UNIT HISTORY

INTRODUCTION

The Bonding of Warriors

By Clancy Matsuda

In July 1993, I was on a flight to attend the first reunion of Company E, 50th Infantry (Airborne)/75th Ranger -- the elite Long Range Patrol Company of the 9th Infantry Division during the Vietnam War.  Sitting next to me was an amiable gentleman who struck up a conversation by asking where I was going.  Conditioned by years of experience not to speak to civilians about my wartime service in Vietnam, I was reluctant to tell him the purpose of my trip.  He prodded me, and I soon found myself talking excitedly about E Company and my old comrades in arms.  It had been over 25 years since I commanded the unit.  I told him that I had not seen any of my fellow soldiers since then.  The antiwar sentiments that emerged from the war had discouraged us from keeping in touch, but finally a few remarkably resourceful troopers planned our first reunion and made it happen.  The businessman listened attentively and asked many questions about my experiences; as it turned out, we had a wonderful conversation.  When we landed and were about to part ways, he told me earnestly, "Tell the guys at your reunion thanks from a U.S. citizen."  I shook his hand warmly and thought to myself how far the nation had come in finally acknowledging the sacrifices of the soldiers who fought in Vietnam.

Our subsequent reunions have been special times of fellowship.  We have become a family of old soldiers, bonded with memories of our common experiences in service to our nation.  After our latest reunion in July of 2001, Jack DeLaney, one of the gallant warriors of 1967-68 eras, spoke of somehow recording those memories before they faded too dimly into the mist of a lengthening past.  Grievously, this highly admired soldier passed away on May 7, 2002; we had just started our history-recording journey.  Jack provided the poignant vision for this volume, but it was the men of E Company who made the vision a reality.  We invited them to contribute to the writing of our history by sharing their wartime stories with us. Many of them accepted despite having to carve out the time from their busy schedules to do so.  We discovered that our memories during the past three decades had indeed faded in certain areas.  However, the essence of our adventure remains in tact.

How was it that we were so profoundly changed by a war halfway around the globe?  The war in Vietnam -- the longest in American history -- was an outgrowth from the Cold War.  During this period of tension between the United States and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, it was our government's policy to support any nation threatened by Communism.  South Vietnam, after its creation in 1954, appeared to be such a nation.  It was fighting an insurgency supported by Ho Chi Minh, the Communist leader in North Vietnam whose goal was to unite the two Vietnams through civil war.  Americans viewed South Vietnam as a "domino" whose fall would encourage Communist aggression elsewhere in the world.  Accordingly, the United States sent military advisers to assist the government of South Vietnam in its struggle against the North.  The job was anything but easy.  Whereas the government of South Vietnam was weak and corrupt, the North Vietnamese proved far more skilled, dedicated, and resilient than we had expected.

In August 1964, Congress passed the Tonkin Gulf Resolution at the prompting of President Lyndon B. Johnson.  This resolution invested Johnson with virtually unlimited power to wage War against the Communists in Vietnam.  The following year he committed the first of the major forces to fight there.  Dismally, there was no clear U.S. strategy for winning from the start.  Preoccupied with his "Great Society" agenda at home, Johnson was unwilling to divert the resources -- military, economic, and political -- necessary to wage the war effectively.  He deployed follow-on forces to Vietnam piecemeal and in too few numbers to be successful.  Moreover, he and his top advisers tried their best to deceive the American public about the prospects for victory.  Johnson hoped that the North Vietnamese leaders would be awed into submission by the escalating and destructive effects of American firepower; paradoxically, the Viet Cong and North Vietnam Army responded with determination.  The fundamental dissonance of American policy at the highest level had tragic consequences for the men who had to execute it on the battlefield.

Although the number of U.S. troops in Vietnam grew to almost half a million from 1965 through 1967, the overall military Campaign was inconclusive.  A major turning point occurred in January 1968 with the onset of the Tet Offensive.   Communist insurgents conducted bold attacks against South Vietnamese cities and towns; for a short time, they occupied the grounds of the U.S. embassy in Saigon.  The majority of Americans at home were shocked and outraged; they had up to now believed that the War was going well.  It did not matter that the Viet Cong ultimately failed in their offensive and suffered enormous losses.  American casualties remained high and the public realized the victory in Vietnam was not imminent.  With his Vietnam policy in shambles and support for the war crumbling, Johnson decided not to run for reelection.

Richard M. Nixon won the presidential election of 1968.  Within a few months, a gradual withdrawal of American troops was ordered.  Nixon's "Vietnamization" policy succeeded in reducing the number of U.S. troops, but much hard fighting remained.  After an allied invasion of Cambodia to eliminate enemy sanctuaries in April] 1970, antiwar demonstrations in the United States grew increasingly strident.  Tensions grew worse following the tragic shooting of student demonstrators at Kent State University in May and the adverse publicity surrounding the convictions in the My Lai court martial early the following year.  Even Vietnam veterans like John Kerry, who later became an U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, added their voices to the chorus of dissent.  Kerry joined an organization called "Vietnam Veterans Against the War" and testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in April 1971 to express the group's opposition.  Antiwar protesters vigorously projected their loss of faith in their government, and they directed their frustration and anger increasingly at the military.

The war finally ended for the United States in March 1973, following a cease-fire agreement between the two sides in January.  Nonetheless, the civil war in Vietnam continued.  For the next two years, the North built up its power in the South in preparation for a final offensive that came in early 1975.  A North Vietnamese victory was assured when Congress refused to provide direct military assistance to South Vietnam despite the entreaties of President Gerald Ford.  Americans had enough of the war in Vietnam; even the specter of a Communist victory could not change their minds.

For many soldiers who faithfully answered the call to military service, returning home from Vietnam was full of painful and bitter memories.  Antiwar radicals vilified them as mindless automatons and evil executors of a corrupt national policy.  They labeled veterans as "baby killers" and spit at them as they traveled home in uniform.  These insults were tormenting to the men who went to Vietnam intent on doing their duty and expecting the support of their nation.  They tucked away the whole experience in the deep compartments of their minds for many years.

The saga of E Company began unfolding long before the disappointing outcome of the war could be discerned.  On February 1, 1966, the 9th Infantry Division was activated at Fort Riley, Kansas under the command of Major General George S. Eckhardt.  The division trained for ten months and then began its deployment to Vietnam in December.  While at Fort Riley, Kansas, the Rangers of E Company approached their training with a sober diligence born of the knowledge that they soon would test their combat skills in the crucible of war.  In both training and combat, they did their duty magnificently.  I consider myself blessed and honored to have been associated with them.  Their shining examples of courage, competence, and selfless service will forever obliterate in my mind the shadow that the Vietnam War cast on the national psyche.  Many of those examples will be evident in the pages that follow.

Together we faced chaotic and near-death situations, but these challenges brought out the best in our spirit.  Our shared experiences made us more than just friends and fellow soldiers.  Something amazing happened in the process of sharing the unique experience of training, fighting, and facing death together -- we bonded like brothers.  Despite the constant adversity, nothing seemed impossible when one had the support of warrior brothers on every side.  Thus, it was that the war in Vietnam became a defining experience in the lives of E Company soldiers.

In the past few years I have read with interest about the exploits of the Rangers and special operations units in a variety of conflicts: World War II, Korean and Vietnam wars, Iran hostage rescue mission, Grenada and Panama operations, the Gulf War, Battle for Mogadishu, and the current war in Afghanistan.  In reading their stories, I have been drawn to the ethos that is common to all American commandos.  They cherish the values of honor, valor, tenacity, teamwork, sacrifice, discipline, loyalty, steadfastness, and selflessness.  While they focus on the mission and are oblivious to danger and death during battle, they maintain an incredibly strong commitment to each other.  Rangers would not think of leaving a buddy behind -- no one is more important to them than their comrades.  In every conflict, they have acquitted themselves well because of their devotion to the mission and to each other.  A phenomenon that results from these priorities is the special bonding among the combatants into a unique brotherhood that carries on for a lifetime.

The men of Co E can rest assured that they have upheld the proud traditions of their Ranger brothers of other eras.  Admittedly there have been times when I viewed with envy the exploits of the Rangers during World War II and other conflicts that the nation enthusiastically supported; it is tempting to wish that we had been born into a different era.  However, those choices are not ours to make.  We must do our duty the best we can when called.

Our story is not about perfect human beings carrying out our duties without flaw.  We made mistakes; we had our weak moments; we made decisions and did things which we wish we could have changed; we lived by the code of “kill or be killed.”  Ours was a lifestyle, which involved a mixture of reckless abandonment, combat proficiency, and teamwork under perilous situations.

Because of the unpopularity of the war, our impulse to renew the bonds of brotherhood laid dormant for over two decades after we returned home from Vietnam.  Many Americans wanted to purge the war from their memories, but the Rangers of E Company vowed that we would never forget.  Our reunions rekindled the spirit of camaraderie; they have become a special time and a place where we can grieve together over the loss of our comrades.  During these gatherings, we have been reminded of the role that our families played in giving us strength to endure and the love to console.  We and our fallen comrades have been blessed with wives, children, parents, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews who serve as a community to whom our sacrifices and experiences matter.  Combatants in war and combat veterans after the war yearn subconsciously for solidarity.

Reflecting on the American experience in Vietnam, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger called it "an appallingly conducted war, an American disaster, self-inflicted, and unnecessary."  We are not statesmen; our story is not meant to find answers about why the United States fought in Vietnam.  Rather, what we hope to convey to the readers of this book is the message that we were a band of gallant warriors who contributed some of our finest hours for our country.  We fought a noble fight with skill and dignity; in the process, we demonstrated our love for America, the American people, and especially the comrades who served along side of us.  That is all the nation can ask of its soldiers.

The Early Years (1966-1967) by Rick Stetson

In September 1965, Major General (MG) George S. Eckhardt reported to Fort Riley, Kansas to prepare for the activation of the 9th Infantry Division.  Known as the Old Reliables, the division earned seven campaign streamers during World War II as it fought in Africa, Sicily, Normandy and the Ardennes, suffering 23,277 casualties, including 8,550 killed in action.  It was a division the Army could depend on and in March 1945, the 2nd Battalion 47th Infantry became the first Allied unit to enter Germany when it crossed the Rhine River on the Ludendorf Bridge.

General William Westmorland served with the 9th during WW II as the division's chief of staff and by 1965; he directed the massive troop buildup in the Republic of Vietnam.  As the number of troops in Vietnam increased, so did the casualties.  In 1964, the Army lost 147 soldiers in what was to become the Vietnam War.  The following year the total would climb to 1079 with 234 of the soldiers killed in action during a four-day battle fought by the 1st Cavalry Division in the Ia Drang Valley.  The war against a determined enemy was heating up and General Westmorland needed additional troops.  The call went out to activate his old WW II outfit, the 9th Infantry Division.

