. I still do not know if we hit any of them. The worst part of this operation is the waiting and the boredom.

 The heat and insects do not help either. By the way, I thought of something you could send me in your letters. Since the water here usually tastes terrible, some pre-sweetened Kool-Aid would be great. If you could include about two packs in each letter, I would appreciate it. I had to go on patrol, so I couldn’t finish the letter yesterday.

Dad, your letter from June 3rd gave me a lot to think about. It’s comforting to know that loved ones are thinking of you, and this is no exception. I will try to be strong like you were. Right now, I’m faced with a big decision that could change my military occupational specialty. Whatever I choose, I will have thought it through carefully.

 I hope I make the right choice. We continued operating around Highway 1, where there was still a presence of the Vietkong and North Vietnamese army. We moved through the low areas, checking villages for hidden weapons and food supplies. In the late afternoon, we ascended to higher ground to overlook the valley below.

 We paused at the highest point to establish our perimeter for the night. The hilltop was large and flat, too big for one platoon to secure effectively. The command post group took a position on the perimeter, which is usually at the center. Lieutenant Baxter assigned positions based on the terrain’s best use. My spot had a 40-foot clearing in front with rocks sticking up 2 in scattered across the clearing.

 It sloped downhill into thick overgrowth, making it impossible to see anyone approaching. Sergeant Stout instructed Pon and me to set up claymores and trip flares in front of us. Pon and I moved to the front of our position into the thick plants. We set up four claymore mines and three trip flares where we thought the enemy might come. We ran the wire for the claymores back to our spot and connected the clickers.

We were ready. I relaxed with my best meal of the day. It included beef with spice sauce, peanut butter, and jelly mixed with crackers, a can of pears, pound cake, and Kool-Aid. After eating, I heated a cup of hot chocolate and walked over to Mike’s position to chat. We talked about how I had hitchhiked out of the field and my trip to Tokyo.

 Many times after the fire, during breaks, or before dark, Mike and I would discuss the world, our families, and our squads. As we talked, the sun set and the dreaded night approached. I hated the night. I told Mike I would see him later and returned to my position. Sergeant Stout set up the guard rotation with himself, Ramos, Pon, and me.

 I was last in line just after Pon. I wrapped up in my poncho liner, propped my rucks sack for a pillow, and fell asleep. Eventually, I found myself low crawling toward the center of the perimeter. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion with a flash of light and gunfire. I realized I was crawling without my rifle.

 I crawled back, grabbed my rifle, and joined the rest of the squad to return fire into the darkness. We faced more gunfire at our position. I sat up to see better and aim accurately at the enemy. Sergeant Stout looked over and saw me exposed while firing at the flashes in the dense plants. He yelled, “Haney, get down.” I hit the ground, lying as flat as I could.

 As bullets whizzed over us like angry bees, I looked at Sergeant Stout and said, “Thanks.” I thought to myself how exposing myself had been a stupid mistake. Then a second explosion hit to my right, and I knew Mike’s position was in the worst trouble. Sergeant Stout shouted, “Throw your grenades to the front.

” Everyone at our position threw grenades downhill, and the blasts blinded us. As our sight returned, we continued firing into the darkness. We also squeezed the triggers to activate the four claymore mines placed at suspected entry points to our position. This relieved some pressure from us. We kept firing at any movement we suspected was the enemy for another 15 minutes.

Spooky, a modified C-47 equipped with mini guns and flares, arrived while we waited for evacuation. Spooky dropped flares to illuminate the area and help us spot any Vietkong nearby. It unleashed mini gunfire around our perimeter. The lighting was not perfect, but it was enough to see the shadows from the enemy.

 Spooky circled around us all night, dropping flares. I was grateful to the pilot for staying with us and providing light. An evacuation helicopter landed. Members of the second squad loaded the two seriously wounded soldiers, Van Djk and Row. The helicopter took off and went to the division hospital in Chulai. Another evacuation helicopter landed and I saw four figures throw someone onto the floor.

 I thought, “My god, be gentle with that wounded soldier.” They hurriedly moved so the helicopter could reach the hospital. Then I noticed a member of the platoon climb into the evacuation helicopter. The second helicopter took off and headed for the brigade hospital in Duke Fo. We stayed awake that night, vigilant against the enemy.

 We were ready to engage at the first shadow or sound. I lay on my stomach with my M16 aimed toward the front, focused only on the enemy. Sweat dripped down my face, and my mouth felt parched. I needed water, but I dared not move. Every few minutes, I shivered. I wasn’t sure if it was from the cool breeze against my sweaty body or fear. It was a long night.

 After daybreak, I spoke with members of the second squad. I learned that the soldier was dead, not just wounded. It was Bruce Tus, the soldier I had first met, and described as resembling a Viking. I asked Presley about Mike. He said Mike’s injury was not as serious as the others. He had shrapnel in his upper arm and had left on the helicopter with tufts.

 Mike returned to the platoon two days later. Dennis Row and Nick Van Djk never came back. They returned to the United States. We had breakfast like any other morning, but it was quiet. There was no joking or horseplay this time. Lieutenant Baxter ordered us to move out with the first squad in the lead. As we left the hilltop, we discovered several enemy corpses and blood trails.

 The claymores had done their job. We found a dead North Vietnamese Army soldier covered in claymore pellets. The squad paused and stared at him. One member lowered his M16, aimed at the soldier’s head, and fired a full magazine into his face. We watched as his head and face disappeared.

 We stared at the body in silence. The mood was heavy and somber. I felt nothing. He likely had killed Tufts. Then we moved on along the trail, acting like nothing had happened. This was my first time losing a platoon member or witnessing one get wounded. It hit me hard that any of us could die or get hurt at any moment.

 I loathed the North Vietnamese Army and the Vietkong. This is an excerpt from a letter Lieutenant Baxter wrote to a friend dated June 17th, 1969. Two years since I returned to the United States from Chile. It feels like a long time ago. It has been a long and unhappy week. I’ve been back in the field for 8 days and we have seen a lot of action.

Today we got hot food and cold beer out here for the first time. While this may seem trivial to outsiders, it means so much to us. This is an excerpt from a letter Lieutenant Baxter wrote to his parents dated June 17th, 1969. Well, another week has passed. We are back guarding Highway number one in a new spot.

 It has been quite rough, especially as it seems to be getting hotter. Water resupply continues to be a logistical challenge, but we manage. We are supposed to go to a fire base for a while. This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother and father dated June 20th, 1969. Dear Mom and Dad, we are no longer with the company element.

 The last few days have been strange. We sit up in the hills during the day and only move down after dark. The trails are rocky, steep, and very dangerous. We have already had one sprained ankle, and I’m fortunate not to have one, too. Today, we entered a village to wash up, shave, and get water.

