By Wayne Murphy

On Fire Base Rifle and along its access road work continued at a fair pace. 

     As time went on, we started to find some explosives along the road during sweeps and took harassing fire.  Usually an RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) or a few AK (communist rifle) rounds would be fired at the sweep team and the NVA would quickly disappear.  It was suggested that I “vary our times” for clearing the road by battalion.  It took an hour and half to sweep the road each day and it had to be open by 0900. 

BMNT (Beginning of Morning Nautical Twilight – when the first signs of light occur in the sky) was early but good light was about 0700 so we really could only vary by 30 minutes.  The NVA knew we would be at a point sometime within a 30-minute span – I did not get how that would help.  Division did get us some aerial support from the FLIR (forward looking infrared) aircraft.  It could tell if the earth had been disturbed (different temp) along the road.  Problem was we got the news rather late in the day – long after a sweep.

     In any case, the harassment fire continued.  One day when the other platoon was taking the sweep, the fire continued and did not break off.  We could hear the firefight about a click (km) away.  I went to the infantry support commander and asked that he help our guys out.  He told me he had orders to defend the hill and could not spare a man but would call for air.  My guys grabbed weapons and ammo and jumped in a ¾ ton dump truck and started down the hill on their own.  By the time they got to the sweep team, the enemy had broken contact and a pink team (LOH and Cobra Gunship) was overhead.

     We decided that the situation could not continue, and we needed to clear area away from the road.  We asked for and received one Rhome plow D7 dozer and operator from Corps.  It initially cleared jungle and trees back over 50 meters on each side of the road.  It unearthed some RPG rounds and plastic explosive.  The harassment stopped.

      Then, we started to get sniper fire on the hill.  As I walked with an NCO across the saddle one afternoon, I heard a loud pop above our heads followed by another from the ridge across from us.  Turns out we were taking some rounds.  A very weird experience to hear the double pops – explains why civilian witnesses often confuse the number of rounds fired.  The first is the sound of the round’s sonic wave as it passes; the second the sound of the weapon firing. You never heard the one that got you.  Again, a red team’s appearance silenced the enemy.

      The infantry inserted a platoon on the ridge to clean out the harassers. They worked down a finger of land on the ridge and came to a steep cliff.  When they started to go back, the point man hit a booby trap that blew off his legs. Apparently, what we called “trail watchers” (NVA who followed US units and harassed and wounded guys) were stalking the patrol.  A MEDEVAC bird lowered a jungle penetrator hook and cable to get the wounded guy out.  Then the cable would not retract.  The pilot had to fly him daggling on the end of the cable to our hill and land next to him to pick him up.  He was a sight and he bled to death in front of us from the stumps that were his legs moments before, even with the tourniquets.

     The “watchers” had apparently placed more traps along the finger.  We were asked to send a couple of guys over to rappel in and cut out a small Landing Zone to get the platoon out.  I sent three of my best guys.  They got enough cleared so that when the wind shifted in the afternoon a slick could get in and take everyone out in shifts.  It made for a long afternoon.

