Where DOCs Come From

by HM2 David "Doc" Steinberg

     I don't know how many enlisted in the US Navy specifically to become a corpsman. I was in my 3rd year of college as a Psychology major at a University in Chicago, tired of fighting the SDS (Students For a Democratic Society, an organization that disappeared along with the anti-Vietnam protests once the draft was replaced by the birth year lottery... it must not have seemed so important once their butts were safe from the draft.) My Navy recruiter said that with my background I would surely end-up as a would surely end-up as* a corpsman on a psych ward in a Naval hospital, far from that thing going on in  Vietnam, which was just heating up in those early months of 1966.

     I joined the Navy to serve as my father did for 4 years during WWII. I joined the Navy since my Uncle, for whom I was named, 1st Lt. David Steinberg, USMCR, was killed at Iwo Jima. To join the Marines would have been too painful for the family. I joined the Navy because I had 4 years of high school Army ROTC, attaining the rank of captain and winning a high school letter for being part of the Precision Rifle Drill Team that won the State championship. After those years of spit and polish, I refused to ever wear a uniform that had brass and needed to be shined with brasso (still cannot get that smell out of my nose to this day.) I joined the Navy because I entered as a HN Hospital Corpsman or E- 3 right out of boot camp because of my college credits.

     In June of 1966,1 took my oath while standing on the 3rd baseline at the Chicago Cubs Wrigley Field ball park. The Cubs Team was lined up along the 1st baseline. Our gaggle of Navy enlisted, were called the Chicago Cubs Company. Our families where invited to watch us take our oath and we were allowed to join them watching the baseball game before we said our good-byes in the stands and promptly boarded awaiting Navy buses for the Great Lakes and boot camp that lasted 8 weeks.

     My knowledge of precision rifle drill and marching automatically put me in the position of ROPC, Recruit petty Officer Chief (drill instructor complete with sword and responsibility for our Recruit company) We won all the honor flags and I marched the company to all classes and required tests (smoke house, gas chamber, swim tests 1-4, etc.) You know I never qualified for swimming, since I never was tested.

     Once I marched my men to the pool I was yelled at to get my men into the water by the numbers. Once the last group jumped in, I was yelled at to get to the other side of the pool and get my men out of their *#°/o pool building.

     On the last day of Navy boot camp, the men got their striker assignments throughout the Naval Fleet and on-shore operations. The Corpsmen were sent to Hospital Corps School for another 4 months. We learned medicine and healing from Navy nurses and doctors. We gave saline injections to one another as practice, and we laid out stretchers and practiced using field dressings and preparing for evacuation of the wounded, or sick. We were taught how to keep those aboard ships and on the ground safe from injury and disease through sanitation and preventive medicine (although nothing said about supervising the burning of the half barrels from the shitters.) The good news was that there were women. I mean Waves, those of the opposite sex, who were in our classes. The bad news was that we were competing for academic awards throughout Hospital Corp School and while I did place third, the first 2 places went to women.

     On the last day of Hospital Corps School, we were assigned to our new duty stations — some to ships, some to Naval and Marine bases and others immediately to FMF or Fleet Marine Force training to serve the Marines in combat. Wherever our assignment was, the training we received was adequate and professional. It was said to be equal to a 2nd year med : student's and all were prepared to "Do Our Best" which is all we ever could do in times of peace or combat.

     I spent the next year at St. Albans Naval Hospital, Long Island, NY. It was a big hospital and I served on many types of wards and clinics before being accepted to Operating Room Technician Training (setup the surgical suites, prepare and sterilize the instruments, circulate and scrub surgery) where you had to know the numerous surgical procedures as well as the surgeons, if you were to pass the proper surgical instrument at the proper time. We did surgery for combat and non- combat injuries and for all the retired and military dependents from all branches of the military.

     I was actually seeing the end of the story I was about to live. These Naval Hospitals were where the combat wounded I later treated on Khe Sanh's Hill 8 8 IS for more than 3 months, and later in the bush along the Perfume River near Hue, and the triple canopy jungles off Hill 55 SW of Danang would end-up; that is, if they survived my field medical treatment, helicopter medevac to an in-country Medical Battalion, transfer to a Hospital Ship or NSA, Danang and then on to Japan, etc.

     This is also where I saw the real tragedy of war. Not the loss of life or limb, but the reality of our fighting men and women returning to the "World." Many of the amputees did not realize the true extent of their life-changing wounds until they arrived at the hospital where they were to finally be reunited with their loved ones again after their trip to hell and back. Remember that once wounded, the future amputee was in a daze with immediate surgery of the limb — if beyond all hope or following unsuccessful debridement, uncontrolled infection and subsequent-ly, the decision to sever the limb was necessary to save the life of the wounded person. Following months of surgery, stump revisions and getting around on crutches or in a wheel chair on some Ortho Ward in many places along the way back to our Naval Hospital, they remained with other amputees in the same circumstances. They joked around, played games and raced down the halls in wheel chairs doing wheelies. They had become accustomed to their life among the other wounded and helped each other out as they did in war. But "Oh Baby" they would tell me, I am back in the "World" and my gal and my family are coming to see me!

     They were still the young warriors who left for war and they survived unchanged in their minds and surely they were getting along well, although they had never been tested outside of the accommodating environment that a Naval Hospital provides with ramps and other things that today we take for grant-ed with Disability Laws and provisions.