 It tastes bad, but it is all we have. We also bought three cases of soda from the locals for $10 to 12 per case with ice. The village is scenic yet dirty. It’s disheartening to see huts made of bamboo poles with tin or old wooden boxes as siding. The children are friendly and gather around asking for food.

 Many young children are present, but you never see men of military age. They are either in larger towns with the Vietkong or with the Army of the Republic of Vietnam. I already have a small case of jungle rot on my hands. Any little scratch can get infected out here. It’s hard to stay clean in the bush. Most of these are just small scratches.

 They’re annoying, but not too serious. It’s all part of being a soldier in Vietnam. I’m glad to hear the Lake Charles job is starting. I hope you land the other job nearby. We pull guard duty every night. Sometimes I think about playing bridge to stay awake. I also plan the drinks I will have when I get back home.

 Milk is at the top of the list. Then come the juices like orange, grape, grapefruit, pineapple, apple, and lemonade. I also think about soft drinks, mixed drinks, Kool-Aid, water, and root beer floats. It may not sound exciting, but it keeps my mouth from going dry. If I fall asleep, I might choke on my own drool. Write to me soon and say hello to Lucille and Harriet.

Love, Charles. At the end of June, our battalion planned a standown for our company. Every infantry combat unit in our division gets a standown every 60 to 90 days. Our standown took place in Chuli, the division fire base. We had three days to rest and recover from the constant stress and exposure to the elements.

 This kind of break was a rare treat for us. We were in a fenced area within the division firebase, but we could come and go freely. Over those three days, we enjoyed steak at every meal. We also drank, slept, played poker, and listened to music. And yes, we drank some more. We got hot showers, clean clothes, and the comfort of sleeping on a mattress.

 We visited the post exchange to buy things like film, cameras, and watches. Those items weren’t found anywhere else. The class 6 store was where we got liquor. Often there was live music from a Korean or Filipino band singing pop songs in broken English. we could be a loud bunch of soldiers. Our motto was, “What are you going to do? Send us to Vietnam.

” The platoon boarded a Chinuk helicopter and flew to Chulai for standown. After we landed, the rear door opened and we headed toward a group of buildings and a large container that served as an arms room. We lined up in front of the container to turn in our weapons, ammunition, and any explosives we had. Once we finished that, we moved to an assigned building with bunks and lockers.

 Each squad member picked a bunk and stored their gear. Three things became crucial for me. Safety, food, and sleep in that order. The messaul had grills set up and grilled steaks from early in the morning. They enjoyed a wide range of food options, including desserts. Next to the messaul, there were stacks of beer and soda. Additionally, coolers filled with ice, beer, and soda were nearby.

During those three days, Mike and I had more time to bond and quickly became friends. We played basketball, enjoyed some gym beam, and chatted about our home lives, high school, and friends. We often discussed the fire and discovered we shared many similarities. While enjoying our steak dinners, we talked about our squads, the unique members in each one, and how our squad leaders looked out for us.

 It was odd how little our squads interacted in the field. Each night we gathered to listen to a band play popular songs while sipping bourbon and coke. The last song always played was We Got to Get Out of This Place by the Animals, which cast a somber mood. I participated in an ongoing poker game while Mike watched.

 He kept my glass full with bourbon and coke as I played. After the game, Mike made sure I returned to my bunk safely. I drank too much, but still won a good amount of money. Though I had been with the platoon for less than two months, it felt refreshing to relax and let my guard down. Those three days passed by quickly.

 We picked up our weapons, ammunition, and explosives and boarded a Chinook to return to the field. The helicopter landed in the same area along Highway 1 where we had been working before. As soon as the rear door opened, we hurriedly exited and moved into the dense vegetation for cover. We were set for another 60 to 90 days in the field, away from safety, eating ration packs and getting little sleep.

 In late June, we boarded Huey helicopters and flew to Firebase Debbie for a company rotation. This was Mike’s and my first experience at Debbie. For the veterans in our platoon, Debbie was a familiar place as they had been there before. It was Alpha Company’s turn to secure the fire support base.

 The base was positioned on a steep rocky mountain. To the east, we could see the South China Sea, and to the west lay the villages and rice patties. Lieutenant Baxter assigned three to four squad members to each bunker. From these bunkers, we provided security for the fire base. Several nights, we moved down the steep slope, hundreds of meters from the bunker line, to set up ambushes.

 We had showers, a messaul, and a latrine. That was more than we had in the field. Once we arrived at the fire base, the battalion ordered Alpha Company to sweep the area outside the rice bowl. It was called the rice bowl because of its bowl shape, which held rice patties and was surrounded by hills thick with jungle. The goal was to push the enemy toward a unit of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, which was acting as a blocking force.

My first thought was, why couldn’t we be the blocking force and let the Army of the Republic of Vietnam units do the sweeping? That seemed fair to me. It felt like the Army of the Republic of Vietnam units always had the easier tasks. We moved to the Firebase helicopter pad and waited for the helicopters to arrive.

 When the Hueies landed, we boarded quickly. The three helicopters took off with first platoon going first. They dropped us off at the landing zone set by the company commander for the sweep. Once on the ground, we provided security for the landing zone. Soon the rest of the company arrived and we moved ahead with first platoon leading the way.

 We moved carefully through the thick brush and elephant grass. When we spotted the enemy, we opened fire. We pressed on, exchanging fire and pushing the enemy back. I had only the elephant grass and brush to hide behind, but no solid cover from incoming bullets. After several hours in this back and forth, the enemy retreated into the positions held by the Army of the Republic of Vietnam blocking force, which then opened fire on them.

 This put the enemy in a crossfire and the firefight lasted for 30 minutes. Then it became quiet. The enemy slipped away without being seen through the Army of the Republic of Vietnam line. We counted seven North Vietnamese Army soldiers dead and recovered their weapons. First platoon secured the landing zone and was the last to leave.

 The helicopters landed and picked us up without any enemy interference. After we returned to Debbie, Lieutenant Colonel Ellis gathered everyone in the company and announced, “There’s a steak dinner waiting for my hired killers.” Mike and I moved through the chow line, piled our trays with food, and each picked a steak.

 We sat together for the hot meal and I said, “I’m not sure the announcement made me happy, but I really appreciate the steak.” The next day, Captain Tyson tasked the platoon with working alongside a Vietnamese provincial force unit. We loaded onto the helicopters and flew from Debbie to a nearby village in the Rice Bowl. We landed just outside the village.

 I met with a combat engineer team, armored personnel carriers, and the provincial force. Our mission was to provide security while the provincial force troops searched the village for Vietkong weapons and tunnels. It was about time they did the work while we observed. We watched the Vietnamese soldiers moving from hut to hut, searching for Vietkong or weapons.