     We tightened security and reviewed our defensive positions.  We did the usual “mad minute” to check fields of fire.  A “mad minute” had every soldier on his weapon with tracer rounds included. (They lit up through trajectory as a coating burned off. Machine guns had every fifth round a tracer in their belts to adjust fire onto a target.)  This would give a visible check of interlocking fires and show up dead spots in ravines, etc. where we would set claymores (These were a surface mine that was a sheet of plastic explosive under a layer of ball bearing like pellets.  They gave quite a kill pattern.)  We also used “fugas.” This was a thickened diesel fuel drum with an explosive charge behind it and a thermite grenade or flare (heat source) in front.  It shot homemade napalm down the ravine when detonated.  A final check for a blind spot was a hand-thrown grenade, and I carried a few.  A soldier’s final protective fire line was usually to his right or left, as your front was covered by the guys next to you.  This way you were not exposed to enemy direct fire, but you had to rely on your neighbor to clear your front.  This “mad” practice also served the purpose of rotating ammo.  We carried 21 or more loaded magazines for the M16 in ammo belts.  Over time the magazines might rust, so they had a shelf life.   Mad minutes were actually quite fun.      Soon the next level of harassment started – mortar rounds.  As I walked near the side of the hill a large explosion went off on the far side of our hill.  The Infantry Captain yelled “incoming” and we all dove for cover.  It was what amounted to a registration round to help adjust the enemy’s mortar attack.  It was a rough technique to adjust fire, but sometimes effective I was told.  I dropped into the nearest hole which turned out to be a garbage sump only a few inches deep.  We heard the sound of several rounds going off and puffs of smoke from the disputed ridge. And then I picked up the most frightening sight, the actual mortar rounds in a long parabolic arch coming at us – like a fly ball to center field.  The rounds got larger, and we lay as close as we could to the ground hoping they would miss.  I felt like my buttons were keeping me too high off the ground.  They landed on target, the hill, and the shrapnel crackled in the air and the ground shook, but miraculously nobody was hit.  I had heard another attack described by an NCO when a Major was hit directly by a mortar and all that was left were his boots with some jell coming out – mortars could be very lethal.  We were very lucky.  Almost immediately the artillery on Fire Base Brick fired on the ridge.  And as soon as possible, a Pink Team (LOH and Cobra gun ship) appeared.  The LOH (small helo) pilot flew at treetop over the launch site trying to draw fire. Those guys were quite brave, to say the least.  No fire was returned, so the accompanying Cobra shot up the area and took out what he could. Next, someone called in Air Force F4s and they fired rockets and dropped napalm and explosives.  It was quite a show.  We did not receive fire from the ridge again while we built FB Rifle.  

In early April or so, I took on new mission.   We were to enter a “new” AO (area of operations), reopen a road and build a first-class permanent firebase for the ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam).  It was the consummate Vietnamization mission.  The base was to be far enough west to be in the mountains but accessible by ground.  The site selected was an old US FB Rifle between FB Anzio (occupied by ARVN) and FB Brick (2^nd Brigade 101^st) and the new site was south of Phu Bai off of QL1 – the main north-south route in I Corps.

My Commanding Officer at the time, a UMSA 1968 grad, wanted me to take over as his executive officer.  But LTC Rodolph, my battalion commander, wanted me to take on this job – quite a compliment.  LTC Rodolph prevailed.

The S-3 (operations officer) would design the bunkers and base and my guys would build it.  I would have under my command two platoons of my company, C Company, plus the Headquarters equipment – literally, all but one platoon of the company.  The planning phase was kind of fun.

First, I had to recon the area and what was left of the old road by helicopter.  To do this, I was to ride as observer in a LOH (small bubble-like chopper).  My pilot was an 18-year-old warrant officer that loved to put the LOH through her paces.  First thing he did was show me how to use the stick and pedals to try and set it down in case he was hit.  I did not do very well.  We took off and surveyed the area.

 

     Neither U.S. nor ARVN troops had been on these ridges or valleys for several years.  As we flew the road, my pilot made like a roller coaster ostensibly to make us less of a target – but he just liked scaring the hell out of me.  We would dive down at high speed and come within a few inches of the ground at high speed and then pull up.  My stomach felt like the worst roller coaster ride ever.  The road was narrow and overgrown and would require some clearing, new culverts, and fill.   On one pass we saw what seemed like a very large lizard crossing the road as well as some real tiny deer (local “mule deer” species).

     After the aerial recon, we did the next phase. We landed in on top of the saddle ridge we were to use for the base.  We assaulted in and the S3 NCOs started doing a topographic survey.  There were two hills with a lower ridge in between.  The road would approach the near hill at a very steep incline.  When we landed and secured the hill, we recognized that neither was large enough for a battery base and that the two and saddle were too large.  We stayed for the remainder of the day and were lifted out at dusk.

     The final plan was to actually cut off the top of the far western hill with dozers to create a large enough battery-sized base.  Since we could not level the hill and occupy it at the same time, we would set up our temporary base on the near hill, using culverts for temporary bunkers and some wire, claymores, and trip flares for security.  We would build the permanent bunkers, extensive wire and fighting positions on the west hill and move when complete.  The road work would begin simultaneously and be based out of our position.

