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Veterans Day

On the 11th of November, Americans will once again pause to honor the men and women who served our country in uniform. It is a day to for us to show our respect to all veterans living and dead who chose to set aside their personal dreams to assure the well-being of our great nation. It is the day to acknowledge those who made tremendous sacrifices for the advancement and surety of our liberty. It is a day we honor a new generation of veterans home from war. 

This Veterans Day, we salute all our members, regardless of which service and the era in which you served. Whether in the time of peace or war, we know the price you paid time and time again. You defended America through both the best and worst of times and have performed your duties tirelessly. It is this devotion to duty that gives us all strength. 

 We at TWS offer our appreciation to members for their dedicated service in helping to keep America safe and free and for their families who made sacrifices as their loved served. Thank you!

Originally Veterans Day was called Armistice Day to mark the end of World War I. the 11th of November was selected because of its significance: major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 when the Armistice with Germany went into effect.

In November 1919, U.S. President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the 11th of November as the first commemoration of Armistice Day. On that day Wilson proclaimed "the day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country's service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations."

Two years later, on the 11th of November, 1921, an unidentified American soldier killed in the war was buried at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C., and the U.S. Congress declared the day a legal federal holiday in honor of all those who participated in the war. On the same day, unidentified soldiers were laid to rest at Westminster Abbey in London and at the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. 

The United States Congress passed a concurrent resolution on the 4th of June, 1926, requesting that President Calvin Coolidge issue another proclamation to observe the 11th of November with appropriate ceremonies. On the 13th of May, 1938, a Congressional Act made the 11th of November in each year a legal holiday for federal employees: "' a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day'"

American effort during World War II (1941-1945) saw the greatest mobilization of the U.S. Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force in the nation's history (more than 16 million people); some 5.7 million more served in the Korean War (1950 to 1953). In 1954, after lobbying efforts by veterans' service organizations, the 83rd U.S. Congress amended the 1938 act that had made Armistice Day a holiday, striking the word "Armistice" in favor of "Veterans." President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the legislation on the 1st of June, 1954. 

From then on, the 11th of November became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.

The next development in the story of Veterans Day unfolded in 1968 when Congress passed the Uniform Holidays Bill, which sought to ensure three-day weekends for federal employees "and encourage tourism and travel" by celebrating four national holidays (Washington's Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day and Columbus Day) on Mondays.

The observation of Veterans Day was set as the fourth Monday in October. The first Veterans Day under the new law was Monday, the 25th of October, 1971. Confusion ensued, as many states disapproved of this change, and continued to observe the holiday on its original date. In 1975, after it became evident that the actual date of Veterans Day carried historical and patriotic significance to many Americans, President Gerald R. Ford signed a new law returning the observation of Veterans Day to November 11th, beginning in 1978.

Each year on Veterans Day, an official wreath-laying ceremony is held at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington National Cemetery, while parades and other celebrations are held in states around the country. 

Veterans Day is not to be confused with Memorial Day - a common misunderstanding, according to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. Memorial Day (the fourth Monday in May) honors American service members who died in service to their country or as a result of injuries incurred during battle, while Veterans Day pays tribute to all living American veterans who served their country honorably during war or peacetime.

 

 

 


Return to Vietnam-End of Deployment

Forty years after the war, former US soldiers are traveling back to Vietnam to find 'closure.'

We have 11 Navy Seabee veterans who have returned to Vietnam after almost 42 years since the end of one of the most divisive conflicts in American history. 

In the four decades since the signing of the Paris Peace Accords in 1973, which brought America's direct military involvement in the war to an end, many former soldiers have journeyed here out of curiosity to see a land and people they once fought, or to seek closure for a war that continues to weigh on their minds.

While no one knows the precise number of returning vets, most experts put the figure in the tens of thousands. Vietnam Battlefield Tours, the group that guided our return back, is just one of the dozens of groups that organize trips for former soldiers. The Vietnamese government says that in recent years more than 400,000 Americans many of them former military have visited the country annually.

American veterans have a long tradition of making pilgrimages to their old battlefields. The journeys serve to memorialize the war and to honor those that lost their lives in battle but also because we have a need to make sense of a war that still remains controversial.

While the men who came home from World War II were celebrated as heroes, Vietnam veterans faced an American public that largely did not support the conflict in Southeast Asia. Added to this, American media coverage of Vietnam dropped off almost entirely after the fall of Saigon in 1975, so veterans had a hard time understanding how their role in the war contributed to the country's well-being.

I was astonished by Vietnam's ability to forgive American soldiers for the war.