 They looked for tunnels and bunkers in the area. We remained with the armored personnel carriers, ensuring their safety. To their credit, they captured five Vietkong and discovered a weapons cache filled with ammunition. The engineers destroyed tunnels and bunkers, but first platoon did not assist in the search. Our mission turned out to be quite simple.

 Once the engineers blew up the tunnels, we boarded the helicopters and returned to LZ Debbie. I wished more of our missions were this easy, allowing the Vietnamese forces to do most of the hard work while we simply watched. It often seemed to be the opposite when working with Vietnamese units. This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother and father dated June 28th, 1969.

Dear mom and dad, I’m still at LZ. Debbie, I’ve been on kitchen patrol twice now and would rather be out in the field. I just got your envelope with John Compton’s letter, the bridge information, and your letter yesterday. It took two weeks to reach me, but I’m glad to have it. It sounds like John has it pretty good. More power to him.

Yesterday, we spent the whole day sweeping through the valley below Debbie. They found an old battered AK-47 and two Vietkong suspects. Some men in the platoon, following orders from the local militia, burned several huts. The militias are bullies and often interrogate the local citizens. The food is better here, but I have much less free time.

 This is the first time in several days that I’ve had a chance to write letters. I plan to write six if I can. There isn’t much else to say, so I’ll sign off now. Write when you can and keep the Kool-Aid coming. Love, Charlie. This is an excerpt from a letter Lieutenant Baxter wrote to his parents on June 29th, 1969. We’ve had some good operations lately.

The other day, the platoon ran a search mission with the Provincial Reconnaissance Units, an all Vietnamese outfit. They are the best local forces we have with six vehicles and engineering demolition experts attached. We spent the entire day searching a small village, capturing five Vietkong and several AK-47s, and we blew up all the tunnels and bunkers.

 Most of the work was done while my people and vehicles provided security. We accomplished this without firing a single shot. It turned out to be one of our most successful missions. We were conducting operations with Vietnamese forces. Our main goal was to boost their confidence. At the same time, we were allowing them to take more control of their own war.

This month, my platoon welcomed about 12 new members. Most are 20-year-old drafties from different places. Our losses have mainly come from regular rotations. We have received many care packages recently. Honestly, we do not need more candy. practical items like cookies, Fritos, peanuts, canned fruit, and fruit juices would be much better.

Those are just some thoughts from a soldier in the field. It was late June. We were still in the rice bowl working with armored personnel carriers from each troop. The company moved in a staggered column formation. First platoon took the lead while the armored personnel carriers covered the rear. I was walking point when I heard an explosion to my far left and rear.

 I dropped to the ground as debris flew over the platoon. Everyone ducked for cover. I crawled to a hedgero for protection. Looking back, I saw an armored personnel carrier on fire. The entire company took shelter and braced for enemy fire. After several minutes, we realized the armored personnel carrier had hit a booby trap instead of facing an ambush.

 I noticed several officers, including Captain Tyson, gathered nearby talking. Soon, Mike, Doc Windows, and another soldier approached the burning armored personal carrier. Captain Tyson assigned them to retrieve the remains of the crew. After they finished, I walked over to Mike and offered him my canteen.

 He took a few sips and gave it back to me. We sat quietly, not saying a word. I never asked him about that day, and we never discussed it. I could sense it troubled Mike. On July 1st, we learned that Second Platoon had triggered a booby trap that killed Sergeant Joseph Kelly and wounded another soldier. That night, First Platoon left the fire support base around 9:30 p.m.

 for an all-night ambush. We set up our position on the side of the mountain in an ant bed off Debbie. There was no enemy contact that night, but we got plenty of ant bites. I barely slept because I kept sliding down the steep slope and had to crawl back to my spot. We returned the next morning around 6:00 a.m.

 Hours passed as we settled down for sleep. Meanwhile, the rest of Alpha Company along with each troop from the cavalry unit operated in the area below us known as the rice bowl. They encountered a U-shaped ambush and engaged an unknown number of enemy troops. An armored personnel carrier hit a booby trap. In just minutes, there were casualties.

 Five Americans killed and seven wounded, including Sergeant Bobby McCoy among the fallen. At 3:20 p.m., Lieutenant Colonel Ellis called for Alpha Company’s first platoon to reinforce the other two platoon. We gathered our gear and made sure we had plenty of ammunition. We boarded the Huey helicopters, one squad per helicopter, expecting a hot landing zone.

 This was where Sergeant Kelly from third platoon had lost his life a day earlier. As we descended, we locked and loaded our weapons. We planned to jump off the Huey the moment we got near the ground. We landed before the skids touched, quickly fanning out to secure the zone. Enemy fire greeted us right as we touched down. Once we were on the ground, the platoon formed up and advanced toward the enemy.

Sergeant Stout instructed me to move to the front. It was my job to check for any hidden enemy soldiers in the hedgeros before the rest of the platoon moved through. The hedros were about 10 ft wide and thick with trees, bamboo, and clumps of underbrush. Jack Lanzer followed closely behind me. He was 5 feet 9 in tall, weighed 145 lbs, and had red wavy hair. He was 20 years old.

Dusty Roads followed Jack. He was also 20 with a medium build and dark hair. I moved ahead, not spotting any enemies, but I still fired my M16 just in case, clearing one hedge row after another with the platoon following behind me. Enemy small arms and machine gun fire continued to rain down on us.

 I glanced back and to my right. Dusty and Lanzer broke through a different part of the hedge and halted. Dusty faced the hedro and shouted something I couldn’t make out. As I approached him, he pointed his M60 and fired a single shot. Dusty shouted, “My gun jammed. Enemy in the hedro.” Lanzer responded, “I got him.” Lanzer grabbed a grenade from his rucks sack strap, pulled the pin, and stepped back like a quarterback.

 He then threw the grenade into the hedro. Dusty and Lanzer dropped to the ground. When I saw Lanzer throw the grenade, I dropped to the ground and covered my head with my arms. The blast shook the earth. Dusty got up to check if the explosion had taken out the enemy soldier hiding in the hedge row. I quickly got back up and pressed on.

 I had to reload my weapon once while crossing the hedgeros and again as we got closer to the company. Once we reached the patties, we joined up with the rest of the company with the second platoon to our left. Lieutenant Colonel Ellis lined up the armored personnel carriers behind the company. The platoon moved from one rice patty dyke to the next, using them for cover while the cavalry unit provided covering fire with the 50 caliber and M60 machine guns.

 We offered covering fire for the platoon as they advanced, and they returned the favor as we moved forward. I was sweating profusely and my heart raced from the physical effort and fear. Every time I reached a dyke, I lay as flat as possible with my face down for protection against incoming fire. The dry patty dirt mixed with my sweat turned my face into mud.

