By Denis Gulakowski

     The morning after we stymied the planned enemy assault on our district headquarters, thanks to the available support of the US Air Force, an assessment of the situation was necessary. The cluster bombs that the A37 Dragonfly had scattered above the enemy force to the south of our compound could be most devastating. Consequently, just after daybreak, the Vietnamese sent out a patrol to recon the previously bombed area just outside our perimeter. As I was on the radio with higher headquarters, I refrained from joining them, awaiting their report upon completion of the patrol. My coordination with headquarters involved preparing for the arrival of elements from the 18^th ARVN division, which had been dispatched to counter the province-wide hostile activity of the enemy forces. The majority of the 18^th RVN had been dispatched earlier to An Loc to the west of Saigon to counter severe coordinated enemy attacks at that location.

     Upon the return of the patrol, I was briefed through my interpreter that while they found no bodies or equipment, there were numerous blood trails and signs of things being dragged away – more than likely enemy corpses. Evidently, they had their own version of “leave no man behind”. I passed this information to higher headquarters and began reviewing written reports that my translator had prepared from Vietnamese Intel documents. These reports confirmed that the enemy had infiltrated several villages and hamlets in my district and the rest of the province. Removing them would take quite an effort, but the increase in friendly troops, who had more experience and were better trained than the Regional and Popular Forces, would make success more likely.

     And during this whole adventure, there was this unconscious nagging in the back of my mind, that it was quite possible I wouldn’t be able to take R& R. I couldn’t begin to imagine how traumatic it would be for Jo to arrive in Hawaii trying to link up with her husband and not finding him. The worst part of it was that there was no easy way to even alert her to the possibility that I wouldn’t be there. In theory, I could meander through USO channels or perhaps the Red Cross. However, with more pressing issues at hand I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time on speculation.

     As the first elements of the 18^th RVN began moving through my district, I was immersed in bilingual coordination to include talking to the 18^th ’s US advisor, call sign Buffalo 6. Once the lead elements passed the district compound moving in the direction of the National Police Headquarters (NPHQS), they met heavy resistance, and the advance stalled in place. After some discussion among all the players over radios and through interpreters, Vietnamese air support in the form of A1E Skyraider aircraft arrived.

     The ordinance carried was several Mark 82 500-pound bombs. The ground shook and the noise was overwhelming when they hit. Once the bombing runs were completed, the Vietnamese forces slowly moved out and began checking the rubble of what once was an intact village. The logic to justify the destruction of so many homes and buildings was that the US would rebuild them as soon as practical.

The devastation was such that the enemy effort was thwarted in place and they promptly withdrew. Surprisingly, within a few days, things were more or less back to “normal”. Amazingly, the timing was just right. I checked with my boss, the Province Senior Advisor, LTC Giac Modica (who coincidentally had been a first regimental Tactical Officer while we were at school) regarding my R&R, and he authorized me to put the wheels in motion. A few days later, I was on my flight to Hawaii.

     Jo had made arrangements for a rental car and a room at the Honolulu Hilton, and by the time her flight landed I was there to greet her. We made our way to the hotel, got settled in and initially just relaxed, somewhat worn out from our multi-hour travels.

     When we first started planning our “together time” for R&R, we made a list of “must do” events. Two of them included watching the original Hawaii 5-0 TV show, and visiting the Hawaiian surf Mecca of Waimea Bay, “where the best surfers in the world come to stay” as noted by Jan & Dean in their 1964 top 20 hit, Ride the Wild Surf, where we could get surfing lessons and “hang 10”. We were able to do the first at the officers’ club bar at Fort Shafter, but the second was more elusive. It turns out that because of geography and the weather, the May-June timeframe is the worst time in Hawaii for surfing and getting to “conquer those waves some 30 feet high”. The surf instructor apologized for the waves but did provide me sufficient instruction to allow me to stand up on the board for a few minutes without falling over. Throughout our stay we played the role of awestruck tourists, seeing the various sites, enjoying real food (for me) at class restaurants, soaking up the sun and just being together. When the time came for us to go our separate ways, we consoled ourselves with the realization that my tour was more than half over. Since on my return trip, we crossed the International Date Line, I‘m actually 12 hours younger. However, I did manage to scare Jo the first night we were at the hotel. We had just bedded down, when a car in the parking lot backfired. I was out of the bed, on the floor grabbing for my weapon and flak vest trying to stuff myself underneath the bed frame. Rather calmly, she said “It’s all right honey. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Even to this day, I startle when I hear a loud noise. Nowadays, it’s called post-traumatic stress disorder – PTSD.

