from https://www.usna.com/NC/History/ClassOf1965/Moon.htm
Fred Vogel, MACV/SOG’s Naval Advisory Detachment
The Night I Mooned the Entire North Vietnamese Army
[This is a story from the book THERE I WAS … Sea Stories from the U. S. Naval Academy Class of 1965, a 320-page collection of active-duty memories from 78 classmates published in 2002.]
Background
It was my privilege and honor to have served three and a half years in the Republic of Vietnam. For about half of that time, I served with US Marine units, with the 1st Marine Division as XO/S-3/S-2 of the 1st Force Reconnaissance Company and as company commander of Alpha Company, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion near Danang. For the other half, I had the unique experience to serve as a field commander/advisor with Vietnamese units: a Provincial Reconnaissance Unit in the Phoenix program and the Naval Advisory Detachment (NAD) of MACV/SOG (Special Operations Group) operating with the Vietnamese Sea Commandos.
My story deals with MACV/SOG and the sea commandos, known affectionately to the enemy as “Khy’s Rangers.” Together with their PT boat comrades, they were feared and hated by the North Vietnamese as they ranged up and down the coast of Vietnam, from deep in the North and later all the way to the Delta. These were ‘black operations,’ ostensibly non-attributable to either the US or the RVN, where teams infiltrated into enemy territory under cover of darkness, wearing enemy or indigenous uniforms, and conducted raids and ambushes, prisoner snatches, and other intelligence gathering activities. At sea, their Nasty-class PT boats carried on the finest traditions of John Paul Jones, raiding shipping, dueling with enemy warships, and even shelling targets ashore.
During the early years of the war, the PT boats and sea commandos operated extensively in the North conducting raids against the North Vietnamese maritime industry and coastal installations. An important ancillary mission was to foster dissension within the population in the North, by creating an ostensible opposition to the war. Thus was born the “Secret Sword of the Patriotic League (SSPL).” The sea commandos would go ashore from the PT boats and recruit entire villages to the SSPL - they even had their own flag - then enlist the support of the villagers to conduct raids against the NVA forces and installations. Surprisingly, this effort was quite effective, to the extent that the Hanoi government took exceptional measures to suppress it. For example, a number of SSPL villages were completely liquidated. Another example was the effort by the North Vietnamese Navy to interdict the PT boats. In one such attempt, the NVN in hot pursuit of PT boats and sea commandos returning from a mission chased them all the way out to the US fleet. The exchange of fire became known as the Gulf of Tonkin incident which thrust the US into the broader war in Indochina. The rest is history.
Cua Viet Combat Outpost
By the time I joined MACV/SOG’s Naval Advisory Detachment at Camp Fay near Danang in 1971, sea commando operations were generally focused on the DMZ and adjacent areas. While the US ground and air war had been reduced as our withdrawal accelerated, the sea commando operations continued unabated. An important element of our mission at that time was the conduct of operations out of a small combat outpost at the mouth of the Cua Viet River in northern Quang Tri province near the DMZ. Sea commando teams of about 12 combatants with two US advisors were rotated through the Cua Viet COP on a monthly basis. The teams conducted various types of black operations along the coast and along the river, inserting by PT boat, junk fleet or even sampan, to interdict and disrupt enemy attacks against the major US and RVN installations in that area. On one occasion, we even helo’d in to one of the strongpoints on the MacNamara line (I forget which one) and walked up the coast into North Vietnam. Exfiltrating the following day through hostile territory, our NVA-clad sea commandos passed me and my Gunny off as Russian advisors. The locals didn’t believe a word of it - they thought we were US deserters! And this leads me to my story of how I mooned the entire North Vietnamese Army...
Night Action Near the DMZ
“It was a dark and scary night ...” Weren’t they all? We had received intelligence that the enemy was going to attempt an attack against allied forces along the river and our mission was to check out the information and do the necessary to disrupt enemy plans. We launched after dark from the COP by junk fleet, a 12-man sea commando team, the Gunny and me. The sea commando team leader was Chief Minh who had gained notoriety - and the eternal awe of his subordinates - by killing an RVN naval officer who was bilking the troops of their pay - for this, he was summarily transferred from the VN Seals to the sea commandos - tough justice. We proceeded uneventfully for several hours up the river to a small tributary leading north away from the river. At that point, as the junk continued up river, our team slipped unobtrusively into the water and swam up the tributary to an ambush site along a rice paddy dike.
All the sea commandos as well as the Gunny and I were decked out in NVA and VC-style uniforms and heavily camouflaged. For the Gunny and me, this meant the ubiquitous black pajamas worn by the VC irregulars. This was our only real choice since the NVA uniforms generally were too small for Americans - the black pajamas could fit anyone. I can rightly attest that when I wore them at night - and kept a low profile - I could pass myself off as one of the team of VNs - after all I am not a particularly big guy. But I have to tell you, my six foot five two hundred fifty pound Marine Gunnery Sergeant looked downright ridiculous. So the Gunny generally wore some haphazard collection of cammies that reduced a bit his obvious US profile.
And so there we were. If you’ve ever lain in the water for several hours waiting to get into a fight, you can imagine how boring it can get. And the effect on one’s bladder is predictable. At some point during the endless night, I felt the call of nature. I fought it heroically, but it became more and more insistent. Finally, I could stand it no more. I tapped the Gunny on the shoulder and whispered that I was going to pull back a bit and relieve myself. I slipped off only a few yards - after all we were in the water already - and undid the simple tie-ties that hold up the black pajama bottoms. Ah, blessed relief.