 Bullets thutted into the dyke wall, sending dirt flying over my head. I raised my M16 over the dyke with my head exposed and fired at the enemy positions. Then I jumped up with the rest of the platoon and dashed to the next dyke. We kept advancing, firing at the enemy while enduring their return fire. The enemy remained at a distance on a hill that overlooked the patties.

 We couldn’t tell how effective our fire and movement were. Bullets whizzed by and explosions erupted all around us. Captain Tyson called in air strikes on the hill where the enemy fire was coming from. The jets roared overhead and delivered bombs on the enemy’s location. The F4s flew so low that it felt like the ground shook beneath us. The enemy gunfire ceased.

After the air strikes, we were ordered to move toward the hill. First platoon was the lead and I was the point man. Lieutenant Baxter said, “Let’s move out.” And I paused, waiting. The lieutenant asked, “Haney, why are you waiting?” I replied, “I am waiting for the tracks to move to the front, sir.” The lieutenant, sounding impatient, said, “We walk point, not the tracks.

” I responded, “Okay, sir,” and headed toward the hill. I thought it was best for the tracks to lead. That is how we did it in training. On the hill, we discovered enemy bodies and blood trails. The enemy had retreated. We found more enemy dead in the hedge rows we had cleared earlier. There were 22 enemy soldiers killed that day.

 We formed up and waited for the helicopters to pick us up and take us back to Debbie. First platoon was always the last to leave. We secured the landing zone for the company. After we loaded up and flew back to Debbie, we landed on the helicopter pad, jumped off, and headed to our bunkers. Feeling tired, hungry, and thirsty.

 We dropped our gear, cleaned up, and went to the mess hall for a hot meal. I met Mike there, and we talked about the day’s events. After eating, we took a well-deserved rest. Not long after, Sergeant Stout left the platoon for a rear job, and Dennis Stout was sent to Hawaii. The army enforced the no brothers in a combat zone rule.

 Joe Mitchell became the first squad leader. He was a nice guy with wavy blonde hair, married and 20 years old. Joe had no leadership training. It was common for someone to be given a leadership position among friends. One day a soldier would be a buddy and the next day he would be the boss. Some handled it well while others did not.

 This is part of a letter that Charlie Deppen wrote to his parents on July 3rd, 1969. Dear Mom and Dad, first I want to thank you for the Kool-Aid you send me. It really hits the spot. Keep mixing it up because while I like cherry and grape best, the variety is nice. Almost every four or five days, we receive a special pack with cigarettes, lots of candy, writing materials, and toiletries.

 The candy stays good in this climate. When we clean up in the villages, we use their wells and wellwater to wash. Our steel helmets serve as basins for shaving. Overall, the time here is not all bad. It may not be as terrible as you think. Not every day is a living hell. Some moments and certain things are just uncomfortable.

 So far, I have not had a single shot fired at me. I have had kitchen patrol duty four times since we got here. If this continues, I won’t be too sorry to leave. Recently, we have been working with armored personnel carriers. They are full tracks and mount two M60 machine guns and 150 caliber machine gun. We either walk beside them or ride along.

 I rode with four or five on top. It sure beats walking. That’s all for now. Keep sending the bridge columns and letters. Love, Charlie. I approached Lieutenant Baxter a few weeks ago to let him know I wanted second squad. Wanted to join the second squad. Mike and I had become good friends since we arrived, and I thought it would be great to be in the same squad.

 I made friends in the first squad, but no one connected with me like Mike did. Lieutenant Baxter said he would look into it. I knew it was an unusual request, but I figured, why not? Not long after Joe became the squad leader, Lieutenant Baxter agreed to move Chuck Counsel to the first squad and me to the second squad. Chuck was from Oregon, losing his hair, and older than most of us.

 He was a friendly guy with a big smile. Chuck packed up his gear and moved to the first squad without any complaints. Once there, Dusty Roads, nicknamed Chuck Pops since he was the oldest member at 23 years old. Jerry Offsteadall introduced himself as the squad leader. He was 20 years old from California and had been with the platoon since December 1968.

He had a reputation as a good and fair leader. I thanked him for taking me on, assuring him that I would give him no reason to doubt his choice. On July 6th, our company loaded onto Chinook helicopters and left Fire Support Base Debbie, heading to Fire Support Base Bronco. The brigade fire support base was a welcome change.

 Captain Tyson briefed the whole company on our new mission and area of operations. The battalion commander tasked Alpha Company to establish a fire support base in Kangai Valley. A fire support base is a forward base with a company of infantry for security. It provides firepower with 81 mm and 4.2 in mortars and artillery for units operating around the base.

 The work was a joint effort involving our battalion, the 11th brigade’s third and the fourth ARVN regiment. The fire support base was named 411 to acknowledge that teamwork. Alpha Company led a large group tasked with building the base. The American soldiers did the building while the ARVN provided security. Lieutenant Colonel Ellis planned for us to leave the morning of July 8th.

 We spent the next day preparing for our new mission. On the morning of July 8th, our platoon entered in a column of two. The Chinuk helicopter lifted off, taking us to a new firebase location on a hill 7 mi west of Kangai City. It landed safely without enemy fire. We exited through the rear door as soon as it touched down.

 Moving up the hill, we encountered many mines and booby traps along the crest. The company deployed a mind sweeping device worked by Sergeant Owens. We lined up to sweep the hill for booby traps. We discovered booby trapped grenades, 2.75 in rockets, and a canister of napalm with a firing device hidden in the ground. Captain Tyson put up a sign on top of the hill naming it fire support base Kelly McCoy.

 Kelly and McCoy were two non-commissioned officers killed one day apart in the rice bowl a week earlier. However, the fire base was officially named 411. The companies took turns building the fire base. Alpha Company started with the first 30-day rotation while the other companies patrolled the new area of operations with the Army of the Republic of Vietnam forces.

This hill soon became central to our platoon and the area we patrolled. The hill rose 50 m high and provided a commanding view of the entire area to the river and the mountains. It was barren, marked by worn trails and patches of kneeh high grass. Below the hill was a cleared field surrounding it for 100 meters with an occasional strand of bamboo.

 Soon the engineers cleared away the bamboo. To the east, half a kilometer from the hill, was the old foundation of a French fort. It included a concrete bunker and an airfield barely visible in the ground. We found it odd that the fort was not on the hill. That felt like a bad omen to us. We often wondered if the French had held this position or if they were defeated and forced to leave before their war ended.

First platoon covered the east side and parts of the hills south side. I had never seen so many different military units and types of equipment in one place. There were combat engineer platoon with bulldozers to build the hill and clear the area below. E troop cavalry armored personnel carriers provided protection and artillery was there for fire support.

