THEY DRAW OUR BLOOD

The sun came up bright and hot. I slept in past 0730 and missed breakfast. I really didn't mind it though. I needed the rest more. It was Sunday and we had the day off. Letter writing and getting my laundry done seemed to head the list of priorities. I also wanted to find the time to get a haircut.

Sgt. Sawyer went with me in the jeep out to Cu Chi, it was there that we decided to stop and get a haircut. When we arrived at the barber shop, we had our rifles with us when we walked in. I jokingly told Sawyer to make sure the weapon was off safe. Just in case the barber got too close to my throat with the razor.

"You can't trust anybody over here. You have to be real careful."

Yea, I heard. Don't you worry Sarge. If he gets too close to your throat and you hear a shot, promise you won't piss your pants, okay?"

"Piss hell, I'd probably shit my knickers."

Sawyer laughed. "Don't worry though Sarge, blood is a lot harder to wash out."

The barber was just fine, my concerns were unwarranted and I got out with my ears still attached.

After we finished with the haircut, we ended up over at the 25th Evacuation Hospital. We stopped there to see how Sgt. Cryder was getting along. At first we didn't recognize him when we walked in because he had his head bandaged. He looked like he was coming along pretty good. He'd be back in the lines in no time. He couldn't talk to us at all. He made gestures and wrote notes to us and told us what happened on the day he got hit. He told us the VC fired on him when he got up out of a rice field. The bullet hit the zipper on his flak jacket. The bullet ricocheted off the zipper, traversed up towards his neck and exited out the side of his throat. Another inch toward center and the bullet would have gone out the top of his head. He was lucky to still be alive.

"Well Cryder, you take it easy and we'll see you soon. Anything I can do for you?"

He just shook his head no, and then raised his hand to shake mine. He kind of whispered, "No. Thanks for coming by," in a low voice.

"See you later. Take care," said Sawyer.

After we left the Evacuation Hospital, Sawyer made a remark that Cryder would have one hell of a scar.

"Yes, but at least he'll live to show it off."

"Looks like he is taking it pretty good."

"Yea, you're right about that. I just hope he can come back from it, mentally as well as physically. I think he's a tough grunt. He'll be okay."

When we finally got back to camp, Sgt. Cline told me the First Sergeant was looking for me. I went to the orderly room looking for him.

"I heard that you were looking for me. What's up?"

"Hi, thanks for coming in. We've got a situation here that I need your help on."

"Sure, anything. What do you need?"

"The 1st Platoon is committed for a patrol outside the bunker line tonight. They're going to need the support of your mortar section for their security outside the wire. Battalion artillery is committed to three other sectors and the 4.2 mortars are also committed."

"Yea, Top, that's no problem with us. I don't think my men are that hung over from last night. If they need us, we'll be there."

"You're going to have to talk to TOC (tactical operations center) to get all the information. You'll need all the call signs and the coordinates for the mission."

"Okay Top, I'll take care of it."

"Have you had chow yet?"

"No, not yet. Guess I'll head out to Battalion TOC. I'll eat when I come back later."

"Okay, I'll have the cook save you something in case you're running late."

"Thanks Top, I'll see you later."

I walked over to the Battalion TOC to get the operations briefing for that night's mission. I was back in 30 minutes. Needless to say, I was late for chow and the cook was irritated that I showed up late.

"Didn't the First Sergeant tell you that I'd be running late?"

"Yea he told me, but we don't have that much left."

"Well, I'm not that hungry anyway, Sloan. I'll make out with what you've got."

I finished eating and went back to the Fire Direction Center (FDC) bunker. Fisher and Collins were there when I walked in. I explained that we had a support mission for them to take care of. I also had Sgt. Sawyer briefed for his role with the mortar section. By the time I finished the briefing, the 1st Platoon's men were heading out toward the bunker line. It was 2015 hours and it was just starting to get dark.

"Hell, we won't see them again until morning," said Mantley.