Just at that moment, however, I felt a rough hand on my shoulder and an even more insistent tug. The Gunny grabbed me and shouted in a whisper (if that is possible), “Captain, they’re coming, they’re coming!!”
I hurried back to the paddy dike, got into a good firing position, and surveyed the ebony scene before me. In the distance, some hundred meters or so away came what looked like the entire North Vietnamese Army. OK, so it wasn’t all of them - but there were a whole bunch and they didn’t look any too friendly. They were in a classic formation for a battalion with at least three companies on line. Their scouts and point elements far ahead with the companies in formation following. For a Marine, it was a beautiful sight, to see such a professional movement in progress. These guys were really, really good - the best (a year later, these same guys would conduct the devastating Easter Offensive - but without the sea commandos to contest it). I was reminded of an old country tune about the Battle of New Orleans: “We looked down the river and see’d the British come, and there must have been a hundred of ‘em beating on the drums ...” Of course, the NVA were not beating on the drums, but you get the idea.
The country song continues, “we sat beside our cotton fields, and didn’t say a thing.” And so we held our fire until we could get a good lock on their point elements. We couldn’t really engage the entire attack force - there were only fourteen of us - but the plan was to disrupt the attack, pull back, then call in artillery and air strikes. At the appropriate moment, we opened fire with everything we had, shouting and yelling and making as much noise as an entire regiment. One thing we did not want them to do was to realize how few of us there were - we didn’t want any NVA heroes swarming over our position until we could get out of it.
With all due respect to our foes, they took their casualties well, even though in considerable numbers. The point elements retrieved the dead and wounded while firing and maneuvering and conducting their own suppressive fires against our position. It was enough to make us keep our heads down and start thinking about Plan Bravo: pull out and let the cannon-cockers and airdales do the rest. At that moment, however, the enemy did the unexpected. They were the ones who pulled back. Apparently, their own plan was to achieve complete surprise against the US and RVN units. With that surprise lost, they simply withdrew, to try again another day. And they withdrew with the same consummate professionalism as the original movement to objective: fire and maneuver and retire in good order. At the risk of repeating myself, they were really good - good thing they were going the other direction at the time.
But this didn’t satisfy Chief Minh, the sea commando team leader. It wasn’t enough for him to have forced the abort of a battalion or larger attack with in effect a squad of riflemen. The next thing I saw was Chief Minh standing on the paddy dike exhorting the sea commandos to “Follow Me!!” Weren’t the Gunny and I, as Marines, supposed to be doing that?! We - all of us, including the other sea commandos - raced to catch up with Chief Minh. We managed quickly to establish something like a squad on line in the assault. And so there we were, charging across a rice paddy in the middle of the night, firing and shouting and flinging hand grenades and other insults at the enemy. Picture if you will, “the rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air,” sabers flashing in the moonlight, banners held high. OK, so there were no sabers or banners - but there was an awful lot of red glare, firing and burstings in air. Again with all due respect to friends and enemies alike, the professionalism, good order and discipline on both sides continue to amaze me to this day. It must be that good Marine influence - it had to have diffused to the North as well as the South.
But all was not well in River City. As our assault surged forward, I felt something amiss. There was a breeze coming up, I knew not from where, but at some point I noticed a draft around the knees and points further north. I looked down as I strode manfully forward and saw to my chagrin that my black pajama bottoms were down around my knees. Back at the paddy dike, I had forgotten to tie the tie-ties that hold them up. This was not the time or place to call a halt so I could pull my pants up, so I stumbled forward, firing with one hand and holding my dignity up with the other.
All I could think about was that I was about to die out here in this god-forsaken rice paddy and in the morning the NVA would find me face-down in the mud, mooning the entire world. The only good thing that I could think of was that at least it would terrify the enemy. They would think, “these guys are all crazy or they’re all a bunch of perverts.” They would all drop their weapons and hightail it back to Hanoi to avoid - at all costs - capture by the United States Marines.
Epilogue
And that’s my story about how I mooned the entire North Vietnamese Army. As it turns out, they did withdraw and so did we, and the engagement came to an appropriate end as these things go. We had suffered no casualties, except to my dignity, and in good time I did get back into the ‘uniform of the day’ (or night as the case may be). We had succeeded in aborting a major assault on allied forces and my respect and admiration for our Vietnamese allies I found not only further justified but immensely enhanced.
There is no greater honor than to win the respect of your enemy and I have no doubt that the sea commandos were held in every bit as much awe by the North Vietnamese. The enemy generally knew what was going on in our area and they must have known when it came time for Chief Minh’s team to return to Danang. The night before, a team of North Vietnamese Navy sappers swam over to our side and in an enormous blast blew up an old wreck about fifty yards from our combat outpost. It was just their way of saying farewell to an honored opponent - and perhaps a hint of what was to come.
Comment
There were many such stories from the Vietnam War. Most of them tragic but many that demonstrate the true heroism and nobility of the human spirit under the most trying of circumstances. It distresses me to this day, and will do so to the grave, how falsely that conflict has been portrayed to the American people. I will never forget - and will swear on the graves of my honored dead - that the War was just and honorable and worth the lives of those finest men who gave their all in its cause. And I can now in the retrospective of history say that my trust and commitment have been vindicated. In truth, we eventually won the war, the War in Vietnam and the larger war against the Soviet Union and its minions. All our national strategic objectives have been achieved and our enemies all dead or dying, including the totalitarian regime in Hanoi. The true history of that era will have to wait until all the nay-sayers of this generation are dead and gone and then perhaps some future historian will shake his head in bewilderment and remark, “How could they not have known?”
And someday I will tell you the story of how I came to be proclaimed “The Peoples’ Hero of Phu Loc.” But that will have to wait for another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment