Number of combat incidents U.S. Army; Co. C, 3/12, 4th Div.
Vietnam
From mid 1968 to mid 1969.
It was brought to my attention someone thought I might have exaggerated the number of firefights our company was involved in during my year of service. While I can't imagine what would possess someone to assault my integrity without knowledge, it did make me realize: What I said was "we probably had about one firefight a month," and, I also realized my statement was sort of "off the cuff" and without a lot of forethought. The issue thus made me wonder, could I have exaggerated that number in my mind over so many years since? So... Please follow as I consider it in more detail. To start, simply checking the list of men killed from our unit produces seven distinct dates on which men from our company were killed in action. There were other firefights in which only NVA soldiers were killed, as well as firefights where men from our unit were wounded without any U.S. soldier killed. As long as no U.S. troops were killed, those combat incidents wouldn't show up on the enclosed government list of casualties. There is no list of men wounded in action in Vietnam to my knowledge. To the best of my memory, then, and I probably do remember most of them, listed below are the individual incidents of combat for the men of Company C that are not on the KIA list [that list is also displayed, further down the page].
1). In my year in the military before Vietnam, the Army provided basic and advanced infantry training for about the first 5 months. Then, they sent some of us for additional training in what they called an NCO academy. I heard from one source it was a de-tuned Army Ranger school, and from another it was an abbreviated OCS academy. What ever it was, it was created for one purpose, to produce squad leaders for the Nam. After completion of that first year of training, they award me the rank of Sergent E-5 and sent me off to function as a squad leader in an infantry combat unit. That left me with just my second year of my 2 year drafted service, to complete my 1 year tour of duty overseas. When I arrived in the Nam, they sent me to the field [Company C's field forward firebase] and put me in the second squad of the second platoon. They placed me as sort of an observer in the squad, working with the existing squad leader [he had the same Sergeant E-5 rank] so I could watch and learn from him before he rotated home a few days later. I am very thankful they did that, as in my mind, they did it to acclimate me [I guess acclimate me might be the word, I don't really know what to call it] to my new job and duties. There I was, then, about two weeks after arriving in country, in my first firefight. It had rained nearly constantly since I arrived and the ground was completely saturated. On the day I speak of, a gentle rain fell and it was quiet as our company moved through the jungle in one long line. Our pointman came face to face with two NVA regular soldiers. He split the quiet when he sprayed the trail with his M-16 on automatic, striking one soldier in the forehead and stitching the other two or three times across the chest. The C.O. cautiously pushed the company forward about a hundred yards and then out to both sides of the trail, setting a perimeter around the two downed NVA soldiers. While the radio operator oriented himself and accurately zeroed artillery in case of potential need, the C.O. had the medic trying to save one of the downed NVA soldiers. There was a mild slope and I was down the grade from where the medic worked. With my squad in place on the perimeter and having carefully observed around us, I walked up to where the medic was working, to see if I could be of assistance. As I moved away, the Sergeant I was replacing whispered, "you better get down young Sergeant." I couldn't help the medic. The two men were just a few feet apart, and as I approached up the slope, it seemed the blood of both men had drained out nearly instantly. The whole hillside ran red under my feet as their blood mixed in the cool rain running down over the completely soaked hillside. The ghostly white face of one of the men was toward me as I approached. As I got closer I could see he had what looked like a tiny blemish above and at the edge his eyebrow. Standing above him, then, I could see the back half of his head was gone and his skull empty. The second man struggled to breath as the medic worked on him. He was obviously terrified and he sort of squealed softly and died as he fought to get the air that bubbled out through the blood filled holes in his chest. My introduction to Vietnam was complete. In that moment in time, the life I had known was shattered, leaving me with little knowledge of how it could ever be made right. In just those few days, I was graduated from being what those who had been there a while referred to as a FNG [a new guy]. That ghostly pale face still comes to me in my dreams sometimes. If the 2 men we killed were the point element for a larger unit, they withdrew; and the altercation was over with that 1 second deafening roar from our pointman's M-16. As I stood there, I quivered a little. I remember wondering if it was because I was cold and soaked to the bone, or because I was afraid. Then I realized, it didn't really matter; the job would not stop. We would live or die by our own hand! (Well, by our own effort and God's will, of course; as I tried to hope in what little I knew scripturally of God and his will.) If my speech is a little graphic or verbose, it is my attempt to convey how bad it really was; how bad war really is. I do know, of course, I can't possibly do that. No matter how much someone talks about it, a person can't experience what he hasn't experienced. In looking back, I wouldn't believe the things I experienced myself, if I hadn't lived it. It has softened over the years so I don't feel it so harshly any more.