The cover of the March 1966 Army Digest featured a painting showing soldiers standing beneath a 9th Division flag.  The top half of the flag was red, the bottom half blue, with an octofoil in the center.  The octofoil, which was the division's shoulder patch and often called "the cookie" by the soldiers who wore it, consisted of eight foils surrounding a white circle that in heraldic times symbolized a son being surrounded by four brothers.  The Digest's lead article was entitled, "9th Division Activated" and it traced the history of the Old Reliables.  It also included a description of Fort Riley, a 51,091 acre post that dated back to 1852 when it was used by the cavalry to provide protection for the wagon trains heading west. Brevet Major General George A. Custer had been stationed there with the 7th Cavalry Regiment and until 1946; the post had served as the home of the Army Cavalry School.  The post's leisurely-paced lifestyle, which in the old days had included Sunday morning horseback hunts, resulted in those stationed there to be considered living "the life of Riley."  In 1966, the last official cavalry horse, Chief, still resided on the post and was listed on the books as official government property.  The horse was tended to by a sergeant and enjoyed his own pasture while becoming a popular attraction for visitors to the post.

Fort Riley, according to the Army Digest, "had all the natural elements conductive to hardening men for combat - hot in the summer, cold in winter, rough terrain, and steep hills."  Although the destination of the 9th was not announced when the division was activated on Feb 1, 1966, a hint of a possible future location was given during a visit by Army Chief of Staff General Harold K. Johnson who "likened areas of the post to portions of Vietnam."

The 9th Division was the first Army unit to be organized and trained for overseas deployment to a combat theater since WW II.  When the 9th was activated at Fort Bragg, North Carolina on August 1, 1940, the division had over two years to train before being sent to North Africa in November 1942 as part of Operation Torch.  In 1966, only seven months would pass from the time the first soldiers arrived for basic training to when the first division units would arrive in a combat zone and just one year from activation, the entire 9th Division would move from Fort Riley, Kansas to the Republic of Vietnam.

The Army used the draft to provide the privates needed to fill the newly activated 9th Infantry Division.  The critical need was for non-commissioned officers (NCOs) and officers and many were assigned to the division from units in Europe and Korea.  To meet the increased need for platoon leaders (2nd lieutenants) the Army had the Infantry Officers Candidate School (OCS) at Fort Benning, Georgia and the Artillery OCS at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.  In 1965, the Army added a second OCS battalion at Fort Benning while opening additional officer candidate schools at Fort Belvoir, Virginia (engineers), Fort Gordon, Georgia (signal corps) and Fort Knox, Kentucky (armor.)

Winslow "Rick" Stetson was a member of the first infantry Officer Candidate School (OCS) class to graduate from Fort Benning in 1966.  As he and his classmates walked across the stage to receive their commissions, many had orders for their first assignment, Fort Riley, Kansas and the 9th Infantry Division.  Before reporting to Fort Riley, some of the new lieutenants, including Stetson, would complete Airborne and Ranger school.

When he arrived at Fort Riley in mid April, he was assigned as a platoon leader with Charlie Company, 3rd Battalion, 47th Infantry.  Preparations were already underway to receive the basic trainees who were scheduled to arrive in May.  Barracks had to be prepared, lesson plans written, and firing ranges located.  When the trainees arrived the week of May15, 1966, the division was ready.

A band played as the new privates stepped off the buses and they didn't even have to carry their own bags.  Instead, they were welcomed with speeches, served a hot meal, and shown to beds that were already made.  Stationary, stamped envelopes and pencils were provided and the soldiers were told they had to write home.  Their company commanders would also write letters to parents saying that their "New Reliable," as the trainees were called, had arrived safely at Fort Riley.  In Charlie Company, Stetson helped welcome 221 of the division's new soldiers.  Most were 19 or 20 years old and only two had enlisted in the Army.  The rest were draftees.

The company commander made it clear the men would see combat in the future but told them they would receive the best training in the world to prepare for it.  When he issued his men their weapons, Stetson told them they had just met the best friend they would have in the military.  The soldiers appeared to be a bit apprehensive but they understood why they were there and were eager to learn.

The new recruits were allowed to call home and many said the Army, so far at least, was not what they had been led to believe by their fathers and uncles.  Everything was well organized, they had decent barracks to sleep in and they got enough to eat.  One soldier was overheard talking to his mother on the telephone and saying, "We had fresh salad tonight with real cucumbers in it, just like you make."

On Saturday, May 21, 1966, Major General Eckhart presented the 47th Infantry its battalion colors in an impressive ceremony.  Bands played, flags rippled in the breeze and jets screamed overhead at low level, as the colors were passed. The New Reliables, with just two days instruction in marching, did their best to handle their weapons and keep in step.  The officers and NCOs were proud of their new soldiers.  Their leaders knew, however, that a lot of serious training had to take place in the months ahead for these were the soldiers who would accompany them into combat.

After basic training was completed, the units immediately began Advanced Infantry Training (AIT).  Soldiers requiring training in specialized areas such as signal or medical were sent off for additional schooling.  The infantry AIT conducted at Fort Riley would prepare the soldiers to work together in squads, platoons and companies.

In July, Stetson and other 9th Division officers and NCOs received orders for Jungle Warfare School in Panama.  By then, it was common knowledge the 9th was headed for combat in a tropical environment and Stetson's battalion commander, LTC Lucien Buldoc, told him he would be expected to give classes on what he learned at Jungle School when he returned. The first class he taught after attending the school was jungle hygiene and it was presented to the battalion's officers so they might, as his lesson plan stated, "Better prepare their units to live and fight in a jungle environment."

Shortly after returning from Jungle School, Stetson was transferred to Company E, 3/47th as the 106mm recoilless rifle anti-tank platoon leader.  With Allied forces possessing complete air superiority over Vietnam, Stetson felt the chances of encountering enemy armor would be next to none and he was convinced he had been given one of the least important jobs in the entire division.  He was especially envious of a non-Ranger-qualified friend who had been given command of the battalion's recon platoon.  Nevertheless, he tried to make the best of the situation and began training his platoon in the art of engaging enemy armor.

Stetson's faith in the Army's assignment process was restored during the third week in October when he received word to report to division headquarters.  There he was introduced to 2nd Lieutenant (2LT) Edwin Garrison, an airborne Ranger qualified Infantry OCS graduate, who was serving as a platoon leader with Company C, 4/39th.  The two officers were told they had been hand picked to help form a new unit the 9th Infantry Division was creating called a Long Range Patrol Detachment (LRPD).  Similar units were operating with success in Vietnam and had enhanced the intelligence gathering capabilities of American units.  They were instructed to begin an immediate search for volunteers and that the unit would undergo training in Panama before departing for Vietnam.

The 1st Cavalry Division had demonstrated the value of helicopter assets in locating and fighting an elusive enemy in Vietnam.  It was determined that since the long range patrols would be inserted and extracted deep in enemy territory, a close working relationship with an aviation unit was essential.  The decision was made to attach the 9th Division long range patrol to D Troop, 3/5 Cavalry.  Major William Kahler commanded D Troop, 3/5 Cavalry.  The aviation unit consisted of an aero scout platoon with nine OH-23G observation aircraft, nine aviators and nine crew chiefs; an aero rifle platoon with five U14-ID Hueys, 10 aviators, 10 crew chiefs and 10 door gunners; an aero weapons platoon with 10 UH-1C aircraft armed with XX-21 and M-5 weapons systems (mini guns and grenade launchers) 20 pilots, 10 crew chiefs and 10 door gunners; a maintenance platoon with one UH-ID aircraft, 2 pilots plus a crew chief, door gunners, and mechanics; a headquarters section, and an organic infantry platoon with 1 officer and 41 enlisted soldiers.

When Garrison and Stetson reported to the Camp Funston area of Fort Riley to meet Major Kahler, they found D Troop housed in WW II-era barracks.  The bare wooden walls and dim lighting was a step back in time from the facilities the two officers had enjoyed with their infantry battalions in the Custer Hill portion of the post but they realized that with a two-week trip to Panama plus Christmas leave, there would not be a lot of time spent in the drafty barracks at Camp Funston.

Major Kahler wasn't sure what to do with the two young infantry lieutenants who had reported to him.  The D Troop commander was in the midst of trying to make arrangements to ship his pilots, soldiers, aircraft and equipment overseas when he was informed that he would have to provide for a platoon of LRRPs.  He offered an area where the men could be housed but said there were no aircraft available for training.  D Troop's helicopters would arrive from Texas on December 1st and would be shipped to the West Coast on December 15th which meant that the operating procedures for the two units would have to be worked out once they arrived in Vietnam.

The two officers had to move fast to recruit new members as the unit was scheduled to depart for the Canal Zone on 16 November.  They would have to recruit, interview and select their personnel in less than a month.  When the 1st Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division formed a long range patrol detachment in Vietnam, 337 soldiers were interviewed and just 32 volunteers were selected for the unit.  The 9th Division would select only volunteers but due to the limited amount of time, the officers would have to accept just about any soldier willing to volunteer for the long range patrol.

The word went out for volunteers.  Dave Moss joined out of Ed Garrison's former platoon in C Company, 4/39th.  Tom Lindly was an artilleryman and heard about the long range patrol from his first sergeant in the 11th Artillery.  His job was to deliver artillery rounds and since his ammunition section had the most men, he was told to submit three names as candidates for the LRRPs.  He was the only one from his unit to volunteer so he typed his own transfer request and hand carried it to the acting battery commander, then to the battalion commander, and up to division where it was approved. Lindly joined the Army in 1956 and had more time in grade than most of the volunteers for the unit.  He was one of the few who did not possess an infantry military occupational skill (MOS). Mike Patrick graduated in the top of the jungle warfare class and was one of the first LRRPs to receive the Combat Infantryman Badge (CIB). Bob Hernandez was a meat cutter before being drafted and would prove to be one of the top early team leaders. Ray hulin was a cowboy from Texas and one of the first to make contact with the enemy.

When the interviews were completed, Stetson and Garrison selected 34 volunteers from a cross section of the 9th Division: 11 were from the 39th Infantry, 10 from the 47th Infantry, 9 from the 60th Infantry, and 2 from the artillery, 1 from the signal battalion and 1 from the 9th Admin Company.

The officers tried to incorporate the maximum amount of training into the brief period before the group would depart to Panama.  Stetson emphasized physical training and required the soldiers to perform early morning runs before breakfast. The Kansas winter wind chill caused several of the men to become sick and the physical training was modified to insure everyone would be in good enough health to make it to the Jungle Warfare School.

When John Kennedy was president, he authorized the Special Forces to wear a green beret.  Their black berets identified instructors at the Army’s Ranger School.  While undergoing training at Fort Benning, Ed Garrison noticed some visiting German officers wearing berets.  He decided that the members of the 9th Division's long range patrol needed a distinctive look.  One day he asked Stetson if he thought the men in the unit could wear a black beret.  Stetson gave him the go-ahead to design a flash for the beret.  Garrison immediately drew one up and had it produced at a local tailor shop.  The berets were an instant hit with the men who caused double takes wherever they went on post.  One day Stetson was stopped by a staff officer and asked who had given authorization to wear the black berets.  "No one," Stetson replied. "We just did it ourselves."  The officer just frowned and walked off.

When it was possible to get a weekend pass, some of the men would load up and take an overnight trip to Kansas City.  The group usually included Ed Garrison, two former members of his old C Company platoon, Dave Moss and Stephen Noonan, along with Thomas Kloack and Don "Squeak" Ferraro.  To cut costs, they would all share a room in a hotel and then spend the evening chasing young ladies attending a local airline stewardess school.  Early Monday morning, Stetson would have the group fall out for PT formation and he was always amazed how the men who had been on pass could manage to run and exercise when they had so little sleep over the weekend.

