By Wayne Murphy

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.

 

 

 

FIRST DAY

The next morning, we deployed around the LZ. Our small, “air mobile” earth-moving equipment, ¾ ton dump trucks, jeeps, M450 bulldozers, D5 bulldozer, and scrapers were broken down for sling loading. We were also sharing the assault lift with an infantry battalion of the 5th Infantry Division (Mechanized). The pathfinders (forward troops who controlled our aircraft loading) were all set.

Then, as I guess happens in war, chaos takes over. The sky was cloudy at dawn and the largest group of slicks (Huey helicopters) I had ever seen approached the LZ. They landed but had their numbers in the windows all mixed up. My guys shouted, “what do we do?” and I answered get on one of the birds as they were supposedly all going to the same place. We jumped on with our enormous rucks and weapons and lifted off.

Khe Sanh was actually on a plateau and as we looked at the hundreds of choppers of all kinds in the air, we could see that a low cloud cover had just lifted enough to provide a “tunnel” up the main valley along QL9. Our pilot turned slightly north and landed on a hill top. I asked what was up and he told me he could not risk the congestion and would wait until things cleared a bit. He was right — the air traffic was unreal. We broke out some C-rations and ate lunch at about 0800. We finally got clearance and went to Khe Sanh. I later found out that the XO (Executive Officer) had made it through and had listed our birds as “missing in action” for a while. I thought that news had better not get to Mary Ellen before it was corrected.

We landed on the old matted air-strip and jumped out. One of my NCOs, SSG Vance, was a short stocky guy and fell over on his back. The ruck was so heavy he could not right himself and was flailing around like a turtle. One of his guys was yelling “they got Sarge.” I recognized no rounds were heard and shouted, “He’s OK, help him up!”

We secured our area and met with the XO. The old Marine matted airfield was full of holes and had a destroyed sub-grade material base under matting which was the result of NVA bombardment in 1968. Using it for C130 landings would require taking it up and completely rebuilding it. It would become our air cavalry squadron’s helicopter landing area. The decision was made to build a new strip parallel and just south. We started to try to clear through the elephant grass and along the road using detectors looking for the “booby traps” – none were found. We did see some infantry guys loose legs to the Marine mines – nobody apparently had a map or location (which was doctrine in the Army) and the mines seemed to be all around.

The opening of QL9 was taking more time than planned. So, I was told we would work back toward our other platoons. We gathered our jeep and some ¾ ton dump trucks and assembled a D5 bulldozer. We started down the road from Khe Sanh to QL9. We decided to drop the rucksacks and take ammo, detectors, and weapons only. The sweep along the dirt road was too slow. The shrapnel in the ground from all the previous fighting gave readings every few feet – but contrary to our intelligence briefing we found no booby traps, nor did we encounter any NVA. I decided we had to do a “visual” sweep and get moving. The road was slightly overgrown but could be seen. I mounted the front of the jeep, my legs dangling over the grill, and told my driver, SP4 Martin (a great 19-year-old kid) to move out and stop immediately if I yelled. If I missed something, he would never know it, anyway. We made progress.

Just about dark we hit the intersection of the main road and LTC Rodolph landed in his LOH (Light Observation Helicopter). He told me the other platoons had put in the bridges and had approached the last site (bridge #36) before Khe Sanh some kilometers from my location. I needed to get there that night – in other words perform a night mine sweep and road repair in the dark through what may be an enemy infiltrated area. We would be on our own as there was no infantry support available. He said he would like to be with us on our endeavor but that division “needed him in Quang Tri” that night. He took off as the sun set. My platoon sergeant rendered his LOH a single finger salute as he flew away.

The road was an old French hard surface, probably a mixed bituminous treatment and overgrown, but findable. We set the D5 bulldozer to the front behind a couple of point troops to mark the way. The D5 had a light and we had the jeep and two ¾ ton dump trucks. The mufflers were off the trucks, so they sounded quite noisy. We certainly would sound intimidating as we moved along. At this point we really did not believe the bobby trap threat although our other platoon working farther east had taken a casualty from mines on the road.

We started off to make our link up. It was a sight — all our guys (about 35) chugging along behind the bulldozer and trucks making as much noise as possible. We probably sounded like an armor outfit. We hit some snags when we came to a spot that had been pulverized, probably in 1968, by B52 500lb bombs. The craters were quite large, and we had to snake a route around them.

(I witnessed only one such B52 raid in country. They were called “Arc Lights” and we had to be at least 4 kilometers from the target. You never heard the planes which flew from as far away as Guam, or the falling bombs. The ridge would simply erupt with explosions and you could see the condensing of the air from the shock waves around the explosion. It was said that if the NVA survived many were found dazed and bleeding from the ears.)