     The tragedy I referred to was more horrific than I would ever later experience in the field and later in many years as an EMT back in civilian life. The tragedy was yet days later when I again passed by that "Oh Baby, my gal and family are coming this weekend." Instead of being filled with stories of hope, he laid under covers, depressed and appeared to have given up. While a one-eyed man is King among the blind, these heroes finally saw the "World," but the "World" saw him completely changed, not able to move around as he did and stunned with the loss of future potential as was once imagined. The family mourned his loss of limb instead of being overjoyed at his very survival and his gal was kind, but he knew from her hollow eyes that she would not be back. I cried for him and promised myself that I would never forget this true tragedy.

     I continued my time in surgery as a member of the Open Heart Scrub Team. I did my job and learned to be the best I could, receiving my new rank of HM3 or E-4. Each day other Corpsmen I knew in the Operating Room or in the hospital were receiving their orders to FMF training and 'Nam. The rumor was they needed so many because the life expectancy of a corpsman in Vietnam was about 7 days. However, I was an important member of a specialty surgical team and not every corpsman was sent to 'Nam. I was still there while others were shipped out. One day, a few of my buddies entered the Surgical Suite as I passed the instruments to the doctors during a long operation. I could see their sardonic smiles even under their surgical masks...Dave, it is your turn to become a "DOC" not just a corps-man...you got your orders to report to FMF training at Camp Pendleton, California, 1st Marine Division.

     Now it was my turn. HM3 David Steinberg report-ed to the outskirts of beautiful Oceanside, CA. Thankfully, our new Marine Uniforms with the subdued Navy Rank on the sleeve did not have brass requiring brasso, but what is this stuff about putting our utility hat on a circular hat block and spraying the hell out of it with spray starch! Another entire sea bag with all the utilities, khakis and greens, FMF Corpsmen do not rate the Marine dress blues. We still had our own blues, complete with fashionable bellbottoms for those formal occasions.

I wrote a song while I was in college that went:

Today I received a letter it was from Uncle Sam,

It said "Greetings My Child," you are off to Vietnam!

Well I picked up that letter and read those words of Woe,

Then quickly call my draft board to see if it weren't so.

Well, I told them I was classified as a "student,"

But they said so sternly, "By order of the President"

Without a choice I packed my bags and kissed my sweetheart good-bye,

And before I knew what was happening I lay under bomb-shelled skies!

Now listen to the moral for all you students classified. 2-S,

Don't be so sure that you're exempt, for YOU may go next!

     My first day in the chow hall line, I understood what they meant by rank has its privileges. I was called out of line and invited to dine with the non commissioned officers in their own mess area. In the Navy an E-4 Petty Officer is nothing and deserves nothing except less duty nights and weekends. I liked this Marine stuff.

     We played jungle combat, qualified with the M-14, the .45 pistol, and practice hand grenade, dug trenches and shared a poncho tent half and pole with a comrade who provided the other poncho half and pole so we could sleep in a cozy pup tent...just like we would in 'Nam... are you kidding me? We manned fighting holes on top of a tall hill overlooking the Pacific Coast Highway and shivered all night due to the cool October Night... not the fear of Victor Charlie, who might be lurking in the hills of Camp Pendleton.

     After 30 days leave home to Chicago, I flew to San Bernadino Air Force Base to catch a flight to 'Nam. The troops I had trained with, took the 22-day trip to 'Nam by ship. I, HM3 Steinberg reported alone, since corpsmen were sent individually to Vietnam via Continental Airlines to Okinawa and then Flying Tiger Airlines to Danang. That 7-day life expectancy for a Corpsman in the bush must have been more than a rumor if they were sending us over one-by-one via express.

     I arrived in late October of 1967 with most of my gear left in Okinawa. Slim chance that in 365 days, I would DEROS back to the "WORLD" and pick it up. I was thirsty as hell in Danang wearing those heavy green starched utilities from the states. I was thirsty and my American greenbacks would not even buy me a Coke until I ran into a departing "DOC" who swapped me for MPC, Military Pass Currency, available in green or red that changed often, leaving the Black Market with worthless wrong-colored paper.

     I reported in and learned a few interesting facts, like its MIND over MATTER — They Don't Mind that I Don't Matter. First, due to heavy casualties among "DOCs in I Corp, my orders where changed from 1st Division to 3d Marine Division. Second, my hopes were shattered about spending my year in an OR Suite when the officer at the holding company told me that, he was very impressed with my rank and training in the Operating Room and confirmed that one day soon, after about 6 months with a Marine unit in the bush if I was still alive, I would have that opportunity. The next day I was on a 6-by truck heading north along Highway 1 to Camp Evans. There I was assigned to the BAS, Battalion Aid Station of the 26th Marines, who were engaged at Con Thien, Gio Linh and along the Cua Viet River. I had my own Willy's Jeep ambulance and got my 1 ton Military License to drive it everywhere and to fool around on the mule, a pallet on wheels that they would drop loaded with supplies dangling from a parachute. For us it was a go-cart. I remained with the BAS through early December, when we were ordered to pack-up the BAS, turn Camp Evans over to the Army's 101st Airborne, and move to Dong Ha where we were to set up the BAS in preparation for 3/26 to move to that base. We took over a few hooches and dug a bunker that even the rats would have been proud to share with us during incoming. We no sooner completed the bunker than we received word not to unpack, but move the BAS. It consisted of about 15 pallets, the Dang Ha air strip for shipment to a lovely, quiet, mountain local called Khe Sanh.

     After nearly 15 days of sitting on the airstrip with the gear, our ride to Khe Sanh arrived. It was now early January and I reported with the gear to the far end of the base to Dr. Feldman. I was one of the Senior Corpsmen and did my daily sick calls by day and typed up death notices on the KlA's by night (Died in Thau Thien Province from whatever). Life was good but the clock was ticking. We just didn't know it.

     Something in the air was different earlier in the night before the ammo dump got hit early the next morning. We were told to burn all of our letters from home in case we were overrun. Overrun? That was a good bedtime thought as my eyes closed and those of us in the tent side-by-side on cots drifted off to sleep.