The bulldozers operated through the day digging bunker positions while engineers constructed the frames for those bunkers. The platoon had been extremely busy since we arrived. We worked during the day and fought at night. We operated seven days a week from sunrise to dusk. The division and brigade information offices documented the events that took place on the hill.

 including our arrival. We had to fill thousands of sandbags to protect our bunkers. In addition to building the bunkers, we put up concertina wire. This was barbed wire in large coils that formed a barrier around the hill. The platoon laid down two strands of rolled concertina wire, placing a third strand on top of the first two.

 The initial bunker we prepared was a culvert cut in half. It stood 3 ft high and measured 6 to 8 ft long. We positioned it behind the bunker location and sandbagged the top and sides three bag zags deep. This was our protection until the actual bunker could be built. Most evenings around 1900 hours, we heard the thump thump thump of enemy mortar rounds.

 This gave us less than 10 seconds to find cover. We received three or four mortar rounds nearly every night. We learned to quit work before 1900 hours and head to our covert bunker for safety. Mike, John Meyer, and I always thought we could be in the line of fire since the company command post was right behind us.

 It sat at a higher elevation with many antennas sticking up, making it an obvious target for the enemy. We installed trip flares and claymore mines in front of our positions. We hung coke and beer cans filled with rocks from the concertina wire for an early warning system. If the enemy crawled through the wire, it would jiggle, causing the can to rattle.

 This signaled that North Vietnamese army or Vietkong soldiers were trying to breach our perimeter. Several nights, we went on patrols outside the hill perimeter to set up ambush sites. While checking our claymore mines, we sometimes found them turned around facing us. This was proof that we were not alone and that we had visitors during the night.

We spent nights on two-hour guard shifts when we weren’t on alert, which was every night during the first week. There was enemy contact on six of our first seven nights on the hill. We faced nightly mortar rounds, rockets, and sapper attacks. The worst was the sapper attack when enemy soldiers penetrated our defenses and threw a satchel charge filled with explosives into our position.

 The enemy was aware of where we were located. Lieutenant Baxter informed us that no United States forces had patrolled the area of operations for a long time. As a result, we expected a significant North Vietnamese Army and Vietkong presence. On July 10th, around 2230 hours, we endured the tail end of typhoon Tess, which brought more than 6 in of rain and strong winds.

 That night was cold and wet. John, Mike, and I huddled in our small shelter. Each of us wrapped our poncho liners and wore our ponchos over them to stay warm. Mike and I lay on the wet ground with our backs touching to stay warm. The wind howled and heavy rain lashed against our shelter.

 Water flowed in a steady stream beneath us. We were trapped in the shelter with nowhere to go. We hoped there wouldn’t be an attack that night. The next morning at 1:30 a.m., our perimeter took four or five rounds from a rocket propelled grenade. Thankfully, they hit nothing. We ignored the explosions and stayed hunkered down in the shelter.

 When sunrise came, we got up and saw deep mud covering the hill. We were soaking wet, cold, and muddy. Later that morning, second platoon checked their perimeter wire and reported it was cut. I could only guess that the North Vietnamese army did not get the weather warning. It took days for everything to dry out, but we continued our work on construction.

Later that day at 900 p.m., Mike and I were sitting at our position, talking and drinking a coke while John stood guard. Just as I was about to say I was ready for bed, we suddenly heard music coming from the jungle about 800 meters away. Everyone on the hill went quiet. The three songs playing were Where Have All the Flowers Gone by Peter, Paul, and Mary, Oh Susanna by James Taylor, and North to Alaska by Johnny Horton.

 The sound quality was surprisingly good. Then the broadcast switched to a voice speaking excellent English. This person asked us why we were fighting in Vietnam. They told us to surrender, come over to their side, or get wiped out. Mike and I were speechless. It was unsettling. We responded by having our artillery open fire toward the music and voice, causing us to duck for cover.

Over 100 artillery rounds were fired to silence the North Vietnamese army. Once the firing stopped and the smoke began to rise, the voice returned and mocked us for our poor shooting. That really angered Mike and me. We had never seen such tactics before. It made us think that a larger force was out there than we had expected.

 Later that night, around 10:20 p.m., the company spotted five Vietkong about 100 meters from the wire. Our positions opened fire with small arms and 81 mm mortars, and the Vietkong fled. 10 minutes later, several bunker positions reported 15 North Vietnamese Army soldiers at the wire.

 The units on the hill opened fire once more with 50 caliber machine guns, 81 mm mortars, artillery, and small arms. The enemy retreated again. The next morning, we discovered there were no bodies. The firebase began taking shape during the first week. The engineers dug out the bunker positions and prepared to install the bunker shells. Each day since our arrival, we followed instructions from the combat engineers.

We hammered in fence posts and strung concertina wire between them in front of the platoon positions. It took the company several days to surround the hill with concertina wire. At the end of each day, I extended my hand in front of me to avoid walking into the wire. After putting up so much concertina wire, I felt as if I saw it with every step I took.

This is a letter from Charlie Deppen to his mother, father, brother, and sister, dated July 12th, 1969. Dear mom, Dad, David, and Nancy, I am writing this letter to all of you to save time and because I’m low on writing supplies. I should receive more in a supply pack soon. For the last 5 days, we have been constructing a firebase about 2 miles west of Kangai.

 On the first day, we cleared and occupied the hill. Then we laid two strands of rolled barbed wire and placed another on top. This took us the second and third days. During the last two days, we focused on a small bunker type fighting position. They really keep us busy. Two nights ago, it rained heavily and for a long time creating a lake in our primary guard and sleeping areas.

 Everyone on the hill was wet and cold. Luckily, we now have overhead cover and the weather is somewhat better. Wish me luck and put a hex on the enemy. Love, Charlie. There were nights when the company had a mad minute. At a specific time during the night or early morning, the company instructed every position and weapon to fire for one minute in front of their position.

 It looked and sounded as if the world was ending with the explosions, tracer rounds, and the noise of various weapons. After one minute, it became eerily quiet as everyone stopped firing at the same time. This tactic aimed to discourage the enemy from attacking. It allowed everyone to fire their weapons and check if they were functioning correctly.

 Hopefully, the enemy did not know the exact time we started the mad minute. This is an excerpt from a letter that Lieutenant Baxter wrote to his parents and sister on July 13th, 1969. We are now building the new fire base approximately 10 kilometers due west of Kangai City. A support base is a forward location that provides infantry with fire support from mortars and artillery.

 We have about 200 soldiers in our task force working on this project. An army of the Republic of Vietnam Battalion is providing security for us. Meanwhile, the Vietkong and North Vietnamese army have propaganda teams trying to convince us to surrender with loudspeakers blaring in the evening. This is quite an undertaking. Our company along with two engineer platoon and nine armored personnel carriers is involved.