     We made all preparations and assaulted into the saddle in early morning, supported by most of an infantry company.  We received no incoming fire, but our gunners blazed away, anyway.  After landing we began to clear the hill and land and assemble dozers and gear.  Another platoon from C Company was to work from the existing ARVN FB along QL1 and re-open the old road.  We did our best to create a secure position on the eastern part of the saddle. We landed and swept for booby traps and mines.

     My guys began to use the equipment (backhoe and M450 dozer) to dig in positions.  The dozer and another squad moved to link up with the platoon moving from QL1. The infantry guys loved this as the usual SOP was for them to use their entrenching tools and good, deep positions with no labor were a luxury.  As I mentioned the hill had not been occupied for several years and we encountered several snakes.  There were many types of snakes in Vietnam (vipers, bamboo vipers, cobras, etc,), but the troops referred to them as “two-step” or “four-step” snakes.  The myth was that if bitten you could go two steps or four steps before the venom took effect.  One of my guys killed a very long one and as his comrades played with it, we discovered it was a King Cobra with quite a fan.  As the sun set one guy said he knew something about snakes and had we ever read “Rikki Tikki Tavi” a story about a mongoose and cobras in colonial India.  “Well,” he said, “cobras always travel in pairs.”  No one got much sleep that night.

     Several days into the job we had another encounter with local animal life.  About 0100, one of my guys on guard came up and awakened me.  He said, “LT, there is somebody just down the hill and they are breathing very loudly.”  I grabbed my weapon and gear and crawled to his position and listened.  I heard a very long, hard “grrrrrrrrrr” that was almost a deep purring.  I told him that it was not someone, but something.  Just then, a trip flare went off to our right in front of the M60 machine gun position.  A large tiger jumped in the light and down the hill.  The machine gunner was frozen and did not get off a round – neither did the rest of us.  In the morning we found tracks of a tiger and a cub all around the hill.  We did not see her again.

     The work progressed well, and we had the culverts in along the road except for one large stream crossing just before the populated areas and large elephant grass.  We would leave that as a low water crossing.  We had to sweep the road each morning for booby traps and mines and used to position our new XM 203s (a rifle and grenade launcher combination) on the front and to the flanks.  We had some “shotgun” rounds for the M79 part of the XM203s and had them loaded as we moved along.  The jungle and high grass were close.  On one sweep, the grass rustled loudly, and my guy fired the shotgun round.  We moved forward and discovered we had bagged a rather large boar.  It was sling-loaded to the battalion rear and mess hall for a “luau” for the colonel.

Early in the job my relationship to my company commander had to be “clarified.”  He showed up one day by jeep and started to give directions to me and others.  He was not very helpful and really a REMF (Rear Echelon Mother F*&%) in my mind.  Maybe, that was not fair – Engineer CPTs in their first tour had gone somewhere else after graduation and had already missed the platoon combat experience.  They wanted that, but really, they were inexperienced to those of us lucky enough to be engineer LTs.  Anyway, his command tour of C Company was coming to an end (six months was the norm) and he would soon be replaced by another. 

     LTC Rodolph landed subsequently and asked what I needed.  I said that having the Company CO moving around giving sometimes conflicting orders was not helping.  The Colonel talked with him for some time and came back and told me everything was understood – my CO was moving to the S-3 and would eventually monitor the job from Battalion.  My company commander would not come to the hill again, and he was given other duties with what remained of his company until his change of command.  Amazingly he gave me more than the benefit of the doubt and a great efficiency report.  The efficiency report system was very inflated and you were rated on part of the report on traits from 1 to 4, all “1”s were the norm.  He did ding me with a “2” for tact.  That was an understatement!

     The only Vietnamese supposed to be in the area were wood cutters and Division designated a “wood cutter’s box” frequently to allow the locals to get firewood, etc. Everyone else we found were deemed enemy and it was a free fire zone.   The infantry guys would often send out patrols at night and set up ambushes.  These often included what we called mechanical ambushes – claymores rigged to trip wires to eliminate anyone on the paths.  One such ambush was very effective and the next morning they brought in several bodies.  One was an NVA medical doctor and he had a pith helmet as the NVA regulars wore.  Inside was a photo of his wife and daughter.  It was a bit disturbing to me.