     0530 or whatever...BOOM BANG BOOM...we all ran from the Corpsman Tent, and jumped into any depression in the red dirt — incoming, outgoing, the ammo dump was lit-up like the 4th of July. It was dark and we scattered to safety. I curled up like a ball under a pallet near the end of the Khe Sanh runway and fell back asleep. The morning sun and the relative quiet woke me and I climbed out from under the depression I had clawed-out with my bare hands during the chaos. Yes, the pallet of 105 mm artillery rounds protected me just fine...was I nuts!

     Later that day, I was told that there had been heavy Corpsmen losses on Hill 881s and that I should take a few things and as a Senior Corpsman, go up there and check things out. I flew in by Huey Helicopter and jumped off with my Unit 1 Medical Bag across my chest. It was a hot LZ with incoming still pounding the Hill. "Corpsman up," was the first thing I heard, and I crested the hill near a motor or gun pit where a Marine was on his back clutching his chest and gasping for air. After months at the BAS, here I was with my very first immediate casualty. He had a sucking chest wound. All my training came back to me and I quickly took the plastic bag from a field dressing bandage and was able to seal the air leak. I wrapped him tightly and a few Marines got him onto the saddle for a medevac.

     I finally reported to Capt. Dabney and told him I was to check on the corpsman situation on the Hill for the BAS down on the Khe Sanh Combat Base. I asked him where the other DOCs were on the Hill. He told me that I was standing in front of him. I was immediately assigned to Lt. Lawrence Boudria of the 3rd Platoon, India 3/26 for all my days on the Hill and what was to turn out to be many interesting months through the summer after leaving the Hill in April. There was one other DOC on our side of the Hill and Dabney ordered me NEVER to be on the same side of the Hill as him EVER! As it turned out, the two of us were the only DOCs for a long time.

     The story of the Hill and the DOCs like myself who survived the entire siege is best saved for anoth- er time...my intent is to show, where we DOCs come from.

We are all Brothers, Eternally Bonded.

Top Side
 

Christmas 67 at Con Thien

By Bob McLane

     In the fall of 1967, hundreds of bicycles and small trucks carried thousands of tons of rice and bullets along the Ho Chi Min trail through the not so distant mountains to re-supply the hidden army we were fighting across the DMZ. Countless 500-pound bombs dropped from never-ending flight missions of B-52's had failed to stem the flow of supplies.

     From as far as seventeen miles away, dozens of long range North Vietnamese artillery batteries hid-den in caves along the border of the DMZ, pounded Con Thien night and day. I had been up to the isolated Marine base several times in November, riding shotgun on convoys delivering ammunition and C-rations. This time we were bringing hot turkey and cold eggnog. I volunteered to ride in the lead truck. I had heard stories of guys on a convoy losing their legs because of land mines. I decided to take my chances on the roof of the deuce and a half. I crossed my legs and rested my M- 16 in my lap. I brought along a can of hard candy I had gotten from one of the cooks. I tossed pieces to the kids we passed along the road to Cam Lo. I remembered to yell Merry Christmas in Vietnamese. We rolled through the barbed wire gate around noon and immediately began unloading our Christmas cargo. I laughed at the other guys riding in the convoy. Their faces and uniforms were covered in red dust from the dirt road we had been riding on since we left Cam Lo and  headed north. My own face was spotless. Riding on the lead vehicle had its advantages. Con Thien was a cluster of sandbagged bunkers surrounded by mine fields and razor wire. The six 105 howitzers of Fox battery were set up and ready to fire support for any  patrols in the area. We were glad we had made the  trip without any trouble. We had heard stories about  how many times the Christmas "truce" had been violated last year. The cooks set up a chow line and  started serving Christmas dinner. They were in a  hurry to get this over with and get the hell out of  there before something bad happened. The gunny  walked over to me and held out a carton of eggnog.  "This is for you, McLane." I looked at him and  shook my head. "No thanks, Gunny, that is for the  guys up here." He smiled at me and shook his head.  "No, this eggnog is for you. Watching you riding on  the roof of that truck this morning made me proud to call you a Marine, in spite of your weird ways." The gunny didn't have to twist my arm. It was a hot day.

     The guys in Fox battery were like most Marines in any line outfit, they could use a shave and a shower. Most were shirtless in the sun. All wore helmets and flak jackets. So far the artillery batteries on both sides had honored the Christmas truce. The food disappeared fast and it was time for us to head south. I climbed back on the roof of the lead truck and waved good-bye to the guys in Fox battery. We rolled out of the gate. We made it back to Dong Ha without any trouble. Eleven months of war still lay ahead of me, but I never forgot the excitement and pride I felt that Christmas Day riding into Con Thien.

Top Side

The Battle for Hill 950
06 June 1968

     Shortly past midnight, approximately 19 very sudden, loud screeching rockets pierced the calm, silent, very dark summer jungle night, exploding on Khe Sanh Combat Base, killing two, and wounding eleven. Killed were Rodney C. Little who was sitting on an orange crate playing cards when the rounds hit, striking the nearby Seabee tent just across the roadway. A round struck the top of the tent pole so that it detonated as an air burst. Also killed was Senior Chief Equipment Operator Donald J. Barnes who had been sent to KSCB to maintain the heavy equipment used to construct roads and facilities at the rapidly-expanding base. June 5, 1967 was the first day of his second tour of Vietnam service. The Seabee camp at Dong Ha was later named in his memory. During the attack, Gunnery Sergeant James Wilkinson Moore, Jr., of H&S Co., 1/26, dashed from his bunker to go to the Seabee bunker, but was knocked back by the blast. Although he suffered torn cartilage, and bruises to his ribs, he still assisted in the evacuation of the wounded, and only after doing so would allow himself to be treated and evacuated.

