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Hell Comes Calling
It had been a long night and tension was high. In the late evening, a sapper slipped through the wire. Undetected, he tossed a twenty-pound satchel containing high explosives into a bunker, killing three sleeping advisors from the 22 Military Advisor Group. In addition, listening outposts were reporting movement in the jungle to the north of the firebase. Most US personnel had remained awake for the rest of the night, a bit on edge.
“Good morning, Lieutenant. How ’bout a cup of coffee?” Staff Sergeant Sterling said in a low whisper, handing the young officer a steaming canteen cup of black coffee.
“Morning, Sergeant Sterling,” said First Lieutenant Brian Thacker as he took the cup and blew across the top. “Anyone else up yet?”
“Sir, Specialist Terrill is, and PFC Marthe will be as soon as I get back in and put a boot up his ass. That boy can sleep almost anywhere at any time.”
“It’ll be daylight soon, so we should come to stand-to.29 I saw some of the advisors rousting the ARVN grunts up,” Brian said.
“Yes, sir.” Sergeant Sterling slipped back into the team bunker, where three of the five-man fire support team were sleeping.
Advisors with the 22 MACV Advisor Team had their own bunker on the other side of the Firebase Six. Brian had seen some up and about. Lately, indicators had been noted that activity by the Sixty-Sixth NVA Regiment with two thousand soldiers was increasing. Brian was sitting on top of the command bunker adjacent to his team bunker. He had been in-country for eight months, serving as a team leader for the Integrated Observation System, part of A Battery, First Battalion, Ninety-Second Field Artillery. The Integrated Observation System was cutting-edge technology. It allowed the observer to see out to twenty-four kilometers on a clear day or night as it had a high-power night vision scope and a range finder. Using the system, an observer could find and accurately range to a target, calling rapid effective artillery fire on it. The team had been collocated on Firebase Six for the past two weeks with a rifle company of the Seventy-Second ARVN Rangers and had yet to see a target, even though they had a clear view into Laos and Cambodia.
Firebase Six had originally been a US firebase, built around 1966 and then abandoned. Located on Hill 1001, southwest of Dak To and along the Cambodian-Laotian-South Vietnamese border, the ARVNs had reoccupied the firebase with a company of soldiers and positioned an artillery battery on the firebase. Since the early to mid-1960s, this area had been a hotbed of NVA activity, since the Ho Chi Minh Trail terminated just across the border in Laos. Major engagements had occurred here over the years between NVA forces and US as well as ARVN forces. There was nothing friendly about this region.
The firebase measured approximately three hundred meters by two hundred meters. Bunkers constructed on the firebase were a combination of PSP metal sheeting, sandbags and log timbers. Plastic sheeting was placed under the top layer of sandbags to keep the rain out. Floors were red clay dirt. The present ARVN battery had five M114 155-millimeter towed howitzers with a range of 14,600 meters. These howitzers could shoot a variety of ammunition, to include high-explosive and high-explosive with delay fuse or airburst fuse, smoke and illumination rounds. The howitzers had been positioned on the firebase by CH-47 medium-lift helicopters, as that was the only way to get them to the top of the ridge-line.
The ARVN rifle company that manned the firebase was under the command of a Vietnamese captain, Doi Truong Nguyen, who was called Dai-uy Nguyen.30 Dai-uy was ten years older than Brian, with about fourteen years of combat experience. He was, in Brian’s opinion, a good company commander, watching out for his soldiers and taking a no-nonsense approach to his business. Although Brian didn’t technically serve under him, he and Brian had come to a quick understanding. The firebase was Dai-uy’s firebase, and Brian was there to provide fire support.
