The Bonding of Warriors
A Unit History
The Early Years (1966-1967)
Ch 12
by Winslow "Rick" Stetson
I do not know what time it was when I was awaken to the sound of oxen pulling carts and the voices of the Vietnamese as they moved so slowly down the trail that we had crossed a few hours before. The grunts of the oxen told me the carts were loaded with something that the VC would be using against us in the future. We had landed right next to a section of the Ho Chi Min trail. I silently prayed that they would just keep going and that my feet were in the bamboo thicket. A one point the convoy took a break and stopped to rest for a few minutes. The oxen train had seem to be endless as it moved along with noise, but when they stopped the silence was deafening. At that moment one of the team members snored and before my hand could get to his mouth and nose several other hands were already there. The Vietnamese had heard the snore as excited voices sent one individual looking for the source. I did not even have my M-16 in my hands and moved quickly and silently to lay my hand on the handgrip and trigger while the VC decided to try to check out our bamboo thicket. He stopped right at my feet and was trying to see what had made that noise. I prayed that no one would make a sound and that this VC would find nothing of interest and head back to his convoy. He stood there for what seemed to be hours as we fought every instinct to open fire, knowing that our orders were not to fire unless fired upon. Also knowing how dangerous a night extraction would be and we would not know what we were facing in enemy strength. I tried to silence my breathing as to not give him any reason to hang around. I could make out his outline and I saw an AK at port arms. After a bit he spoke to his comrades and headed back to the convoy. I could hear them speaking before the convoy started up again, probably thought it was a wild pig or some other animal. He never knew how close he came to dying that night and I was relieved that I did not have to take a life that night. As the convoy was moving again with all its squeaks and groans and creaking of wood Wallace moved his mouth to my ear and whispered: ' If he comes back again put one round through his head and we head back to the LZ.' I just did not have the heart to tell him that if he did come back again I would open up with all I had and hopefully make them think they had hit something larger that just 5 ordinary guys.
Needless to say we did not get any sleep the rest of that night as we listened to the ox cart convoy make its way down the train. It seemed like hours before all movement stopped for good as the last ox cart went past. We had remained undetected and observed and listened to report what we had back to Division the next day.
Christmas day started like any other day in the jungles of Viet Nam'Hot and humid. While the T/L radioed the previous nights finding I decided to see as much of the trail as I could from where I was. The trail had some wagon wheel ruts that it did not have the day before and you could see footprints right at the edge of our thicket. If the VC had taken one more step he would have stepped on me. Close! The T/L told every one that we were moving further from the trail as they wanted us to observe a trail along side a Trace. A Trace was a wide path plowed through the Jungles by large Roman plows that, it was hoped, would stop movement of supplies by the enemy. This was obviously someone's idea that had never set foot on the ground. It was far from nice and neat as it had looked from the air. Trees were down every which way and movement in the trace was very difficult for anyone. You had to climb over and under all sorts of mangled jungle vegetation that was laying all sorts of different ways. The VC had simply moved their trails to another sector of the jungle and went about business as usual.
So on Christmas day, with whispered 'Merry Christmas' to all and from all we headed toward a new location. Actually it wasn't all that far (less than 100 meters) and located between the Trace and the trail. A very small area to set up in. Somehow I ended up looking out on the trace, a ringside seat. There were some small trees amongst us and I had two fallen trees in between the trace and me. They were about about 18 inches in diameter and offered some cover from being spotted by anyone on the Trace. We ate some LRRP rations and observed the trace and the trail all day and into the night. We heard no more traffic on the trail and it was all quiet that night and the next night also.
In the early hours just before dawn on the 27th I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched. As dawn broke I had a visitor. It was an Ocelot at my feet standing on the log with its front feet and watching me. I had barely cracked an eye to see it and did not want to scare it away. I watched for as long as I could, about 5 minutes and then I moved. It literally disappeared as it moved so fast. I kind of felt it was looking for a meal and was sizing me up. Very strange occurrence and not the last one I would have with the snakes and animals of the jungles of Viet Nam.
The days went slow and the nights slower as we stayed in that one place much longer than we ever had before. I knew this was not good and against everything we knew about patrolling, but our job was to stay in place. The confirmation that we had stayed too long came on the 29th as I heard scratching on my poncho. When I lifted the poncho I had all sorts of nasty little things with pinchers trying to get to me. I think they were termites of some type but they sure could bite. I decided to soak the area with Bug Juice and that got rid of them. The only problem was the smell given off of the repellent was foreign to the jungle and readily recognized by friend and foe alike. The poncho back in place seemed to kill most of the smell. At least those damn bugs no longer attacked me. We thought we were being pulled out on the 29th (5th day). Imagine our surprise that we were to stay in place for another day. We had taken along rations and water for 5 days and were very low on both. In our AO there were no streams to refill from so we stretched what we had. On the 30th we again were told that we had to stay in place and this was not good in that the trail became active again along with the far side of the Trace. Not good. The morning of the 31st we were told again to stay in place. This time I got on the radio and told HQ that would no need to pull us out, but to send out the body bags with the graves registration team. We had over stayed our time and our luck was running out. We had no food or water at this point and really running on pure luck. We were told to expect a pick up around noon that day. It was around 1pm when we were advised to prepare for extraction. We waited on the edge of the trace and as soon as the bird was on its final descent headed toward it through all the entangled brush and fallen trees. The pilot had landed some distance from us and we had to hustle through that mess to get to the bird. It was not one of our regular pilots and this guy was a real ass-hole. We made it and were extracted with no incident. After we arrived at the company area we were debriefed. After a hot shower and a few brews we sat around drinking as 1968 came around. The base camp opened up with tracers, etc. when the midnight hour arrived. What a holiday season that was.