     At 0125 Hours, the SOG unit located at the Old French Fort just east of Khe Sanh village received 6 mortar rounds. The main attack, however, was an assault atop the very steep Alpha Relay on Hill 950. This hill's radio relay capability was used as a radio relay since the PRC-25 radios used by patrols moving on the steep hills and deep valleys were "line-of-sight." They frequently moved into positions where it would have been impossible to communicate with the headquarters on KSCB were it not for this high radio relay site. Approximately 40-50 North Vietnamese Army soldiers of the 6th Battalion, 95th Regiment, 325C Division, attacked 950 from Hill 1015 to its east.

     A bunker occupied by (call sign) PINEFOLD RELAY, Cpl. David Buffalo, Cpl. Dale Lloyd Speir, and L/Cpl. Kenneth S. Howard, Marines from H&S Co., 1/26 on the north side of the outpost, were isolated throughout the attack. Cpl. Buffalo was on the radio, calling in artillery on the positions from where the NVA fired, while the other two Marines with him looked and listened for rockets from the north that were fired over the hill towards KSCB. Following the fourth volley of rockets, Howard heard grenades explode on the outpost, and Buffalo reported the out-post under attack. Speir observed an NVA soldier entering their bunker, and unloaded half a magazine at him. Howard observed three other NVA attempt-ing to enter the adjacent bunker, left his bunker and opened fire on them. While outside his bunker, another NVA soldier tossed a grenade into the bunker containing Buffalo and Speir. It had been raining for about ten days and the deck of the bunker was soft mud. Buffalo was near his rack as Speir moved from side to side. "When the grenade went off I remember feeling something hot hitting me. Howard came back into the bunker. Neither of us knew at that time what had happened to Speir. It was at this time I whispered to PINEFOLD that I was hit and the camp had been overrun. They asked me to key my set, once for yes, twice for no, in response to their questions if it got too dangerous to speak. I told them to fire on the camp as it seemed we were the only ones left and in the bunker," said Buffalo.

     Buffalo continued. "We found out later, Speir was already dead. The ground was muddy. I always thought the grenade that killed him and wounded me had sunk in the mud before it went off, and he had caught shrapnel in his chest because he wasn't wearing his flak jacket. I was saved because of the combination of the grenade sinking and my being on the top bunk, away from the major explosion. It could be true that Speir either fell on the grenade partially or it landed on him, but as I recall, he was standing. As the night wore on, I prayed that we would be safe and made every promise in the book, if God would see me through this."

     Cpl. Wethy told machine gun #2 that KSCB was under attack and then alerted Sgt. Richard W. Baskin, who was in charge of the security detachment atop the outpost. The area of Alpha Relay was very small; there were only 9 Marines from the Security Platoon, radio operators consisting of 6 Marines from 1/26, and 3 Marines from A Co 3Rd Recon. These 18 Marines occupied sandbagged bunkers covered only with ponchos to protect them from wind and rain. It was very easy for these people to just lob grenades in and be effective. Sgt. Baskin had been helo-lifted to the top of Hill 950 on Monday, 28 May 1967 to relieve Sub Unit #5 Marines. Including himself, he had nine Marines in his squad, consisting of two, four-man machine gun crews.

     At 0150 Hours a flare was tripped about 30 meters out from the hills east side. One minute later, a RPG fired by the NVA sailed over the hill and detonated a trip flare on the west side of the pe- rimeter. The eastern side of the hill began receiving hand grenades, a few RPGs, and a high volume of small arms fire. L/Cpl. Castillo yelled, "Incoming grenades, everybody get up, we're under attack!" A grenade exploded in front of his position on the west side of the hill. Sgt. Baskin yelled to Cpl. Wethy, the radioman on watch, to bring in artillery on the east side of the hill. Baskin ran out of his hootch and before anybody knew it, there were NVA swarming up the eastern side of 950 and grenades were going off all over the place. "People were screaming and hollering and there was a lot of confusion. At the time I was standing outside my hooch, Baskin dashed into his bunker and grabbed his M-16 but didn't bother with his flak jacket or cartridge belt."

     During the initial attack, grenades hit a bunker containing 4 snipers. PFC David Stephenson man-aged to escape and while moving, was hit by NVA rounds, fell, and was pulled to safety by Cpl. John Roland Burke and PFC Thomas R. Back. A grenade exploded in their midst, knocking both snipers into the bunker and throwing Stephenson away from it. Burke was badly hit in the head, and although bleed-ing profusely, attended to L/Cpl. Carper, who was also wounded. Burke placed Carper on top of the rack and placed his body on top of him to keep shrapnel and other flying objects from hitting him. As Stephenson struggled to get into the bunker, another grenade exploded, knocking him into the bunker. Burke, after rendering aid to the wounded, charged the enemy from his bunker and was killed by a deadly hail of enemy fire.

     Sgt. Baskin saw three NVA soldiers throw the charges/grenades into the snipers' bunker and heard their screaming. Two managed to get out only to be cut down by the waiting NVA, despite his at- tempts to cover them. At this point, Baskin took a W/P grenade, pulled the pin, let the spoon fly and held it. "He finally released the thing, when he and the soldier were looking at each other. It hit him right in the chest when it went off. It was terrible. It just blew him off his feet. His partner there caught a fraction of it, and both of them were aflame. He may have been a lieutenant, and was just blown to pieces. He was like ash when I found him that morning."

     Cpl. Powell's machine gun #1 was hit with grenades, seriously wounding Cpl. J. B. Powell, L/Cpl. Lawrence, and PFC's Monroe, and Stephenson. When their machine gun guarding the eastern sector of Hill 950 became unserviceable, the men decided to fall back towards L/Cpl. Balzano's position. L/Cpl. Larry Eugene Lawrence, gunner for the machine gun, covered their withdrawal. When they came under fire, L/Cpl. Lawrence fired point blank at the enemy, driving them back, allowing the three men to make it to safety. Lawrence was hit, fell, stood up again, and was killed. Sgt. Baskin saw him get hit. "I wanted to go out, but I just couldn't. There were NVA on our right flank who were penetrating right up through the center," said Baskin

     PFCs David Stephenson, and George D. Monroe, staggered into the position manned by L/Cpl. Richard C. Green and PFC Jeffrey L. Arnold, just as PFC Monroe yelled, "Cpl. Powell has been hit." At that moment, two grenades were thrown into Green's hole, and although they exploded, no one was injured. A trip flare went off on the east side showing four North Vietnamese soldiers jumping up and down on top of the radio bunker. L/Cpl. William C. Balzano killed two with the machine gun, while PFC Arnold and L/Cpl. Green killed the other two with their rifles. Sgt. Baskin had moved into a hole in front of Green and Arnold to cover the southeast, as Castillo dashed from the hole containing Balzano's machine gun and took over Baskin's position, killing several NVA soldiers.

     The hilltop was shrouded in dense fog. Trip flares created eerie silhouettes. Sgt. Baskin heard Balzano firing his machine gun. As Baskin moved, Cpl. Powell, the gunner on the other machine gun position that had been overrun, came up to Baskin, fell at his knees and said, "Sarge, help me, I am hit in the back." Baskin grabbed him and dragged him to his hooch. They could hear rockets to the northwest over their heads heading towards Khe Sanh.

     When Balzano's machine gun froze, he and PFC Arnold desperately attempted to repair it, breaking it down and checking each piece, but were unable to fix it. Balzano told Baskin: "I can fire one round, but can't get any sustained rate of fire out of it." Baskin heard PFC Steve Arnold say: "He's with Cpl. Powell and is seriously wounded. This was my first firefight and I know I'm in a position now where everyone's depending on me as I depend on everyone else." PFC Stupar dashed from the recon bunker, only to be shot and killed. The recon bunker was hit by a RPG that entered the bunker through an opening and exploded inside, killing the three occupants.

     The NVA force clearly had fire superiority in addition to their element of surprise. Sgt. Baskin spotted the NVA setting up a machine gun atop the bunker in the center of the outpost using the sandbags for the base of their gun. L/Cpl. Green continued firing at the NVA, and at least five or six fell over the cliff. Marines not in the radio bunkers, or at the east machine gun position, withdrew to the southwestern side of the perimeter where Baskin established a 360 perimeter around one bunker and two other posstions. Balzano, PFC Steve Arnold, Cpl. Powell, and PFC Monroe manned a machine gun position while Baskin, Green, and Castillo manned a bunker covering the right flank. A grenade exploded, peppering the backs of Castillo and Baskin.

     By 0220 Hours, Baskin requested that artillery be fired on top of the hill. The request was granted. 4.2" mortars, 40mm dusters, and 106s blasted the hilltop. At 0230Hours, 3rd Mar Div COC reported to III MAF COC: "The situation looks grim on the hill. One report received indicated the position was overrun; however, cannot tell complete situation at this time." Ten minutes later: "Three are reported still alive. All contact has been lost with Marines on Hill 950: appears position completely overrun."

     At 0500 Hours, fog completely shrouded the out-post. NVA soldiers held the bunker containing the three radios in the center of the hill. Sgt. Baskin told Castillo, "We got to get over there; we got to get that radio. Castillo picked up two rifles from dead NVA. Sgt. Baskin told him to spray covering fire as he maneuvered to the center and assaulted the communication bunker occupied by the NVA. "I knew it was either take that bunker or stay here all day, and who knows what may happen?" As Baskin, Castillo, Balzano, Green, and PFC Arnold went on line and assaulted the bunker, the NVA fled. "They showed their backs and we were happy; we knew we had them," said Baskin. They seized the bunker along with a NVA POW. Communication was restored with KSCB. The Marines heard the NVA dragging their dead from the position, and fired at them until they disappeared into the woods.

     Cpl. Buffalo had worried about the antenna sticking out of his bunker. The NVA had evidently assumed no one was alive in this bunker. After throwing one grenade, they made no further assaults on it.

     As the morning dawned, "I heard someone ask, 'What the hell is Vietnamese to stop?'
I jumped out of the bunker and shouted "Americans, Americans!" Someone said, "Come the hell out of there," and I did with both my hands pre-ceding the rest of me. I was afraid I'd be shot if I didn't. Howard came out after me. I couldn't walk, re-enforcements had arrived.

     At 0945 Hours, KSCB received the radio call from Alpha Relay that all friendly were accounted for. At 1230Hours, weather broke, and helicopters landed elements of Co D/l/26 to secure and evacuate the WIA and KIA. A/Btry & W/l/13 had fired 3,206 rounds in support of the Hill 950 fight. Marines from D/l/26 scouring the area discovered an NVA WIA, PFC Nguyen Van Chat, of C-9 Co., K9 Bn, 95th Regiment, 325-C Division. The 20 year old NVA from Thanh Hoa in North Vietnam, stated that his unit of 100 men attacked Hill 950 with 50 AK-47s and 38 CKC-90s. PFC Chat disclosed that his unit walked two days and nights from the north of the vicinity of Dong La Ruong, with only six hours rest in the three days preceding the attack. C-9 Company was composed of 100 men (90 of which were combat effective). The mission of their unit was to overrun the Marine position and then retreat back to their base area at Dong Tri Mountain (Hill 1009, known as Hill 1015 on American military maps). The 325 C Division began their infiltration into South Vietnam, crossing the Ben Hai River on 7 March 1967 and their first engagement was this attack on Hill 950.