We then came to a spot where a number of folks were running around in the dark shouting in Vietnamese. We kept moving forward, they ran, and not a shot was fired! We speculated they were probably NVA support troops as there were not supposed to be any ARVN in the area yet.

Finally, we were moving downhill to the last bridge site. On the hill above, fires were burning from earlier air attacks and we heard what sounded like weapon discharge. We kept moving. I was in contact with John and Steve by radio and they were dug in along the road on the other side of the river. At this point Steve had only a few guys as many had dropped off at the other bridge sites. The old French bridge abutments were way too far apart for our helicopter- delivered bridge frame. We needed to blow some rock with demo charges to create abutments and use the bulldozer to cut a bypass to drop the bridge frame on. Steve and John had the panels to fill it out. We decided that placing charges in the dark and trying to survey the needed work was not a smart thing. My guys were exhausted, and we were concerned that whomever we had “met” along the way or was on the hill above might give us a problem. We made a one rope river crossing ala Ranger School and took refuge behind their positions and got a couple hours rest. We reported our link-up to battalion headquarters.

SECOND DAY

Just before first light, we re-crossed the river, secured our stuff, and planted the charges and cut the bypass. We blew the rock, used the bulldozer to help complete the makeshift abutments, and we called for the bridge. It had to be dropped in by a CH 54 crane.

I sent the bulldozer and the bulk of the platoon back along our route to fix the B52-cratered area so the tracks could pass. The path we used in the dark was quite serpentine.

About this time a slick (Huey helicopter) carrying a one-star general of the 5th Infantry Division (Mechanized) landed on the abutment. He was furious. His column was strung out and stopped all along QL 9 back to Quang Tri he said. When were we 101st Airborne Division idiots going to get the damn bridge completed? At this moment the crane with the bridge, accompanied by two cobra gunships, was orbiting the site awaiting clearance to bring the frame in. I kind of lost it and told him “Sir, as soon as we get that f*%$kin bird out of the way.” He glared, asked my name, and got in his chopper.

The bridge went in and Steve’s and John’s troops began filling the frame. I scrambled to catch up to my guys. We fixed the road at the cratered site as best we could and welcomed the first Mechanized Infantry vehicles as they came up the road. They had signs proclaiming to be the First to Khe Sanh – my guys took issue with the claim.

We returned to Khe Sanh and started the airbase construction phase. It was quite a couple of first days of the operation. Some of us would later get the Bronze Star with a “V” (for valor) as well as a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star for the events of these days.

Prelude

In January 1971, the decision was made to further cripple the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) infiltration and supply to South Vietnam; I guess to follow up on the Cambodian success. This time Vietnamization was to be demonstrated. But instead of heading north through the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone), we would head west to Laos and “cut” the Ho Chi Minh trails using ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam). This was called Operation Lam Son 719.

The first part from 29 Jan to early Feb was an American operation called Dewey Canyon II. The second part, Lam Son 719, would involve the ARVN 1st Division and the ARVN 1st Airborne Division, along with US air assets.

In the first phase, the 5th Infantry Division (Mechanized) – familiarly called 5th Mech – and 101st Airborne Division along with about all the air assets that could be mustered would open QL9, an east-west road just south of the DMZ, reoccupy Khe Sanh base (famous for the siege of Marines there in 1968), and support the ARVN incursion into Laos with air support only. The original Operation Dewey Canyon had been a Marine operation in 1969 in the same general area to cut supply lines by Army/Marine forces.

The engineer task force was to air assault into Khe Sanh and several Landing Zones (LZ) along QL9. We were to drop in M4T6 bridge frames (that were normally supported by rubber floats) to replace blown French bridges along the route, clear mines, repair B52 bomb damage, and open the road to the border so the 5th Mech’s M113 Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs) and M551 Sheridan tank-like assault vehicles with their 152mm guns could get the road secured. The NVA had used small Soviet tanks in 1968 and reportedly had them in the area of the trails. After this, we were to open the airfield to allow Air Force C-130 re-supply through the Khe Sanh base. This was the nearest air field to Laos in Vietnam and would more easily provide material to the ARVN troops invading Laos

The Division decided to create a special company of engineers, designated TF 326 under the Battalion Executive Officer’s (XO) command, Major Gene Sneebeck. It would draw one platoon from each of the line companies and add most all the earth-moving equipment we had in Headquarters Company. LTC Rodolph chose the platoons and mine was selected. Others were LT John Sevier’s from A Co, and LT Steve Rhyne’s (a West Point classmate) B Company.

