A Troop, 3rd Squadron, 4th Cavalry 25th ID - Vietnam

Personal Experience Narratives (War Stories)

"The Day A24 Died"
by Daniel Chapa

A24I was assigned to A-Trp, ¾ Cav. 2nd Platoon, RVN, in 1969. My track number was A-24, 2nd Platoon was given the dubious duty of being the armed escorts, to a fleet of Roam Plows. They were sent to this area and given the assignment of clearing and/or destroying brush, trees, and anything else that could be used by “Chuck” for cover or any un-towards actions against the Americans, or its allies. The operation had been going well, and had run into few problems. The biggest problem we had was to navigate around the debris that had been created by the Plows themselves.

It was about midday, and we were rolling, so far non-eventful. Then we heard on the radio that one of the Plows had run into a problem (failed thermostat, or something) and the driver needed to go back to the supply center to pick up the part, replace it, and continue the his assignment. A-24 and an M-551 Sheridan Tank (can't remember his Track #) were called upon to take this fellah back to pick up the part, return him to his track and get on with things.

Well, we pick him up; he rode on my track (A-24). We started out in a direction, away from the troop. The M-551 was point; I was 3 or 4 lengths behind him, then I noticed that he stopped. He came on the radio saying something to the effect that he was either lost, or didn't know the way back to supply. I was the TC at the time and was sitting in the APC cupola, (our regular TC had gotten wounded a while back during a dismount mission). I got on the radio and talked to my driver (Ed English) and asked him if he remembered the way back. He said “yes”, he was pretty sure, after a few short blue words about the M-551 crew, it was apparent we would have to take point since we couldn't take a chance this guy might lead us into a place we couldn't get out of. By rights, though, he had the biggest firepower and should have taken point.

I radioed to him that we were going around him and for him to follows us. That happened. We had traveled about 2 clicks or so when SOB!!! All of sudden there was this deafening sound, dust and fire everywhere, my vision became blurred…… when my eyes cleared I was laying on the ground face down……. then I thought ( a second ago I was sitting, squeezed in the cupola, my elbows resting on my bended knees, my hands on the butterfly trigger of the .50). I looked to my right and saw my track and noticed a couple of road wheels were missing; the .50 was lying beside me, shield and all. Smoke and dust was flying everywhere. The smell of cordite or a facsimile permeated the air. (Here’s the clincher!!) The smell of burned hair was strong also! I looked down at my arms and all the hair on my arms was burned off!! I ran my hands over my face and felt over my eyes and I didn't have any eyebrows, my eyebrows were burned off too!!(I was told later by the crew of the M-551 behind me that my track had been completely engulfed in a huge fireball). I staggered to the front of the track and the transmission was practically out of the vehicle, she was listing to right, the surfboard was blown open.

Meantime Ed had pulled himself out of the drivers hatch and was hobbling around, looked like an injury to his right ankle or leg. His face grimaced in pain as he tried to walk. I walked around the other way to make my way to the rear hatch, the whole time thinking where are my M16 rifle & Cal. 45 pistol, snipers could pick us off like fish in a barrel. I got to the hatch pulled down the handle and the door swung open. Inside, In front of the door among the rubble, were two men, my crewman and the Plow driver.  The plow driver was holding my crewman; his left arm was cradled around his neck his right arm was across his chest, and my crewman’s arms lay limped to his side. His head fell backwards his eyes wide open in a blank stare, mouth opened. The Plow driver's face was dirty or burned, the edges of his mouth edged downwards, he raised his eyes slowly towards me glassy eyed, his body slowly swaying. His eyes went slowly back down to the crewman.  The inside of the track looked like it had been turned upside down. The radio was blaring…..the M-551 behind us was calling in to the Troop, he was yelling in the mike “24 Hit a mine…I say again 24 has hit a mine…..I need a dust off!!! “Shit I think 24 is in a mine field!!!” “There’s movement---two men are still alive, walking around---24—24—24—YOU ARE IN A MINE FIELD!!!” I froze when I heard that transmission. Things couldn't get any worse, by then I felt blood dripping down my right eye, when I got blown out of the cupola the .50 got blown off its mount and upward, we both met in the air, I got a large gash above my right eye. Overwhelmed and in pain and exhausted, I fell to my knees, shut my eyes, expecting the impact of a bullet on my head or chest, I had no weapon or weapons to fight back, no cover, my track is burning, all crewmen down, I'm in a mine field, my face and body feel like its on fire--literally “Game over Dan” I thought – Commands kept filing in through the radio….nobody go in till it’s cleared by mine sweepers.

But, the game was not over, the road was cleared, eventually we were dusted off to the 12th Evac Hospital in CU CHI., after getting sewn up and ten days of convalescence I returned to the bush. The bad part of the whole thing, I was never told, or found out what happened to the other injured people.

A24 got towed to the Motor Pool. Here she sat alone – listing to her right side. By the damage to everything it was determined we had hit an 80 lbs 'tilt rod' mine.



Dancinspirit (Apache)
SP 4 Dan Chapa
A Trp, 3rd Sqdn 4th Cav, 25th Inf Div.
RVN, March – April 1969


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