2). On another occasion, and I don't know how the following events stack up in order, our pointman rounded a bend in the trail and found an NVA soldier leaning against a tree taking a break. By his own account, our pointman pointed his weapon and heard it click on a dead round. He said the enemy soldier smiled as he reached for his AK-47. Our pointman dove over the side of the hill as his ruck sack and canteen were riddled with bullets while still on his back. The NVA soldier ran off and neither man was hurt. During my tour, that is the only time I ever heard of a round misfiring, assuming, of course, our pointman's account was accurate and he didn't forget to chamber a round. Walking point, it does seem unlikely he would have done that.
3). One night in the jungle, on a squad size patrol only about 100 yards outside the company perimeter, we were set up on a fork in the trail. An NVA regular army soldier found one of our claymore antipersonnel mines and cut the detonator wire. He took off his sandals and tied them to his rucksack, and then looped the detonation wire that ran back to my position over his fingers on the forearm of his weapon. He then spent about four hours sliding barefoot down that wire toward our position. (We first heard movement about 11:00 PM but then it went silent. That's likely when he found our claymore and cut the wire. He was probably hoping we would make noise and give away our position. There were lots of critters in the jungle that could have made the noise we heard. Hearing noise at night usually didn't mean enemy troops were present. That night, however, it did. The first we "knew" the enemy soldier was there was when he appeared standing over us in the black of night [at about 3:00 AM]). What likely saved us was his expectation we were much further away from him than we were. We had put the two Claymore antipersonnel mines out to protect us. I put them on the back side of a tree (using the tree to absorb the back-blast), one claymore facing down each fork in the trial we were guarding. Since the tree was protecting us from the back-blast, I only strung about half the detonation wire. The rest was coiled at my position. The enemy soldier was likely measuring the wire as he approached, and thought he still had some ways to go. He was surely intent on being on us at first light. I was awakened as the man on guard right next to me saw the silhouette standing over him in the starlight filtering through the jungle canopy, and fired one shot through he NVA soldiers heart. The enemy soldier then fired 8 or 10 rounds as he wilted down into a little ball right where he stood. Mike Lomar, as we lay in a little group on the ground, was hit twice. Mike started screaming my name for help and could think to do was tell him if he didn't shut up and be quiet, they were going to come and kill us all. Mike never made another sound. We needed to get Mike back inside the company perimeter and onto a medivac. That said, we had to stay alive ourselves to be able to do that. I tried to detonate our claymores to clear anything that might be out in front of us. Nothing happened when I clicked the first detonator. The enemy soldier had cut that wire when he found the mine. Fortunately, I had daisy chained the two claymores together with plastic detonation cord so when I clicked the detonator to the second claymore, they both went off. I next called for the mortar squad to put up flares and asked them to keep it light until we said stop. Mike still didn't make a sound. Then, I informed everyone laying there with me in the black it was about to get light, and they should have a second magazine ready and to spend 20 rounds on anything that didn't look like it belonged to the jungle. We all knew, as soon as the flares lit us up so we could see them, they would be able to see us. If there were any other combatants with the one we killed, they had pulled back. Possibly, some of them were hurt or killed by the detonating claymores. Thinking he had deactivated the mine, they would have been very surprised when they went off. In the light provided by the flares, then, we moved Mike back up inside the company perimeter and onto a medivac, which was just arriving by the time we got him there. I traveled to see Mike in Atlanta, Georgia after I got home. He was up and about and said that while he wouldn't be playing any football, he felt pretty good. As a movie about warfare once said, except for being documented on this website, Mike Lomar's combat encounter and sacrifice is being "lost in time, like teardrops into rain." If you know him, say hey and give him my thanks. World Wars 1 and 2 had men who were snipers and flying aces who would run up a string of kills to become heroes among their fellow soldiers. I'm guessing the man who came to kill us that night was a hardened combat soldier. It was most certainly not the first time he done what he tried to do to us. I suspect he stood over the bodies of a lot of dead GI's. I wish I could say I was better than those other soldiers or better than him; that we were better than him. Truth is, I imagine we were fortunate. Probably nine out of ten times he would have killed us. Not that night, though. And, that's the only one that counts. That is war.