     After a week of R&R, I returned to Vietnam and rejoined my team. The tactical situation had settled down somewhat, with both the Vietnamese and the US making some adjustments in response to recent events. Eventually, during late summer, the district teams were withdrawn back to the province headquarters as had been done originally, and we continued to complete our mission based on that structure. By the end of summer, the North Vietnamese effort was contained, but with the situation being what it was, none of us got a drop – reduced tour. In fact, based on return transport availability, I wound up spending one more day beyond a year on my tour.

     There are two events of my tour that I still remember; one occurred when I was in the middle of conducting an airstrike, when over my radio came the call, “Hawkeye27, this is (garbled) 79. What is your status-what’s going on? While one of our team advisors had the call sign Hawkeye 79, I didn’t recognize this particular call. Additionally I was too busy. When I didn’t immediately respond, the radio said rather testily, “this is Danger 79 give me a SITREP (situation report) ASAP. Since I didn’t recognize Danger 79 and I needed a clear channel, I responded, “this is a tactical frequency, get the ‘heck’ off of it and use the admin frequency.” It wasn’t until much later, I found out that call sign Danger 79 belonged to the Third Regional Assistance Command (TRAC) commanding general, James Hollingsworth. I was never counseled about my directive to “get the ’heck’ off my tactical frequency”, so I guess I dodged a different kind of bullet.

     The second event had occurred earlier in my tour when a local VC unit decided to harass us with 82 mm mortar fire. The Vietnamese intelligence officer appeared in our Tactical Operations Center (TOC) telling me that the mortar crew was slightly north of our compound, because some of his troops had seen the mortar flash. He wanted me to see if there was anything I could do. I put on my flack vest and helmet, left the TOC intending to climb to the roof of what used to be a carport attached to the District Chief’s house so I would have a better vantage point.

     I had ascended two rungs of the ladder, when I experienced a tremendous force accompanied by a hellacious noise. The next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground. When I was able to regain my composure, I stumbled back into the TOC to collect myself. It seems that an 82 mm mortar round aimed at the District Chief’s house impacted between the walls of our hooch and a steel blast wall in front of it. The preponderance of the blast force was absorbed by the steel wall, but the remainder was enough to knock me off the ladder. I was physically unhurt, with the exception of the few shrapnel scratches on my arm, since my flak vest absorbed the other stray metal pieces. I still have the tailfin assembly of the mortar round, but the scratches healed shortly thereafter.

     And I lived to fight another day.

* The plaque with the tailfin assembly from the mortar round is something I had made up as a tongue-in-cheek parody of various awards. The caption refers to the enemy unit (74A Artillery 274^th Main Force Viet Cong Regiment) that was firing the mortar rounds at us. In a matter of speaking, they did “present” the mortar to me – by firing it.

    The enemy began their local assault throughout the province. The initial attack in my district was on the National Police headquarters which was within a click (kilometer) of the district headquarters. The Vietnamese Regional Force company in our compound was called in to help. As a Captain, serving as District Senior Advisor, I was the one to request US assets. I quickly got on the radio to our headquarters (HQs) Operations Advisor, who was an Australian major and asked him to rustle up some air support. As the reaction force formed up, I then had my radio telephone operator strap the PRC 77 radio (the PRC 77 is a model number, analogous to calling the issued rifle an M-16) on my back, went to our communication bunker and performed a radio check. I had saddled myself with a bandolier of ammunition, a few fragmentation grenades and a couple of star clusters, grabbed my interpreter and joined the departing relief force.

