BLACK VIRGIN MOUNTAIN

The clearing operation continued well into the afternoon. We didn't encounter anymore contact with the enemy. We did however find more booby-traps. We blew them in place and continued moving. When we came upon any bunkers or tunnels, we blew them up too. We were also more conscious of the danger that existed. It lowered the possibility of more casualties.

We circled back toward the area that we had already cleared and wound up a short distance from where we had landed that morning. The terrain flattened out considerably at this point, so we decided to make this our R.O.N. (Rendezvous Over Night) location. After securing our perimeter and digging our foxholes, we had our overhead cover installed against mortar attack. We settled down for the evening, and I made a small shelter out of my poncho with a stick to hold it up. I began peeling the bark off the stick - just to do it, I guess. Mantley told me that if I did that, Charlie would use the stick as an aiming stake for his mortars. I just laughed it off.

Lt. Thomas came over to our location to give us some sad news. He told us that Green hadn't made it. He died on the way to the evacuation hospital. He said that it was the shock and loss of blood that killed him. Nobody said a word. We were numb from the news. I was really sad that he hadn't made it. I thought he had a chance. Other news that night was more encouraging. We were told that the operation would continue in the morning - out toward Nui Bau Din. We were responsible for clearing a sector south of the mountain. At 0700 the Air Force was coming in to drop bombs on that area. I guess the Brass felt that the VC needed a little softening up before we got hold of them.

I was sitting with the first sergeant at chow talking about the day's activity. We both just looked at each other when that familiar sound crossed our hearing. WHOP, WHOP, WHOP!

Jennings was the first to hear it. "Incoming!" he yelled out.

Everyone scrambled for cover. I followed the first sergeant and another guy into a two-man foxhole. Anyway, being the last one in kind of left my "flanks" exposed. When the mortar rounds started hitting the ground, it seemed as though they were coming right in on us. I could feel the ground shake as the rounds walked their way toward my hole. I was thinking that the next round was coming in with me. Luckily, the next round landed over and beyond where we were. After the last round landed we got up out of the holes we were in. I looked around to see if anyone was injured. Everyone seemed to be okay. Charlie's aim was pretty good considering he didn't hurt anyone. The mess area received some damage. I looked at my foxhole. It was a total loss. It received a direct hit and obliterated my poncho.

With Jennings alerting all of us as to the incoming mortar fire, everyone had time to take cover. The CO recommended him for a citation. He was a good soldier and he surely saved some lives. Our mortar section was the first to return the fire. It was hard to know exactly where the fire came from. All we could do was trace backward how the rounds came in. Using penetration angle from the ground burst, you determine what direction they came from. Distance to the target you pretty much have to guess at. You just have to walk the mortars back toward him and get lucky. After our return fire was halted I told Sgt. Sawyer and his men they had done a fine job. We didn't hear from Charlie again that night. Maybe we hit him with our mortars, but then maybe we didn't. But we got him off our back. The CO had patrols sent out to guard our perimeter. He had def-cons pin-pointed and plotted on the map using 155 mm artillery - just in case he would need them later. Def-con (Defensive contact artillery fire) "ringing the perimeter with steel," is what it stands for. They're used only when a need exists to protect patrols or our own internal security.

Mantley and I were trying to straighten up my foxhole. We were trying to salvage what we could but nothing much was left. Some of the water cans I had with me were hit with shrapnel.

The line platoons on the outer perimeter were putting out Claymores. They were also settling in for the night.

"Guess what, Sarge?"

"What's up, Mantley?"

"It's not what's up Sarge, it's what's coming down!"

"I just felt rain! Oh great, and I'm without a poncho. It decided it wanted to rain, just to piss me off. Great timing."

"I told you not to peel the bark off that stake."

"I really don't need your advice right now, Mantley."

"Okay, if that's how you feel. I was going to offer you my poncho liner to keep you dry."

"No, no, that's good Mantley, that's a good idea."

"Wait here Sarge. I'll go and get it for you."

Just as he got up to leave, Mantley let out a loud moan and fell back toward me in the hole. An explosion had gone off just an instant before. Sounded like it came from the line somewhere.

"Damn, I'm hit!"

"What do you mean you're hit?"

"I'm bleeding, damn it! Right here on my arm."

I looked down at his forearm and saw blood soaking his sleeve. So I pulled up his sleeve past his elbow. First glance told me that the wound was superficial and it wasn't life-threatening

We didn't know it at the time, but later we found out that he had taken a hit from a back-blast of an accidental discharge on one of our line Claymores.

"Medic!" I yelled out.

"Talk about a freak accident."

"Yea, what's freaky about it?" he asked.

I repeated my call out for the medics but found out that they were all receiving medical supplies at the aid station. I'd have to see what I could do for Mantley myself.

"Johnson, go see if you can round me up one of those medics at the aid station," I yelled out.

"Right, Sarge. Looks like 3rd Platoon was the ones with the accidental discharge Sarge."