On November 17th, two long range patrol officers and 44 enlisted soldiers (11 were members of D Troop's aero rifle platoon) boarded a plane for a trip to Charleston Air Force Base.  They were scheduled to depart on November 19th on flight UKA 14-79A for Panama.  The brief layover in Charleston enabled the group to see the sights along the historic harbor and enjoy a couple of good meals before heading to the tropics.  Their flight was on board an Air Force C-97 Stratofreighter which cruised at 225 knots over the crystal-blue waters of the Caribbean Sea.  The Air Force crew was accommodating during the SV 2-hour flight and allowed some of the men to visit the cockpit to view the instruments and listen to radio traffic.

Jungle Warfare School Panama Unit Orders 63 2 December 1966

STETSON, Winslow A. 2LT 05329276 885 Jungle Expert

GARRISON, Edwin B. 2LT 05329645 930 Jungle Expert

BROWN, George R. PSG RA18660420 855 Jungle Expert

SHAFFER, Roland H. PVT US56425370 828 Jungle Expert

SMITH, Patrick D. PVT US53438230 775 Completion

SOUZA, John P. PVT US56425312 805 Jungle Expert

FERRARO, Don L. PVT US56428380 935 Jungle Expert

PATRICK, Michael P. PVT US55896492 926 Jungle Expert

ALVEAR, Alfred PVT US54381809 843 Jungle Expert

KLOACK, Thomas R. SP4 US55896495 928 Jungle Expert

CHEEK, Eddie W. SP5 RA14565399 754 Completion

JOHNSON, James W. PFC US53442647 732 Completion

HUGHES, David P. PFC US55841775 753 Completion

HILL, Richard L. PVT US56425421 734 Completion

SCOTT, Beldon L. PVT US51606579 734 Completion

MEEKS, James R. SSG RA14805621 874 Jungle Expert

MOSS, David B. PFC US53443037 870 Jungle Expert

HULIN, Raymond A. PFC US54386038 923 Jungle Expert

NOONAN, Stephen D. PFC US51604287 864 Jungle Expert

COX, John S. PFC US53440608 924 Jungle Expert

REESE, Sammy L. PFC US53432530 907 Jungle Expert

HERNANDEZ, Robert PFC US56424309 839 Jungle Expert

KULCAVAGE, Edward PFC US51571308 967 Jungle Expert

SPEAKER, Timothy D. PVT US51822878 842 Jungle Expert

LAPLAUNT, James D. G. SP4 RA17677773 815 Jungle Expert

PRAY, Vern L. SGT RA18639539 917 Jungle Expert

PITTS, Robert E. SSG RA13648016 850 Jungle Expert

KELLER, Norman A. PVT US51607068 869 Jungle Expert

OLTZ, Fred E. PFC RA16837657 854 Jungle Expert

ROSS, Stephen J. PFC US56410299 849 Jungle Expert

JENKINS, Freddie D. PFC US54381832 852 Jungle Expert

HERRERA, John SSG RA18225528 893 Jungle Expert

COONROD, Lawrence W. PVT US55846249 848 Jungle Expert

HOWELL, William H. SP5 US52666947 815 Jungle Expert

DIBIASE, Benny PFC US51607159 807 Jungle Expert

JOHNSON, Lon C. SP4 US55850458 890 Jungle Expert

JOHNSON, Billy R. SGT RA19597064 822 Jungle Expert

STENMO, John A. PFC US55643456 873 Jungle Expert

ZIGLAR, Kenneth O. PFC US52668913 831 Jungle Expert

HALSEY, Richard W. PVT US54800609 835 Jungle Expert

O'NEAL, Joe C. CPL RA54339392 837 Jungle Expert

ADAMS, Charlie E. SSG RA14438026 880 Jungle Expert

AMES, Gerald E. SGT RA11378084 878 Jungle Expert

ALSTOR, Joseph A. PFC US51600640 871 Jungle Expert

PRANGER, Paul F. PFC RA16643842 865 Jungle Expert

WALLS, Robert L. Jr. PFC US42676717 834 Jungle Expert

When they landed in the Canal Zone, the group boarded several military buses that would transport them to Fort Sherman, the site of the Army's Jungle Warfare School.  The men wondered why metal bars covered the windows and were told it was for protection in case any of the locals decided to throw a brick at the bus.  Tension between the Panamanians and the Americans had escalated and the soldiers were warned to be especially cautious around the local police if they visited the nearby town of Colon.  Nicknamed "white mice" because of their distinctive white helmets, the police had a reputation for throwing American soldiers in jail for the slightest violations.

Fort Sherman was a beautiful, tranquil base located on the Atlantic side of the Canal Zone.  The Army had started jungle warfare training in the vicinity of Fort Sherman during WW II to prepare soldiers to fight on islands in the Pacific Theater. The 23,000-acre post had extensive training areas with single and double canopy jungle covering rugged hills, mangrove swamps and river tributaries.  The soldiers were housed in large three-story masonry barracks with wide screened windows that allowed the sound of waves lapping the nearby beach to enter the sleeping quarters in the quiet of the evenings.

The soldiers were divided into five-man teams and began their two-week period of instruction by members of the school's Jungle Operations Committee.  Classes were given on subjects such as jungle living, land navigation, and the identification of local plants and animals.  Tropical fruits such as bananas and coconuts were tasted and the instructors even demonstrated how snakes could be cooked and offered samples of the reptile meat.  The students were cautioned to be careful what they grabbed hold of when sliding down the side of a muddy hill at night.  The region was covered with a palm tree notorious for its long, slender needles that would easily break off in the skin.  Some of the soldiers would discover tips of the needles still buried just below the surface of their skin years after going through Jungle School, a reminder of their stay in Panama.

The students carried machetes and were shown how to chop down poles and use vines to lash them together and form a sleeping platform three feet off the ground and strong enough to support five team members.  Palm leaves were thatched to make a roof that offered some protection from the daily thunderstorms.  Late one night, a loud creaking sound was heard and then a thud as one of the sleeping platforms broke apart spilling a team onto the ground.  Despite the increased chances of encountering snakes and insects, the exhausted men finished the night sleeping where they fell rather than rebuild their structure.

The survival instruction included a practical exercise on how to cook a chicken by burying it in the ground, covering it with dirt and then building a fire over it.  Each team was given a chicken that they had to kill and cook.  After the allotted period of time the coals were brushed aside, the chicken dug out and the feathers were easily pulled off the bird.  The hungry team members enjoyed the tender and delicious meat for their evening meal.  The next morning, however, the sound of a lone chicken could be heard clucking in the jungle.  The men all wondered which team did not have the heart to kill its meal.

River crossing operations were conducted on the muddy Chagres River.  A town once existed on the banks of the Chagres called Little America.  It was a stopping off point for prospectors cutting across the Panama on their way to California in search of gold.  The town was as wild as any in the Old West to include frequent shootings, but instead of burying the bodies, they were tossed into the river where they would be eaten by the crocodiles.  The instructors relished emphasizing the part about the crocodiles and the reptiles were in the minds of many of the men as they were told they would have to construct a poncho raft and swim it across the river.  They were divided into two-man teams where they cut and lashed poles together, bound a poncho on top and then removed their boots, trousers and fatigue jackets and placed them on their rafts.  John Stenmo, one of the Doughboys in the group, watched as one of the LRRP rafts came apart in the middle of the river.  With their clothing on the bottom of the river, the long range patrol team had to go through the remainder of the day's training, including a slide for life, wearing nothing but their boxer shorts.

Most of the privates going through Jungle School were spending Thanksgiving away from home for the first time.  The Army always tried to ease the loneliness by having its mess halls go all out in preparing a Thanksgiving dinner.  Even in Panama, the men enjoyed turkey with all the trimmings.  When they were able to obtain a pass to Colon, all made it back to Fort Sherman in time for lights out and the local police detained no soldiers.

The NCO club would have bands play Panamanian dance music and several of the men jumped on stage to help play the bongo drums.  With the beach just yards away from the barracks, it was inevitable that beer parties and cookouts would be held under the palm trees.  The students thought Fort Sherman was one of the best-kept secrets in the Army but there were always subtle reminders that their fun days in the tropics were numbered.  One was a haunting song by Jim Reeves that received a lot of play on a jukebox located in one of the barracks.  Entitled "Distant Drums," it told of a soldier about to go off to war saying to his sweetheart, "Marry me, let's not wait. Let us share all the time we can before it is too late. Love me now for now is all the time there may be."

The men progressed through the course and accumulated points as they passed various tests.  The goal was to score at least 800 points and earn the rating of Jungle Expert that entitled the soldier to wear a circular blue patch with a sailing ship on it under the words "Jungle Expert."  Those scoring from 700-799 points earned a certificate of successful completion and anyone scoring below 700 received a certificate of attendance.  A graduation ceremony was held at the completion of the course with almost all the group from Fort Riley qualifying as jungle experts.

Since they were just weeks away from departing for Vietnam, Stetson and Garrison had asked for and received permission to remain in Panama several days after the course was over for additional training.  The tropical Canal Zone climate was much closer to what they would find in Vietnam than the weather back at Fort Riley and the jungle offered excellent opportunities for improving their patrolling skills. 

One training exercise they planned was a night ambush.  The officers split everyone into two groups with Garrison and half the men being dropped by truck about five miles from Fort Sherman.  Stetson and his men were taken to a point somewhere in between.  The plan was for Garrison's patrol to move down the road at night and walk into an ambush.  Stetson arranged his men in an ambush position, set out his security, and waited.  Morning came and there was no sign of Garrison's patrol so Stetson and his men hiked back to post only to find Garrison and his men already there.  They had walked unnoticed right past the sleeping ambush patrol.

The men had worked hard in Panama and Fort Sherman's cadre had provided the group excellent support during their additional training.  The jungle conditions gave the men a realistic idea of what to expect when they arrived in Vietnam. While they were in Panama, Special Orders Number 250 was cut back at Fort Riley assigning two officers and 33 soldiers to Troop D, 3d Squadron, 5th Cavalry for "deployment, rations, quarters and administration of military justice."  When they returned to Fort Riley, however, 14 of the men decided to ask for reassignment back to their original units.  Apparently, spending nights sleeping on the ground in the jungle (no platforms would be built in Vietnam) did not appeal to some as much as they once thought.

As the small, twin-engine passenger plane landed in Kansas, Stetson asked one of the stewardesses for her microphone and "welcomed" the passengers to "beautiful Fort Riley."  He could see several soldiers in the darkened plane shivering while huddled under blankets.  They had caught a tropical sickness and after being acclimated to the hot, humid climate of Panama, were about to be blasted by a bitter cold, four-degree Kansas night.  Private First Class (PFC) Dave Moss was one of the sick passengers and would spend a week recovering in an Army hospital.  PFC Raymond Hulin was another.  Hulin was from Port Arthur, Texas and had ridden the rodeo circuit before being drafted.  A quiet, true cowboy-type individual, Hulin was experienced in giving animal shots and had with him a hypodermic needle designed for horses.  He filled it with penicillin and tried to convince Moss that he needed a shot.  Moss politely declined the offer while Hulin injected himself in the hip.  Within a day or two Hulin was better while Moss was sent to the hospital.