As an interesting side note, my interpreter was rather good with English, to include understanding colloquial phrases. As we worked together during my tour, he helped me acquire some fluency, to include Vietnamese colloquialisms and slang – which proved useful when dealing with village & hamlet chiefs. Along with all my gear and my M16 rifle, I sidled up to the Vietnamese officer in charge and we cautiously headed out the gate toward the police headquarters. We got halfway there, when the point team took heavy fire from an enemy machine gun. We scrambled off the road behind whatever cover we could find and attempted to assess the situation as the Vietnamese troops returned fire. The Vietnamese lieutenant was on his radio and I unhooked the handset from mine and advised HQs of our situation and asked how we were doing on air support. The major advised me that he had gotten lucky and a fire team of two AH1G Cobra gunships was enroute. No sooner did I say, “Roger, out” then I got a call from the lead gunship, Stormy 26.

     I advised the pilot of our situation, identified our location on the ground and where I thought the enemy was. As the two Cobras flew overhead, the enemy machine gun stopped firing, presumably to avoid giving away the position. The pilot reported that he didn’t see any enemy and would make another pass. Unless the enemy fired though, he would have a hard time identifying their position. Without really thinking, I jumped up, started firing and ran a few yards across the road to another covered position hoping to get a better view of the enemy. Just before I reached the other side, the enemy opened up again. Fortunately, they missed, as I dove into a shallow ditch next to the road. Apparently, their fire was enough to alert the Cobras, who called to get clearance just before proceeding to make a coordinated gun run on their newly acquired target. I had conferred with the District Chief regarding US fire support earlier that month when we first started getting reports of possible enemy infiltration. This was a new protocol implemented because of the My Li incident which had occurred a little over three years previously. Basically, it required confirmation that the target was indeed an enemy, so that innocent civilians would not be engaged. Based on local intelligence sources, the Dat Do District Chief was confident that civilians had abandoned their homes and were no longer in a hostile situation. The American teams had to rely on their counterparts, since we had no way of verifying the status ourselves.

     I gave the Cobras the go-ahead and they made several passes using their 7.62 mm miniguns to neutralize the target. Once they finished their runs, the point team cautiously began moving forward. Receiving no enemy response, the remainder of the element began moving toward the NPHQS. As we passed the apparent machine-gun position, identified by a significant spread of shell casings, we also noticed what appeared to be blood trails, confirming the success of the gun runs. Once we reached our objective, the troops cleared the building and surrounding area, collected up personnel and equipment and we returned to our compound.

     Over the next several days, consistent enemy contact was reported in the three major districts of the province: Duk Thanh in the northern section, Xuyen Moc in the eastern section and my own Dat Do in the central part of the province.

    During the afternoon of 24 May 1972, the Vietnamese district intelligence officer, who previously had been assigned to a Vietnamese Ranger unit, and who spoke English rather well came to me to announce that enemy forces were in the process of covertly moving into positions to surround the district compound with the intent of attacking after dark in an effort to overrun the compound and raise the Viet Cong flag. Additionally, other enemy forces were similarly positioned to do the same in Xuyen Moc and, Duc Thanh. There was a South Vietnamese resettlement center, Suối Nghệ, located inDuc Thanh that was a local centerpiece of the “success” of Vietnamization (President Nixon’s program to transition the war effort from Vietnam dependency on US support to self-sufficiency) and consequently a premier target. I got as many details from him as I could and quickly contacted higher headquarters, identified the problem and requested air support. I waited to hear back, while assisting the resident RF company leaders, through my interpreter, in shoring up our defenses. On a side note, prior to the drawdown, advisers would attend a short training program at Fort Bragg to learn the language and culture of the Vietnamese, so it was easier to work with them. By the time I was assigned, the program had been discontinued, so whatever Vietnamese I could pick up from my interpreter & translator would be useful.

     Then in late afternoon I received good news, in the form of a “radio check” request on our tactical frequency, from Sundog 77, an Air Force Forward Air Controller (FAC), who had been dispatched from Bien Hoa airbase. I apprised him of our situation and he responded by saying he would take a close look.  After orbiting our area in his O2 Skymaster, he gave me the grim news.