 We have two bulldozers working all day to dig bunkers. Currently, we are focused on filling the 97,000 sandbags needed for the task. On top of that, we were hit by the remnants of a typhoon, resulting in over 6 in of rain. This made for a miserable night and created a lot of mud the next day.

 On a positive note, I have a break to relax in Daang on the 27th. Once we arrived on the hill, Captain Tyson initiated a beard growing contest that lasted a week. When the contest ended, he ordered everyone to shave. One evening, Mike and I were outside Lieutenant Baxter’s bunker talking. I was enjoying a cigarette while Lieutenant Baxter puffed on one of his large cigars.

Mike did not smoke. Lieutenant Baxter typically smoked cigars only when on a fire base or during standown. I don’t recall him smoking in the field. That evening, Captain Tyson walked along the bunker line and stopped to speak with Lieutenant Baxter. He looked at me and in an irritated tone asked Lieutenant Baxter why I hadn’t shaved.

Lieutenant Baxter and the others laughed, but Captain Tyson did not find it funny. Lieutenant Baxter replied that I had not shaved since my arrival. This prompted more laughter. In my defense, I had a battery operated Norelco shaver that my mother gave me as a farewell gift.

 I used it weekly to keep any peach fuzz in check. Still, Captain Tyson didn’t see the humor and shook his head as he walked away. Lieutenant Baxter suggested that I shave. Each night, Mike and I took guard duty together. We would sit back to back, allowing one to nap while the other stayed alert. We took off our gear and helmets during our shifts.

 The helmets became heavy after wearing them all day. Our guard position was on top of the dirt mound created by the engineers digging for the bunker. One night, while Mike slept, I noticed extra fence posts along the line. I began to count them. I counted the posts and realized there were two extra ones. I woke Mike and asked him to check.

 He confirmed the extra posts. We shouted together, “Gooks in the wire.” Then we opened fire at the fence line toward the extra post. Small arms fire and explosions followed. Soon enough, the entire company was firing at the perimeter of the hill. Staff Sergeant Swindle, the platoon sergeant, came running over and shouted, “What is going on?” Mike replied, “Gooks in the wire.

” Staff Sergeant Swindle yelled, “Get your helmets on.” and then hurried back to inform Lieutenant Baxter. Staff Sergeant Swindle was in his 30s and a career soldier. I respected him for that. It was rare to find career soldiers leading young troops in the field. Most life or non-commissioned officers were in the rear away from active duty.

 The next morning, we searched the fence post locations, but found no bodies. This was not unusual since the Vietkong often took their dead. While building the fire base, we had a few soldiers from the Army of the Republic of Vietnam 4th11 Battalion stay at our position during the night, as did other bunkers. Soon, personal items began to go missing within the company.

 We had the same Army of the Republic of Vietnam soldiers at our position. We tried to communicate using broken English, broken Vietnamese, and sign language. One soldier liked my watch, but I had no intention of trading it, selling it, or giving it away. It remained on my wrist when they were around.

 One evening, while preparing dinner, the Army of the Republic of Vietnam soldiers brought enough food for Mike, John, and me. They offered a stew with chunks of meat, rice, potatoes, and some unidentifiable ingredients. The Army of the Republic of Vietnam soldier claimed the meat was beef. I have my doubts.

 Even now, Mike and I believe we ate dog meat that night. The meal tasted different and was too spicy for my liking. After dinner, we settled by our bunker for some rest. The idea of spending hours sandbagging to reinforce our bunker was unappealing. As dusk approached, we moved to our sandbag culvert for protection against the nightly mortar and rocket attacks.

 Sure enough, at 1900 hours, we heard the thump, thump thump of several mortar rounds being fired. The incoming rounds missed the bunkers and the areas where soldiers were taking cover. When the mortar attack finally ceased, we after finishing their discussions and moving around, they prepared to rest for the night.

 Early the next morning at 1:00 in the morning, third platoon spotted five Vietkong near their perimeter. A trip flare activated and one of their bunkers triggered a claymore mine. They were unsure if they had eliminated the intruder. They reported four Vietkong outside the wire and one inside. 10 minutes later, enemy sappers breached the wire and attacked Third Platoon’s positions.

 Third platoon responded with heavy automatic weapons and rifle fire to kill and push back the enemy. Positions from the surrounding hill, including ours, moved to their fighting areas, opened fire, and maintained fire for 10 minutes. Then it became quiet for several minutes. Third platoon reported that they had killed one Vietkong or North Vietnamese army who had entered their perimeter.

 Shortly after, we heard the sound of M16 and AK-47 gunfire coming from the opposite side of the hill near Third Platoon. Again, Sergeant Techmare from Third Third Platoon led a patrol outside the wire to track the sappers. They believed four Vietkong or North Vietnamese army members were still outside. He discovered a three-foot hole cut in the wire.

 Once they moved outside, the enemy ambushed the patrol, resulting in Sergeant Techmare’s death. The remaining patrol members carried him back to the platoon position. Once they returned to their bunkers, we opened fire again. Third platoon reported another Vietkong or North Vietnamese Army member had been killed. We secured the perimeter. Captain Tyson did not request a medical evacuation for Sergeant Techmare until the following morning.

 With very little sleep, we spent most of the day checking our positions, claymore mines, and trip flares. Along with cleaning our weapons, we carefully inspected the wire in front of our position for any holes. Tension lingered due to the early morning attack, and we felt less secure. As the sun set, those not on guard duty attempted to catch some rest.

 Dusty, Ramos, Reynolds, and Okino were in the bunker on the south side of the hill. It was getting late, and Dusty noticed that Ramos was acting unusually. He couldn’t define it. It was just a gut feeling, but it felt different from the usual. Reynolds listened to a tape from his wife, replaying it repeatedly.

 Reynolds was new, assigned to the platoon just 3 weeks earlier. Ryan Okino sat on the hillside behind the bunker enjoying the evening. Chuck Council was in the hospital and Duke Fo suffering from jungle rot. Dusty was assigned to the same bunker after injuring his leg. Before nightfall, he headed to the front of his bunker to set up the trip flares.

Dusty was known as the expert in his position. He was a quiet but friendly guy from the western plains of Nebraska. There he had become a skilled marksman, taking down prairie dogs and jack rabbits on his father’s ranch. He set the trip flares and found everything in order at the front. At 9:30 p.m.

, a trip flare lit up the area in front of the bunker. Dusty called for Ramos and Reynolds to throw a grenade forward and shoot at any movements. He picked up his M16 and moved around the corner, ready to shoot at an enemy soldier’s shadow in the darkness. Suddenly, a bright orange and white light flashed, leaving him disoriented.

After a moment, Dusty regained awareness and fired his M16 toward the fence line until he lost consciousness. When he woke up, Doc Windows and Okino were checking for his injuries. Doc Windows used a flashlight with a red lens. Every time he scanned a different area of Dusty’s body, he exclaimed, “Oh no, oh no. Oh no.