     Anyway, after Mai Lai and the trial of LT Calley, the Army was hypersensitive to civilian deaths in Vietnam.  One morning a staff sergeant in the infantry battalion working our area was leading a patrol and let his guys sleep an extra hour.  They did not take in the mechanical ambush on time and some wood cutters were messed up.  The Division picked up the SSG and took him away and charged him with manslaughter we were told.   

The ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) was finally extricated from Laos and we were alerted to prepare for blocking positions if the NVA (North Vietnamize Army) moved on I Corps.  Several units set up in the Ashau Valley and to the north to block any attacks. The NVA were hurt as much as the ARVN, I guess.  My guys were not deployed.  My recollection of the timeline gets fuzzy here, but then I was concerned that I had not heard from Mary Ellen on our baby’s birth and was getting anxious – her due date was when I was up north and that had passed.  I was so bad with worry that the Chaplain arranged a call to her via Saigon from Camp Eagle – a real telephone call!  I talked with her and she told me all was well – the baby was just late.

Sometime around this part of the tour we got what was a short in country R&R (rest and recuperation) at the division’s center called Eagle Beach east of Hue on the South China Sea.  It was just a bunch of hootches on the beach, with a recreation center with a show and bar.  We had to turn in all our weapons and were guarded by division security troops.  Infantry guys got this in country R&R and not engineers, but we were there to repair and rebuild some of the facilities and got to rest after work.  The show at night was a Filipino band with two very young go-go girl dancers (they looked 12-15).  They did all the current songs – but you have not lived until you heard “Ploud Lary – lollin on the liver” sung very loudly!

 

As I recall after we returned, we were given a civic action mission in Thua Thein province east of Hue.  (Area was just south of the French Indo-China war era stretch known as “The Street Without Joy.”)  We were to repair a road and some bridges through the flat rice paddy country and sand dunes to help the local bus company connect a bunch of small villages.  The area was very safe, and we worked out of a local ARVN base, manned by the Ruff Puffs (local regional troops something like local militia).  Down the road we ran into an Australian Special Forces Detachment whose mission was advising the local forces.  They were great guys and the only “Allies” I ran into during my tour. 

The Ruff Puffs did some night work and caught two supposed VC.  They had been killed in a fire fight and were staked out on a mound as a warning, or as a trophy, I guess.  The bodies were discolored and bloating.  As we worked near another village, we uncovered some more bodies hastily buried by the other side.  When one of my guys ran an entrenching tool into the ground, he cut right into one.  The smell was bad, and the flesh had the look of corned beef.  That was exactly what we got flown to us for a meal later that day.  It was years before I could eat corned beef again!

 

Our work went well except for two instances.  One involved the replacement of a pier for a bridge over a canal.  The water was mostly stagnant.  We waded in to work on the pier and when we got out, we had several leaches attached.  We quickly removed them with cigarettes.  I remembered the scene from “The African Queen” when Bogart has to go back in the water.  We did too – and it was not easy.

The second involved a culvert we put in the road between two paddies.  It was fine and the local farmer dammed it to control flow.  About 100 meters along, we found on successive mornings a trench dug across the road.  We filled it in and each morning it returned.  We finally got an interpreter to talk with the locals.  It seems another farmer was jealous of our “giving” a culvert to his neighbor and wanted one, too.  Although it was not called for in the plans, we added one for him in the spot he kept digging up.  He seemed pleased.

This was the closest we came to the locals who just wanted to live and ignore us and get the crops in.  They had small ponds near their homes and some raised fish in them.  The dikes were used as paths and latrines.  I sure did not want to eat any of the fish.  The Vietnamese would squat with their feet flat and actually rest in that position – we would fall over.  The older folks had terrible teeth and they would smear betel nut over them to kill pain and give you quite a look when they smiled.

Our work required some fill (additional soil) and we established a borrow pit near QL1 (main north-south route in I Corps) using some guys from our headquarters equipment platoon.  One ran a front loader and filled the 2 ½ ton dumps we borrowed from the HQ Company with fill we used to repair the road.  This was as close as our troops got to the locals, and the local ladies were plying their wares.  The loader operator was participating in an active exchange when LTC Rodolph’s LOH appeared overhead.  LTC Rodolph landed and pulled the man off in “mid debauch.”   Needless to say, we did not think that was very sporting when reported to us.