There appeared to be a few hundred enemy located around the southern half of our perimeter. He advised me that he would call for air support but given the close proximity of the enemy to friendly troop locations, known as “danger close”, the Air Force solution would be somewhat limited. He also indicated that he would rely on me to help locate the enemy as best I could under the circumstances. I gave it some thought and realized that doing so from a ground fighting position would be nearly impossible without exposing myself to enemy fire. The solution to that problem came in the form of an observation tower that was affixed to the District Chief’s house and was approximately 20 feet off the ground. With the radio, my rifle, a set of binoculars and wearing a flack vest and helmet, I made my way up the tower and got into a somewhat fortified perch, consisting of 6 x 6 pressure-treated wooden posts, at the top. Fortunately, at that time the enemy apparently did not see me, as I drew no fire. The view was improved, and I was able to see into the jungle just beyond the cleared perimeter of our defensive position. I crouched down to minimize my exposure. The sound of the observation aircraft

flying around overhead was somewhat comforting – maintaining a link to US assets, not otherwise available. A short while later, Sundog notified me that he had an inbound aircraft that was outfitted with CBU 24 cluster bomblet units. These were unguided bombs that contained over 600 tennis ball sized BLU-26 sub munitions that could be pre-set for contact explosion or air bursts. Since the predominant threat was dismounted infantry, the Air Force ground crews pre-set the bombs for airburst detonation, maximizing the shrapnel effect on the enemy. The aircraft was an A37 Dragonfly, a straight wing lighter jet aircraft that was originally designated the T37 as a trainer.

             As requirements for air support in Vietnam changed, the aircraft was adapted to carry ordinance and provide air support in constrained environments. As the Dragonfly was approaching, I called down to my RTO and told him to alert the Vietnamese to pop smoke just outside of the defensive wire labyrinth surrounding the compound. As the smoke grenades detonated, marking our perimeter, the enemy began firing what turned out to be an 82 mm mortar at the tower, to neutralize its observer (moi). Fortunately, for me     

their aim was not very good and I remained unscathed, although some fragments did zoom by.

     The aircraft released its payload and the explosions were deafening. The Forward Air Controller made one more pass over the target and was satisfied that it had been neutralized. As it was approaching darkness, the Vietnamese decided to wait until the morning to search the area. What they found was interesting…

     Politically, Richard Nixon was elected president in 1968 largely due to his promise to end the war in Vietnam and have “peace with honor”. The war had been ongoing officially since 1961 and had become a major source of anxiety and frustration among the American people. As part of the Commander-in-Chief’s process, US military assets were being reduced and tactical operations were being transferred to Vietnamese units. US army ground combat units were returning to their stateside posts and combat support and service support organizations of the air force and navy, both in country and in neighboring locales, were gradually being reduced in size. As time passed into early 1972, the predominant US force on the ground comprised the advisory teams of the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV). The peace talks among the major participants being conducted in Paris were making little progress; however, those of us still in-country were not privy to the machinations of the politicians and their negotiations. Unbeknownst to our side, the enemy was planning another major operation to turn the tables in their favor.

     To understand the application of tactics by advisers, it helps to understand the political, geographical and military structure that we faced during our assignments. At the time, South Vietnam was divided into provinces, which roughly corresponded to our states. Within each province was a series of districts which roughly corresponded to counties. Within the district, there were villages, roughly equivalent to towns, and hamlets, roughly equivalent to neighborhoods. While many regions of South Vietnam had regular Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) troops that were engaging large enemy forces, local areas had Regional Force (RF) and Popular Force (PF) units. The RF were analogous to the US National Guard/Reserves, while the PF were comparable to a militia. The RF and PF commanders coordinated amongst themselves at the local level. Our advisor chain of command had teams in each district with a headquarters team located in the province capital. The teams had branch specific officers and NCOs, such as infantry, quartermaster, intelligence and signal, to advise our counterparts.