Sitting there, Brian began to think, which for a soldier in combat far from home was sometimes not a good thing, especially when you were isolated. As Brian sat there with his coffee, he stared at the night sky sprinkled with pinpoint lights creating constellations and thought of home as soldiers often do. He had made a commitment to the Army to spend four years, as ROTC had paid some of his college tuition, but he had really thought this war would be over with by the time he graduated. The peace talks had started in 1968, and here it was three years later and they were still talking. He thought of his first assignment after he’d graduated from the Field Artillery Officers’ Basic Course at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and gone to Germany for six months to get some troop experience. Units in Germany had been grossly undermanned at the time, and so he had been readily accepted by his fellow officers and soldiers. He’d listened to what the NCOs and soldiers taught him in those six months, and for that, they respected him. I wonder what this country would be like without a war. It’s a pretty place with likable people, if they’re not trying to kill you. I wonder what they want in life. Probably the same thing we all want—a home, a job, food on the table, happy, healthy children, and to live in peace without fear of someone dropping mortar rounds or napalm bombs or dragging you out of the house at night. It seems so simple. And the morning sun coming up in the east now—
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP could be faintly heard in the distance.
“Incoming! Incoming!” Brian yelled and dove off the bunker to the ground, waiting for the impact of the mortar rounds, which made no sound in flight as artillery rounds did. If you didn’t hear the round being fired, your first indication of an attack was when they started exploding.
KABOOM, KABOOM, KABOOM, KABOOM announced the arrival of four 122-millimeter mortar rounds slamming into a bunker on the north side of the perimeter. Damn, that is accurate fire for first rounds, Brian was thinking. More rounds were heard coming out of the tubes in the distance.
As a crescendo of small-arms fire was heard on the north side, Brian was thinking, Shit, this isn’t harassment fire, this is an attack. Brian had been under previous mortar attacks, but this was his first experience with someone shooting small arms at his position. Soldiers were running to take up positions along the perimeter berm while attempting to dodge the incoming mortar rounds. Sergeant Sterling, Specialist Terrill and Private Marthe were suddenly on the ground next to Brian.
“Hey, sir, how is your morning so far?” asked Specialist Terrill. This wasn’t Terrill’s first rodeo, as he had been on a firebase six months ago that had repelled a ground attack. In fact, Sergeant Sterling and Private Marthe had also been under ground attacks before, so this was nothing new.
“Fine, just fine,” Brian answered, not wanting to divulge that he was about to piss in his pants he was so scared.
“What you think, Lieutenant?” asked Sergeant Sterling.
“I think we best add some weight to the firefight and help out Dai-uy.”
Sergeant Sterling pointed in the direction of a machine-gun position that appeared to be catching the brunt of the NVA attack. “Sir, I’ll take these two and lend support to that gun. You best get on the horn and get some arty support on the perimeter.”
“Okay, but keep down. I’ll find Dai-uy and see where he wants it,” Brian responded, and they all started moving to their designated positions. Brian half crawled, half ran to the command bunker, where Dai-uy Nguyen and Sergeant First Class Salley, the senior US advisor to the ARVN Rangers on Firebase Six, was about to contact the senior advisor on the radio, who was in Dak To. SFC Salley was considered an old guy for being a sergeant first class. He was in his late thirties. At the time the Army did not have an “Up or Out” policy, so a noncommissioned officer could stay in the Army at a rank and position of his choosing without fear of being forced out. He liked what he was doing and had no desire to take on more responsibility.
“Gambler Six, Gambler Four-One, over,” Salley said.
A sleepy response came back. “Gambler Four-One, Gambler Six India, over.” Brian could hear a yawn in the background.
“Gambler Six India, Gambler Four-One
, we are under attack. I needed air support. Over.”
Almost in disbelief, Gambler Six India replied, “Gambler Four-One, say again.”
“Dammit, I’ll say again, we are under a ground attack. The perimeter is in danger of being breached. I need air support and I need it now.”
With a much higher sense of urgency, the reply came. “Gambler Four-One, Gambler Six India. Roger, SITREP, over.”31
“Six-One India, I just gave you the damn SITREP. We have a ground attack with the north perimeter in danger of being breached. We have contact on the entire perimeter, but the north side appears to be the main attack. Looks to be a battalion attack at this point. Over.”