Captain James L. Tedrick, a 27 year old armor officer from Casey, Illinois took command of the long range patrol in December 1966.  He was a graduate of the United States Military Academy (West Point) class of 1961 and came to the 9th Division from Fort Knox where he had completed the advanced course at the Armor School.  Prior to that, he had served four years in Germany with the 14th Armored Cavalry Regiment.  His new unit would also be operating with a cavalry outfit (the 3/5 Cavalry) but instead of tanks and armored personnel carriers; his men would be riding helicopters as the primary means of transportation.  Captain Tedrick was proud of his armor background and still wore tanker boots, distinctive by their straps that wrapped around the boot instead of laces.  His West Point background gave him contacts in division headquarters that were useful in arranging accommodations for the unit once it arrived in Vietnam.

It was obvious to anyone passing by Fort Riley, Kansas in December 1966 that the 9th Division was on the move.  Miles of freight trains with flat cars loaded down with tanks, artillery howitzers, dump trucks, and all the other wheeled and tracked equipment of an infantry division plus a seeming endless stream of CONEX containers (large metal shipping boxes) holding everything from tents to weapons.  As the men of the long range patrol detachment prepared to head home on Christmas leave, the December 19, 1966 edition of the Chicago Daily News carried a photo showing soldiers wading ashore behind the American flag and division colors.  The caption read, "MG George Eckhart, commander of the US 9th Infantry Division, leads a vanguard of troops ashore at Vung Tau, South Vietnam.  The division, called "the Old Reliables," raises the number of fighting men in South Vietnam to 372,000."

While most of the division was transported by ship across the Pacific Ocean, the long range patrol divided into two groups to make the trip by air.  Captain Tedrick flew ahead with the advance party leaving Stetson and Garrison in charge.  Stetson's group departed early one cold January morning on an Air Force C-141 for the 30-hour flight to South Vietnam. Garrison took the remaining members of the unit the following evening aboard a C-130, a prop-driven aircraft that had been outfitted for medical transport.  Litters that had carried wounded soldiers back to the States offered the men a place to sleep during the long trip.  The men were fed seven breakfasts as the plane hopped from Kansas to San Diego, Hawaii, Wake Island, Guam, and the Philippine Islands and on to Bien Hoa Airbase in Vietnam.

The C-141, a four-engine windowless jet with canvas seats that faced backwards, flew a more northern route to Southeast Asia.  The men were allowed to stretch their legs as the plane refueled in Alaska and then again in Japan.  The C-141's cabin door had one small porthole-sized window that the men took turns peering out as they passed by the snow-capped peak of Mount Fujiyama.  When the plane began its descent over Vietnam, the men again took turns looking out the small window to get the first look at the country where they would spend the next year.  Down below, they saw lush, green vegetation along with rice paddies crisscrossed by small dikes.  The patrol members knew that in a very short period of time they would be covering that terrain on foot.

The first sensation upon stepping out of the aircraft was a stifling blast of heat that caused everyone to begin sweating immediately.  After some in-process briefings, the conversion of American dollars into military payment certificates (MPCs) and the issuing of their weapons, ammo, helmets, flack vests and web gear, the men were loaded into the back of a couple of two and a half ton trucks for the ride from Tan Son Nhut Airport to Bearcat, the 9th Division's base camp.  The road to Bearcat was narrow and filled with numerous Lambretta scooters that would sputter about carrying either two Americans or five Vietnamese.  They rode through small villages and past scores of children playing by the roadside.  The patrol members stood alert in the backs of the trucks with their fingers on the triggers of their weapons which probably amused the drivers who had been in country for awhile.  They did notice a jet dropping bombs on a distant target but the ride to Bearcat was made without incident.

When the patrol members arrived at Bearcat, they found the base camp to be a flurry of activity.  Buildings were being constructed in every part of the sprawling base that was covered by a cloud of red dust.  Occasionally, oil would be sprayed on the dirt roads to reduce the dust but driving on a fresh coat of oil was like driving on a sheet of ice.  The nose was assaulted by various odors: from the oil on the roads to the JP-4 fuel of the helicopters.  The worst smell of all was from the billowing clouds of foul-smelling dark smoke coming from behind the latrines where soldiers on a true “shit detail” were burning the contents.

The noise level during the day was constant.  The hammering and sawing of construction crews, vehicles, especially the clanking sound produced by the tracks of tanks and personnel carriers, and always the "whop, whop, whop" of helicopters taking off and coming in for landings.  Occasionally, jets would sweep low outside the perimeter adding to the noise level. At night things would quiet somewhat making the sound produced by a nervous machine gunner opening up from his bunker at shadows in the jungle's edge all the more noticeable.  Frequently, loud booms would punctuate the stillness of the night when artillery gunners would send harassing and interdictory (H&I) fire crashing into distant parts of the jungle to disrupt an enemy who liked to move at night.

When the long range patrol first arrived in country, the men were housed in General-Purpose (GP) medium tents with the three officers sharing a GP small.  The noon meals were C rations and some of the boxes had dates on them going back to 1945.  The living quarters were soon improved with the construction of shelters with wooden floors and sides with a large canvas tent thrown over the top for a roof.  Hot and uncomfortable during the day, the living quarters became livable during the night when temperatures would drop.  The men slept on canvas cots covered with mosquito netting.  Usually, a single poncho liner was all that was needed to keep warm at night.

The LRRP officers were billeted with the pilots of D Troop and it served to strengthen the bond between the two units. Stetson bunked with pilots like 1LT Stan Koch who flew observation helicopters (call sign, Spooks); 1LT Jim Joyce and Warrant Officer (WO1) Gary Driggers, gunships (Crusaders); and WO1 Bob Chambless, slicks (Long Knives).  The cots were pushed closer together in the back of the tent to leave space near the doorway that was used as a small sitting area.  They built a bar, painted it red and in keeping with aviation theme, called the tent “The Red Bar Inn.” 

Soft drinks and Philippine beer was sold but before electricity was provided, each can was cooled by rolling it for several minutes on a block of ice.  Once the tent had power, a small television was installed on the bar, a refrigerator was added, and as the officers returned from their R&R, an elaborate sound system was installed with tape deck, amplifier and large stereo speakers.  The tent became a popular gathering place for several of the pilots even as an officer's club was constructed across the street.  The enlisted soldiers also did whatever they could to improve their living quarters and many had sound systems to play their favorite music.  One of the Doughboys would start every morning with Hank Williams blasting out in his nasal twang, "Hey hey good lookin, whatcha got cookin, well how about cookin something up for me?"

The day after they arrived in country, Garrison and members of his group including Moss, Hulin, Private First Class (PFC) Ed Kulcavage, PFC Stephen Noonan, Private (PVT) Don Ferraro and PVT Lonnie Johnson flew to Nha Trang to attend the MACV Recondo School.  MACV Recondo School, operated by the 5th Special Forces Group, was one of the toughest, most realistic training programs designed by the Army.  Located adjacent to an airfield in Nha Trang, the compound was bordered on one side by the South China Sea and on the other, by rice paddies leading up to jungle covered, enemy controlled mountains.  

Special Forces combat veterans provided the instruction and the final exam consisted of conducting a recon patrol in the backyard of the enemy.  The three-week course tested mental and physical endurance.  The student's day began at 0500 with a 7-½ mile march while carrying a weapon, full combat gear and a backpack containing a 25-pound sandbag.  The march, conducted in one hour and 15 minutes, was followed by two climbs up a 30' rope ladder with the trips down on a knotted rope.  After breakfast, training was conducted for subjects such as first aid where students learned how to give shots and take blood, map reading, land navigation, and extraction using a McGuire Rig (a long rope with a seat at the end that could hold three soldiers at a time as they swung high over the countryside while moving at a speed of 90 knots.)

Instruction was also given in patrolling techniques, adjusting artillery fire and the familiarization of both friendly and enemy weapons.  All students were required to repel 120' from a hovering helicopter.  The friction from the brake rope as they descended, would often burn through their fatigue pants leaving a scar on their hip as a reminder of their Recondo School training.

As the training progressed at Recondo School, the remainder of the long range patrol began to experience operations in the field.  The 3/5 Cavalry helicopters were still en route so the patrol members hitched rides on a convoy of tracked vehicles. Stetson found a spot on the top of a tank recovery vehicle and felt a sense of awesome power while sitting behind a caliber .50 machine gun as the armored column picked up speed on the narrow country roads.  Tanks and armored personnel carriers sped through villages as children ran to the roadside waving at the soldiers who would toss them candy from their C ration boxes. 

When the Cavalry reached its destination, members of the long range patrol were tasked to help pull security.  They manned defensive positions on the perimeter.  A soldier, who had placed his rucksack on the edge of his foxhole, found it missing when the sun came up the next morning.  A bold VC or perhaps a nearby villager had crept up to the position in the middle of the night and made off with a supply of food, water, ammunition and clean socks.  The soldier was fortunate that his throat was not cut as he slept.

A mission was handed down for a long range patrol to perform overnight observation on a nearby road.  The men walked out from their bivouac position and soon found the dirt road leading to a nearby village.  The area was relatively open without a lot of concealment but the patrol did the best they could.  A curfew was in effect and traffic was not to be on the road at night.  Not long after darkness had set in, a man riding a motorized bike went sputtering past the position heading toward the village but it grew quiet after that.  In the middle of the night, several members of the patrol were awakened by the sound of a man moving through their position.  It was as if someone had stumbled upon the position by accident and was trying to move out of there as fast as possible.  The remaining hours of darkness were spent in apprehension that the person would return with company but nothing further was heard.  At first light, the patrol moved back to the safety of the armored cavalry’s position.

It was on the same operation that the long range patrol suffered its first casualty.  On January 29, 1967 one of the 3/5 Cavalry units had set up a near Phuoc Tuy.  A request came for a long range patrol to be sent out from the unit's position to gather intelligence about enemy activity in the area.  The patrol leader selected for the mission was Sergeant (SGT) Lynn Miles of Des Moines, Iowa who had celebrated his 20th birthday earlier that month.  Miles joined the unit in country and the young sergeant had made a good impression with his enthusiastic leadership.  John Cox was on the mission as were Bob Hernandez, Don Ferraro and Lawrence Coonrod.  As darkness descended, the patrol moved out from the cavalry's perimeter.  The men found a suitable spot to set up for the night but they immediately detected movement around their position.

SGT Miles whispered the situation on his radio and received instructions to move back to the cavalry's location.  The patrol decided each member would throw a grenade and make a run for it while the cavalry opened up by firing high with their weapons.  A tank crew was told to turn on a spotlight to serve as a beacon for the men coming in from the jungle.  Cox said that as soon as the grenades were thrown, "All hell broke loose".

The patrol tried to remain together as they moved back to the friendly position but a quick head count revealed that Coonrod was missing.  SGT Miles told Cox to get up on the tank and call a situation report back to the members of the long range patrol who were monitoring a radio.  When one of the tankers told Cox he wouldn't allow a private to use his radio, Sergeant Miles climbed up and took the handset.  At that instant, a Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG) round hit, knocking Cox off the back of tank.  Cox was staggering to his feet when he noticed Miles laying a couple of feet away with a hole through his chest.  The VC continued to pour automatic rifle fire and RPG rounds into the cavalry's position and the tankers returned with a heavy volume of fire.  The firing suddenly ceased and the night became quiet.  It was then that Coonrod came crawling in.  He had been hit in the back.  A chill went through the members of the long range patrol who were monitoring the radios.  They heard the cavalry spell out one of the killed in action (KIA) as, "Mike, India, Lima, Echo, Sierra," the phonetic spelling of the Mile's last name.