      Under the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) agreement, from 1966 until December 1971, Phuoc Tuy province was occupied by the 6th Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment (RAR) of the Australian Army, which conducted all the military operations there, and consequently mitigated the need for American combat units. The US role in Phuoc Tuy during the war was strictly in an advisory capacity with Team 89 rendering tactical and logistical assistance to Vietnamese local forces and Team 78 assisting in the training of select forces.

 While we advisors were not prohibited from participating in ground combat operations, the informal guidance we received was, “don’t get wounded, don’t get captured and don’t get dead.” That said, we were required to have a minimum of two Americans on the ground with the Vietnamese units out on patrol/ambush/reconnaissance activities. However, there were many times I had to leave my RTO back in the district compound maintaining communication with higher headquarters and adjacent districts, while my operations NCO coordinated with Vietnamese leaders. Technically, this was a violation of our guidance, but under the circumstances it was overlooked, in an unofficial capacity. Unlike American units, that were relatively large in size compared to an advisory team, and which had direct support from artillery and helicopter assets, we advisors, during that time frame of the war, were pretty much on our own, relying on the Vietnamese for direct assistance. Our team medic was located at province headquarters in Baria, which, under the best conditions, was 30 minutes away by jeep. Any immediate medical evacuation (medevac) assistance would have had to come from Bien Hoa also 30 minutes away by helicopter. Fortunately, we were never faced with a medical emergency that required medevac or other immediate assistance.

     The Australian battalion withdrew a month after my arrival at the district, after which Australia maintained a training element. According to http://www.vietvet.org/aussie1, ‘On December 9, 1971, the Minister for Defence announced that in consultation with the Vietnamese Government, Australia was to provide a 150-man Australian Army Assistance Group, including 30 instructors assigned to the training of Cambodians in Vietnam. The Group would include elements to assist in training at the Jungle Warfare Training Centre [JWTC] at its new location at Van Kiep in Phuoc Tuy Province and to assist in advising and training Territorial Forces in Phuoc Tuy Province. It was to include a small group of engineering personnel, who would be needed at the J.W.T.C. at Van Kiep, and a headquarters and supporting element. The Minister said none of the element would have a combatant role and would remain in Vietnam so long as it had a contribution to make. The first commander of the A.A.A.G., Brigadier I.A.Geddes, was appointed in December 1971.’

     With respect to US assets able to support us, the closest tactical unit was 3d Brigade, 1^st Cavalry division, located in the Long Khan province to our north some 30 km from my location, which was standing down and returning to the US; the last elements ultimately departed in June 1973. We also received some support from the 129^th Aviation Company. Bien Hoa airbase was approximately 50 km northwest of us, and US forces were co-located with the in-country rest and recuperation (R & R) site at Vung Tau, just to our southwest.

     Prior to Tet of 1972, Military Region III had begun reducing advisor presence out in the field. As part of that, the teams in the four districts within Phuoc Tuy Province – Xuyen Moc, Duc Than, Long Dien and mine, Dat Do – were withdrawn to the province headquarters located in Baria, the province capital. My operations NCO, and my radio/telephone operator (RTO) closed up and locked our quarters (which comprised a cinder block one story building with a corrugated tin roof, that was informally known as our “hooch”), and I removed all personal & military equipment.

We then relocated to the team compound in Baria, whereI assumed the role of team adjutant (who basically manages the staff) while the others augmented the headquarters.                    

     Within MACV existed the office of Civil Operations and Rural Development Support (CORDS), which was responsible for providing military and civil support for pacification in Vietnam. Consequently, our team had civilian members from Department of State’s Agency for International Development (USAID). The team continued to observe the civilian population, even though direct presence in the districts had been withdrawn. It wasn’t until local forces reached out to us and apprised us of an increasing threat, that we ultimately determined the North Vietnamese were planning a major operation; their countrywide Nguyen Hue campaign was intended to occupy as much territory in South Vietnam as possible. This operation became known in US circles as the Easter Offensive. Our district teams were dispatched back to their compounds, where we resumed assisting the Vietnamese in tactical operations. The Viet Cong in our province, comprising the 274th Main Force Battalion and D445 Local Force Battalion had a lingering presence throughout the war, but were now augmented by regular North Vietnamese Army troops of the 33^rd NVA Regiment.