For guys that come back today, they're expecting to find sandbags and bunkers, barbed wire and bullets flying around. But rarely do you find that stuff, and even more, we have found very little to even the place where our bases were. Cities have grown over that to us was a jungle or wasteland of rice patties with sparsely populated villages. Personally I found my former site of AFVN Quang Tri thanks to a former NVA soldier who has built a house over that was our tower site on the top of Red Devil Hill. He invited us into his back yard to talk and confirm that this was the site of AFVN and the adjacent 5th Infantry Division replacement company.

I met a former North Vietnamese soldier on the street, he embraced me as a brother. He wanted a picture of him and I together, I was honored. The children who came up to us to say hello, and smile, and giggle.

Remembering the war, reliving our experiences together is one of the most important ways in which veterans are able to work through the past. Veterans who meet today in Vietnam are sharing their sorrow and trying to move forward together. I saw it in the one other group from Battlefield Tours that crisscrossed our paths a few times in the past 2 weeks.

Decades after we first went to war in Vietnam, many of us are finally making peace with the past. So I close the book on my past, but now see this country in a different light. I also see my fellow Seabee veterans in a different light. We all think ourselves as brave soldiers who did what our country asked us to do, agree or not with the politics. During those two weeks, we shared stories, experiences, some very serious and sad, others extremely funny. One thing we have in common, we have survived, but we remember and honor the 58-thousand who died during the Vietnam War. It is my prayer that their souls and ours are at peace.


Profiles in Courage: Heroes of Hill 488

During the Vietnam War, one of the 1st Marine Division's primary area of operation was the southern two provinces of I Corps - Quang Tin and Quang Ngai, located in the southern portion of South Vietnam's I Corps Military Region. Astride the boundary between Quang Nam and Quang Tin provinces is the populous, rice-rich Que Son Valley, considered as strategically important in controlling South Vietnam's five northern provinces. For that reason, it was a principal focus for the Marines in I Corps. 

In early June 1966, when intelligence reports indicated increased numbers of uniformed North Vietnamese Army (NVA) troops moving into the Que Son Valley, it became an even greater issue.

To gain more immediate and timely eyes-on intelligence on the reported movements, seven recon teams from the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion were sent out to ring the large valley. If enemy's positions were located, the teams were to call in artillery and airstrikes against them. Among the seven teams was Team Two, consisting of 16 Marines and two Navy Corpsmen led by Staff Sgt. Jimmie Howard, a former drill instructor and battle-tested veteran with 16-years in the Corps. In the photo, Howard is top row, third from left.

Born in July 1929 in Burlington, Iowa, Howard attended the University of Iowa for a year before enlisting in the Marine Corps in July 1950. In February 1952, Howard, then a Corporal, was sent to Korea and assigned duty as a forward observer with the 4.2-inch Mortar Company, 1st Marines 1st Marine Division. At the time, the division was part of a United Nations line defending a 35-mile line that encompassed the Pyongyang to Seoul corridor. Much of the fighting revolved around holding and retaking various combat outposts along with key pieces of terrain.

Attached to a forward rife company sitting atop a critical outpost along this line, Howard was positioned in a spot where he could better call in defensive fires on the enemy. When a large, determined enemy force tried to overrun the outpost, Howard's location made him a perfect target for the advancing enemy. Yet, he held his position, calling in critical fire missions. Still, the enemy kept coming despite growing casualties, and when some of the enemy made it through the perimeter near his location, Howard and others battled them in close hand-to-hand combat. During the height of the battle, he was knocked unconscious by an enemy mortar shell, but as soon as he recovered consciousness, continued calling in life-saving fire missions. Later he was again knocked unconscious and was forced to be evacuated. For this action, he was awarded the Silver Star medal and his second Purple Heart. His next war was 14-years later in the jungles of Vietnam.

On the evening of June 13, 1966, as the waning sun dropped behind the western horizon, UH-34 helicopters moved quickly to the top of Hill 488 (Nui Vu hill) just 25 miles west of Chu Lai. Staff Sgt. Howard and his fifteen Marines and two Navy Corpsmen were inserted, and the helicopters hurriedly lifted off and headed home to Chu Lai.

For two days, Howard and his men watched for enemy troop movements in the valley below and called in artillery and airstrikes on those they spotted. Hardly the fools, the enemy figured there had to be someone in the area watching them, directing fire upon their every move. Hoping to find the American spotters, NVA patrols fanned out, checking the hills surrounding the valley. It is unknown if an enemy patrol spotted Howard's team, but chances are they did, which explained the large force send to eliminate them. The photo shows Daniel Mulvihill calling in a fire mission.