Phillip Ponserella, the long range patrol's first sergeant, was livid at the loss of SOT Miles.  Long range patrols were not designed to be used as listening posts for friendly units and he was upset that Captain Tedrick had allowed the patrol to be given such a mission.  The patrols were designed to operate as their name indicated, at a long range and deep into enemy territory.  The arrival of D Troop's aircraft would soon give the patrols the capability of operating far away from friendly units.

The MACV Recondo training proved to be so valuable that as soon as Garrison and his men returned to Bearcat, a second group was sent. It consisted of Rick Stetson, John Cox, Raymond Hulin, Tom Kloak, William Haas, Bobby Hernandez, Richard Hill, Freddie Jenkins, Ed Kulcavage, Don Lachowitz, Sammie Reese and Ron Schaffer.  The Vietnamese holiday period, Tet, was going on when the next group from the 9th Division long range patrol reached Nha Trang.  Colored paper, cut to resemble lanterns was strung between buildings. Firecrackers were set off at all times of  night and day along with the firing of weapons by Vietnamese soldiers resulting in nervous flinching from the Americans each time a gun went off.

Soldiers from other American units and branches of the military as well as from Korea assembled to begin the training. They were introduced to their class leader, a Marine Recon 1st LT from Nantucket, Massachusetts who had been in Vietnam four months.  He would later become killed in action and receive a Silver Star for his heroic actions.  There were also several Korean officers from the ROK Tiger Division.  One had attended the Korean equivalent of West Point and spoke English, French, German and some Vietnamese.  Another had graduated from the Korean Army OCS.  Both were excellent officers and said that when Korean units went to the field, they did not practice much noise and light discipline because they wanted to make contact with the enemy.  The VC knew better and usually stayed clear of the hard-fighting Koreans.

The first day of the Lunar New Year, the men were able to taste real ice cream.  That was a treat because the ice cream they usually got was made from condensed milk that gave it an almost unpleasant taste, the only benefit being that it was cold. At breakfast, the condensed milk was equally unsatisfactory and it would only serve to spoil an otherwise good bowl of cereal.

One night after the soldiers had gone to bed in their MACV compound barracks, explosions rocked the area.  As a siren wailed, the students grabbed their weapons and ran outside to help man the perimeter.  Planes circled the area dropping parachute flares that threw a flickering light over the rice paddies.  Despite peering intently into the shadows, the men spotted no sign of the enemy.  Finally, an "all clear" signal was given and the men went back to bed.  The next morning it was revealed that VC sappers had penetrated the airfield, put satchel charges on some of the helicopters and then blew a hole in the gate as they left.  Three aircraft were destroyed and three were heavily damaged resulting in a shortage of gunships to provide cover for the student missions.

The use of Vietnamese laborers on Army bases was a common sight throughout Vietnam.  Vietnamese women would squat by a mound of dirt and fill sandbags while carrying on in animated conversation.  Usually there was considerably more talking than filling and the rate seemed to be one sandbag filled for every 30 minutes.  At Nha Trang, the Vietnamese were building a new mess hall at the Recondo School.  Most of the workers were women, small in stature, which carried bricks in two baskets suspended from long poles balanced on their shoulders.  They walked in a rhythmic motion so that everything swayed in unison.  The carpenters were mostly men.  They would squat on their haunches using only the most common of hand tools to make the doors and window frames.

Part of the Recondo School training took place in the South China Sea where the students practiced hitting the beaches in assault boats.  During their occasional free time, the men enjoyed riding the waves on air mattresses although the water had a slight oily smell from the tankers anchored offshore.

The requirements for graduation from Recondo School were rigid.  About half of all the students who entered the school did not successfully complete the course.  The school was unique in that the final exam would consist of a student patrol in enemy territory.  Mistakes would have far greater consequences than a failing grade.  The Special Forces instructors, who accompanied the patrols and evaluated the student's performance in the field, watched everything with a critical eye.  Hilan Jones, a large-framed soldier who would prove to be one of the best patrol leaders to serve in the 9th Division LRRP, was told he could never make it as a lurp because he was too clumsy and made too much noise.  Most of the 9th Division soldiers who attended the school did well with some, such as SSG Emory Parish and SP4 Dennis Marble, receiving the distinction of being named honor graduates.  Those who made it through the course were entitled to wear an arrowhead-shaped patch with the tip pointed downward, embroidered with a black V, and "RECONDO" in black letters across the top.  It was a mark of distinction and when they graduated, the students were urged to go back to their units and live up to the motto of a recondo: "Smart, Skilled, Tough, Courageous, Confident."

D Troop, 3/5 Cavalry had received their aircraft and was fully operational by March 1, 1967.  Prior to the helicopters arriving in country, Stetson was instructed to report to the airfield and meet two pilots from another aviation unit who would give him an orientation ride.  As the operations officer for the long range patrol, Stetson needed to become familiar with the area where his patrols would be operating.  When he met the pilots, Stetson noticed they wore their pistols in holsters that hung low on their hips like two gunfighters.  He climbed in the back of the Huey as it cranked up and then rapidly picked up speed down the runway.

The end of the runway was marked by commo wire that a signal unit had strung high off the ground between telephone poles.  Looking through the windshield, Stetson saw the helicopter fly right through the wire, hitting it just below the main blade.  As the wire snapped past on both sides of the aircraft, the two pilots turned to each other, their faces petrified with fear.  Stetson, who had visions of his first helicopter ride in country being his last, asked on the intercom if they were OK which seemed to snap them back to reality.  They were fully aware that a wire strike is often a fatal mistake for a pilot.  In this case, the only damage done was to the wire and it was later moved to a location away from the end of the runway.

In March 1967, a soldier who helped contribute greatly to the reputation and success of the unit joined the 9th Division Long Range Patrol.  Master Sergeant Roy Nelson had been the operations NCO for the 3/5 Cavalry when the unit arrived in Vietnam.  When the Cavalry supported the 1st Infantry Division as part of Operation Junction City, Nelson had a disagreement with the Squadron commander and he was reassigned to the LRRPs after the battle of Bau Bang. Nelson's impact on the long range patrol was immediate although he was not a typical first sergeant.  He did not yell at the men to get things accomplished.  Instead, he led by quiet example. He was the consummate NCO, always looking after his men and always seeing they had everything necessary to be successful in the field.

He volunteered for as many missions as possible, wanting to observe his young patrol leaders in action. He was instrumental in helping to weed out those not qualified to lead under combat conditions.  His goal was to teach the basic skills of survival to every lurp who joined the unit.  He stressed education, fitness and discipline.  Nelson's constant reminder to his men was not to get injured by "doing something stupid."

Nelson's first mission was to take five men and guard a 01-E Bird Dog observation airplane that had gone down on a road leading to Long Binh.  The night was uneventful and the next day a Chinook helicopter flew in and lifted the airplane out.  It was a misuse of LRRP assets but Nelson had successfully completed the first of many missions and demonstrated he was a first sergeant who wanted to be leading his men in the field instead of from behind a desk.  He would go on to lead some of the first long range patrols to operate in the Plain of Reeds and on Toi San Island in the Delta.  Nelson saw to it that the men were completely professional while on missions but would allow them to blow off steam and relax in the base camp.  It was a challenge to keep the men gainfully occupied between missions.  To help with morale, the first sergeant allowed cookouts, beer parties, and rough and tumble games of "combat football" where he was knocked around just as much as his men were.

As the long range patrol became operational, a need developed for additional personnel.  One of the men had broken both ankles while going through Recondo School.  He was a patrol point man and was to have been first out of the helicopter. The tall grass made the LZ look deceptively close and he jumped out as the aircraft descended, still some 30 feet in the air.  Replacements were also needed for Miles and Coonrod so a recruiting effort was organized.  Representatives from the long range patrol would put on their camouflaged "tiger" fatigues, shined jungle boots, black berets, and visit the 9th Division Replacement Center in search of volunteers.

The replacement, or "repo depot" as it was commonly called, was where the division's new arrivals could acclimate to the tropical climate. They received classes on such subjects as enemy tactics, detection of booby traps and the importance of respecting the South Vietnamese people and their customs.  On March 15, 1967, two future patrol leaders would meet at the replacement center.  Private Johnston Dunlop was a 32-year old enlistee from Auburn, New York.  Hilan Jones, 26, was a draftee from Thermopolis, Wyoming.  Being older than the average recruit, Jones and Dunlop spent a lot of time together at the repo depot and became best of friends.  Both were highly intelligent and competitive (Dunlop had been a champion swimmer while in high school).  They were intrigued when just before departing for their respective units; soldiers wearing black berets gave a presentation on something called a long range patrol.

1LT Rick Stetson, Master Sergeant Roy Nelson, and Sergeant Bobby Hernandez represented the long range patrol that day.  The LRRP recruiters told the new arrivals that they took only the best of the volunteers. Rank could be obtained faster in the long range patrol and they would wear the black beret. Most important, because they operated secretly in the enemy's backyard, the chances of becoming a casualty in the long range patrol would be much less than if they served in a line outfit.

Jones and Dunlop were impressed by what they heard about the long range patrol.  They liked the idea of monitoring trails and observing enemy activity without being seen.  The benefits of being a LRRP, which included two rest and recuperation trips (R&R), sounded good so they both volunteered.  Stetson told them they would be notified in a couple of weeks if they had been selected.  Dunlop was sent to an engineer unit.  Jones reported to A Troop, 3/5 Cavalry where he would train to drive an armored personnel carrier.

It wasn't long before Jones received word that he had been picked to become a lurp and was ordered to return to Bearcat.  At his first opportunity, Jones hitched a ride to the division's base camp on an armored personnel carrier.  On the way, he passed an engineer unit building a bridge.  There, covered in dust from head to toe and looking somewhat discouraged, was Dunlop.  Jones yelled over to him, "I'm going to be a lurp."  Dunlop shouted back, "Me too."  They would soon be reunited as members of the long range patrol and achieve notable success as patrol leaders.

In April, members of the long range patrol were sent to Nui Dat in Phuoc Tuy Province to work with the Special Air Service (SAS) of the 1st Australian Task Force as part of Operation Portsea.  Soldiers who elected to take an R&R visit to Australia returned with glowing reports of the friendliness and generosity of the people in the "land down under."  The members of Australia's Army were no exception.  The lurps quickly took to working with the Aussies and especially enjoyed their excellent meals that included menus, tables covered with linen tablecloths, silverware and plates.  Orderlies took the requests in the officer's mess and served delicious meals that were always followed by deserts or "sweets".  It was a far cry from the C rations the lurps had been eating for lunch.  The Australians were also excellent fighters who appeared to be calm in battle.  When contact was made with the enemy, the Aussies attacked with every bit of firepower at their disposal.  They were a good-looking bunch in their bush hats and were known for stopping what they were doing in the middle of the afternoon for a "tea time" break.

It was during Operation Portsea that a patrol led by Sergeant Raymond Hulin made the April 29, 1967 edition of the Army Reporter in an article headlined, "9th Infantry Recons Forced to Kill Four VC."  The patrol had been monitoring a trail when a group of enemy soldiers from the 5th Viet Cong Division passed by.  "After the first enemy force passed we waited for about ten minutes before the point man stepped out onto the trail to see if anything was coming," Hulin said.  When the point man, SP4 James Elder, saw an enemy patrol ambling down the trail, he signaled Hulin.  "He let me know we didn't have time to fade back into the jungle so we just froze and squatted down," Elder said.