The following gallant defenders of 950
who were KIA

BARNES, EOCS Donald Joseph NMCB-10

BURKE, CP1. John Roland H&S 1/26

HUBBARD, BUL3 Charles A. NMCB-4

LAWRENCE, L/CPL. Larry E A/3rd Recon

SHERRELL, CPL. David Frank A/3rd Recon

SPIER, CPL. Dale Lloyd A/3d Recon

STUPAR, L/CPL. Michael Nick H&S 1/26

WITHEY, CPL. Howard Hugh A/3rd Recon

Top Side

Khe Sanh Vets Return to Vietnam with Gold Star Moms by Bruce Geiger

    In August 2004, four veterans including three Khe Sanh Vets returned to Vietnam as escorts for Operation Gold Star, sponsored by the National Dusters, Quads &; Searchlights Association. Beginning with the first return trip in July 2000, the DQS organization has raised over $50,000 to bring twenty Gold Star Mothers to Vietnam to visit the sites where their sons gave their lives. Generous contributions have been made over the past five years by numerous veterans groups including the Khe Sanh Veterans and by individual members. On the four trips made to date, many veterans and several wives have made the trip at their own expense (approx. $2700 each) to escort the Gold Star Mothers throughout Vietnam. They have served as a support group for the mothers and provided background knowledge of the many battles and diverse locations in which they served during the conflict.

     The Operation Gold Star IV group met in LA the evening of Sunday, August 16th, 2004 after arriving from their home airports. Escorts for the group included Khe Sanh vets, Bruce Geiger, Jim Smith and his wife Sandy, Bill Griffith, and DQS vet Sam Hopkins. Gold Star Mothers participating on the trip included Anna Roble, Janice Dahike, Virginia 'Joe' O'Neal, Betty Pulliam, Carol Tabor, and Betty Van Dusen. We boarded a China Airlines flight after mid-night for the thirteen hour trip to Taipei followed by another three and a half hour flight to Saigon where we began our in-country adventure with "Happy," as our in-country travel guide.

     Our first two days were spent in Saigon, where we did some sightseeing and got a chance to rest a bit from our long flight. On our second morning we traveled by tour bus about a half hour south of Saigon to the Ben Luc Bridge, the site where Janice Dahlke's son Randy Mueller (D- 2nd/47th Inf, 9th Inf Div KIA - 3 Mar 69) was killed. There is a new bridge at the site alongside the old bridge that crosses the Phan Co River, a tributary of the Mekong River, We stopped and held a ceremony honoring the young soldier who was killed while guarding an engineering dredging operation at the bridge. We had a beautiful ceremony alongside the river at an old bridge guard house and concrete quay that stretched out about 10 meters into the river. We attracted a number of Vietnamese onlookers who politely stood and listened as we stood around a special flower arrangement that we had made in Saigon. Information researched by DQS in advance about her son's unit and operations were shared with the group. Mrs. Dahike also shared remembrances of her son. This set a very positive tone for the five remaining ceremonies, and was a very uplifting experience for all the mothers and us veterans. After the ceremony, we took pictures and gave the locals some American flags and flowers as souvenirs.

     In the morning we traveled north on Rt. 1, then northwest along Rt. 14 to Pleiku via Buon Ma Thuot. We passed through the la Drang Valley near Chu Pong Mountain where the 7th Air Cavalry fought the first major battle of the war in 1965, becoming the subject of a famous book and more recently the movie "We Were Soldiers." We had dinner and stayed the night at the Pleiku Hotel. After breakfast we stopped at the site of a former Army/Air Force base (101st Airborne) on our way to Kontum and then to Dak To where we visited a war monument (Russian T51 Tank) and stopped to pet and play with a friendly calf. We drove on to Ben Het near the border (8km) with Cambodia and Laos along the Vietnamese side of the Ho Chi Minh trail. We then returned to Kontum to visit a Catholic orphanage, and visited with kids from infants to teenagers. We also met the ARVN Captain, who on our first OGS trip in 2000 invited us into his home to share his prized rice wine. We took photos, left lots of candy, and gave a generous donation. Our trip continued back to Pleiku, then east along Rt. 19 through the Mang Yang Pass to An Khe, and An Khe Pass to the coastal town of Qui Nhon where we checked into the Seagull Hotel and had dinner before retiring after an exhausting day.

     The following morning we traveled north toward Bong Son (Binh Dinh Province) and stopped at Phu , Cat, a former US airbase which is now shared by a brand new civilian airport terminal handling two flights a day. We drove north to Phu My, former site of a base camp where Carol Tabor's son Richard
Eugene Tabor (E-1st/503rd Inf, 173rd AB KIA - 7 Jan 71) had been stationed and held our second remembrance ceremony nearby off Rt. 631 in a small village near where he had been killed. Local villagers observed inquisitively as we remembered our fallen brother. We rewarded their friendliness and hospitality with candy, pens, American flags, and flowers • from the ceremony. We returned south to Qui Nhon for an afternoon of shopping at the local mall which looked like those in any small US town. After checking into a different hotel, we went for a swim in the South China Sea before dinner.