4). In another encounter, we were on a hilltop which was the high point of a ridge we were on, with another ridge running parallel about a kilometer away and a valley between. Since I have no memory of orientation by compass, lets just say that parallel ridge was "in front" with us facing it. There was a very large valley "behind" the ridge we were on. We started taking sniper fire from a soldier or soldiers dug into the face of that ridge in front, about a kilometer across the valley between the parallel ridges. The two men who just happened to be the two shortest men in the company (short meaning least time remaining until their rotation home date) were wounded. From memory, I don't think either of them were critically wounded, hopefully just some scars to show the folks back home. The sniper was a kilometer or more away, after all. A round looses a lot of energy over that distance; and center mass becomes pretty hard to hit. The sacrifice of those two short-timers is likely not documented anywhere except here. I am very sad and I apologize that I can't remember their names [and the names of some others mentioned on the website - please supply them if you know (mail: support@justbibletruth.com)]. The shooter being dug in and shooting from inside his hole kept artillery from stopping him. After artillery failed, the C.O. called in an air strike. Two jets showed up with a spotter plane. The spotter identified the shooter's hole and put marking smoke or white phosphorous on the target. As the jets then used the marking smoke to work the target, they would come up out of the valley behind us, using the ridge we were on for cover from the sniper, and then fire on the target as they cleared our ridge and crossed the valley between us and the shooter. One of them, each time he approached, came up out of the valley behind flying upside down. I am not making this up, although I must confess, I don't know if I would believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I'm guessing he was a rare combat pilot. I was lying on my back just below crest of the ridge (and thus being protected from the sniper by the crest). My position of cover allowed me to relax and watch the jets coming up out of the valley. They must have been using some part of the terrain near where I was laying to orient on the target during their approach; while the target was blocked from their view by the ridge top I was lying on. For what ever reason, they each time passed right over where I was lying, as they flew at near treetop level on every run. I could see the masked face of the pilot flying upside down right above. I assume it was harder [or probably slower] to sight the target while having the nose of his aircraft sticking up in the air when he came up out of the valley and crested the ridge. He must have chosen to fly inverted to provide faster target acquisition. He would roll to upright and start firing right after he passed me on the crest of the ridge. I assumed they came from low behind the ridge because that sniper rifle could shoot down a fighter jet from a long way off. Passing our ridge and firing on the target, they would then pull the nose up and use afterburners to blast up and out of line of fire of the sniper. They made three of four runs each. That ended our problem.
5). During another altercation, we were in a firefight with a group of enemy soldiers taking cover in a line of trees (again, let's say "in front" of us). There were some huge bomb craters we were using for cover. (Each "crater" was a circular V about 12-15 feet across and 6-8 feet deep.) There was about a hundred yard grassy but bomb crater pocked clearing between us and them. Rather than cross the clearing, we called in air support and a couple of Huey Cobras came strafing the wood line where the enemy soldiers were taking cover. John Markman was in the crater with and lying next to me. I was just laying there watching the Cobras run when I noticed one had veered off the path they had been running, and was diving right into our hole. I got up on my knees in the crater, took of my helmet so he could get a good look, and started giving the signs our helipad operators give pilots, in order to direct him to one side. Finally, he pulled to his left toward the target just a little before releasing a rocked. I dove and covered my head as the rocked detonated just outside our hole. We were covered with debris. I called to John and the men in nearby holes to see they were alright. No U.S. soldier was hurt. I guess because I called to check if he was alright, John wrote his mother about the incident and she wrote me a wonderful letter after I got home, thanking me for saving her son's life. I didn't, of course, but it was nice to get her letter all the same. Then again, maybe I did. To this day I don't know but do sometimes wonder, why that Cobra pilot fired so close to our position. Maybe there was an enemy soldier I didn't see... John Markman was one of those who volunteered to walk point for us. Then, when he finished his tour or maybe during, he volunteered to go back for a second Vietnam tour as a door gunner on a Huey. I liked John and he was a good friend to me, but I never quite understood his seeming caviler attitude toward the danger. He was alert with quick reflexes and I suppose he felt safer taking that pointman responsibility to himself, than to trust it to someone else. I contacted John a few years ago but I was too late. He had just died a few weeks before of cancer. Hoorah John!
