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FT APACHE
Copyright - Ron Heller 1999
- Ft Apache was an old ARVIN or perhaps French night defensive position (NDP).
It was called an NDP and not a fire support base because it didn't contain
any artillery. The only fire support was the mortar section of my weapons
platoon. It was situated on the edge of a rice paddy right off Route 13,
just north of Saigon. It consisted of three fifty foot barracks type
buildings with corrugated metal sides and roofs.
- Two of the buildings housed the two platoons that were resting the day
after being on ambush. The other building served as the mess hall. In
addition to the large buildings there were two smaller buildings. One served
as a shower and the other as a pisser. It was actually a French style
latrine but it was too disgusting even for infantrymen to do anything other
than point and shoot while holding one's breath. The actual full service
latrine was American built and was outside the bunker line but within our
wire. It was a little scary to use it after dark because there was the risk
of getting shot by a sentry who forgot that you were out there or who forgot
to brief his relief.
- I was glad to see CPT Blue and he seemed pleased too. After exchanging the
usual pleasantries he took me to meet my platoon sergeant. We went over to
the mortar pits and CPT went up to a heavyset man with an impressive
handlebar mustache. After shaking hands he went into the building emerging a
few minutes later with a mortar ammunition box that had been modified into a
suitcase. When I asked him what he was doing, he said that he was going on
R&R. I was stunned. I was depending on him to show me the ropes. I must
have stammered a bit in my surprise and asked him if it was wise for him to
leave the day I arrived. His reply has remained with me all these years and
has been repeated by me many times. "Lieutenant," he said,
"The army did without MacArthur!"
- In the week he was gone I went on several of what we called
"sweeps". We would plan a route and then move along it checking
the area. I left the senior squad leader in charge and told him I would tag
along and observe. It soon became obvious that the tactics used were quite a
bit different than those taught at Ft Benning. Many of the techniques are
doctrine to this day but seemed like innovations at the time. I watched and
learned.
- When my Platoon Sergeant returned, he continued with my education. He
taught me how to "work" the machine guns. How to make sure that
they were always able to deliver effective fire in the area of likely
contact. That was the beginning of my respect for machine guns and the value
of good gunners. That respect became firm the first time I was under
effective machine gun fire. I still get scared thinking of lying on my back
and watching the green and white tracers cutting the foliage a few inches
above me.
- I soon discovered that SFC Arleigh Moore had no use for officers in
general and lieutenants in particular. He had been the platoon leader and
had done a good job, He didn't need me and let me know it. We were able to
avoid a confrontation because of the organization of the platoon. We had to
man the mortars at all times while the other half of the platoon had to take
their turn at sweep. I would usually take sweep while SFC Moore handled the
guns. I needed the practice and he was a great mortar man.
- Our area was not too hot. We had killed most of the hard corps Viet Cong
and the ones that remained weren't too much trouble. North Vietnamese
infiltrators didn't know the area of operations (AO) like we did. We were
definitely kings of the AO. This was our turf and we didn't take too kindly
to interlopers. We became so familiar with the AO that we could call in
mortar fire by describing where we wanted it rather than by using standard
coordinates. "Quick, give me a few rounds of HE 50 meters north of the
palm grove where Delta22 got the four gooks last week!!" They sure as
hell didn't teach that at Fort Benning.
- The days merged into one another and time became meaningless. What's a
weekend? One day CPT Blue told me to follow him. He went out of the bunker
line, past the latrine and over to the perimeter wire. He pointed out
several gaps in the wire where the men snuck out to visit the "short
time" girls from the village. He decided that the situation was
tactically unsound and told me to take care of it. I asked him if he had any
suggestions. His only reply was for me to use my imagination.
- What the hell could I do. Deadly force was not a good idea because more
likely as not the only people hurt would be our own troops. I settled on
booby trapping the wire with CS grenades. CS was a riot control agent that
made mere tear gas seem mild in comparison. If you were gassed you lost
interest in anything other than putting on a gas mask as soon as possible.
We didn't carry masks in the field but we had them by our bunks. I soon
forgot the grenades and went about my business.
- Just before dusk I heard a scream from outside the perimeter. I looked out
to see a troop running back from the latrine, with his pants at half mast
streaming about ten feet of toilet paper and hollering "GAS!!!
GAS!!!!". When it dawned on me what had happened, I raced for my bunk
to find my gas mask. I has to wrestle someone for it but I managed to get it
on without getting more than a whiff of gas. CPT Blue wasn't quit as lucky.
He had a little trouble finding his mask and got gassed good. The all clear
was soon sounded and I went to take a shower, While I was in the shower we
got gassed again. We were gassed about three or four times that night. The
next day CPT Blue complimented me on stopping the traffic through our wire.
He decided however that the problem wasn't as bad as he had thought and that
we should accept the situation. He was being kind but the cure was worse
than problem.
- One day after coming off ambush, the commander's Radio Telephone Operator
(RTO) told me that I had a telegram waiting for me back at DiAn. "Oh My
God somebody died." I had to find out. I don't know why I didn't just
call rear on the radio and ask them to read me the telegram. Maybe I was
afraid of what I would hear. Maybe I was just punchy from lack of sleep. I
grabbed my M-16 and a bandoleer of ammunition and went to highway 13 to
hitch a ride back to DiAn.
- A lambretta soon stopped for me. I gave the guy a pack of cigarettes. The
lambrettas were three wheeled Italian motor scooters with a truck-like bed
that could hold about two Americans or about a dozen Vietnamese. We headed
north on the highway. He pulled over where "ambush alley"
intersected with the main highway. The road was aptly named. It wasn't a
very healthy place at times. I was on a mission. I had to find out about the
telegram! Luckily an ARVIN truck picked me up and took me almost the rest of
the way to DiAn. A few minutes later I approached the battalion rear area. I
asked for my telegram and looked for a private area to read the bad news. I
tore open the envelope (my first telegram) and read, "You missed the
wedding, you Jap" Signed "Schust".
- Bob Schuster, you son of a bitch. I could have been killed. Actually, I as
relieved that no one had died, including me.
- One day I hitched a ride into Saigon to go to the Cholon PX Class 6
(liquor) store. Ft Apache was located a few miles away from the Bin Loi
Bridge which led into Cholon, a chinese suburb of Saigon. I had little
difficulty in hitching a ride. On the way back with my booze, I saw Delta 6,
CPT Blue's jeep parked near the "Green Door", a whore house right
next to the Binh Loi Bridge and near the Special Forces compound. I signaled
the driver of the ARVN truck in which I was riding to let me off.
- Things were kind of lively in the Green Door. One of my fellow platoon
leaders had fired his .45 into the floor because he had been unable to get
an erection. I'm not sure whether shooting his pistol had helped but
everybody seemed to understand. It was getting late and I asked whether we
should be getting back to Ft Apache. There were several guarded bridges
between us and home and the ARVN's that guarded it tended to shoot anything
that moved after dark.
- CPT Blue said that we would leave but we would take Mamasan home to Cholon
first. We piled into the jeep and headed south into the city instead of
north towards home. A jeep is designed to carry four people. We were
slightly overloaded -- just slightly. There was CPT Blue and his driver in
front. I was in the back along with the 1ST Sergeant, the Forward Observer,
a platoon leader, Mamasan and two of her girls. I don't know how we all fit.
It was fun holding on because of the girls though. We zoomed into town and
dropped off the ladies. We then headed back north. We caught the bridges
just as they were beginning to blockade the road. We were shot at at the
last bridge but we finally made it back to Ft Apache. By that time I really
needed the booze that I had bought in Cholon.
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