     After breakfast we drove by the former "Freedom Hill" in Danang, where there had been a large military installation including a USO and PX. We made our way over to Rt. 1 near the sea and up to the Hai Van Pass, stopping to take photos of the beautiful coastal scenery. Visible from the lower roadway of the pass was a Japanese tunnel project in its final stage of construction through the mountain that will soon divert most commercial trucking from the arduous 21 km. trek over the pass. On the northern coastal side of the Hai Van Pass, we stopped at the beautiful Lang Co beach, which was a 101st Airborne Hdqs. known as Eagle Beach during the war. We had refreshments and bought souvenirs before driving past the Lang Co lagoon on the west side of Rt. 1 and the Tarn Giang lagoon, where three major tributaries converged from the mountains into a large estuary. Here, a major shrimp farming industry thrives in the coastal plain. We stopped at Phu Bai, the former site of a large military airfield and base, where a new civilian air terminal has recently been completed, and from which we eventually would fly to Saigon before returning home. Further north we drove into Hue City, then along the beautiful Perfume River, and checked into the Saigon Morin Hotel, the finest of all the hotels we stayed in.

     After a breather and lunch in Hue, we traveled north to rural Rt. 49, where we headed west about 35 km. into the Ashau Valley and LZ Ripcord. Virginia O'Neal lost her son Samuel Stephen Lance (A-l/506th Inf., 101st AB KIA - 1 May 70) in the vicinity of Ripcord during Operation Texas Star that was launched to regain the initiative in the mountain area east of the Ashau Valley. At the base of Ripcord in a relatively uninhabited area, we held a ceremony in remembrance of the sons of Joe O'Neal and sever-al Gold Star Mothers who were unable to make the trip. Our guide pointed out former firebases including LZ Bastogne and others which were accessible to US troops only by helicopter during the war. We returned to the Saigon Morin Hotel and went out to a local restaurant for dinner. Afterward, a couple of us took cyclo rides around the city, and I visited the famous DMZ Bar where thousands of returning veterans had autographed the walls. We rode along the Perfume River before heading back to the hotel for the evening.

     The next morning we headed north again, where we stopped at Camp Evans, former base camp and Hdqs. of the 1st Air Cavalry Division, where I spent the last three weeks of my Vietnam tour in September 1968 before returning home. We traveled north on Rt. 1 past Quang Tri City on our way to pong Ha from where we would visit most of the Marine firebases in and around Leatherneck Square on the DMZ. We had lunch in a rather dingy road-side restaurant across the Dong Ha Bridge on Rt. 1 before heading north through Gio Linh and across the Ben Hai River about 15km. into the former "North Vietnam." Our destination was the seaside village of Vin Muoc, where the entire village of several hundred people moved underground into a net-work of tunnels for three years, to avoid the heavy bombing north of the DMZ. They dug many miles of tunnels, three levels deep at the edge of the sea, reaching a maximum depth of nearly 70 meters. Several of the Gold Star Moms joined us to explore a stretch of the tunnels which had been fortified and dimly lit to accommodate a growing tourist trade. In addition, the village had added new walkways, exhibits, and a brand new museum building to replace the "shack" which was there when we visited in 2000. On our return trip across the DMZ, we stopped and walked back across the old "Freedom Bridge" which had also been shored up and re-planked since our 2000 visit. Water buffalos grazed warily nearby but would not let us get too close.

     After passing back through Gio Linh, we headed west just below the DMZ toward A3, and then to Con Thien where we stopped to climb the hill. The 1.5 km climb up a narrow cow path to the concrete French bunker was a bit too difficult for the mothers. Having spent much of the last three months of 1967 on the hill at Con Thien, I was determined to climb to the top alone where I found the bunker overgrown with vegetation. From this vantage point at the top of the hill, I was able to locate both of my Duster positions. I took a Ziploc bag of soil. I also saw an oxcart, pulled by an ox, and got a couple of photos before my digital camera battery died. Predictably, my spare was on the bus at the bottom of the hill! Our tour bus drove south from Con Thien across the new Cam Lo Bridge (one year old) to the intersection at Rt. 9, and then east back to Dong Ha and our modest hotel on Rt. 1. After dinner I took a stroll up Rt. 1 through a relatively quiet Dong Ha which now stretched several kilometers in each direction from Rt. 9.

We arose early, ate breakfast at the hotel, and began our day with a short bus ride to a residential area to visit the last remnant of the huge Marine base at Dong Ha, an old reinforced concrete, aircraft hanger where the airfield had been during the war. It was located behind a group of houses in a residential backyard, and had become a play area of sorts for the local kids.  It was here that we had chosen to hold a remembrance ceremony for John Phillip Van Dusen, (USN Seabee KIA - 20 Sep 68 at Camp Barnes, Dong Ha) the son of Betty Van Dusen. John was also a Khe Sanh veteran, having supported operations at Khe Sanh earlier in 1968. He was killed during a mortar attack at Dong Ha. A number of Vietnamese quietly observed our ceremony in the hanger, and afterward were eager to talk with our group. It made for a very rewarding experience, and we gave them American flags, pens, candy, and flowers as a token of our appreciation

Gold Star Mothers W/ Wreath

   Continuing out Rt. 9 west through Cam Lo, we stopped at Camp Carroll to explore the former Marine base where C-l/44 Dusters were based, along with the Army's big 175mm guns that supported operations throughout the DMZ. Bill Griffith and I came across a former NVA soldier who had cut his hand with a machete while tending to his herd of cows. It was bleeding and dirty, so we coaxed him to return to our tour bus where we cleaned, disinfected and bandaged the wound. He was so grateful that he gave Bill Griffith his NVA pith helmet for a few dollars.