” Believing he had found a wound. Eventually, he discovered several deep shrapnel wounds from the explosion in Dusty’s back and right hand. The platoon was jolted awake by explosions and gunfire. A sapper had breached the perimeter and thrown a satchel charge into the bunker, killing Juan Ramos and Elden Reynolds. Dusty Roads was critically injured.

 The company was under small arms fire with grenades exploding from the south, west, and east. Captain Tyson called for flare ships and gunships from Chulai to support the hill. In the meantime, the company provided illumination with 4.2 mortars and suppressive fire using 81 mm mortars and 105mm artillery.

 Dusty remembered Doc Windows and Okino lifting him, one on each side since his legs were unresponsive. He told Doc Windows he felt no pain and wondered why he couldn’t walk. They carried Dusty up the hill to an armored personnel carrier behind the bunker. The APC commander opened the door and Doc Windows and Okino placed Dusty inside alongside another soldier.

 This soldier kept telling Dusty, “Please don’t get sick.” Repeating it in a fearful tone. Dusty reassured him, saying, “I will not get sick.” He felt lost amid the chaos as gunships fired and bullets peppered the hill. First platoon opened fire at the perimeter to stop any sappers from reaching their positions. The rest of the company joined in with automatic weapons and rifle fire aimed at the front.

 Flair ships and gunships arrived and they paused their shooting. These aircraft stayed until 10:30 that night. The flare ships lit up the night sky, creating a mix of light and shadows that allowed them to see the perimeter. The gunship fired its miniguns around the hill to keep the enemy at bay. Captain Tyson called for a dust off at 9:40 p.m.

 Other members of the platoon carried Reynolds and Ramos from the bunker to the helicopter landing pad, covering them with ponchos. At 10:10 p.m., the dust off landed. Two soldiers lifted Dusty onto a litter and placed him on the top row. They positioned Ramos and Reynolds underneath him. After loading the last body, the dust off took off for the division hospital in Chulai while the company provided covering fire.

 Once airborne, Dusty reached down and shook Ramos by the boots, asking if he was okay. Ramos did not respond. Dusty then turned to the crew chief and asked, “These are my buddies. What is happening?” The crew chief did not answer, but repeated, “Don’t go into shock. Don’t go into shock.” Dusty lay back, confused by the comment.

 Suddenly they were landing in Shouli. They took out Ramos and Reynolds first, directing them away from Dusty. They then wheeled Dusty into a secure bunker position, and he felt no pain. This was the start of his descent into hell. It was past midnight, and there was no enemy. They had vanished into the darkness.

 The platoon prepared for much needed sleep. The next day, while talking with Ryan Okino, he mentioned seeing a German Shepherd dog approach the bunker with something in its mouth. He claimed the dog, not a sapper, had dropped the grenade or satchel charge into the bunker. On July 15th, Charlie Company reported locating an NVA hospital and a basic training center 15 kilometers from the fire base.

 They called in an air strike and destroyed both. The hospital complex lost one hooch and eight other structures. Hooches were damaged and one bunker was destroyed. They found wooden chiccoms in a tank obstacle course at the suspected basic training center. A dust off landed at 1845 hours to pick up Doc Windows due to smoke inflammation and respiratory issues.

 He was flown to the hospital in Chuly. He would not return to the platoon. Now we were without a medic. The next day at Zo 230, Shadow opened fire on the hill with its miniguns. We all woke up and looked for better protection from the incoming rounds, wondering what was happening. Shadow was a C130 armed with many guns and a lot of firepower.

 The Army of the Republic of Vietnam called in the fire mission on the hill. Captain Tyson contacted the ARVN commander to cease fire. Damn ARVNs. They were supposed to be on our side. Building the fire base was tough and tedious. However, we enjoyed comforts not available in the field. We had a messaul that served three hot meals a day, ice cold drinks, and sometimes snacks during guard duty.

Everyday there were cold showers available. For us grunts, staying clean was a pleasure. The platoon received clean clothes more often while we built the fire base. We also had outouses that made it easier for us. We didn’t need to wander off the trail to relieve ourselves. We slept in a bunker with protection around us and could even take off our boots and helmets to rest.

 The platoon had ample protection with artillery, armored personnel carriers, and other fixed gun positions. But with that luxury came a price. We had to perform kitchen police duties, police calls, and cleanup details. Sometimes we longed to leave the firebase for the field despite the comforts it provided. We craved more freedom over the confinement and monotony of firebased life.

 Continued alerts at night and working on the bunkers during the day’s heat caused tension and frustration. Mike, John, and I finished sandbagging the bunker. In the early evening, Mike laid the last sandbag on the roof, and we decided to sit back, relax, and enjoy a coke. Like young guys do, we talked smack, and used the bunker roof as a wrestling ring.

 We met in the center of that makeshift ring and grappled for the best takedown. I managed a good position to bring Mike to the mat and went for the pin and the win. Of course, if Mike were telling this story, he would say I was the one getting pinned. At that moment, we heard a loud swoosh right over our heads.

 A 75mm round exploded, striking the west side of the hill. We crawled to the edge of the roof, lowered ourselves to the ground, and found cover in the bunker. Once we were safe, we laughed, joking that the North Vietnamese army had saved us. We relaxed more on the hill and enjoyed some conversation. It was the 1960s and the Vietnam War stirred many debates.

There was no shortage of topics to talk about. John Meyer and Mike loved music and discussed various bands and singers. I was not into music and hadn’t kept up with it. One day Meyer asked me, “Hey, have you heard the songs Lady Lady Lay or Country Pie?” I replied, “No, Meyer, I have not.

” He responded, “Bob Dylan wrote and sang those songs. Do you know who he is? I said, “No.” “Who is Bob Dylan?” Meer turned red and couldn’t believe I had not heard of Dylan. This exchange became a running joke between us. I know who he is now. Another perk of being on the hill was that soldiers could return to the brigade firebase, Bronco, for what I called the royal treatment.

 One morning, Lieutenant Baxter chose Alabama, Ray Hamilton, and me to go back to Bronco on the supply chopper. Ray was the M60 gunner from Alabama. Married, quiet, and religious. We got along well. We gathered our weapons and ammunition. We jumped into the Huey and sat on the floor with our legs hanging over the skids. The Huey lifted off and banked as it moved away from the hill.

 After a short ride, we landed on the helicopter pad at Bronco, jumped out, and walked to company headquarters. First Sergeant Malpa welcomed us as we entered through the screen door. He sent us to supply for clean uniforms that fit and any other clothing we needed. Next, we headed to the bath house where a line of soldiers awaited their turns.