The 101^st field troop access to the local ladies was very restricted.  First, we operated in the hills where there were no locals, and second, to a small extent, some were afraid of the “Black Syph.”  The myth going around our unit was that the enemy had developed a very virulent and fatal form of syphilis.  If you got it, you were transported to isolation on an island off the coast and your family was notified that you were missing in action – never to go home.  It was very far-fetched, but we had some of Lyndon Johnson’s Project 100,000 soldiers (aka “MacNamara’s Folly” that enlisted men with less than required mental or physical capabilities) still and they would believe anything.

One evening as it was getting dark, one of the trucks ran off the road into a rice paddy.  To get it out we had to set up a dozer and cables.  We did a job on a small portion of the paddy.  I reported the damage to division and, as was the policy, the division assigned a JAG officer to pay an equitable claim to the owner of the field.  I had to accompany him to meet with the farmer.  The Vietnamese farmer had essentially claimed the entire field’s crop of rice.  We had maybe destroyed 5% of the paddy.  The payment was in the local currency, piasters, which had an official value way above its actual black-market rate. We used US Army currency we called script among US troops and stores (PX).

We went to the farmhouse – a thatched hut with a dirt floor.  The owner showed up as a former ARVN soldier with one arm.  Not sure if he was actually the owner or the “stand in” to gain more sympathy.  He showed us his discharge and medals.  We offered the appropriate amount; the farmer was very distraught.  After consultations, the division officer offered him about 25% of the field’s yield.  He took it and we shook hands and left.

We also got to play with some new mine-clearing gear brought in country by Waterways Experiment Station folks from their Corps of Engineers lab.  It was a lesson in a good technical idea that would not work.  Two civilian scientists were field testing a new nonmetallic mine detector and my platoon was to support them.  We had detectors that could find metal mines and detonators, but plastic explosives in wood containers would go mostly undetected.  Our existing nonmetallic mine detector equipment was essentially a stick to look for booby traps.  These guys had a new piece that sent out a signal and measured the changing dialectic constant of a material – a change in density and therefore, theoretically detect non-metallic mines.  You had to keep the head of the sweeper perfectly parallel to the surface – a hand turn would give a signal. 

We set up a stretch of road and buried some target nonmetallic mines.  The sweep started and we got readings every few inches – rocks, shrapnel, or wood.  We took an hour to clear a few feet.  The scientists still could not find the target mines we had placed and complained the test was unfair.  The road was not homogeneous enough.  I told them that was the condition of most roads in our areas.  We left them still trying to find the targets.

Back in base camp, I was really getting nervous about our baby and Mary Ellen – and a bit hard to live with.  On 8 March I was called in by CPT Fisher who read me a Red Cross telegram that Mary Ellen had given birth to a boy on 4 March and all was well – later I learned that Sean’s delivery was difficult, and Mary Ellen had to have a C-Section.  With the news I was ecstatic!  Wrote Mary Ellen a letter that minute – talked about little league, PTA, and how much I loved her. 

The Red Cross telegram had been held up by a Western Union strike on the west coast supposedly.  Steve, my younger brother, had delivered per our arrangement the yellow roses on time so Mary Ellen had no idea I had not been told.  

Mary Ellen had sent me a package with cigars for this moment and I opened it. The climate had taken its toll and only some were useable.  Still, I got some more from the PX and gave them out.  All I wanted now was to get home and see Mary Ellen and Sean.

When the aftermath of our air losses in Lam San 719, and of the ARVN in troops, had run its course in most of the area, I was chosen to head up a Vietnamization (efforts to turn over war to Vietnamize forces) fire base construction in our Brigade’s area of operations.  Best job I had in country. 

The main mission and reason to reoccupy Khe Sanh was to build a forward base capable of supplying the two ARVN Divisions who would cross into Laos and “cut” the Ho Chi Minh Trail. That meant a new C-130 capable airstrip. In the interim, supplies would be sent by chopper in to the existing and damaged strip that was parallel.

We started clearing the grasses and the surface immediately upon return from opening QL9 (the land route from Quang Tri) to the plateau. It was a joke to think that the small airmobile earth-moving equipment that I had could handle this size job – a great deal of cut and fill would be needed to make an air strip.) We would be reinforced by construction equipment from a real Army Corps Engineer Battalion (27^th Engineers) that was brought in over QL9 – but as far as I understood they continued to work for, and were under the command of TF 326 (our 101^st  Abn Div engineer task force).