By the third day, based on aerial reconnaissance, Howard's Battalion Commander Lt. Col. A. J. Sullivan began to sense the danger the small recon patrol faced and offered to pull them out. Howard believed he could hold out one more day and requested permission to remain on the hill, citing a good escape route to the east. His request was granted. Shortly thereafter, word reached Chu Lai that a full NVA battalion of 200-350 well-trained soldiers was moving on Hill 488. Sullivan radioed that information to Howard, who requested immediate extraction. Several UH-34 helicopters were launched, but as they were close to Hill 488, they came under immediate attack from machine gun fires, forcing them to return to Chu Lai. Sullivan relayed the bad news back to Howard that they would not be able to be extracted until daylight. Somehow they would have to survive the night against a force outnumbering them by 20-to-1. It was June 15, 1966. 

Howard placed all of his Marines in strategic positions around the summit of the almost barren hilltop, with orders to pull back into a tight perimeter the moment the enemy struck. That moment came at 10 PM, only 12 feet from one of the Marine defenders. As the enemy swarmed the hill amid gunfire, grenades, mortars, and support from four .50-caliber machine-guns, Howard pulled back his men into a tight circle, only 20 yards in diameter. Back-to-back they defended their small perimeter, counting on each other to work as a team to do the impossible. Howard moved among his men, encouraging them, directing their fire, and shoring up the weaknesses in the perimeter. For most of his Marines, it was their first major test of combat. Huddled in the darkness amid the deafening explosion of grenades and mortars and the dark sky filled with tracer rounds, it was Howard's reassuring words that calmed them down and his strong leadership that inspired them to fight on, often in hand-to-hand combat. Then quiet engulfed the hill as the enemy pulled back, their fanatical human wave assault initially repulsed. 

Howard looked around him. Every one of his young Marines and both Corpsmen had been wounded in the initial attack. Several were dead. Howard knew the quiet wouldn't last long; that the enemy was regrouping for another attack. He surveyed what remained of his Marines and found that ammunition was desperately running low. His men who were out of ammunition picked up AK-47s and ammo belts from dead NVA. The grenades were gone, expended to push back the first wave of the assault. So Howard issued one of the most unusual combat orders in recent history, "Throw rocks!"

As incredible as the order sounded, it worked. When the enemy soldiers began to push their way through the sparse brush and knee-high grass to probe the perimeter, Howard's men threw rocks at them. Mistaking the rocks for grenades, the enemy soldiers would move quickly into the open, allowing the defenders clear shots that made every round of remaining ammunition count.

For five hours, the enemy alternated between small probes and a full-scale assault on the surviving Marines. Howard continued to encourage his battered platoon, direct their fire, and calling in aerial support. At times the enemy was so close that Howard directed aerial strafing runs within 30 feet of their position. From Chu Lai, Sullivan listened to Howard's calm, precise voice across the radio. Then, shortly after 3 AM, the radio went dead (reason unknown). At the Command Operation Center, there was dread, the assumption being that Howard was dead and his brave platoon wiped out.

Howard wasn't dead, but he was wounded and couldn't move his legs. During one of the enemy attacks, his lower back and legs were sprayed with shrapnel shards from exploding grenades. As the enemy continued to assault his perimeter, the wounded leader did his best to encourage his Marines. He kept reminding them that if they could just hold out until daylight, more Marines would come and pull them out of there.

As daylight dawned, a helicopter approached the hill. The Marines were still taking fire; the battle wasn't yet over. The chopper was shot down and the pilot, Maj. William J. Goodsell was killed. 

At dawn, a Marine rifle company began the trek to relieve the remnants of Howard's platoon. Company C of 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, landed at the base of Hill 488 and forced their way up the small mountain through scattered but strong resistance to reach Howard and his recon team. Two 1/5 Marines were killed, and it wasn't until noon that they finally reached Howard's perimeter. Five of the defenders on Hill 488 were dead. A sixth died en route to the base camp at Chu Lai. When finally the rescue effort reached Howard and his men, among the 12 survivors, there remained only eight rounds of ammunition.

On August 21, 1967, at the White House, Gunnery Sgt. Jimmie E. Howard stood proudly at attention next to his wife and six children. Following the reading of his heroic action at Hill 488, President Lyndon B. Johnson carefully placed the Medal of Honor around the neck of an incredible leader and true American hero. With tears in his eyes, the grizzled Marine then stepped to the microphone to give the credit to his 15 brave Marines and 2 Navy Corpsmen.

And they were there, all eleven survivors of that unbelievable night of horror and courage at Hill 488. After speaking briefly, Howard took the President by the hand and led him to the edge of the stage where he introduced him to each and every one of the men he had led that night, and to whom he felt the Medal of Honor belonged more than it did to himself. 

