South Viet Nam: A Time of Blood

A Viet Cong attack on Americans is typically a brief hit-and-run affair: the enemy usually runs as soon as the surprise wears off and U.S. units start hitting back with concerted firepower. The siege at Plei Me last month seemed a notable exception to the rule, as Communist troops in force stood their ground in a prolonged fire fight. But again last week, in two fierce engage ments near the “Iron Triangle” north of Saigon, Viet Cong troops surprised U.S. Army units — and then stayed around to boldly slug it out.

The First Mistake. For the U.S., one of the bloodiest battles of the war be gan as a platoon of paratroopers of the 173rd Airborne cautiously threaded their way through an apparently deserted V.C. camp only 30 miles north east of Saigon. It contained freshly dug fortifications, bamboo picnic tables, even a bathing hole. The trooper on “point,” leading the way, spotted a pair of black pajamas drying on a tree, went over to pull them down. Precisely at the moment he touched them, four concealed Communist machine guns opened fire.

The first burst, close to the ground, caught the point man in both legs; then, veering upward, it ripped into the man behind — opening his stomach and chest and tearing off the top of his head. Another trooper, hit twice, man aged to claw his way almost to the cover of a tree. But bullets chopped him down just as he reached for his .45.

Only four of the 3rd Squad’s twelve men survived unscathed. Soon, from other dug-in positions, the machine guns of two Viet Cong battalions —some 700 men, perhaps — had the 173rd’s C Company pinned down in a withering crossfire. “We got in posi tion,” growled a U.S. sergeant later, “and when I say we got in position, I mean we got on the ground.”

Suddenly the Viet Cong ceased firing. In the abrupt hush, bugles sounded, and the Communists charged. It was their first mistake, for it gave the U.S. marksmen their first clear targets and they mowed down wave after wave of the attackers. “The right squad alone was knocking ’em down 30 at a time,” recounted the company commander. Four hours later, the Americans, now grown to two badly mauled companies, set up a defensive perimeter atop a hill—enough to hold off the far bigger V.C. force until artillery and tactical-air support could move in. At last the Viet Cong stopped fighting. The pause was due to virtual annihilation: some 400 to 600 of their estimated 700 at tacking force were dead.

With darkness came the grim task of getting the U.S. dead and wounded out of a sky-clotting jungle roof 250 feet high, impossible for helicopters to penetrate. The Airborne called for a chain saw and some C-4 high explosive to cut and blast a landing zone the next day. Meanwhile the most seriously wounded were hoisted through the trees in wire baskets by rescue choppers hovering overhead. At first light next morning, seven more chain saws attacked the jungle, and at 10 a.m. the clearing was big enough for one MEDEVAC chopper at a time to flutter down and carry out the remaining casualties.

The 1.000th Man. Three days after the attack on the 173rd, the Viet Cong struck at dawn along Route 13 some 40 miles north of Saigon. This time the intended victim was a battalion of new comers to the war, the 1st Infantry Division. Firing from the rubber trees that line both sides of the road, the V.C. stood their ground for eight hours against a hail of U.S. bullets. When the fighting was over, some 150 of the enemy troops lay dead along both banks of the highway.

U.S. casualties were moderate in the battle of Route 13, but the 173rd’s severe losses earlier in the week were a better indication of the bloody turn the war has taken with the Viet Cong’s new willingness to stand and fight. In the week ending Nov. 6, 70 American servicemen were killed in combat, the highest death toll for any week since the U.S. entered the war. Total U.S. dead in Viet Nam now stands at more than 1,000.