We supervised some work and my guys dug in the infantry and our own men on the perimeter. It was dicey as we kept encountering marine anti-tank mines.  We would blow those in our way in place.

One of my most frightening exercises turned out to be trying to locate a water point. We wanted to try to limit sling loads coming in to us so, if we had a water point, we could cut that a bit.  We noticed on the map what appeared to be a stream on the south side of our position. I sent a small dozer (M450) to cut a path through the high grass. Soon, my guys called that the operator had come on barbed wire with a mine warning sign (triangle).  Only problem was that the sign pointed the wrong way – the dozer was in the mine field!

I went to the path the dozer had cut. Sure enough, we could see some mines that had been unearthed with time just off the track marks. I walked out to the dozer stepping on the track marks and climbed on. We called for a Medivac chopper to be in the area with a jungle penetrator (hoist to take us up) if things went wrong, and we started to back the dozer out –exactly as he had entered. We made it, but no water point.

We then went off the plateau a bit to the east and found a waterfall! We (me and two of my guys) decided to take a shower.  As we soaped up, out of the jungle came some black clad Vietnamese.  Turned out they were ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) Rangers – but I tightened up a bit as we were several feet from our weapons.

At the east end of the new airstrip, we encountered more mines and debris. I had the job to clear a path and we decided to use several boxes of bangalor torpedoes. These were pole-like charges linked together and pushed along the ground across a barrier. You probably remember them from the movie “The Longest Day” used to breach a barrier and get the troops and Robert Mitchum off the beach.

 

We set quite a few charges. About this time, a flag officer from 5^th Mech landed about 200 meters from our site. We asked that they move the chopper, but they said it was clear of our work – and it was for the bangalors.  So, we gave our warnings, popped red smoke, and set things off. Boy, did we ever! The explosion apparently included a lot of rounds left and buried by the Marines in 1968 in unmarked ammo storage. The blast looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off with a mushroom cloud and all. Choppers were veering left and right, and the general’s radios had been knocked out of the mounts in his chopper by the concussion. We slinked back into the high grass.

The work continued nonstop as the ARVN invasion (Lam Son 719) was to start with or without the base. We completed the dirt strip in four days, having compaction problems with the very moist laterite soil, as the monsoon had just begun to end. The Air Force brought in the first C-130.

It landed but at the end of the runway the soil turned plastic (permanently deformed) as the wheels sunk a bit. To get the aircraft off we had to turn it using dozers and cables.  The AF was NOT HAPPY. It was clear we had to do a surface treatment to spread the load more evenly and the decision was made to use matting (MX-19) to stabilize the surface. It was trucked in along QL9 — all the aluminum matting in country, and it seemed that all of the available trucks were used to haul it.  We got to lay it down.

We started at the center and had to precisely lay the first rows perfectly perpendicular to the center line of the strip (as any angle other than 90 degrees would take the extended matting as it was laid off the runway at the ends).  We then worked towards the two ends. We had three platoons and other operators, so we made two teams and worked round the clock trying to beat each other to the end.

We did not complete before the ARVN invasion, so everything was initially brought in by helicopter – literally hundreds of Hooks and Cranes (large helicopters CH-47s and CH-54s). The ground dried a bit and the dust was unreal. I lost my goggles (used for airmobile operations) early on and essentially “sand blasted” my corneas. I still have effects.

The air cavalry was based at the old Marine strip. They came in with Cavalry hats and spurs and a lot of bravado. They were impressive. Lam Son 719 kicked off and the situation turned badly.  We were told the NVA (North Vietnamese Army) had placed radar controlled .51 caliber guns in triangular positions. No matter how they were attacked, by Army gunships or AF jets, the attacker was broadside to a machine gun. The Cav took heavy casualties and the hats and spurs our cav guys initially sported disappeared.  A more somber tone prevailed.

Our project got a firsthand look. We had finished almost half the matting when we got a call that an observation fixed wing pilot was pretty shot up and was going to try to land.   His aircraft was a small piper cub type and he landed in a few hundred feet and taxied to us. The plane was full of holes and the tail section held together by no more than a wire. He was glad to see our partially completed strip and walked away!