"Yea I know. Mantley, I want you and Collins on that radio for tonight's mission. And I want someone monitoring the radio all night long. When the patrol comes back in, then I'll feel better."

"Ah come on Sarge. Hell, I had a card game scheduled for tonight."

"Well, you're going to have to cancel out. Besides, the way you played poker last night should have tapped you out."

"Yea, they sure did, the sons-a-bitches. They drained me dry last night."

"Yea, that's what I heard. You can get even later when your finances improve."

"Sarge, you're a pretty good judge of character aren't you?"

"Yea, I guess, sometimes. Why?"

"How about floating me a loan for a couple of sawbucks till payday?"

"Mantley, I wouldn't loan you two nickels to rub together. I sure as hell wouldn't loan you twenty bucks to lose in a damn poker game."

"I guess you're not a very good judge after all."

"Hell Mantley, I had your character judged the first day I met you. You're a lousy poker player, but you're a damn good soldier and I still ain't going loan you no twenty bucks."

He walked away from me shaking his head, disgusted with the whole matter.

Later on that same evening, we heard the Viet Cong were trying to probe the bunker line. The 4th of the 9th Infantry, which is our sister Battalion, had sappers trying to breach their defenses.

The VC who tried to get in, met with stiff resistance. They didn't get any further than the barbed wire. When the sun came up, they found three of the enemy hanging in the barbed wire. One of our Claymore mines caught them cutting into the wire when it went off, cutting them to shreds. One of the VC still had a satchel bag of explosives strapped to his back. Considering what was left of him, I'm surprised the Claymore didn't set it off.

Luckily for the sector involved in the probe, the bunker line had just been reinforced. The enemy picked the strongest part of the line to tangle with. Their intelligence apparatus must be slipping a little. They really got caught this time. Also, our patrol came back in with no contact the night before. Our guys had done an excellent job just staying awake last night. I was glad they didn't need our support after all.

That morning I received word that a briefing on our next operation would be starting at 1500 hours. To be honest I was a little apprehensive about this next mission. I was worried a lot more now than before. I guess it was because we'd been too lucky so far.

29 April 1967

After our operations briefing we gathered together the extra ammo and supplies that were needed for this particular mission. It took a while to get things organized. It usually does, when you kind of feel your way through knowing how much to take. You don't want to leave anything behind and find out later that you didn't have it with you when you needed it most.

Our Platoon didn't sleep much that night; we spent most of it getting prepared for this operation. You really can't sleep anyway with all the commotion and noise. Those who were fortunate enough to catch a little shut-eye were just lucky or just plain deaf. Now you take Johnson for example, he could sleep through an Atom bomb attack, wake up the next morning and ask if it’s just cloudy out.

We left for the airfield at 0430 hours. The helicopters were supposed to pick us up at 0500. It was still pitch black out, with no moon at all. All of us were loaded as far as rations, ammo, grenades and Claymores. We could hardly move around with all the extras. After about 15 minutes we heard the first lift of choppers coming in to land. It was quite a sight to see all those choppers coming in to pick us up.

The choppers were from the 25th Aviation Battalion based at the other end of Cu Chi. Once they landed, we loaded seven men into each chopper. With all the extra equipment, we didn't dare increase the load.

After we lifted off the trip started out routine at first. Then all of a sudden they took a sharp left-hand turn to the northwest. The VC like to place snipers out in the woods at the end of the airfield. So direction changes are made prior to actual line flight occurs, to throw Charlie off as to what direction we are leaving. Anyway, this time we got off okay without any ground fire. The trip north took us about 20 minutes. When we finally arrived at our designated landing zone (LZ), our chopper started to circle. The other helicopters started going in to let the troops off at the LZ. After about 10 minutes of circling, I noticed that it was getting light out.

Mantley, who was sitting next to me, started yelling to make himself heard over the chopper noise. He was trying to bring my attention to the ground fire below.

"Looks like Charlie knew we were coming," he yelled.