We were given full support on parts and on repairs to our vehicles, filled to our assigned personnel strength (my only time to have a full platoon), given LAW anti-tank launchers, and priority on anything else. By this time, I had several experienced NCOs as squad leaders (SSG Vance and SSG Gallion) and one very experienced platoon sergeant (SFC Tietz). I was even allowed to arbitrarily leave behind any troop I felt might have a drug problem, as we would be operating alone for several weeks and could not afford self-inflicted “casualties.” I left three behind and all were quite upset at not going with their comrades – all three entered voluntary rehab at the Division hospital.

We worked day and night to get things in order and had all in readiness in late January. I was also to have our headquarters airmobile earth-moving scrapers and bulldozers as my platoon was to get the airfield started. When I finished packing my expanded ruck sack (It was the heaviest one I ever carried) complete with LAW (light anti-tank weapon) and claymore mines, I had Sid Cochran (my fellow C company platoon leader) take my picture. Sid probably still has the picture somewhere.

The mission was classified. Our baby was due 14 Feb and I would be away for at least a few weeks with little mail or time to write I had been told. So, I had to write Mary Ellen and tell her I was OK but had something to do that was going to keep me busy and, not to worry, I would not write for a while. That was just what I wanted to tell my lady as she had our son. I figured she would see reports of the invasion and figure it out. It turned out I was able to write after about 5 days.

I convoyed “my force” to near the village of Mai Loc south of Quang Tri to stage for our assault. I remember driving up QL1 through Hue and beyond thinking how cool this was – with the theme music from the movie “Patton” ringing in my ears. (Mary Ellen and I had seen it just before I deployed.)

At the staging area I had to brief my guys on the mission and details. I had been told to expect a possible “hot LZ” (enemy fire). We would be picked up by a huge flight of slicks (unarmed Huey helicopters) in the morning with a specific number in the window of each bird. Each “stick” (load) had a number and everything was carefully designed to cross load leaders and weapons so if one went down the others could carry on. I told my guys to hit the ground running and get to clearing the booby traps and area. Don’t worry, I told them, if someone got hit – expect that. We spent a restless night and heard from the local kids outside our makeshift wire that we were going to Khe Sanh – so much for secrecy. We were the platoon to drop in at Khe Sanh. Sevier’s and Rhyne’s platoons were to assault in along QL9. We would link up later in the day as the bridges were dropped in.

The intelligence at our level was very bad. They warned of booby traps, NVA, and did not mention or give us maps of the hundreds of land mines the Marines had laid at the site in 1968. It would cost us.

The work on the hill was basically manual labor. I had a M426 bulldozer for a while, but the demand for engineer stuff was great and the Battalion Commander LTC Rodolph had a rule that you only asked for equipment when you could use it constantly. I used it to clear the hole, dig other trenches, and trash pits. You never knew when LTC Rodolph would pop up from below the hill in his LOH (Light Observation Helicopter) and catch the equipment idle, or your troops in some other indiscretion.

So, to lift the huge beams into place, mix concrete in a makeshift pan, and dig drainage, we borrowed the labor of infantry guys on the hill who were there for a respite from patrolling or as it was called “humping the bush.” I felt like an Egyptian building the pyramids. The first time we asked them to place a huge 12”x12” beam up 8 feet using hastily constructed stairs and brute force, my NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer) gave the “lay hold” and “heave” commands. They laughed. So he said, “OK, you do it your way.” They tried to coordinate the lift but failed. Finally their 1st SGT came over and told them to listen up to the engineer. They “lay hold” of the beam and with a unified lift “heaved” it into place.

We designed some modifications and learned about construction drainage as the rains started to come. We used old 155 round canisters as pipe and put in drainage (a real problem as the monsoon season in the division area was tough), we added a slope to the roof by adding 3X12s to the beams in descending number (helped runoff), grease traps near the kitchen bunker, and a covered stairway to the entrance.

At night most of the guys would spread out around the fire base, and you could soon see the orange glow in the fading light of the marijuana cigarettes. There was so much of it – enforcement was a losing battle. My NCOs and I chose to look the other way, as long as they did not do it right in front of us or allow it to impair a specific mission.

FB (Fire Base) Arsenal had a road to it. It was not in bad shape but with a few low water crossings. The road led toward Camp Eagle and was in a fairly safe area. Our sweeps of it never amounted to anything. The only problem was traffic at times as the road was fairly narrow in spots. Once I was riding in a jeep and we met some big trucks moving towards us. My driver swerved to avoid a collision and we slowly rolled off the shoulder. A tree stopped the roll and we scrambled out unhurt. We used a cable and pulled the jeep up and righted it. It worked fine, and all I could think of was how useless to be killed in a traffic

accident. We were lucky.