The team member he was referring to were recipients of four Navy Crosses and thirteen Silver Stars, making Howard's team the highest decorated unit of the Vietnam War. 
Navy Crosses
Ricardo Binns
B.C. Holmes, Navy Corpsman
J.T. Adams (posthumously)
J.R Thompson (posthumously)


Silver Star Medal 
Charles Bosley, Navy Corpsman 
R.J. Fitzpatrick
Raymond Hildreth
Joseph Kosoglow
Robert Martinez
Daniel Mulvihill
William Norman
Thomas Poweles
Ralph Victor
Ignatius Carlisi (posthumously)
T.D. Glawe (posthumously)
J.C. McKinney (posthumously)
A.N. Mascarenas (posthumously)

On November 12, 1993, Jimmie Howard passed away at his home in San Diego. He is buried at the Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery near the Marine Corps Recruiting Depot, where years before he served as a Marine Drill Instructor.

In honor of Howard's 27 years of dedicated service to the U.S. Marine Corps, the United States of America, and his unwavering leadership and courage, the U.S. Navy on October 20, 2001, christened the thirty-third Arleigh Burke-class destroyer in his honor, the USS Howard (DDG-83).

Every time it sets to sea from its homeport of San Diego, it passes within view of Gunnery Sgt. Howard's grave at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery and salutes its namesake.

 


Once a Marine

July 12, 1965, Parris Island, where Marines are made, saw Platoon 146, 1st Recruit Training Battalion start their 8-week training schedule. Vietnam had started with the 9th Marines landing in Da Nang, and the training cycle at the recruit depots had been cut to 8 weeks. Stress on the recruits - stress on the Drill Instructors, but the job got done with no loss of standards or professionalism. It was my first platoon after graduation from DI School, and as a relatively new Sergeant, my own stress level was pretty well peaked. Fortunately for me, my Senior DI was a well experienced "hat," and I couldn't have asked for a better mentor. 

On September 15, 1965, Platoon 146 graduated and went on to their further training. Fast forward to the spring of 2015. One of the recruits from that platoon, who I had been in contact with for the past 10-12 years, thought it would be a good idea to get as many platoon members together as he could find and return to where the transition from civilian to Marine had all begun. He began the process of trying to find platoon members and was able to locate four (one couldn't attend due to medical issues). He also located my mentor, the platoon 146 Senior DI, and on September 14, along with a few family members, we returned to Parris Island on the 50th anniversary of their graduation. 

The Senior DI retired as a Master Sgt. and I retired as the Camp Lejeune Base Sgt. Major. None of the three Platoon 146 members that attended served more than four years (except one who served for 8), but STILL had the green blood of a Marine coursing through their veins. Proves the point that "Once a Marine - Always a Marine." One came from MO, one from Ohio; one from NY; the senior from West VA, and me from NC. Doubt that there will be another, but once every 50 years would be pretty cool.

Left to right: Sgt. Major Grant Beck, Former LCpl. John O'Donnell, Former Cpl. David Simmons, Former Sergeant Mike Wears, and Master Sgt. Foster Knight.

Semper Fi


Military Myths and Legends: From Manassas to Appomattox Court House

The Civil War started because of uncompromising differences between the free and slave states over the power of the national government to prohibit slavery in the territories that had not yet become states. When Abraham Lincoln won the 1860 election as the first Republican President on a platform pledging to keep slavery out of the territories, South Carolina legislature passed the "Ordinance of Secession," which declared that "the Union now subsisting between South Carolina and other states, under the name of the United States of America, is hereby dissolved." 

Within six weeks, five more Southern states - Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, and Louisiana - had followed South Carolina's lead and formed a new nation, the Confederate States of America. Former Union general, Jefferson Davis, was selected as it's first President. Within a few months, five more slave states seceded and joined the Confederacy. 

Predictability, the incoming Lincoln administration, and most of the Northern people refused to recognize the legitimacy of secession or the Confederate States of America. They feared it would discredit democracy and create a fatal precedent that would eventually fragment the United States into several small, squabbling countries. Both the Union and the Confederacy knew the war would be the only way to determine if the South and the North would continue as one nation. 

The event that triggered that war came on April 12, 1861, at the Union-held Fort Sumter in South Carolina's Charleston Bay, which was viewed by many Southerners as one of the South's few remaining hurdles to overcome before achieving sovereignty. 