 We checked in with the hostess and began our wait. Within minutes, she directed us to our private rooms. I enjoyed a steam bath along with a bath and massage from a young Vietnamese woman. After our relaxing morning, Alabama said, “I haven’t felt this clean and relaxed in many months.” And I agreed.

 We paid $3 in military payment certificates and left. We dropped off our old dirty uniforms at supply and headed to the messaul for lunch. The food tasted much better than what we had at the hill. We even had steak. Afterward, we went back to the helicopter pad and waited for the Huey ride home. In 15 minutes, the helicopter landed.

 Supply soldiers quickly loaded ammunition and supplies. Then we lifted off and headed back to the hill. Once we returned to the squad, Alabama and I shared stories about our great time and made sure everyone felt a bit envious. Mike and I got up early on July 19th. We headed to the mess hall for our usual breakfast of eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast.

 While we ate, I remembered it was his 20th birthday. I wished Mike a happy birthday and felt glad he made it another year. Mike was happy, too. After breakfast, we returned to the bunker to fill and place sandbags around it. Maintaining the bunker was a constant task. It turned out to be another quiet day. We worked on the bunker, checked trip flares, and claymore mines.

 John Meyer attached several more coke cans with rocks inside to the concertina wire in front of our position. Inside the bunker, we organized to create as much living space as possible. We prepared our position for nightfall. Mike and I moved outside the bunker for the first guard shift of the night. We sat next to each other facing the concertina wire ahead.

 The visibility was better outside. I took out two cans of pound cake, opened them, and handed one to Mike. I wished him a happy birthday again and told him this was his birthday cake. We had no candles because we didn’t want to reveal our location. While we enjoyed the pound cake and drank unsweetened Kool-Aid, Mike mentioned how America had launched Apollo 11 days earlier to go to the moon, yet we couldn’t end the war.

 I agreed completely with him. Mike’s birthday passed without any enemy interruptions, so he had a happy birthday. On July 22nd, we heard about Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. We recognized the achievement, but there were no loud shouts from the platoon. I knew most were thinking, “Forget about the moon.

 Let’s end this war and go home.” This is from a letter that Lieutenant Baxter wrote to his parents and sister on July 21st, 1969. We completed two weeks working on FSB Kelly McCoy. Work has been slow because of the weather and lack of materials. Things have calmed down considerably. Thank you for the books. Maybe I can read some now that life is a little more settled.

We do have fire here. I met a lieutenant in the battalion from Brooksville who graduated from the University of Florida in 1967. My platoon has lost some strength again. This is due to a mix of some guys getting rear jobs and others becoming casualties. Both of my radio operators got assigned to rear jobs, so I’ve been doing a lot of training with the new ones.

 The other radio operator had been with me since the beginning, and I relied on them quite a bit. It was late July and we were still on the hill creating fire support base 411. We provided security for the hill while constructing the fire base. We also sent out patrols and set up ambushes to eliminate the North Vietnamese army in Vietkong before they could attack us.

 This day, Lieutenant Baxter assigned Mike and me to set up an ambush in front of the second platoon positions. There were two key tasks before establishing the ambush site. First, we took a patrol out to find the best spot to ambush the enemy. Second, we coordinated with the second platoon to confirm the exact location of the ambush site.

 We wanted to avoid any friendly fire from the fire base. In the morning, we gathered the patrol to locate the best ambush site. The patrol included Mike, Alabama, Mississippi, Bill Davenport, Rebel, who was the platoon sergeant’s radio operator, and me. We left at 10:00 a.m., moved through the front gate, and headed east. The patrol crossed an open field, and then moved into thick brush and trees.

 We identified an ideal location for the ambush about 500 meters in front of the second platoon’s position. It had a slight elevation over the surrounding vegetation and several paths leading toward the firebase. The site offered excellent cover and concealment. After marking the grid coordinates on the map, we set up a perimeter to have lunch.

After a relaxed lunch, we returned to the fire base. Back at the fire base, Mike and I coordinated with Lieutenant Baxter and the second platoon leader about the ambush site and received their approval. We planned to leave at 5:00 p.m. and return at 7 a.m. These times were crucial for Second Platoon to coordinate with our patrol movements.

 The patrol’s radio operator communicated with Lieutenant Baxter. We got a few hours of rest before heading out. The night ahead would be long. As planned, we left the front gate at 5:00 p.m. and made our way to the ambush site. This time, we took a different, longer route, hoping the enemy wouldn’t notice we were returning to the same spot.

 We arrived at the ambush site at 6:15 p.m. and began to set up our perimeter. We ensured that Alabama’s M60 could cover both potential trails. Once we were confident with the fields of fire, we set up trip flares, early warnings, and claymore mines. These were meant to neutralize the enemy before they reached our positions.

 We maintained a slow pace, used as much concealment as we could, and stayed silent, revealing our location could be deadly. As dusk approached, we had a cold meal for dinner. I felt the urge for a cigarette, but the light and smell could expose us. As the sun sank below the horizon, Bill Davenport mentioned he had to use the restroom.

 Bill was from Washington. He was my height, but heavier with blonde hair and a bright smile. He often joked and used terms like potty for going to the bathroom and dind for dinner. My first thought was, “No way.” since he needed to go outside the perimeter. However, he insisted, so I let him go. 15 minutes later, just before dark, we noticed branches moving in the overgrown vegetation to our right front.

 We tensed, expecting an NVA patrol. Then we heard in English, “Friendly, friendly, friendly coming in.” It was Bill returning, hands raised as if surrendering. The expression on his face when he saw us ready to fire was worth letting him go out. We had to stifle our laughter to keep from making noise. Mike and I exchanged huge smiles, recognizing it was Bill.

 Every hour, we provided a situation report to Lieutenant Baxter. This kept the command group informed. We pressed the key on the handset twice to send the pre-arranged negative report. We kept quiet, knowing any conversation could reveal our position. The receiving station only pressed the handset once to acknowledge the report.

 No enemy soldiers crossed our path during that long night. The next morning, as the sun rose, we had breakfast and removed the trip flares and claymore mines. We were relieved that no NVA had come our way. We then made our way back to Hill 411 for some much needed rest. Despite the hard work on the hill, we completed over 3 weeks of work on FSB Hill 411.

Progress slowed due to rainy weather and limited materials. The situation became much quieter. Our platoon lost strength as some members received jobs in the rear and we suffered some casualties. Lesie Presley was assigned as Captain Tyson’s RTO and Terry Darren was also reassigned.

 There was work to be done in the rear so the new radio transmission operators required training. John Meyer took on the role of the lieutenant’s radio transmission operator. Rebels stepped into the position of the platoon sergeants radio transmission operator. A few days before we departed from the hill, we welcomed a new replacement, James Anderson, who came from Kentucky.