Breaks in the days of work were few, but some did occur. During the job the FB was visited once by some of the young ladies (actual real Americans) who were in country for the Red Cross. We called them “doughnut dollies.” They stayed mostly in Division base camps.

In base camp their quarters were near the division staff billets supposedly for protection from the sex starved troops. Not sure who protected them from the sex starved staff. Anyway, they came out on the log birds (Huey’s that brought our daily supplies) and played board games and talked with the troops.

We were working hard to finish before the full monsoon took over so I did not release my guys to play. The head girl came over and stood on top of the bunker’s beams — as we were down working the interior and had not covered the roof. She squatted down wearing a short skirt and showed that she, too, had chosen my solution to jungle crud prevention. My guys got quite a view. She pleaded, “Come on LT, let the guys have a little fun.” I looked at the men and said, “OK for a half an hour.” An NCO and I took a break on the side of the hill.

My real break was reading the almost daily letters from Mary Ellen. When the log bird arrived with the mail pouch the day got easier. Just the envelop with her handwriting was enough to lift my spirits. I tried hard not to think of what I was missing as she went through her fall semester and our baby grew inside her. Her letters were always upbeat. Mine were probably terribly redundant – just how much she meant to me and how I so longed to be with her. I read them in private, usually sitting on the side of the hill looking out at the mountains and valley below — and forgot the war.

I learned two more valuable things on Arsenal.

One was just how much my guys appreciated my working side by side with them and how loyal they were to me. I had been chewed out for not wearing my shirt with rank and helmet by LTC Rodolph, and working as a troop. I explained it was very hot and my guys knew who I was, and we were short-handed so I felt we could all pitch in. It was not what he wanted to hear. But we had a great product, were ahead of schedule, and (most importantly) the infantry battalion commander was very happy.

Anyway, we had just finished covering the huge roof of the bunker with tar paper (water proofing sheets that were in very short supply) and were about to start covering it with sandbags. The pathfinder came to me. (These were guys who dropped in ahead of a parachute drop to light the DZ (Drop Zone) in the Airborne, but in the 101st Airmobile mostly directed the supply helo drops.) He asked where I wanted a Chinook sling load of 8X8s. I did not want to have to carry them up from the helo pad so I asked that he drop them near the bunker.

As the hook came in the huge downdraft from the helicopter’s two rotors started to blow the tar paper everywhere. Just then overhead appeared LTC Rodolph in his LOH. He was furious. I met him at the pad with my helmet but no shirt. He demanded to know who was directing the load in so close and destroying the job. I said the pathfinder, but he was following my orders. He glared and told me to come with him. We marched to the bunker area where my entire platoon was scrambling to get the paper redone, and working feverously. He inspected every aspect of the job, every guy’s gear, and anything he could find. My guys were amazing and the Colonel found nothing else wrong. He stood me in front of him, chewed my ass some more about my missing shirt, told me to never make such a boneheaded decision again, and left.

The second lesson was about checking. The mortar guys had several misfired duds to dispose of. These were rounds that did not eject from the

mortar tubes when dropped in and had to gingerly be removed by tilting the tube after some time to allow for a delayed “cook off”.  The rounds had not “armed” by being propelled into the air, but they still were full of explosives and shrapnel.  The only safe thing to do was use demolitions like C4 (plastic explosives) to explode them at a safe distance and place. They asked that we blow them in place. I took a newly arrived “demo specialist” with me and we went down the hill to a pit. I told him to set the charge of C4 and come back with the wire. He did and I sat and watched a beautiful sunset. We hooked up the wire, gave the required “fire in the hole” three times, popped red smoke, and set off the charge. Suddenly hurling through the air were several mortar rounds with one embedding itself in the ground two feet from us. They did not go off. When I could, I asked how the hell he had set the charge. He told me he set the charge, PLACED THE DUD ROUNDS ON TOP, and came back. It was my fault, as I should have checked the demo, and I should have known better.

While we were about finished we were given a mission to recon the small river below Arsenal that flowed into the Perfume River to the north and east. I was given a small boat and started along the river. At one crossing we came upon a group of rangers (the company assigned to the 101st as a long range recon outfit) practicing one rope river crossings. Their platoon leader was Paul Sawtelle, a classmate. We greeted each other like we did at school – brother to brother. We talked awhile about his great assignment and said our goodbyes. A few months later he was killed setting up an ambush in the Ashau Valley.

An excerpt from an unpublished work called “Pop’s War”.