U.S. Major Robert Anderson had occupied the unfinished fort in December 1860 following South Carolina's secession from the Union, initiating a standoff with the state's militia forces. When President Abraham Lincoln announced plans to resupply the fort, Confederate General P.G.T. Beauregard bombarded Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861. During the next 34 hours - in which many civilians watched in a celebratory spirit - 50 Confederate guns and mortars launched more than 4,000 rounds at the poorly supplied fort. 

On April 13, Anderson and 86 soldiers surrendered the fort. Surprisingly no Union soldiers were killed in the battle. Two died from handling explosives following the battle, however. 

Two days later, U.S. President Abraham Lincoln issued a proclamation calling for 75,000 volunteer soldiers to quell the Southern "insurrection." The American Civil War followed.

The first major battle took place on the Yorkshire Plantation, Prince William County, Virginia, near the city of Manassas, not far from the city of Washington, D.C., on July 21, 1861. It was the First Battle of Bull Run, also known as First Manassas (the name used by Confederate forces). 

Union forces were slow in positioning themselves, allowing Confederate reinforcements time to arrive by rail. Each side had about 18,000 poorly trained and poorly led troops in their first battle. It was a Confederate victory as panicked Union troops withdrew under fire, frantically running without order in the direction of Washington, D.C. Both armies were sobered by the fierce fighting and many casualties and realized the war was going to be much longer and bloodier than either had anticipated.

The Northern public was shocked at the unexpected defeat of their army when an easy victory had been widely anticipated. So much so, innumerable civilians armed with picnic baskets followed the Union Army out from Washington in July 1861 to watch what everyone thought would be the climactic battle of a short rebellion. 
The plantation on which the Battle of Bull Run was fought belonged to Wilmer McLean. He was a retired Major in the Virginia militia, but at 47, he was too old to return to active duty at the outbreak of the Civil War. He made his living during the war as a sugar broker supplying the Confederate States Army. He decided to move because his commercial activities were centered mostly in southern Virginia, and the Union army presence in his area of northern Virginia made his work difficult. He undoubtedly was also motivated by a desire to protect his family from a repetition of their combat experience. In the spring of 1863, he and his family moved about 120 miles south to Appomattox County, Virginia, near a dusty, crossroads community called Appomattox Court House. The war followed him there.

The Battle of Appomattox Court House fought on the morning of April 9, 1865, was one of the last battles of the American Civil War. It was the final engagement of Confederate Army general Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia before it surrendered to the Union Army under Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant. Lee, having abandoned the Confederate capital of Richmond, Virginia, after the ten-month Siege of Petersburg, retreated west, hoping to join his army with the Confederate forces in North Carolina. Union forces pursued and cut off the Confederate retreat at the village of Appomattox Court House. Lee launched an attack to break through the Union force to his front, assuming the Union force consisted entirely of cavalry. When he realized that the cavalry was backed up by two corps of Union infantry, he had no choice but to surrender. 

Lee sent a messenger to Appomattox Court House to find a place to meet. On April 8, 1865, the messenger knocked on Wilmer McLean's door and requested the use of his home, to which McLean reluctantly agreed. Lee surrendered to Grant in McLean's parlor, effectively ending the Civil War. 

Later, McLean is supposed to boast that "The war began in my front yard and ended in my front parlor."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Reflections on Service

Can I ask you something? Yes you. What did you do in the service? If you are reading this, chances are you either served or are a family member of someone who did.

Did you know that Together We Served has a section where you can tell the story of your time in the service through a 15 question, self- guided interview called Reflections on Service? This section asks you things like, "Why did you join, where did you go, what did you do?" It even asks you who you would like to find from your service years. 

For many of our members that you have probably read through our newsletter called "Voices", writing their Reflections has been a cathartic experience. They have been able to release the demons that have haunted them for years and set them free. They have found that by talking about their experiences, others begin to see themselves and the dialog begins between them. In turn, they help each other heal.

Here is what Mike Christy, our Dispatches Editor had to say about his experiences writing his Reflections.

"In 2005, I received an email for Marine Together We Served inviting me to join. The email detailed the advantages of being a member and how the site was a way reconnect with old friends who were already members and more importantly, a place to record one's military career and history. I joined that day.

I filled in the blanks in developing my profile page to include boot camp at San Diego, ITR at Camp Pendleton, MP duty at Camp McGill in Japan and my last duty station, brig guard at Great Lakes Naval Training Center. I also added the few photographs I had of my time in the Marines. Since I had no award or decorations from my time in the Marine Corp, I posted those I earned in the Army. I then set back waiting for former Marine buddies to contact me. They never did.