     We drove further south from Camp Carroll to a town called My Loc where I had a memorable "encounter" with a large water buffalo. For as long as I can remember, I have had an insatiable desire to pet one of these beasts, and this handsome specimen was accommodatingly tethered by a hemp rope, tied to a steel pipe that was driven into the ground. I handed my camera to Sam Hopkins, and slowly approached the grazing animal along the rope. It was very nervous, but I whispered reassuringly to it as I bravely inched along the rope, getting close enough to stroke his wet nose just before he jerked his head and snorted at me. When I went back to Sam and the camera, I discovered he had missed the shot. I ,again showed Sam what to do, and approached the now irritable beast with irrational confidence. As I again got within a few inches, holding the rope tightly in both hands, the beast decided he would have no more of this and bolted to my left. The rope instantly became taut on my right side, and jerked my legs out from under me before snapping from the pipe. It zipped through my hands before I could unclench my fists, leaving me with nasty rope burns and torn blisters. Of course by now, everybody from our group and the surrounding hamlet had seen what happened and was horrified. A few of the guys helped me clean and dressed my wounds at the bus, and needless to say, I was duly teased throughout the remainder of the trip.

     Further west on Rt. 9, we stopped at the Khe Gio Bridge to honor one of our C-l/44 Duster comrades, Sgt. Mitchell Stout who on 12 March 1970 had thrown himself on a satchel charge to save his bud- dies during a sapper attack on the bridge defenses. He was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, the only Air Defense Artillerymen ever to receive our nation's highest military decoration.

     We traveled out Rt. 9 past the Rockpile westward toward Ca Lu where we were delayed at a bridge construction site as rock was blasted with dynamite charges. We took the opportunity to visit a Bru Montagnard village alongside the road. The shy kids hesitantly allowed us to take pictures, but gleefully mobbed us when we brought out the candy and toys. Bill Griffith was like the pied piper, finally getting them to line up to bring some order to the chaos. Some of the Gold Star Mothers held the babies and played with the children. We gave gifts to some of the elders, and finally got on our way when the roadway was opened.

     It was somewhat overcast when we arrived at the outskirts of Khe Sanh. We drove up the road the former combat base through lush coffee groves and came upon the new museum building that had been constructed since our last visit in 2000. We placed a large flower wreath and held a ceremony honoring the many men who had served here. Those of us who fought here took a few minutes to tell a bit of the history of the "Hill Fights," the "Siege," and the later dismantling of the base. While others toured the museum, I was determined to find my former Duster and Quad 50 positions that I had been unable to locate on my 2000 visit due to erroneous information about the original runway location. This time I humped through the heavy vegetation to the coffee groves where the original runway had been located, and was ecstatic to find the 'blue sector9 perimeter where my gun positions had been dug in during the siege. I took another Ziploc bag of red clay, took a moment to remember my Marine friends who did not survive this place, and headed back to our tour bus.

Bruce Geiger w/Bru Children

Our tour bus traveled back out to Rt. 9 and head-ed west through Khe Sanh village past Lang Vei, to the town of Lao Bao at the Laotian border. We stopped for lunch at a very nice hotel restaurant, where we had an excellent view of Co Roc Mountain where the NVA gunners had dug in their heavy artillery to fire on Khe Sanh and the surrounding hills during the siege in 1968. After lunch we drove near the border crossing with Laos, where we bought some souvenirs from the local kids before stopping in a large, modern mall to do a little shopping. We backtracked on Rt. 9 and stopped for photographs at Lang Vei, the site of the former Army Special Forces camp that was overrun in January 1968 by the NVA using Russian T76 Tanks for the first time in the war.      By this time it was late afternoon, and we headed back along Rt. 9 to a spot between Ca Lu and the Rockpile, which was as close as we could get to LZ Margo, where the son of Anna Roble, Joseph Edward Roble (E Co., 3rd Bn/26th Marines, USMC KIA - 16 Sep 68) was killed during a heavy mortar attack while defending the Command Post and LZ. Ironically, one

     We returned to Dong Ha, where we had a late dinner and retired for the evening. In the morning, we traveled south where we stopped in Quang Tri City at the bridge site of a monument honoring the prisoner exchange in 1973 between North and South Vietnam. In Quang Tri city, we visited the site of the old Citadel that was all but completely destroyed when the NVA stormed across the DMZ in 1975. From Quang Tri City we traveled south to Hue where we took a cruise on the Perfume River. After the cruise, several of us visited the more famous Citadel that had been the scene of intense fighting at the start of the Tet offensive in 1968. We ate dinner in town and spent the evening at the Saigon Morin Hotel. In the morning we drove to Phu Bai Airport where we said goodbye to our tour bus driver and his son, and caught a flight to Saigon. Our last day in Saigon featured an afternoon of high energy shopping which included a trip to the lacquer factory and to the many shops on the streets within walking distance from our hotel. On our last night in Vietnam, we took a dinner cruise on the Saigon River and reminisced about our two-week pilgrim-age. The next morning we had a fabulous breakfast before departing for the airport where we said our goodbyes to our guide 'Happy' and boarded our flight to Taipei. Some nineteen hours later we arrived in Los Angeles where we lugged souvenir-laden luggage through customs, said hurried goodbyes, and scrambled to catch flights our own home towns.

Bill Smith,     Bill Griffith,      Bruce Geiger

We had little time together as a group at the culmination of our journey to reflect upon the intense emotions we had experienced over the past two Anetta_00weeks. The mothers were overwhelmingly grateful for having had this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. As I reflected upon this trip, I was reminded of a symbolic gesture carried out at each of our remembrance ceremonies during all of the four Operation Gold Star trips to Vietnam.      It has been described by the mothers as "walking in their footsteps." At the conclusion of each ceremony honoring their fallen son, the Gold Star Mother, joined by a veteran, placed their footprints in the soil to symbolize having walked in the footsteps of her son who gave his life on this Vietnamese soil.

Bruce Geiger

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