Elder was behind a small bush only a foot or so off the trail while the rest of the patrol was positioned about ten meters further back  The first member of the enemy patrol passed by without seeing the lurps.  As Hulin reported afterwards, "He had his weapon on his shoulder and was looking at the ground.  The second man stopped right in front of me.  When he turned and faced me, it shocked him like he didn't know what to do.”   Sergeant Hulin knew what he had to do and unloaded a magazine of ammunition into the man.  The other patrol members fired on the remaining Viet Cong.  "I just kept shooting my man until I didn't see him anymore," said SP4 Freddie Jenkins.

The patrol broke contact and moved back to set up a defensive perimeter as the enemy fired away with a semi-automatic weapon.  Hulin called for extraction and as the patrol was lifted out, gunships swept the area with machine-gun and rocket fire.  For his decisive action in leading the patrol out of danger, Raymond Hulin received the Bronze Star and was promoted to Sergeant E-5.  It was proof that rank could indeed be gained rapidly for those patrol members who were willing to assume the responsibility of providing sound leadership.

Roy Nelson was in the command post (CP) at Nui Dat when word was received that Hulin's patrol was in contact.  He picked some men for a reaction force and ordered them to "saddle up."  When Nelson reached the pad, the Hueys were already cranking up.  He looked in one of the helicopters and was surprised to see Jones and Dunlop, two of the "new guys" who had joined the unit that morning. They were sitting in the back of the aircraft trying to avoid the first sergeant's gaze.  They had not been picked for the reaction force but wanted to help out as soon as they heard there was a patrol in trouble.  When he saw them, Nelson knew they had selected a couple of good men to be lurps.

Garrison had helped instill a "can do" spirit among the original members of the long range patrol.  The unit did not have its own table of organization and equipment (TO&E) so requisitions could not be made through normal supply channels.  There were shortages in equipment and weapons so the men had to scrounge the best they could by "wheeling and dealing".  1Lt Garrison and Staff Sergeant (SSG) Cottrell were two of the best.  When they first arrived in the D Troop area, the living conditions included few creature comforts.  Garrison was determined to do something about the lack of electricity.  He told SSG Cottrell to accompany him one day and they set off in a deuce and a half for a headquarters compound near Saigon.

Generators seemed to be in abundant supply and many were being used to provide power to the living quarters of the numerous generals who were housed in the compound.  Garrison grabbed a clipboard and trying to look as official as possible, walked up to a warrant officer and said, "I'm here to pick up my generator".  As the warrant gave him a puzzled look, Garrison continued, "That generator over there is the one I have on my list to pick up", pointing to a high-powered model intended for one of the general officers.

"But I am not authorized to load any generators", protested the warrant officer.  Garrison reached into the truck's cab and produced a bottle of Jack Daniels Whiskey.  "Here", he said offering the bottle.  "This might help convince you to load that generator on my truck."  A wrecker was located, the generator loaded, and Garrison and Cottrell headed back to Bearcat with the new piece of equipment.  Once in the D Troop area, the generator was properly dug in and a generous amount of sandbags was built up around the sides and over the top providing both protection and concealment.  The generator was well-received by the members of D Troop and the LRRP.  It provided sufficient power to not only light the tents, but to keep a proper chill on the soft drinks and beer stored in the personal refrigerators.

The patrol members returned to Bearcat on April 17th after operating with the Australians.  Shortly after, Ed Garrison accompanied a patrol and would observe while running as point man.  The officers were turning over patrol leadership to the NCOs but, still went out whenever possible as the young sergeants gained experience.  As point man, Garrison was to be the first one out of the helicopter.  As he sat with his feet on the Huey's skids he noticed the LZ had been prepped by artillery rounds that had stirred up clouds of dust.  It appeared they were about to touch down so Garrison jumped out while the aircraft was still 3-5 feet in the air.  He broke his foot when he hit the ground and was evacuated to Japan. He was three-months recovering and would not return to the long range patrol.  After his foot healed, he was assigned to Company C, 5/60th where he would excel as the executive officer (XO).  His battalion commander was so impressed with his performance as XO, that he went all the way to General Westmorland to receive permission for Garrison to command a rifle company.

Captain Tedrick transferred to a staff job at division headquarters and left the unit in April.  That left 1LT Stetson as the remaining officer and he commanded the unit from April 13-30, 1967. Then 1LT Donald Lawrence transferred from an infantry company to join the LRRP.  Stetson and Lawrence had graduated together from OCS Class 1-66 at Fort Benning and had the same date of rank.  Their class had graduated alphabetically and since Lawrence had walked across the stage before Stetson, it was decided that he would command the unit.  The arrangement worked well as Lawrence preferred handling the administrative requirements of command while Stetson enjoyed planning the patrols and accompanying the men to the jungle whenever he could.

One of Stetson's patrols was known as "the great elephant hunt."  Reports had come into headquarters that numerous elephant tracks had been spotted in the division's area of operations.  The G-2 wanted a patrol to investigate and determine if the VC were using the elephants as beasts of burden to transport food, weapons and ammunition.  The patrol members were selected; Rick Stetson, John Berg, Steve Ross, Marlin Mears, and Hilan Jones.  The insertion took place with out incident.  As the patrol moved out the next day, it was not long before the unmistakable signs of elephant tracks were visible in the thick bamboo.  The patrol followed the wandering tracks but did not find any elephants. 

They moved into their evening position and later that night, the patrol members heard the trumpeting sound of elephants calling one another from distant parts of the jungle.  The next night, the patrol set up not far from the embankment of an abandoned railroad.  They monitored the site but there was no sign of enemy activity. Sometime after midnight, the patrol was jolted awake by the sound of automatic weapons being fired from the other side of the rail embankment.  It sounded like at least a platoon's worth of weapons was being fired on full automatic, seemingly right next to the startled patrol.  The firing continued for at least a half minute and then it ended as suddenly as it had started.  There was complete silence.  No voices, no sounds of magazines being removed, just a "thump, thump" as each patrol member heard the sound of his pounding heart.  The men remained on high alert until the normal sounds of the night convinced them that the VC must have been conducting a test fire of their weapons and had moved on.  The patrol was extracted the next Day without finding the elephants.

Not long after that patrol, however, Stetson was in a Huey providing command and control for an insertion when he happened to look out the door of the aircraft as they returned to base camp.  Standing by some trees, at the edge of a small clearing, was a mother elephant and her calf.  He pointed them out to the pilots who banked the helicopter for a better look and more elephants were observed.  There was no sign of enemy personnel, just wild elephants, annoyed at the sound of the circling helicopter, running and trying to hide in the trees.  The pilots sent a message to the other D Troop aircraft that they had elephants in sight.  In no time, a transmission came from division headquarters wanting to know the status of the elephants.  It was then announced that the commanding general was boarding his helicopter to come out and take a look for himself.  As the D Troop helicopters flew back to the airfield, called The Roundtable, a growing group of VIP's were seen circling the area looking for the elephants.

Elephants were not the only animals the patrols had to contend with in the jungle.  Stetson was on a patrol one day in thick jungle when an object of some kind crashed through the leaves and landed nearby.  The patrol members instantly froze with fingers on the triggers of their weapons while minds raced trying to determine what had been thrown at them.  Was it possible a VC had tossed a dud grenade at them?  Was someone trying to lead the patrol into an ambush?  After waiting several minutes, no further sounds were heard and the patrol cautiously moved forward.  Thump.  Another unknown object landed close by.  The men did not move as they kept weapons pointed to the front, sides and rear of the patrol.  This time, Stetson decided to remain in place until the source of the noise could be located.  Again, complete quiet.  Then, in the triple canopy growth high above their heads, the men heard a rustling of leaves.  They looked up and saw a group of monkeys swinging through the branches while staring down at them.  The men breathed sighs of relief while shaking silent fists at the monkeys who were either defending their territory or amusing themselves by seeing who could hit a soldier with a stick.

The 9th Infantry Division established a base camp in the Mekong Delta called Dong Tam.  The 600 acre base camp on the My Tho River was formed by dredging sand from the river bottom and depositing it on marshland.  The world's largest dredge was used to perform that task until Viet Cong sappers planted explosive charges on the dredge one night sending it to the bottom of the river.  Smaller dredges were used and the division soon had a permanent base in the Delta. 

The division needed intelligence about enemy activity in the area and long range patrol members were flown to Dong Tam to meet with the Navy Seals. The seals were an elite and secretive group that had established a reputation for successful operations in the swampy Delta region.  The Seals were known for specializing in prisoner snatches where they would stand in water up to their noses for hours waiting for the opportunity to grab a high-ranking prisoner.

The 9th Division placed units of the 2nd Brigade on board the USS Benewah (APB-35) the flagship of River Assault Flotilla One. The Benewah, a converted WWII-era LST, was first launched in 1946. It was modernized in July 1966.   Included was a helicopter landing platform and accommodations for 1150 soldiers.  The feature that made the biggest impression on the patrol members who visited the ship was that the troops slept in air-conditioned quarters.  Another indication the Navy knew how to do things with style was the officer's mess where Philippine stewards made certain the tea glasses was never empty.

An instructor at the MACV Recondo School had told his students that a patrol leader always had the final approval for a mission.  It was pointed out that if a patrol leader had been given an assignment that he considered too dangerous, he had the option of turning down the mission.  When the assignment came down from division for the long range patrol to put a team in the Delta, a young sergeant was given the mission.  He was taken on an over flight of the area and quickly observed that instead of lush jungle offering concealment the instant a patrol moved off the LZ, the Delta was nothing but wide open rice paddies.  When the helicopter landed, the patrol leader said he would have to refuse the mission, as it was too dangerous.  Stetson, the operations officer, knew it was pointless to try to force him to take the patrol as the sergeant's apprehensions could endanger the entire group.  Stetson said he would lead the patrol and put in an immediate request to have the sergeant transferred out of the unit.

The patrol was deposited in the middle of a rice paddy at last available light.  Instead of scrambling for the thickest clump of vegetation, as they would do in the jungle, the patrol tried to conceal themselves as best as they could behind a two-foot high rice paddy dike.  They lay motionless, hearts pounding, imagining that every VC in the area knew exactly where they were.  After a period of time had passed, the stillness of the night reassured the patrol they had not been spotted.  The men were still uncomfortable at being so exposed but eventually they relaxed enough to resume normal breathing.  The patrol was not far from a small river and sounds of motorized sampans could be heard moving throughout the night.  Early the next morning, the patrol was picked up.  They did not have a lot of intelligence to report but they had demonstrated it was possible to spend at least one night out in the open.  Patrols operating in that area would later learn how to use the vegetation along the riverbanks for concealment and would go on to accomplish numerous successful missions in the Delta.

The network of rivers and canals around Dong Tam offered another means of inserting patrols, by boat.  Toi San Island was in the middle of the My Tho River and it was a favorite location for the VC to fire at passing river patrol boats.  The enemy was so prevalent that soldiers called the place VC Island.  On May 9, 1967, the LRRP received a mission to put a recon patrol on Toi San Island.  They would be inserted at last light by a Navy armored troop carrier that was armed with a caliber .50 machine gun, two 20mm cannons, and several deck mounted caliber .30 machine guns.  SGT Raymond Hulin was to lead the patrol.  Also on board were Stetson, the operations officer, a reaction team led by SSG Cottrell and the five man Navy crew.

Stetson peered through the growing darkness trying to locate a suitable spot to insert the patrol.  The first site selected was not a good one.  As the boat eased into the island, it was apparent that the water was too deep and the bank undercut giving the men no foothold when they would scramble ashore.  The boat backed off and moved further down the island.  A small clearing was spotted that had a gradually sloping bank and Stetson gestured for the sailor at the wheel to head the boat in.  The troop carrier had a landing ramp in front but it was decided that dropping it would expose everyone in the boat to hostile fire.  The patrol members crouched along a ledge that ran around the top of the craft, ready to drop over the side as soon as the boat got close enough to the island.  The sides of the boat were covered with bar armor; long thin rods about six inches apart that helped prevent RPG rounds from penetrating the hull.  The rods served as excellent hand and foot holds as the team members climbed over the side.

The point man was the first to leave the boat and waded into waist-deep water followed by Hulin, the patrol leader.  The third team member was climbing down the side of the boat when one of the men still on the ledge whispered, "I hear voices."  At that moment, automatic weapons opened up from the shoreline.  Bullets pinged off the hull as the boat's operator threw the engines into reverse backing the craft towards the middle of the river.  Another sailor returned fire with the caliber .50 machine gun while members of the reaction force sprayed the tree line with M16 rounds.  Stetson took a quick headcount and realized they were a man short.  He glanced down over the side of the boat and he spotted Hulin fighting to hold on to the bar armor.  As patrol leader, he carried a heavy radio plus his weapon and all of his equipment and he was unable to hold on any longer, as the boat rapidly backed out into the river's current.  SGT Howard Munn, a reaction team member who had been splattered in the arm by fragments from a bullet was manning one of the caliber .30  machine guns when he spotted Hulin in the middle of the river trying to shed his pack and web gear.  Stetson shouted for the Navy personnel to stop the engines as Munn executed a headfirst dive into the river and swam towards Hulin.  As he approached, Hulin calmly turned his back so Munn could reach around and help keep him afloat.  Just as he placed a hand on his chin, Hulin gulped in a mouthful of the muddy river water.  The more the patrol leader shook his head trying to spit out the water, the harder Munn held on until the boat was finally able to maneuver and pick up both lurps.  Munn was recommended for the Soldiers Medal for his actions and in September 1967, he received a Bronze Star with V device for his heroism.

Insertion by boat was the exception as most patrols were dropped off in LZs by helicopters flown by the skilled D Troop pilots.  A close bond of mutual respect developed between the aviators and the members of the long range patrol.  The lurps knew if a patrol experienced trouble, the pilots of D Troop would do whatever necessary to come get them.  The aviators and members of the long range patrol not only worked together; they were friends so that when a tragic accident occurred on May 26, 1967, both units were devastated.

The gunship crews (Crusaders) often operated at night.  Sometimes they would support American or South Vietnamese units or they might go off in pairs trying to stir up targets on their own.  The D Troop pilots were highly capable of night flight operations.  New pilots were arriving in country on a regular basis and before sending them out on missions, they would train on orientation rides to become familiar with combat flying.  On May 26, CPT Norman Kidd and 1LT Jack Dodson reported to the D Troop operations area for briefings.  Both had been in Vietnam only four days and would be flying as observers with two veteran gunship crews that night.  The new pilots were attentive during the briefings and tried to absorb as much information possible about the tactics of gunship operations.  The D Troop pilots, having conducted such operations numerous times, were relaxed and eager to show the new arrivals how the gunship's firepower could be unleashed on an enemy who liked to move at night.

When Stetson reported to night operations, the next day to plan a mission, he could immediately see by the pilot's faces that something was wrong.  There was none of the bantering and carrying on that usually took place in the building.  Instead, one word, midair, summed up what had happened.  Two D Troop gunships had been conducting night operations outside a small Vietnamese town when the aircraft collided in flight.  One of the door gunners survived the impact but died shortly after being airlifted to a hospital.  The rest of the pilots and crews died immediately in the crash.  The Doughboys rifle platoon was flown in to help secure the crash site and help with the removal of the bodies.  Killed in the collision were Captain (CPT) Gene Matthews, CPT Robert Mosher, Warrant Officer (WO1) Robert Cook, Specialist Five (SP5) George Bennett, Specialist Four (SP4) Roger Fortune, SP4 Joseph LeGrand, SP4 Melvin Martz along with the two aviators just arrived in country, CPI' Kidd and 1LT Dodson.  Their deaths cast a dark shadow over the men of D Troop and the long range patrol.

SSG Richard Cottrell, a 36 year old patrol leader from Philadelphia, received an operations order on June 23, 1967 to conduct a long range reconnaissance patrol in the Long Thanh Province south of Bearcat.  Cottrell alerted his assistant patrol leader, SP4 Dennis Marble who informed the remainder of the team; PFCs Marlin Mears, James Woodson and Hilan Jones.  The insertion was scheduled to take place the following afternoon.

There was a good amount of experience on the patrol.  SSG Cottrell was a graduate of the MACV Recondo School and had completed 12 successful missions.  SP4 Marble, recondo qualified and the honor graduate of his class had been on four previous missions with Cottrell.  The Old Reliable newspaper described Marble as being "as apple-cheeked as Cottrell is tanned but his dark eyes look older than his 20 years."  PFCs Woodson and Mears were also recondo school graduates who had accompanied Cottrell on several missions.  PFC Jones was a "new guy" with the LRRP'S who had received a letter of completion from Recondo School.

As the team prepared for the mission by drawing rations, filling canteens, test firing and cleaning their weapons, Cottrell took an over flight to help select the landing zone (LZ) for the insertion.  Preparations completed, the team headed for the Round Table late in the afternoon to board a waiting Huey for the insertion.  The patrol members had the usual nervous tension that took place just before each mission but this day, the anticipation was even higher as the new patrol member, Jones, was untested.

Adrenaline was rushing and hearts pounding as the helicopter neared the LZ.  The heat rushing in the open doors and the "pop, pop, pop" sound as the blades changed pitch while the aircraft flared for a landing told them they were moments away from scrambling into the jungle.  The patrol dashed for the nearest concealment and froze in place as the sounds of the helicopters faded away.  This was the crucial moment.  Senses strained to pick-up any sight or sound made by an enemy who might have been watching the LZ.  If they had been spotted, this is when the VC would start looking for them.  Minutes passed and the quiet of the jungle became reassuring.  Finally, the operations officer circling high above in the command and control ship asked on the radio how the light was.  "Red" meant trouble and "green" indicated everything was good so far.  The light was green so the gunships, the pickup aircraft, and the C&C ship headed back to Bearcat leaving the patrol on their own.  The men moved into the jungle in search of a suitable night position.  Cottrell selected a spot in the thickest undergrowth they could find and the patrol settled in for the night.  The experienced men rested well but Jones was more apprehensive and got little sleep.

The first day was uneventful and dampened by steady drizzle.  The team zigzagged through the jungle searching for trails or any other signs the enemy was in the area.  A radio relay aircraft flew over for a SITREP and the patrol leader reported no sign of enemy activity and gave the patrol's location in code.  Again, they found a thick growth of vegetation in which to spend the second night.

The next morning, the patrol moved out on their pre-planned route and came upon a well-used trail.  It was early in the day and footprints were visible in the mud.  It was obvious the trail had been used recently and the enemy had to be nearby. Cottrell decided to take up positions and monitor the trail.  He moved his men across and placed them in positions about five meters apart where they paralleled the trail and could observe without being detected.  It wasn't long before the first enemy soldier was spotted moving quickly along the trail, coming from the right of the patrol.  He was wearing an olive green uniform and carrying a chicom rifle, holding it by the barrel as it rested on his shoulder.  Following about 20 meters behind came another similarly dressed and armed soldier. Behind him came another yet another NVA. 

After waiting a several minutes and seeing no additional enemy, Cottrell moved the team briskly away from the trail and out of the area.  The patrol had traveled just a short distance when they came upon a small clearing where they found a poncho shelter erected on four bamboo poles stuck in the ground.  Under the shelter was a five-gallon square can with the top cut off.  The area looked as if it had been occupied recently and Cottrell assumed it was an outpost for a larger complex nearby, probably located in the direction where the enemy soldiers had come from.  Sensing there could be an ambush in the vicinity, Cottrell directed his point man, Jones, to head off at a ninety-degree angle away from the outpost and a possible ambush.  As they were moving away from the clearing, the patrol members heard a rifle shot and a muffled explosion that sounded like a grenade.  The team immediately went into the standard reaction drill used to break contact, escape and evade (E&E).  Each lurp assumed a position with every other man facing to the right or left.  The last in line, Marble, faced the direction of the enemy and fired his weapon on fall automatic.  He emptied his magazine and turned away from the enemy reloading his weapon as he ran.  Each man would in turn repeat the procedure before following the assistant team leader.

Jones, the last to fire, emptied his magazine and tossed a white phosphorous (Willie peter) grenade before turning to catch up with the escaping team.  As Jones tried to run through the thick vegetation, his rucksack became entangled in the "wait-a-minute" vines.  He quickly shed the pack and left it on the ground as he caught up with the patrol.  They ran for several hundred meters before stopping to listen and determine if they were being followed.  They were not and the patrol leader called for an extraction.  Afterwards, Cottrell was quoted in a newspaper account of the action as saying, "We hit our firing plan and moved out smartly."  The Old Reliable paper continued the dramatic account: "It gets hairy out there," Cottrell said frankly.  "That business was a surprise and we don't like to get surprised.  It was a good thing we used our diversionary tactics, it was a damn close shave."  Cottrell and Marble received the Bronze Star with V device for the actions on the patrol while Jones was awarded the Army Commendation Medal with V for valor.

The long range patrol received considerable publicity for a June 1967 patrol led by SSG Robert Syndram.  The Old Reliable's June 24th edition headed the story detailing the patrols action as, "Five-Man Recon Team Bailed Out of Tight Spot by Arty, Gunships."  The Stars and Stripes carried the same story under the heading, "9th Inf. Recon Team's Ordeal. The VC Were 10 to l Against Us." Long Thanh.  Out numbered 10 to l, a five-man team from the U.S. Army's 9th Inf. Div. Long Range Reconnaissance Platoon became the prey of a Viet Cong manhunt recently.  After five hours of fight and flight, the team escaped the enemy thanks to the pinpoint accuracy of artillery fire and a withering onslaught from helicopter gunships.

A lone enemy soldier had spotted the recon team.  SP4 Donald Naughton of Norwalk, CA was forced to mow down the approaching enemy with his M16 rifle.  The chattering gun gave away the team's position.  "They knew we were in there and they were determined to find us," Team Leader SSG Robert Syndram of FT Wayne, IN recalled afterward.  The team attempted to avoid detection by moving frequently but twice narrowly missed being cut down by enemy machine gun fire.  Breaking for a nearby knoll, they scrambled to the top and set up a perimeter using fallen trees and rocks for cover.  Minutes later, the heavily armed enemy platoon reached the knoll and surrounded it as the team desperately radioed for aid.  After three hours without making radio contact, the 9th Division artillery observer's plane arrived overhead for a routine radio check.