Later I was contacted by TWS and asked to fill in my Reflections. I checked out the questions to be answered and became quite excited. Here was a chance to record my military history for generations to come and what I could share with my family and friends. With each word I wrote, a host of recollections - both good and not so good - came rushing forth: difficult elite training, success, and failures, images of my friends, funny situations, moments of fear, conquering those fears, horrors of war, death of friends. 

In 2008, Army Together We Served came online. I took what I had written for the Marine TWS and placed it word-for-word in my Army Reflections. But this time Army buddies came out in droves. Most were members of my rifle company in Vietnam or part of Special Forces in Vietnam, others were from my Ranger and Airborne classes. A couple knew me from other assignments.  

But here is where TWS really paid off. In 2010, seventeen of the men from my rifle company in Vietnam - all ATWS members - came together from all over the United States for a reunion. We have had one every two years since." 


If you served during the Cold War, you may feel that you have no stories to tell, nothing that would be of interest to anyone. That is where you are wrong. Your story matters. You did what only 1% of the country did during that time. You served your country. Your family, especially those too young to remember, would love to hear your story. 

Say you and I met for a cup of coffee. We sat down and I asked you "What influenced you to join the military?" You would tell me about your family who served or knowing that your draft number was going to come up and you wanted to choose your service branch rather than have it chosen for you. If I asked you "Is there some incident or story that may not have been funny at the time but makes you laugh today?", you would tell me about the time that your friend Smitty had the latrine blown up under him, or the time you ended up being thrown over the side for cleaning the Chief's favorite coffee cup. 

You can now upload a video of you reading your Reflections for your future generations to find but you have to get it written first. 

So, tell me your story.

 

 


Battle Chronicles:The A Shau Valley

The A Shau Valley is a rugged, remote passageway near the border of Laos and the Ho Chi Ming Trail in Thua Thien province. It runs north and south for twenty-five miles. It's low, mile-wide, flat bottomland is covered with tall elephant grass and flanked by two strings of densely forested mountains that vary from three to six thousand feet. Because of its forbidden terrain and remoteness - and the fact it was usually hidden from the air by thick canopy jungle and fog and clouds - it was a key entry point during the Vietnam War for the People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN) for bringing men and materials in support of military actions around Hue to the northeast and Da Nang to the southwest. 

To stop the flow of hardware, food, and soldiers coming through the A Shau Valley, a number of bitter battles were waged by the American Army and Marines. So fierce was the fighting that any veteran who fought there earned a mark of distinction among other combat veterans. But once the Americans achieved their objective, they did not remain in the valley for very long. U.S. strategy for fighting the enemy did not include occupying remote and sparsely populated areas. 

That enabled enemy survivors to flee back to their safe haven across the Laotian border, where they waited until the Americans deserted the battlefield. Satisfied the Americans were gone, they infiltrated back into the valley, picked up where they left off and relaunched their vital resupply mission. 

Dominating the western end of the valley next to Laos and the Ho Chin Ming trail loomed a solitary ridge named Dong Ap Bia, towering some 937 meters above sea level. Snaking down from its highest peak were a series of ridges and fingers, one of the largest extending southeast to a height of 900 meters. The entire mountain was a rugged, uninviting wilderness blanketed in the double-and triple-canopy jungle, dense thickets of bamboo, and waist-high elephant grass. 

In May 1969, Operation Apache Snow was launched, and like previous allied operations, its goal was to limit enemy infiltration from Laos that threatened Hue and Da Nang. The ensuing bloody battle was the infamous ten-day Battle of Hill 937, or for those who fought there, cynically dubbed Hill 937 "Hamburger Hill" because it reminded them of a meat grinder. 

The operation kicked off on May 10, 1969, with heavy concentrations of pre-assault firepower, including heavy artillery, napalm, and B-52 "Arc Light" airstrikes of suspected enemy positions. But this time was different. Rather than retreat from the area, the enemy chose to defend his dug-in positions, which meant eventually his positions had to be assaulted by infantry with the inevitable high casualties. 

When the fires were lifted, elements of Colonel John Conmey's 3rd Brigade of the 101st Airborne landed by helicopter in various predesignated landing zones scattered throughout the valley. 

Among his forces were the 3rd Battalion 187th Infantry (3/187) commanded by Lt. Col. Weldon Honeycutt and 1st Battalion 506th Infantry (1/506) under the command of Lt. Col. John Bowers. Supporting them was the 9th Marines Regiment and the 3rd Battalion 5th Cavalry Regiment, as well as elements of the Army of Vietnam (ARVN). 