(Let me add a word about my experience with the “American” press in country. I never saw an American. We did have TV film crews at Khe Sanh after a while. They were all Thai or Vietnamese, or some other Asian ethnic background.  I asked a division officer about it. He said the US press guys usually stayed back in the cities at this time in the war where there were hotels and added their piece from a hotel garden of brush as if they were on the line. We did not seem to have the brave guys that were on the ground in 1967 like Galloway.)

During the initial invasion my platoon was sent one afternoon when we were resting from the construction job forward towards the old Special Forces camp at Lang Vei to put in an LZ (landing zone) fuel site to help alleviate the traffic at Khe Sanh.  Lang Vei still had burned out hulls of old Soviet tanks from the battles in 1968. We created the LZ and storage areas for fuel – and set them up.

We were then directed to stand by to assist as necessary to cut out any downed pilots with an aero-rifle platoon from the 101st (infantry troops assigned to the cav unit) commanded by my classmate Harrison “H” Lobdell.  Again, it was like old times.  An ARVN Ranger platoon would go in, if the pilot went down in Laos.  You see American troops were to stay on the Vietnam side of the border (except pilots and engineers, I guess).  Never was sure where that border was. Anyway, we sat for a while at the LZ and then returned to Khe Sanh.

When the airfield was completed, the C-130s started to come in.  My relief platoon arrived with them. We got to load up on a C-130 with our gear and flew out to Phu Bai. The whole thing lasted about three weeks for me. Lam Son 719 turned even more badly for the ARVN. They ended up losing most of two divisions (each had over 10,000 men), our guys ended up getting shelled at Khe Sanh from probably the same positions the NVA used in 1968.  We did not stay.

My attitude towards the whole Army thing was a bit jaded by now. And the next incident reflects my belief I was getting out after five years (new class motto – Army No More in 74). When we got to Camp Eagle and our engineer Sea Bee camp, we got the first real showers in weeks.  My fatigues could literally stand by themselves. I went last with my NCOs and as we soaped up the water was turned off.  I was told my current CO had ordered it to conserve water and power – apparently, we had exceeded our time allotment. I was furious and stormed up the hill to his CP in soap and a towel. I asked why the showers had been turned off and he reiterated the “battalion policy.”  I told him we had no idea. He told me that was our problem. I got rather heated and told him what I thought of it – and that if the water was not on in five minutes he and any other consummate REMF (Rear Echelon Mother F$#@%), might find out what real combat was like.

Someone intervened (the First Sergeant, I think) and the water was turned on.  The CO gave me a benefit of the doubt this time and did not charge me with anything, but we never really clicked after that to say the least.

In 1990, as an exchange officer serving in the State Department, I was involved in arms control negotiations and treaty compliance issues between our country and the Soviet Union.  One aspect was the a diplomatic “tit for tat” unspoken rule – whatever we allowed or did – they did.

Under the ABM Treaty we constantly met on compliance issues and a “big” one at the time was the legal placement of Long-Range Phased Array (LPAR) radars.  They were by treaty to be on each’s periphery and facing “out.”  They complained about our upgraded one at Thule, Greenland as not being on our soil (we said it was “grandfathered” before the treaty and could be upgraded).  We complained about theirs at Krasnoyarsk as not being on the periphery and overlooking Siberia (in truth their construction of such massive buildings had to be not on permafrost and its location may have been chosen for that reason.)

In the relaxed tensions after the fall of the Berlin Wall, we engaged in “confidence building measures” with our Soviet counterparts.  One such was the idea of trips to each other’s LPARs to demonstrate only early warning capabilities.  In the Fall of 1990, we engaged in one that I had a part in developing.  We took them to Thule and they took us to Pechora above the Arctic circle in Russia. Both radars had essentially the same capability but were quite different in size and construction. Since theirs was clearly “legal” then we got the added admission that ours at Thule was too – reciprocity in action.

We went first and hosted them in Washington for a week of sightseeing, shopping, and meals.  Their delegation was populated, as was ours, with intel and military experts and not the standard diplomatic types.  That was interesting as most had never traveled to the West before and exposure to our country was quite the shock.