     I was receiving daily reports from my counterparts of an impending attack on the district headquarters compound and the local National Police headquarters (NPHQS). My operations NCO had just taken a break for R&R and was outside of country, so I only had my RTO with me. During the third week of May, we could tell things were serious, because the local population was packing up as much of what they owned as they could carry and streaming out of the province. This was a pretty good indication that things were going to get a lot worse in the upcoming days. How much worse? We’d soon find out…

During the class of 1969’s tenure at West Point (1965-69), the peak of the Vietnam War occurred. US combat units were dispatched in 1965, the bloodiest week of combat occurred during Tet of 1968, and the peak strength of 549,500 was reached in 1969. Our daily lives, especially with respect to military training, were inundated with war-themed events. When the time for branch selection and assignment preferences arrived, a significant percentage of us volunteered for Vietnam.

In June 1969, we graduated, took our 60 days of leave and the vast majority of us went on to Airborne School, Ranger School and the branch basic officer’s course. Army policy at that time mandated that all Vietnam volunteers had to complete two months of stateside unit duty, before deploying to the Republic of Vietnam (RVN).

I had been assigned to Fort Carson, Colorado to the 5^th Infantry Division (5th ID), later redesignated the 4^th Infantry Division (Mechanized) (4th ID Mech), which had rotated back from RVN. I was the battalion Assistant Operations Officer (Asst. S-3) in the 2/10 Infantry. My new bride, JoAnne, who had a degree in education, but was unable to find work as a teacher, did secure temporary employment using her sewing hobby skills as an associate in a fabric shop. Since nearly a year had passed without me receiving my orders for Vietnam and Jo wondering when I’d be leaving, I decided to call Infantry Branch. I was connected to a major, whom I’ll call Prevaricator. I identified myself, explained the situation and waited while he pulled up my file. After a few minutes, he said, “Let’s see. Oh, yes. Well, with the drawdown of US troops in country, the earliest you’ll be there is March of ’72. Now, I just finished filling an October requirement for 150 Captains, but I could swap you out for someone on the list and get you there sooner.” I respectfully declined and said that March of next year would be soon enough. Before hanging up, I repeated March of ‘72, which he confirmed.

In addition to my regular duties, I performed “other duties as assigned”, to include sitting on a brigade board considering promotions to the grade of Staff Sergeant (E6). About three weeks after I talked with the Infantry Branch assignments officer, one of the brigade administration NCOs, who had played on the brigade softball team with me, appeared before the board for an interview. After the board adjourned, as I was leaving brigade headquarters, he approached me and asked how he did. As I was not permitted to discuss actions of the board, I told him I couldn’t reveal the results. He jokingly said,” Well sir, if I don’t get promoted to E6, I’ll have to put you on orders for Vietnam.” I simply smiled.

I continued assisting the Battalion Operations Officer (S-3) in planning field operations and riot control training for the Battalion. Then one day, I received a call from that brigade admin NCO, who said (somberly, “Sir, I’ve got some bad news; I just received a Request for Orders (RFO) for you for Vietnam. “Back in those days an RFO was the precursor to receiving a hard copy of reassignment orders. Thinking this was part of a joke, I glibly responded,” Sure Sgt., and let me guess, I‘ve gotta be there in two weeks.” “No sir, not two weeks, but by 1 November.” I could tell from his tone that he was serious. Just having been assured by the assignments officer that the soonest I would be there was March of ‘72, I assumed somebody had screwed up.                                                  

I waited until the following day to call Major Prevaricator and when I finally got a hold of him, he said he had just received a rush requirement for another 150 captains and was scrambling to fill it, by moving everybody up to a sooner deployment. Since there were few American troop units still remaining in Vietnam, he told me I would be assigned to Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV).