Describing the operation as a reconnaissance in force, Conmey's strategy was for his five battalion to search their assigned sectors for PAVN troops and supplies. The 9th Marines and the 3/5th Cavalry were to conduct reconnaissance in force toward the Laotian border while the ARVN units cut the highway through the base of the valley. The 501st and the 506th were to destroy the enemy in their own operating areas and block escape routes into Laos. As his troops were airmobile, Conmey planned to shift units rapidly should one encounter strong resistance. In this way, Conmey could reposition his forces quickly enough to keep the PAVN from massing against any one unit.

Contact on the first day Americans and ARVN were in A Shau Valley was light but intensified the following day, May 11, when the 3/187th approached the base of Hill 937. Sending two companies to search the north and northwest ridges of the hill, Honeycutt ordered Bravo and Charlie companies to move towards the summit by different routes. Late in the day, Bravo met stiff PAVN resistance and were forced to fall back. 

Helicopter gunships were brought in for support, but the gunships mistook the 3/18 7th's staging area for a PAVN camp and opened fire, killing two and wounding thirty-five. This was the first of several friendly fire incidents during the battle as the thick jungle made identifying targets difficult. Following this incident, the 3/187th retreated into defensive positions for the night.

Over the next two days, Honeycutt attempted to push his battalion into positions where they could launch a coordinated assault. This was hampered by difficult terrain and fierce PAVN resistance. As they moved around the hill, they found that the North Vietnamese had constructed an elaborate system of bunkers and trenches. Seeing the focus of the battle shifting to Hill 937, Conmey moved Bowers' 1/506th to the south side of the hill. Bravo Company was airlifted to the area, but the remainder of the battalion traveled by foot and did not arrive in force until May 19.

On May 14 and 15, Honeycutt launched attacks against PAVN positions with little success. The next two days, elements of the 1/506th probed the southern slope. American efforts were frequently hindered by the thick jungle, which made air-lifting forces around the hill impractical. As the battle raged, much of the foliage around the summit of the hill was eliminated by napalm and artillery fire, which was used to reduce the PAVN bunkers. On May 18, Conmey ordered a coordinated assault with the 3/187th attacking from the north and the 1/506th attacking from the south.

Storming forward, Delta Company of the 3/187th almost took the summit but was beaten back with heavy casualties. The 1/506th was able to take the southern crest, Hill 900, but met heavy resistance during the fighting. 

Later that day, the division commander of the 101st Airborne, Major General Melvin Zais, arrived and decided to commit three addition battalions to the battle as well as ordered that the 3/187th, which had suffered 60% casualties, be relieved. Protesting, Honeycutt was able to keep his men in the field for the final assault.

Landing two battalions on the northeast and southeast slopes, Zais and Conmey launched an all-out assault on the hill at 10 am on May 20. Overwhelming the defenders, the 3/187th took the summit around noon, and operations began to reduce the remaining PAVN bunkers. By 5 pm, Hill 937 had been secured. Eleven days later, on May 28, the Americans and ARVN left A Shau Valley. 

American losses during the ten-day battle totaled 72 KIA and 372 WIA. Losses incurred by the 7th and 8th Battalions of the 29th NVA Regiment included 630 dead (discovered on and around the battlefield), including many found in makeshift mortuaries within the tunnel complex. Yet no one could count the NVA running off the mountain, those killed by artillery and airstrikes, the wounded and dead carried into Laos or the dead buried in collapsed bunkers and tunnels. 

The battle of Hamburger Hill was similar to other engagements during the war. Enemy losses were much higher than American casualties, the enemy retreated without pursuit by American or ARVN forces, and the battlefield was abandoned 11 days after the end of hostilities. Being the most severe and costly battle going on in Vietnam at the time, it also attracted significant media attention.

 Much of the coverage pointed out the difficulty and slowness the airborne troops were taking the enemy positions and the high number of casualties they took each time they assaulted the hill. 

In its June 27 issue, Life Magazine published the photographs of 241 Americans killed in one week in Vietnam; this is now considered a watershed event of negative public opinion toward the Vietnam War. While only five of the 241 featured photos were of those killed in the battle, many Americans had the perception that all of the photos featured in the magazine were casualties of the battle.

The overall result was of Hamburger Hill was the frustration of achieving an overwhelming battlefield success without any indication that the war was being won. To many, this frustration suggested that such battles were isolated events that were unrelated to any eventual policy goal. Consequently, Hamburger Hill became the subject of passionate public debate, focusing on the decision to capture Dong Ap Bia regardless of the casualties and irrespective of its marginal significance in terms of the reasons why the United States was in Vietnam.