He pointed down and I noticed the tracers from our door-gunner's machine guns trailing off into the morning sky. We also saw the ground fire from Charlie coming out of the jungle below us. They were firing at the choppers as they started to land. A hot LZ was not what I had in mind. But I guess there's always the first time. As we continued to circle we looked over in the distance and there was the Black Virgin Mountain, sticking out like a "sore thumb."

"Well, at least we know we aren't in Cambodia yet," I said.

"Yea, we're definitely south of the mountain," yelled Sawyer

We circled until we were notified to wait until the smoke preparation was complete. "Slick" choppers were prepping the LZ with smoke to help cover our landing. The smoke screen was dropped all the way across the LZ. We heard over the chopper intercom that a landing wasn't to be made until the smoke prep was completed. The voice on the radio crackled again that the LZ was still hot.

"No shit! How intelligent of him to say so."

We were also notified that the artillery was dropping chlorine gas into the jungle where Charlie was to throw off his thinking that we were trying to land. We were hoping that the ruse would work, for our sake. When the time came for us to descend and attempt a landing, ground fire was still coming out of the jungle. We went in anyway. As we came in to land, we pulled up and out away from the LZ. At first I thought it was because we were receiving fire from Charlie. Then I knew why. My nose and eyes started to water. At that instant the wind had changed direction. We inhaled both smoke and the gas. With the gas now mixed in with the smoke, we could only guess as to where to attempt a landing.

We went a little ways to the left of the white stuff and tried again. This time we were successful. I kept thinking, and saying a prayer, please don't set us down in that gas again. I'm glad we didn't have to put our gas masks on. Just as the chopper's skids touched the ground I gave the order to get the hell out of there.

"Okay," I yelled. "Let's get the hell out of this thing.

Move!"

A couple of guys tried to leave the chopper at the same instant and both fell over each other at the bottom of the choppers skid. They both picked themselves up and headed for the nearest cover. I was so pre-occupied with my own sense of direction I didn't notice who it was that fell.

As soon as the choppers left we cleared the LZ, I had the men spread out. We still had sporadic fire coming in toward us. We were cautious in what movement we made. I yelled out to have everyone form a line opposite the wood-line. It took a few minutes to get everyone in place. So far so good, I told myself. We made radio contact with the CO and were told to hold tight where we were. He'd call me back in a few minutes to tell me to start moving. Fine with me; I was in no hurry to get shot. I turned around when I heard someone come up from behind. It was Lt. Thomas.

"I heard the CO tell you to stay put. I wonder what's going on up ahead?"

"Beats the hell out of me, sir. We'll have to wait and see."

"Yea, always the same old shit. Hurry up and wait," he said.

"That's funny, coming from you sir. I thought you were the one with the patience."

"Usually that's the case, but for some reason I don't like this spot. I'd like to see us get moving."

Just then we both heard the CO give us the word to start moving. He wanted us to keep spread out and not bunch up.

"There, you see lieutenant, you have a great sense of timing."

As we started to move I noticed the CO's headquarters section just ahead of us. They were already moving into the tall "elephant" grass next to the wood-line. As they moved, so did we. I had Green and Lewis up together on our point, Figaroah and Sawyer behind them, and then the rest of us.

"Keep it spread out," said the lieutenant. "I don't want anyone getting lost in there."

"Green, stay in touch with Fig. Lewis, you stay in touch with Sgt. Sawyer."

They both acknowledged my orders and kept moving.

We heard some small arms fire up to our front. None of the fire was coming in toward us. I heard our own people returning the fire. It was getting louder and more frequent the closer we got.

"Mantley, get the CO on the radio. I want to talk to him," said the lieutenant.

"Right sir. Ah, Charlie six, this is four-5 alpha, over."

"This is Charlie six, over."

"Charlie six, this is four-5 alpha. Our four-6 wants to know how far back you want us, over?"

Just then the lieutenant grabbed the mike out of Mantley's hand. Mantley's eyes almost bulged out of his head.

"I said I wanted to talk to him, not you!"

"Sorry sir, I thought that's what you wanted."

"Don't think for me Mantley, it doesn't suit you. Charlie six, this is four-6, over."

"This is six, go ahead, over."

"Six, this is four-6. Am I to understand that we're to stay behind you and not abreast of you, is that correct, over?"

"This is six, that's affirmative, over."

"Roger six, this is four-6, out."

"Sgt. Shaffer, let's keep those men we've got up front, back a little. We're too far up on their right flank."

"Right sir, I'll take care of it now. Fig, you tell Green to stay up enough to catch the tail-end of headquarters section."

"Right Sarge, will do."

"Lewis," I yelled to him. "You're up too far, drop back a little."

I tried my best to keep our men spread out as much as possible, but not so much that I'd lose track of them. The high grass made it more difficult to maintain control. As we continued moving, the firing ahead of us became louder. Then it became local.

"Hit the dirt!" yelled Lt. Thomas. "Get your heads down."

After a couple of minutes went by, Lt. Thomas told me to get the men moving again. Just as I got up to start to my right, I sensed a whooshing sound just to the left, next to my ear. I bent back down suddenly and knelt there for a couple of seconds. I was thinking to myself what that sound could have been. Then it occurred to me that I just heard what most don't hear at all - the sound of a bullet whizzing by. They say you never hear the crack of the bullet that kills you. Well I'd just as soon hear them than not. I kept kneeling there for a few more seconds. I was starting to shake a little. For the first time I felt fear tugging at my insides. I didn't want to move but I knew that I'd have to. Figaroah crawled over to me. I looked at him as he came up to me. He saw that I was white as a ghost.

"What the hell's the matter Sarge? You okay?"

"Oh nothing, I was just having a meeting."

"A meeting? Out here, what are you losing it or something?"

"I just heard a couple of bullets whiz past my ear. Scared the shit out of me."

"You going to be okay?"

"Yea, I'm all right. Just knowing that the Lord and I had our little prayer meeting, I'm okay now."

"Keep the men low. There's still stuff flying around in here."

I yelled out to the men, "Keep your heads down, fire coming in!"

We stayed low and kept moving at a slow pace. The firing became less intense than before. As we moved further in, the land features changed to hedgerows, running parallel to our movement. Then after about 200 yards of hedgerow we would run into a tree line about 30 yards wide and then it lined out again with hedgerow. The terrain alternated like this for the next 3,000 meters. Every time we came up to a wood-line, we'd have to stop and clear it of "booby-traps." This process became slow, tedious and, most of all, dangerous. We'd stop, check it for any snipers that they might leave to delay us. After that, we'd have to clear it of any booby-traps that he might have left. It took the greater part of the morning to accomplish this type of clearing. We were well into our afternoon clearing start, when the movement came to a complete stop.

"Must have run into a whole nest of booby-traps," said Johnson.

"Yea, why else would we have been held up? The bastards just love to leave their calling cards," said Figaroah.

"Mantley, you got any butts on you?" asked Johnson.

"Yea, here, where the hell your cigs?" he said, as he threw them over to Johnson.

"Thanks. I ain't opened my rations yet. By the way, when we goin' to stop for lunch? I'm gettin' awfully hungry."

Johnson picked up the cigarettes Mantley threw over to him.

As he was trying to light one, a loud explosion went off next to us. That one was followed by another seconds after.

"Damn, said the lieutenant. "They set off another one."

"You know, I'd like to leave a calling card for Charlie just once," said Figaroah.

"Yea, you do that Fig, and somehow our own men will end up tripping them," I said. "I don't want any traps put out, period."

"Sgt. Sawyer, looks like we're going to be delayed a while, so get your security out."

"Right Sarge, I'll get right to it. Collins, Lewis, spread out to the right flank. Gerard, Johnson, you both look out to the rear. Where the hell is Green?"

"I don't know where he went," said Fig.

"I'm always looking out for someone's rear. Don't you think they'd start looking' out my rear?"

"Very funny, Johnson. Very funny," said Sawyer.

Just at that instant another explosion went off.

"God dam it, not another one," I said.

"You'd think we'd have gotten the message the first two times," said Mantley.

"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Mantley?"

"I didn't mean nothin' by it. I was just statin' fact."

"Sometimes Mantley you shouldn't speak at all. That's the problem with you, you talk too much without thinking."

"Yea Sarge, I guess that's why he's the RTO (radio-telephone operator," chuckled Johnson.

"Boom!" The sound we heard was deafening.

"That was real close," said Sgt. Sawyer. "Too damn close."

"Jesus, what in hell is coming off? Damn them bastards," said Fig.

Figaroah was really getting hot-under-the-collar. He never had any respect for Charlie's brutality. And I tended to agree with him. We were all getting pissed off.

"They really know how to play it dirty, don't they?"

"Bastards," said Johnson. "They can't fight us face to face. They're scared of us."

"Bunch of coward bastards is all they are," said Mantley.

"Calm down you guys. I know how you all feel, but that kind of anger doesn't help any."

We all heard the distant calls for medics. Then we heard the frantic yells of the wounded. "Help. Help me!" It was all we could do to keep our emotions together. Finally the CO was on the radio, yelling for the "dust-offs" to hurry and get here. Lt. Thomas came running back to where we were.

"Where's Sgt. Sawyer?" he asked.

"Over there sir," said Mantley.

"Sgt. Sawyer, you got account of all your men?" he asked.

"No sir, we were just trying to locate Green. How'd you know?"

"I just came back from the wood-line. I think your man Green is the one who tripped the last booby-trap. I can't tell if it's him or not. You'd better get over there quick and check it out."

Sgt. Sawyer's jaw just dropped to the ground. He looked like someone had just slapped him in the face. He turned and started running toward the wood-line. I got up from where I was and I followed Sawyer into the woods.

"Shit! Everyone stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Sawyer and I both got into the trees where the medics were attending the wounded. They were working frantically to stabilize the wounded. There were three men being worked on. One of the medics asked who his patient belonged to.

"He's my man," said Sgt. Sawyer.

"Look, I've got him on an IV and pretty well stable at this time. He's bleeding pretty bad inside; we've got to get him moved out of here to the LZ."

"Is he going to make it you think?" asked Sawyer. "Will he be okay?"

The medic didn't speak. He just lowered his eyes onto his patient and sighed. Sawyer tried to comfort Green and give him words of encouragement. The "dust-offs" were on their way. We moved the wounded men to a larger clearing. We then waited for the choppers to land. Sawyer stayed with Green the whole time, until we loaded him on the chopper. He tried to console him, telling him to hang in there.

The “booby-trap” done its job. Green had severe wounds to his chest, minor wounds to his legs, and he lost three fingers on his hand. His wounds were definitely life threatening. The other two men were also in bad shape. The "dust-off" came in, picked them up, and was off the ground in less than four minutes. The medics did one hell of a job. My hat goes off to all of them. Sgt. Sawyer and I left the LZ and returned to where the platoon was. Sawyer was raving mad about what happened to Green.

"How in the hell did Green end up there with the headquarters section? And how did he end up on their point? I didn't even see how he got that far forward," he said.

"Look, I don't think you should let it bother you like this. The CO probably thought he was one of his men and moved Green into the wood-line," I said.

"Shit man, he don't have the right to move my people."

"Hey, he's the CO, it's his company; he has the right. He was just doing his job. So lighten up, will you?"

"It's nobody's fault. You got me Sawyer? It's nobody's fault," I told him.

"Think he'll be okay?" he asked.

"If they get him to the hospital quick enough, I think he's got a good chance."

"I sure hope so."

"Yea, so do I. Look, calm down, get your men briefed on what happened. We'll probably be moving out in a few minutes. Take count of your men constantly, and know where they are."

"Right Sarge, I know your just trying to help. It's just that it's over so quickly. One time your talking to them and then an instant later your placing them on a dust-off. Don't make sense."

"This whole crazy war don't make sense," I said.

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