Later that night when I got home, I told JoAnne about our accelerated schedule and suggested we revise our calendar to shift to the earlier date. Like the fine understanding Army wife that she is, she contained her consternation and decided that we would make the change sooner rather than later.

At the appropriate time, we completed the Permanent Change of Station (PCS) process, spent time with family, said our farewells, and I boarded the “big iron bird” headed for Oakland Army Air Terminal enroute to RVN.

Once I arrived in-country, 1 November 71, I began in-processing. During my initial reporting in to the administrative Specialist 4 (Spec4) at Military Region III (MR III) headquarters, he looked at my orders, glanced at me, uttered an epithet, followed by, “Sorry, sir, the last thing I need is another captain. I‘m not sure what to do with you, since I have no open slots.” This revelation appeared to contradict what Major Prevaricator led me to believe. Fancy that.

In the midst of doing the initial processing at Bien Hoa, I was suddenly told to report to the MR III adjutant. When I did, I found out that it was our classmate who was better known as the hockey team captain, who had just been tasked to recommend a Captain (O-3) for consideration as the MR III deputy commander’s aide de camp. He was reviewing files of O-3 officers who met the criteria and saw my name. Not wanting to put him in a bind and being somewhat curious, I agreed to be interviewed by the general (whose name I’ve forgotten). During the interview, I expressed appreciation for the opportunity, but thought I’d be more effective in that role after some combat time in the field. He appreciated my honesty and deferred to my wishes.

I was assigned to MACV Team 89 in Dat Do District, Phuoc Tuy Province, 50 miles southeast of Saigon on the South China Sea.

 With Richard Nixon’s Vietnamization program in full swing, our orders were basically: “don’t get wounded, captured, or dead.“

For the most part, activity consisted of inspecting Vietnamese local force units, gathering intelligence and setting ambushes and patrolling with those local force units. We had a few enemy contacts, but activity was relatively “quiet”. The village in which our team compound was located was stable, although in other parts of the district, there was some guerrilla activity, typically handled by the Vietnamese. During this time, Jo and I stayed in touch via mail, and once I was even able to break away to the US base at Vung Tau, to my south, for a MARS call (the telephone/volunteer ham radio connection. (To learn more about a MARS call, read: Keeping in Touch With A Soldier). We began planning for my Rest and Recreation (R&R). Every soldier in Vietnam was permitted one R&R during a year’s tour of duty. One had to complete 30 days in-country to be eligible.  Of the various choices, we had decided on Hawaii, which allocated seven days (including travel time). I put in my request and waited for the dates to be assigned. Jo, who was living with her parents, was then enrolled in a graduate program in education at the State University of New York (SUNY) – Oneonta, which would factor in to the logistics of us meeting in Hawaii.

Time passed, Thanksgiving came and went and a month later Christmas care packages arrived. Jo even sent me a small tree for our hooch. My mother-in-law, bless her heart, sent me a hip flask of bourbon (verboten) and a puzzle of the 1971 Playboy Playmate of the Year. That’s right – my mother-in-law! She always was very cool. 

The American holidays of Christmas and New Years were mere precursors to the Lunar New Year (Tet) which was celebrated by the Vietnamese during the February timeframe. Prior to 1968, the holiday had been the occasion for an informal truce in the Vietnam War between South Vietnam and North Vietnam (and their communist allies in South Vietnam, the Viet Cong). But the fiasco of Tet of 1968, while an overall failure tactically, but a victory psychologically, put an end to that notion.  We paid close attention to intelligence reports, planning operations carefully. All indicators were positive so we cautiously and optimistically, were still hoping for a “come home early surprise” – a 60-day drop. In any event, Jo and I had Hawaii to look forward to. When I finally received my R&R orders, the timeslot was a week, including Memorial Day on the front and & my 25^th birthday on the back. Jo made arrangements to stay at the Honolulu Hilton, and we would meet after my flight arrived and go to the hotel. This was done via snail mail, since Al Gore had not yet invented the Internet. Jo was, and still is, a master at vacation planning.

Little did we know then, what was in store…