The United States Congress also spoke against the war. Several influential senators stood before their peers, severely criticizing the military leadership and calling the operation "senseless and irresponsible." Their chorus of disapproval was seen as part of a growing public outcry over the U.S. military policy in Vietnam. This led to further outrage in America over what seemed a senseless loss of American lives. 

The controversy of the conduct of the Battle of Hamburger Hill led to a reappraisal of U.S. strategy in South Vietnam. As a direct result, to hold down casualties, General Abrams discontinued a policy of "maximum pressure" against the North Vietnamese to one of "protective reaction" for troops threatened with combat action. 

While the coverage by the media was highly critical of the tactics and the leadership, newspapers, and television often applauded the honor and courage of the foot soldiers who bravely followed their orders knowing there was a very good chance they could be killed or wounded every time they assaulted the hill.

In 1987, the movie Hamburger Hill directed by John Irvin, hit the American theaters. In it, the horrors - and futility - of the Vietnam War came brutally to life through the eyes of 14 American soldiers of 101st Airborne Division as they attempt to capture a heavily fortified Hill 937 under the PAVN control. In the opinion of most Vietnam combat veterans, the movie was the most realistic depiction of deadly combat. 

On the website below is an extraordinary 27-minute film on two desperate battles. One in the A Shau Valley early May 1969, which follows elements of the 101 Airborne Division's 3rd Brigade during the ten-day battle of Hill 937 (Hamburger Hill). It features Sgt. Arthur Wiknik. The other takes place two months earlier in Mach 1969 at the Rockpile. In it Company C, First Battalion Fourth Marines is attacking Hill 484. Featured is the company's executive officer, 1st Lt. Karl Marlantes, who earned a Navy Cross for his actions on Hill 484. Marlantes is the author of 'Matterhorn: A Novel of the Vietnam War' and 'What It Is Like To Go To War.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtPnQr3eHQo

 

 

 


Get the $%^* Off the Road!


Musing, after a recent Memorial Day, thoughts of my service in WWII came to mind. One of them, memories of General George Patton, was clear as day. I didn't serve under General Patton, but during WWII, I encountered him a number of times. He and I crossed paths many times here at home, in 1942-43, and later in England, France, and Germany.
    
General Patton was a bigger than life hero of WWII, loved and respected by most of the men who served under him, a true patriot, a skilled and dedicated soldier, considered only as a flashy soldier by many, and a general whom General Eisenhower had to reprimand at one time.
  
My first encounter with this fabled soldier was in Southern California's Mojave Desert. I was a Second Lieutenant, out with a couple of my men searching for a suitable bivouac spot for our battalion to set up and emplace our artillery for practice. While I didn't know it at the time, General Patton was out in the same area, looking for a spot to do some tank drills with his men. Our jeep was traveling on a one-lane trail along the bank of a canal. We were looking for a level spot big enough to emplace the guns, set them up, and tear them down any number of times. Up ahead of me, I saw a dust cloud from military vehicles headed my way. As their forward unit approached, a buck sergeant stood up and  yelled at us, "Get the $%^* off the road, General Patton is coming!"
    
Second Lieutenants don't argue with Generals, so we hastily rolled down off the road, stood at attention at the bottom of the decline, with hand salutes. General Patton passed by, sitting in the right front seat of a jeep, and he returned a sloppy hand salute as he passed.
    
Several other times, while still in the states, my unit saw Patton and his tanks here and there, as we both prepared for the day, we'd be overseas where the war raged. In England, I ran into General Patton again a few times, as we both continued training, preparatory to moving across the English Channel to France where the fighting was.
    
Later, as we moved on through France and into Germany, General Patton was ahead of us, leaving a trail of disabled tanks, both his and the Germans, in various spots along the way. One I remember well was just outside Andernach, Germany, where a big level field was spotted here and there with wrecked tanks. And in another place, where we were headed to replenish our gasoline supplies, we arrived at the spot only to find a much-subdued American GI there and no gasoline cans. The soldier said, "General Patton came and took all the gasoline."

Patton was a key factor as the Battle of the Bulge took place, as the besieged troops at Bastogne were relieved, and as he charged on through to the Rhine River. His service to his country came to a sad end in December of 1945. He and another general officer were traveling along a road near Mannheim, Germany, when he was injured in a vehicle accident at a railroad crossing. He was taken to a military hospital in Heidelberg, where he died some fourteen days later. In my travels doing recon work for my unit, I passed by that spot where he was injured, many times.

Years after WWII, my wife and I journeyed to Europe to visit some of the places where I served. A neighbor, Doris, told me once that she and her husband made that trip also. He had served under General Patton in the Tank Corps.

I'm sure that General Patton expected to die in battle, not in a road accident.