The surrounded troops explained the situation to 1st LT Stewart McGregor, the aerial observer.  McGregor radioed artillerymen at the Black Horse base of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment about three miles northwest of the knoll.  At about 2:30 PM the first rounds thundered in on the enemy position.  "They were good, close groups and right on target," the observer recalled.  "The rounds were coming in right on their heads," Syndram said.

Meanwhile, helicopter gunships of the 9th Division's Troop D, 3rd Squadron, 5th Armored Cavalry, had scrambled.  The artillery fell silent shortly after 3:30 PM and "that's when the gunships took over," McGregor related.  Rockets and miniguns raked the enemy position to secure a landing zone where another chopper from. Troop D could land to pick up the team.  CPT William (Wild Bill) Bailey and WO William Brayshaw landed the rescue chopper about 200 meters southwest of the knoll.  The team sprinted to the waiting helicopter.  At 4:30, five and half-hours after the enemy force had first surrounded them; the recon team was on its way back to the division's base camp.

By July, 1967, the 9th Infantry Division’s long range patrol platoon had been operating in Vietnam for almost half a year. During that time, the LRRPs had obtained valuable intelligence about enemy activity within the division’s area of operations but being just a platoon size, the number of patrols that could operate at any given time was limited. Thus, the decision was made by the 9th Division to increase the LRRP Detachment to a company size unit.

The 9th Division Chief of Staff, a blunt spoken colonel by the name of M.W. Kendall, wanted an experienced unit commander to form the detachment into a company. The call went out for Clarence “Clancy” Matsuda, commander of A Company, 3rd Battalion, 60th Infantry. Matsuda was a 29-year old captain who had attended West Point and received his commission after completing OCS at Fort Benning, Georgia. In May 1967, Matsuda had been awarded the Silver Star for leading his company with distinction on 2 May, 1967, during the Battle of Ap Bac, a fierce fight in which two of his men, Leonard Keller and Raymond Wright, later received the Congressional Medal of Honor. Matsuda had considerable leadership experience going back to his initial assignment as a recon platoon leader with an airborne battle group on Okinawa followed by a tour at Fort Bragg where he was executive officer of a raider detachment in the 82nd Airborne Division. He then commanded a rifle company in the Dominican Republic and a headquarter company at Ft Bragg, N. C. (this assignment was made primarily to take on the then precarious Command Maintenance Management Inspection (CMMI) in the 82nd's 2nd Battalion, 505th Infantry.

Matsuda’s battalion commander, LTC Doty, was newly assigned to the 60th and did not want to lose one of his best commanders to the LRRPs so he flew to Bearcat to personally appeal to the chief of staff. COL Kendall was not persuaded and told the battalion commander that Matsuda was the man he wanted to lead the long range patrol. Matsuda’s tour as commander of the rifle company was over. He packed his belongings, said farewell to his company and prepared to move to Bearcat for his new assignment. First, however, he was instructed to report to the ill-natured Kendall who did not hide his opinion of the LRRPs. “They jump at shadows,” the former First Brigade Commander barked at Matsuda. “Their image stinks. Fix it. Now get out of here.” The new LRRP Commander, according to officers who had served under the crusty chief of staff, had just been “Kendallized.”

On July 8, 1967, CPT Clancy Matsuda assumed command of the 9th Division Long Range Patrol. Facing him was the considerable task of taking the unit from a platoon to a company and there was no time to hold a formal change of command ceremony. LT Lawrence was moved to the position of executive officer while LT Stetson remained as the unit’s operations officer. LT Garrison transferred to a rifle company in the Delta where he would perform with distinction and go on to become a career Army officer. Matsuda would also make a career out of the Army and serve for over 30 years before retiring as a full colonel.

The unit was given priority to be filled at the 100% level utilizing volunteers who would be screened through an interview process. When it came to selecting his officers, the new commander took advantage of his West Point Connections. One of his good friends at the Academy, MAJ Jim Blesse, was the 9th Division assistant G-1 and in charge of assignments for company grade officers. He let Matsuda have his pick of all incoming lieutenants and as a result, hard-charging young officers Dale Dickey and Henry Richard Hester were assigned to the rapidly expanding unit.     

LT Edison K. Woodie did not join the LRRPs through the replacement pipeline. He served with Matsuda in the 3rd Battalion, 60th Infantry as the Heavy Mortar platoon leader.  Woodie was a Ranger qualified officer with an outstanding reputation as a strong (he had been a body builder competitor) and courageous warrior.  Matsuda "arranged" Woodie's assignment to the LRRPs through MAJ Blesse. Like Matsuda and the other hand picked officers, Woodie led by example and was eager to get in the jungle and start patrolling. Woodie’s sense of humor fit in nicely with the LRRPs who never minded pulling the legs of non-rangers. One time a soldier asked Woodie why his survival mirror had a hole in the center of it. (The mirrors were carried by all patrol members and the opening was to help aim the mirror at an aircraft.) With a straight face Woodie said to the soldier, “That’s so if I am shaving while in the field, I can look through the mirror to make sure no Viet Cong are sneaking up on me.”

As Matsuda’s officers began putting plans into effect to build the unit into a company, the new commander left Bearcat for an orientation tour to observe how other units were utilizing their long range patrol assets. His visits would take him to the 173rd Airborne Brigade, 4th Infantry Division, 1st Cavalry Division, 101st Airborne Division, 196th Light Infantry Brigade, and the Recon Battalion of the Fleet Marine Division. In addition, Matsuda stopped in at the MACV Recondo School where he obtained lesson plans and operating procedures that would become useful when his unit developed its own recondo training program.

Returning to Bearcat with a better understanding of the organization and direction he wanted for his unit, Matsuda summarized the observations during his visits as follows: 1. The support of the LRRPs varied according to the confidence that senior leadership had in the unit, and, 2. LRRPs must believe they belong to an elite unit made up of tough fighters. The warrior spirit had to be part of the temperament for those selected to perform commando operations in Vietnam.

To help instill the “warrior spirit,” one of the first requirements the new commander implemented was that patrol members would be fully camouflaged before going out on a mission. This meant applying green and black “grease paint” to all areas of exposed skin to include ears and the backs of the hands. Prior to Matsuda assuming command, patrol members would smear a little camouflage on their faces, but it was applied in a haphazard manner with thought that darkness would engulf the patrol after they were inserted and that the paint would quickly wash off in the rain and humidity. Matsuda, however, likened the application of camouflage before a mission to American Indians applying war paint to their bodies before going into battle. The process of darkening their skin by using camouflage sticks served notice that the patrol members were preparing to be sent into hostile territory. In a previous assignment as a recon platoon leader, Matsuda noticed that the soldiers who put on the most camouflage always seemed to perform better. The LRRP commander wanted his soldiers to have every possible advantage over the enemy.

Matsuda made a point of taking an active role in his new company.  Soon after taking command, he selected a team already scheduled for a patrol, and joined as an observer.  The team consisted of a relatively new Team Leader, Sergeant Jimmy Bedgood, and Assistant Team Leader, Sergeant Kenneth McCarn.  The three observers were Specialists Four Jerry Wilson and Hilan Jones, with Private First Class Bruce Church filling out the team.  Matsuda's role was to observe, hopping to get a feel for what type of "animal" he had been charged with shaping up.

There was nothing special about this particular patrol, just the average Lurp on a normal reconnaissance mission, searching for enemy locations or activity.  As the team prepared for the mission, Bedgood made the over flight and selected the Landing Zone.  Once this was accomplished he returned to Bearcat for the remainder of the team.  There was plenty of excitement among the patrol members as it wasn't an everyday thing to have an officer, especially the company commander, on patrol with them.  Each man wanted to do his very best to impress the captain, not yet knowing that this mission would call for exceptional effort to just get out alive.

The insertion and first night out was uneventful.  Things were going well as each man wanted to show his stuff for the commander.  Camouflage sticks were used and the guys moved with extra care to demonstrate for the captain they knew how it was done.  The second day out began as the first had ended, uneventful.  They had moved a thousand meters or so, without incident, when one of the men saw sign of fresh digging off to the right.  Bedgood moved his team closer to inspect the area and attempt to identify what, if any, enemy activity was going on.

They found a large circular hole about ten feet in diameter, dug straight down approximately fifty feet.  Straddling the hole was a pole six to eight inches in diameter supported on two similar poles, about five-foot tall, secured firmly in the ground on either side of the hole.  Indications were that this apparatus was being used to hoist the fresh diggings from the hole.  The team moved back away from the digging and took a position where they could observe the hole without being detected.  When the scheduled air relay passed overhead Bedgood reported the findings and requested support to provide security and investigate the hole.  The team waited for any special instructions.  No support was immediately available and the nearest LZ was a few thousand meters away.  It was decided that they would mark their location and observe the area the remainder of the afternoon and through the night.

To get an exact location of the hole, Bedgood requested a "fix".  This was a procedure used to determine a patrols location by flying over their position on the ground.  Guided by the TL or radio operator, the pilot of the approaching aircraft is given direction using the clock method (i.e. fly 2 o'clock) until he passes directly overhead.  At that time, the radio operator would announce touchdown.  The pilot would then fly in from a different direction and the procedure was repeated.  The pilot then had an X on his map marking the location on the ground and providing the co ordinance of the requested "fix". The team learned that they were 6000 meters north of where they thought they were.  Bedgood had put down in the wrong LZ.  It was fortunate they called for the "fix" because knowing their precise location would become very important the following day.

The patrol spent the night alternating who would sleep and who would watch.  They anticipated enemy soldiers or workers to come and continue the digging.  This did not happen and the patrol moved out early the next morning.  Having traveled a very short distance, they came upon a well-used trail with more fresh digging on either side.  Under construction was what appeared to be fighting holes or bunkers?  There was an eerie feeling among the patrol members as if "Charlie" wasn't too far away.

Bedgood took Jones and proceeded to move down the trail to their right.  The remainder of the guys stayed in place providing rear security.  The two hadn't gotten more than a few meters down the trail when they heard voices.  It was unmistakably "Charlie" but he wasn't visible through the thick underbrush.  Without a word, Bedgood layed down in the middle of the trail and opened up on full automatic in the direction of the voices.  Calling for Jones to follow him, he turned and headed back at a double time to join the others.  Before following, Jones emptied his magazine and tossed a couple of grenades up the trail hoping to discourage the VC from following.  It didn't work and the patrol could hear movement and talking as the enemy made their way towards them.

The Lrrps went into their immediate action drill in an attempt to separate themselves from the enemy pursuit.  Each of the six Lrrps fired a full magazine on automatic and the last man tossed another grenade as they ran away from the contact area. Having ran for over 600 meters they came to a small mound of dirt where the team leader decided to stop and listen for anyone that might be following.  All was quiet as the Lrrps regrouped and caught their breath.  They set up in a small circle with McCarn and Matsuda watching the rear, Bedgood and Church to either side, with Jones and Wilson looking in the direction of their travel. It appeared that no one was following so Wilson and Jones decided to have a smoke before they moved on.

Before they had a chance to light their smokes McCarn opened fire on full automatic.  He and Matsuda saw two or three VC picking their way carefully through the jungle looking for sign of the fleeing Lrrps.  As the enemy fell, the team was up and running again, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the ene