"Pretty damn bad when you take a hit from your own men instead of Charles himself."

"Ha ha, very funny Sarge, but I'm not laughing. Check this arm will ya? I think I'm bleeding to death."

"Yea, sure. I'm looking right at it Mantley. Yea, it looks pretty bad, buddy. Really bad, I lied."

I placed a bandage on the wound and had him apply pressure to stop the trickle of blood. There was a piece of metal lodged in the forearm about a quarter inch embedded into the skin.

I pulled my bayonet out of my scabbard and Mantley's eyes grew larger.

"Hey Sarge, what the hell you gonna do with that pig-sticker?"

"I'm gonna have to amputate your arm Mantley, looks pretty bad."

"Bad? Shit man, it ain't nothing but a scratch. What do you mean amputate?"

"Hold your arm still a moment, let me get this blade in under there, and I'll pull that metal out."

"Be gentle with it, will you Sarge?"

"Don't worry, I'll be nice and gentle." I pried the pellet out of his arm. It was well up under the skin. "Now see, that didn't hurt that much, did it?"

"Hey, that feels pretty good Sarge. Feels better already."

"Good," I said. I didn't want you leaving here with a lump in your arm. Now get your butt over to the medics and have them dress it for you."

"Okay Sarge, thanks."

Just as he got up to leave, I opened up his good hand and placed the metal pellet into it.

"Here, you can have this as a souvenir. Just make sure it's the only one you collect over here."

"Yea, right on Sarge, I can handle that. Be right back, I'll have the medics check this out."

"Go ahead, I'll watch your radio till you get back."

As he started to walk away, the rain came down harder. "Hey, don't forget the poncho liner. I'm getting wet here!"

It turned out to be a long, wet, sleepless night. The rain finally let up about 0400 hours. I looked over at Mantley - he was sound asleep. That guy could sleep through a hailstorm of golf balls and he'd still never budge. The medic bandaged him up okay. They gave him a painkiller to take. That's probably what I need to get some rest, but I need also to keep my head clear in case something happens.

I got up and started checking my men's positions. Everything seemed okay. Figaroah was up and about too.

"What's the matter Fig? You can't sleep either?"

"Hell Sarge, nobody can sleep when you're keeping company in the same hole with Johnson. He snores so loud, you'd think he was a buzz saw in a sawmill. Can't you hear him?"

"Yea, I hear him. Sounds terminal doesn't it?"

"What's with you Sarge, you can't sleep either?"

"I have off-and-on. I guess when the rain stopped it got too quiet all of a sudden, woke me up."

"Yea, I know what you mean. I react like that too sometimes."

"Does it rain this hard in Guam, where you live?"

"All the time. Wind blows a lot too. They call Guam the car wash of the Pacific."

"Ah come off it Fig, they don't call it that."

"Yea, you're right, but it sure sounded good didn't it?"

"Yea, but it sure as hell wouldn't help the tourist trade."

I joked a lot with Fig; he had a great sense of humor. A good-natured kind of guy. Most of all though, he was a damn good soldier. They don't make them any better. He was born to be a grunt. Plus the fact of it was, he hated the enemy.

The morning sun was just drying everything out when we got the word to break camp. About an hour later we received the order to move. We all looked up when we heard the roaring of the bombers flying high above us. There were six B-52's heading directly toward the mountain. All of a sudden the ground started to rumble and shake like an earthquake. The bombers were dropping 500- and 1,000-pound bombs on the target. The bomb drop took about 15 minutes. Soon after that the artillery had its turn at the mountain. If the VC ever had a chance at all, it was to be underground. That's why we were sent in next - to see if he made it. If there was anyone left to fight, we'd oblige him very shortly. We started moving toward our objective as soon as the artillery lifted. It was 0715 hours. It was already 85 degrees and very humid from the rain. Black Virgin Mountain was also hot. Very hot indeed.

Our Battalion, along with supporting armor and artillery, converged on the base of the mountain. Two supporting infantry Battalions from our brigade were also involved in the action. The ARVN (Army Republic Vietnam) was also used to sweep the northern sector of the mountain. Most of what action occurred came to the other two Battalions who supported us. Our sector met with relatively light resistance. All we had to do was mop up light pockets of VC who lost their chance to flee. We also ran into something that we didn't expect. We found bodies of North Vietnamese Regulars. We didn't expect them to be this far south. I suspected they had a sanctuary over on the Cambodian frontier.

The operation lasted two more days. We met with only spotty resistance up until the conclusion of the action. Our Battalion had very few casualties. It was very low compared to what we inflicted on the enemy. It was a satisfying operation. Finally, to be able to meet the enemy and meet him head-on. It was good for our unit's morale. Word finally reached us that we were to be airlifted out in the morning. We were going back to Cu Chi for at least a week's rest. Our men had done an excellent job on this operation. They deserved the rest.

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