6). We had a second firefight where our pointman exchanged fire with enemy troops with no U.S. casualties, and no enemy casualties we knew about. We often had no way of knowing about wounded or even killed NVA soldiers, since they tried to carry away their dead and certainly their wounded, just as we did.
7). While the company was dug in on one hilltop, I was sitting on my bunker reading a letter from home when I heard the thump of a mortar from the valley below. I yelled "incoming" across the hill as I slid down into the fighting position. Looking out, I saw the flash from a motor tube and soon heard the second thump. It was 1200 or 1500 meters down and out into the valley. Picking up the radio, I started calling in a fire mission on the mortar flash. We had an old (he was probably mid to late 30's or even early 40's, which was old to me at 21) gnarly and raw boned combat experienced Company Commander (Captain) at that time. (I am sorry I can't remember his name.) He came running across the hill and jumped into the hole with me. "Can you see him Sergeant Cummings, he asked?" "Yes sir," I replied, as I pointed toward where I had seen the flash. There was an M-60 machine gun set up in front of the hole we were in and he swung it in the direction I was pointing just in time to see a third flash. Immediately starting to fire on the distant target, he watched and walked the tracer rounds [every sixth or so round was a tracer in the M-60 machine gun ammunition] onto the spot where we saw the mortar flashes and spent a belt [100 rounds I think] of ammunition on it once he got on target. Even though the target was out of range for normal sighting and shooting with the M-60, he made it very effective by simply watching where the tracer rounds were going and sort of lobbing them on target. He stopped the incoming mortar attack. We ran a patrol down to check the area but if anyone was seriously wounded or killed, they were carried away. The chronology of these events is mostly lost in time for me, but I do hope this one was early in my tour. I should have known to use the M-60 that way myself. Artillery was more effective, but that machine gun proved a very quick and in hand solution. We only had 3 incoming mortar rounds and they didn't even get them targeted inside our perimeter. (A mortar is a weapon that must be fired and then adjusted based on impact. It usually took a few rounds to get on target with the mortars we had out in the field.)
8). On March 11, 1969, Company C. saw an ambush that killed more men than any other single incident during my tour. Please click this link for a first hand account by Sgt. Max Worthington. Max was wounded but survived that ambush. Max's letter.
These first seven listed firefights (but excluding the eighth) are ones that I distinctly remember, and, none of them coincide with the men on the KIA list below; because no US soldier was killed in any of these. Along with the seven dates associated with the names that are on the list, it brings the total to at least fourteen. There may have been others that I don't remember. I had thought it couldn't be the case that I would forget any of the firefights we were in, but, I only remembered the last mentioned incident [number 7] several weeks after I wrote this webpage. Someone shooting at you is not a thing you tend to forget. Still, it was a long time ago. Also, I am probably more likely to remember if I was more personally involved. One night we had movement down below our perimeter and heard men speaking [in Vietnamese]. We threw a couple of grenades over the hill and it went quiet. After a few minutes, I went up above to go to sleep. One of the newer guys [Wayne recently reminded me we referred to them as FNGs - Fucking New Guys] came up and asked if I shouldn't be down there with them. I asked, "you're on guard aren't you?" He said he was and I told him if the Gooks [a slang word we used to describe Vietnamese enemy soldiers] started coming up the hill, I'd be down before they could get up. [The hill was very steep below our guard location.] Maybe this incident should have counted as a firefight but no one fired at us so I didn't list it. There may be other incidents that happened sort of "on the other side of the hill," and didn't directly involve me. Anyway, that's at least fourteen firefights. Fourteen is a little more than the one per month number I earlier suggested; off the cuff. Make no mistake: If you know one of the men who served in Company C, 3rd of the 12th, 4th Infantry Division, in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969, they were combat soldiers.
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