I am often reminded of an
event that happened during the final few days of my tour in June of 1970. Our
beloved ¾ Cav was in the middle of our Cambodian operation. At that time our
Mess Section used an M-548 to transport cooks, foodstuffs, prepared meals and
potable water to the troops in the field. As I recall, the Mess SGT and his
Section would cook the evening meal in base camp, seal it in insulated thermal
containers and bring it to the field and serve it to the troops. They would remain with the troop overnight,
arise early and prepare and serve breakfast to the troops before heading back
to base camp and repeat the process all over again. I believe this was a rare
commodity for a combat arms unit in the field to be served two “Hots” a day and
this custom set the ¾ CAV apart from most other units in Vietnam and especially
one that was operating so far outside our Area of Operations in Cambodia. The Mess track, their
M-548 had transmission trouble and it was determined that it should be sent
back to Tay Ninh for repairs, most likely a new “Pack.”
At
the time I considered myself fortunate to be the Troop
commo-chief and track commander of A-8. I am an 11B infantryman by MOS
and how
I landed an assignment to A-8 could only be attributed to good fortune
or pure
luck. I moved over to commo as an observer and advanced to TC through
attrition. Duty for me in commo meant no
more Listening Posts, no more Ambush Patrols, no more infantry
dismounting, no
more perimeter guard duty and no more night radio watch. Pulling a
shift of guard duty each night was one of our biggest disadvantages. It
almost assuredly guaranteed that a soldier would remain tired and
unrested the following day and days of fatigue just continued to mount
up. By this time in Cambodia, the North Vietnamese Army had managed to
re-group and mount some limited offense by attacking supply convoys
running
from Cambodia to Vietnam and vice versa.
A-7 and A-8 were tasked daily with convoy security which was really
sketchy duty, to say the least. I was
less than two weeks from DEROS and more than a little concerned.
Suddenly it
seemed that the good fortune of my commo assignment had taken a serious
turn
toward danger.
The Mess Track would run on its’ own if it were pushed to a
speed above approximately 15 MPH, at which speed, the transmission would stop
slipping enough to pull its’ self. The
First Sergeant took point in A-7 and we picked up the Mess Track’s Water
Buffalo. We then pushed the Mess track
with A-8 until he got under his own power and our little convoy was under way.
As we came within a few kilometers of the border to Vietnam,
I began hearing a frantic call between our Squadron Commander and an officer
whom I thought was the Squadron S-4. He had been en route to marry up with the
forward squadron base when Ambushed just about 2 kilometers out of
Cambodia. Either he was unable to read a
map or perhaps didn’t have one. He was
in a quarter ton and travelling with some Combat Engineers when they were
ambushed. His transmissions were a plea
for help but without a location he was completely out of luck.
As our vehicles crossed the border we came upon an Armored Personnel Carrier from
some Mechanized Infantry unit. The ramp
was down on their track and no one manned the track but soldiers were scattered
around on the ground and using poncho shelters for shade. Most were passing around a cigarette inhaling
and holding the smoke for an extended period.
They were setting in a curve in the road and we could see black smoke
billowing high into the air and could hear that distinctive clack-clack of AK
47 fire. An occasional green tracer would be deflected and sent flying high in
the sky before burning out. I was in the rear and could not see the scene ahead
until I swung out and to the side of the mess track. I plotted the coordinates
and calculated the routine from the point method we used each day. I did not
want to transmit on the Squadron push because of all the traffic and confusion
so I called my commander, Captain Lawrence O’Toole on the troop push and gave
him the location and the information to do with as he saw fit. Then I circled
back to the Mech soldiers. I took my CVC
helmet off and stood in the cupola and yelled at these jokers asking what was
going on up the road. One finally
answered that it looked like someone had been ambushed. I asked what they were doing and the spokesman
said they were posting roads. Then I
asked if they were going to react for the stricken unit and he said hell no,
that they had only been told to post the road.
Top Jogged up about that time and said we were going in to
break the ambush. I asked what about the
mess track and Top glanced to the idle track and answered, “It’s up to
them.” As Top jogged back to A-7, I
yelled to the Mess Sergeant that we could come back and get them
afterward. He took one glance at the
Mech soldiers and stuttered that they would just go in with us.
Now imagine this; the ambush was about 5 hundred meters down
the road and I pushed that M-548 into the kill zone. There was a young soldier who was a cook
standing behind that M-2. I doubt he had
ever even fired it and as a cook he certainly hadn’t been formally trained on
it. Nevertheless, the last I saw of his
face, he stood there with a look of extreme fear mixed with a slightly lesser
amount of determination. We used those
three 50 calibers about 100 meters before we reached the kill zone. Apparently,
Chuck wanted none of that and I think they departed immediately. I do not
believe we took any incoming fire as we arrived. The site of the ambush was
horrid to look at. Five-ton, wheeled
trucks had been disabled with RPGs and were ablaze, each with pillars of black
smoke rising in the still, hot air. I
believe that most of the dense smoke was caused by burning tires. I called for
Medevac and it arrived very quickly but refused to land because the pilot
thought the Landing Zone was hot. It is the only time I ever knew of a medevac pilot to
refuse to land for any reason. It really didn’t matter at this point because
there were no living wounded left, there were only the KIA scattered about the
“kill zone”, some were laying in the road and some in the burning vehicles.
Those corpses are recurrent in my mind and dreams, yet today. It turns out that most survivors had been
evacuated in quarter tons to a nearby Fire Support Base. I believe that several terrifying
trips had been made back and forth from the ambush site to the fire support
base.
I wish I had thought to get that cook’s name. I can only say that he was black, smiled a
lot and had long fingernails, which he used to crack eggs and pry them
open. He had the one-handed egg crack
method mastered. That young soldier could have dove down the hatch and
scrambled to the floor for cover but he did not waver. I am pretty sure he pushed the butterfly down
and held it down until all 100 rounds were expended. He did the best that he could and I was proud
of him that day and proud of him still today.
He overcame fear that day in the proud tradition of the 3rd Squadron,
4th United States Cavalry and in my mind, he is no longer a cook but a Cavalry
Trooper, plain and simple! I don’t really
know how else to recognize this soldier but I will never forget that image of
him.
Robert E. Wellman
A Troop June 1969 - June 1970
Go to 