I was up in Go Da Ha the first day of Tet in ‘68, a member of A Troop’s second platoon.  Most of us spent the morning hanging around the Squadron’s radio relay station, Saber Niner-eight, trying to make some sense of the fighting down at Tan Son Nhut.  One of the guys who worked the radios would come out from time to time to give us an update on what was going on.  Their early reports claimed that a platoon of ‘Charlie’ were outside the wire causing trouble and I figured it was just a panicky reaction by an over excited Air Force security team down there.  The first reports were soon overshadowed by the grim reality of the attacks across the country.

 

     Feeding our apprehension was the repositioning of A Troops first and third platoons down to Trang Bang and Cu Chi.  It was getting pretty lonely at Go Da Ha, I think we went out on a couple of sweeps of the area but it was peaceful compared to the reports from the fighting in Saigon.  But ‘peaceful’ is a relative term and rumor is the lifeblood of young soldiers.  We imagined all sorts of terrible things and treated them as fact; repeated them to one another until it was Gospel itself.  What really happened that day, the personal accounts of the Air Force Police, the radio logs from Squadron Headquarters, and especially Dwight Birdwell’s first hand experience of fighting from the tanks and ditches provides me with as full a picture of the battle as I can imagine.  And that imagination leads to this story.

 

       Several years ago, a woman that I dated before enlisting in the army, got in touch and offered me the letters that I wrote to her while in Vietnam, telling me that she had come across the war stories I wrote and that the letters could serve to jog my memory about my service over there.  Sadly, the scratchings that I read through were mostly about teenaged longing and promises of love.    After my initial embarrassment, we began corresponding and meeting for lunch two or three times a year.  At one of our lunches, Susan surprised me with a small gift, the sound track of the latest Lone Ranger movie.  She knew that I enjoyed the movie despite the poor reviews by the critics.

 

       Since that time, the disc remains in my truck and two or three times a week I’ll blast out the track of the William Tell Overture and my imagination runs wild as I picture the various parts of the battle at Tan Son Nhut.  The opening fanfare of trumpets serves as I imagine the first calls for Charley Troop’ s available platoons to stand to arms, the cross country ride to Tan So Nhut, the desperate fight until Charlie Troops first platoon reinforced the other platoons, Bravo Troop’s impossibly fast ride, all of it.  I try to fit all of the other separate scenes that took place into the music, Colonel Otis kicking illumination flares out of his chopper, his being shot down and climbing into another ship and then almost immediately, being shot down again.  

 

       I picture Dwight Birdwell fighting his burning tank, then carrying ammo to the others fighting from the ditches.  Centaur slicks coming in despite the heavy fire, dropping off ammo and water.  The constant mini gun, grenade, and rocket runs of the gun ships; the arrival of B Troop and the hammer and anvil attack that the Colonel came up with on the fly, the bombing of the Vinico Factory by the Air Force.  The Dust Off ships carrying first the wounded, then those who paid the ultimate price.  Each piece of the battle enters my imagination as the music blasts away but there are too many scenes for the eight minutes that it takes for the Overture to run its course.

 

       I know nothing about music, only that I know what appeals to me.  Like the rest of you guys, I grew up on Rock and Roll and Country.  Classic orchestral composition never spoke to me and it wasn’t until much later in life that I recognized that various commercials and cartoon background music was rooted in the classics.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that the the music would have to run a lot longer to fit all of the different parts of the fight.  The only thing that I’m sure of is that the first thrilling fanfare of trumpets brings to mind Charlie Troops running for their tracks and tanks and racing for the Main Gate.  The very ending fanfare makes my imagination picture Colonel Otis standing atop his track and saluting each of the vehicles of Charlie and Bravo Troop as they head out for their nighttime laager positions.

 

       I am intensely proud of my service; count my year in A Troop as one of the defining influences on my character.  The Tet Offensive in ‘68 fell almost exactly in the center of my year of duty.  The first six months were almost casual compared to the intensity of those second six.  But in all the years that have passed since then, I’ve almost envied those in Charlie and Bravo Troop.  My advancing age allows me to forget the terrors of every battle, the horrors of war.  I don’t think anyone who has been spared such experiences can fully appreciate the mental scarring that each of us carries.  They are the burden we carry and it’s eased when we get together at our reunions, recounting shared fears until humor at such things begins to burble to the surface.  

 

        If you get the chance, grab a cheap CD that has the William Tell Overture.  Get into your car or truck and start the music.  Crank it up and let the music take you back to that day.  It doesn’t matter if you were there for that fight; kick back and let your imagination  take over and let the music bring the fight into your minds eye.  It thrills and saddens me to the point of tears each time I listen and makes me proud beyond all measure to have served with the officers and men of the Three Quarter Horse

     John G. Jerdon
     Earleville, Maryland.

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