We put them up at the Dulles Hilton and took them to the Tysons Mall for a shopping experience.  They thought the mall was a “Potemkin Village.”  (A Potemkin Village was a Russian Czarist era phony “show place” created to deceive the viewer.) So, we took them to the Springfield mall the next day to show them the reality of the commercial shopping. The DC area traffic also amazed them – so many privately- owned vehicles of all types. They could not believe the abundance in the stores – or the wide variety of products.

We then flew them to the US base at Thule, Greenland with the Danish Embassy Deputy Chief of Mission along to further emphasize the “legality” of the Thule radar although not on “our territory” but on Danish territory.

Soon it was our turn and we went to the Soviet Union for a week of sightseeing and dining in Moscow – followed by a flight to Pechora.  It was eye opening as the Soviet economic system was still in place – although the black market thrived.

Our Russian hosts were very accommodating allowing us the same ability to see and even video things at the sites we had given them.  So, we saw the socialist paradise at its best.  A few anecdotal events were illuminating – and central control of economy exposed.  They needed a cost mechanism called “price.”

My first observation was at a dinner at our hotel, a Stalin-era structure.  We could not get service or the attention from any waiter, and those who did around us got it very slowly.   The waiter got paid whether he served us, or did not serve us, I guess.  We loudly complained that we thought that our host (a KGB general) would not be very pleased with our treatment.  We were then served immediately.

Our rooms were quite spartan.  The toilet paper was soft as a paper bag.  We had brought several rolls of our own and these proved to be very well received “tips” for the maids.  The floor had an old woman seated in the hall.  Our room keys were tied to a very large object and we had to give them to her when we left.  I guess so they could be sure when we were out and were free to “inspect” our rooms.  Also, there were no shower curtains around the tub and shower.  This concerned our female members of the delegation.

Going to dinner in Moscow, we noticed the embassy van had the windshield wiper rubber blades removed.  Apparently, these were in short supply in the community and would be taken if left on the vehicle.  As currency rates were grossly inflated officially (rubles were worthless except “officially”), we had to be very careful of the use of dollars and rubles.  So, we also carried Marlboro cigarettes, a very favorite of the many chain-smoking Russians.  A few packs were offered to bystanders to watch over our vehicle while we dined in the restaurant.

Our shopping trip was not to GUM (state department store in Red Square) but along the Arbot.  A street allowed to trade in basically black market and bartered exchanges.   There were many lines along the state shops and stores with many empty shelves.  Folks would line up when any shipment came into a state store.  For instance, if boots arrived all would be gone in a moment – even if the customer did not need boots or they were not his size.  They were material for bartering for what he did need.

One very interesting site was a Pepsi-Cola vending machine.  The Soviets had purchased the rights to bottle it as an alternative to the national drink – vodka.  But the system had its planning flaws as there was a shortage of paper cups.  So, there was a metal dipper chained to the machine as a drinking cup.  One dropped in the kopeks and used the dipper to catch the Pepsi and drink from it.  There were not many takers for the community ladle.

We spent some time at the old American Embassy.  The newly constructed one could not be used for any sensitive business as the Russian and Polish construction crews had managed to make listening devices part of the concrete pour.  The new one did have housing, a bowling alley, and recreation areas.  During the week, I observed a road repair crew fixing a single pothole in the street we crossed each day.  It was probably an hour job, but these guys managed to take four days – no incentive to getting the job done early.

Much of the trip dealt with information gathering on their radar capabilities and answering our questions on their massive structures.  Suffice it to say, the separate transmitter and eleven-story receiver buildings housed massive tubes and floors of old 1960s computer racks.  They essentially got the same definition on their screens as our smaller arrays and laptops, but at what a cost!  They simply did not have cost or efficiency measures to worry about. And all designs were the same, no matter where they were built.  I used the restroom on the top 11^th floor at Pechora site and it would not flush.  Embarrassed, I reported the problem to my escort.  He had a soldier go down and get a bucket of water.  Apparently, the local water tower was well below the 11^th floor level – but the state design called for a restroom on each floor!

So, as we contemplate any socialist state these days, we must beware of central planning, and its consequences and inefficiencies.  Incentive is lost and the lack of the simple valuable element called “real price” makes for poor allocation of resources.