Preface
Forgive me for not being sure of the time or names of the guys involved. I believe it was very late January, but it could have been late February or early March. Memory says Lt Tom Wright was the platoon leader, but again I'm not sure. I know it was near the end of my time with 1st Platoon. I think I know who the fellows were in this story, but choose not to name them, more because I could be wrong after 30 years, not because of what happened. If you know who the five were or when it was, please let me know.

Best of the Best

It has been said that Bravo Co 2/47th (Mech) 9th Infantry Division was a uniquely close and tight unit. Senior NCO's quoted its style and character to new troops for years after the Vietnam War ended. I personally believe that 1st Platoon Bravo Co was the best of that company. During my 6 months with those men, I never saw a tighter, more reliable group of fighting men anywhere. Once I got to know the men, I never felt more at home or comfortable as I did in their company. I always felt secure in their company, I knew I could count on them, and hoped they knew they could count on me. No matter what the mission, what the situation, what the danger, the one word that comes to mind when I think of how I felt around those guys was "safe". They always watched out for me, always covered me, always protected me, always were there for me, Always...............WEELLLLL,...except... there was that one time......

Medcaps

It was early 1969 and I was the medic for 1st Platoon Bravo Co 2/47th (Mech) 9th Infantry Division. We were working the area around our base camp of Binh Phuoc. On this day we were given the mission of entering a local village known to us as VC village to do a coordinated sweep and intelligence gathering effort with the White Mice(South Vietnamese Military Police) and other South Vietnamese intelligence units. My part in this was to do a Medcap (Medical Civilian Aid Program) for the villagers as we rounded them up to be questioned. In getting ready for this mission, the LT came to me and told me it had come down from higher up that I had to be unarmed during the Medcap. I instantly protested, VC village wasn't called that for nothing, many of the casualties I had seen were directly connected to that village. I normally carried an M-16, but had agreed to wearing only a .45 on Medcaps, even though I was more a menace to myself and my platoon with that .45 than I would ever be to the enemy.[see The True Story of the .45] I was told I not only couldn't carry my .45, but could not even carry my jungle knife,which was used to cut away clothes and open C-ration cans. I seriously considered refusing to go out unarmed, as I believed was my right, but instead asked if I could still carry my boot scissors (large blunt nosed shears used to cut boots, belts and webgear off of wounded people). I was told yes, but I had to keep them in a pocket, out of sight. I told the Lt this was bullshit, he said he understood my feelings, but he had orders. He said he would tell one squad to keep a eye on me at all times. Still ever uneasy, I named the guys I wanted and we went to get it done.

In the ville

The sweep went well, I Medcapped the villagers with no real problems, I saw at least 200 people and treated aches, pains, fevers, bad teeth, and minor infections, with the minimal amount of medications allowed each patient. Through a interpreter, several were referred to the hospital in Tan An for more serious ailments. It was around 2 pm, and things were quieting down, only a few people coming back for attempts at seconds on the meds. I noticed the Lt was talking to a group of White Mice and other Non 2/47th people. Since I was essentially done, I began to look around. We drove through this village frequently, but never before had I been stopped in the village itself. I was checking out the layout when I noticed a young Vietnamese woman come around the end of a hootch and walk straight towards me. She looked to be about 23 years old, and I immediately noticed that her skin color and general appearance did not match the other people in the village. She was more poised, straighter at the shoulders, and prettier than the average farmer1s daughter in the area, that is to say she appeared to have lived a easier life than farm girls in the Delta. She walked up to me and asked "Boxie?" General translation is "Doctor?"

Knowing there was little good to be had in explaining the difference, I shook my head yes. In much too good English, she excitedly told me she had come to this village to take care of her sickly grandmother, and that her grandmother had taken a turn for the worse the night before. She was too ill to come to the village square, could I come to their hootch to look at her? Jumping to conclusions, I thought this explained her appearance and ability to speak English. She must have come from a large town like Saigon, where she was either a teacher or worked for the Americans in some manner. That would explain much that I had noticed. I looked around,nothing much was happening, so I yelled to the Lt I had a patient in the village, and I was taking the squad with me. I do not know if he heard me, but I saw the guys getting up to move, so I told the girl to lead the way,and called for the interpreter to come with me. As we moved out, I heard a commotion behind us, I turned to see several angry villagers approaching the Lt's group, he turned and called for the interpreter. Oh well, We'll make do with her English and sign language, I thought, and picked up speed to catch this young woman.

We rounded one corner, and as we went deeper into the village, I heard another commotion behind me. An old Ho Chi Minh lookalike was yelling at my guys, they stopped to deal with him, two of the guys looked at me and hesitated. The girl kept moving away, I had to choose between staying with my guys or her. I watched her stop at a corner and wave at me frantically to follow her. I yelled to the guys to follow as soon as possible, and went after the woman. As we kept moving, I realized we were heading towards the back end of the village. I knew that the village thinned out to a few abandoned hootches at this end, and I knew beyond that we had had losses every time we operated in that area, the worst being the loss of 7 men on 10/04/68 to a large VC/NVA force. As we entered this area, I saw that all the hootches were abandoned and in disrepair, with holes in the thatched roofs and walls. Nobody lived here regularly, where the hell was she taking me?

I stopped, she came back and told me her Grandmother was just the other side of a ditch I could see up ahead. I knew the area well enough to know we could have gotten there easier by walking through the village on the road, and coming down the correct side of this ditch. She had walked us the long way,and now I had to get over this ditch. I looked behind me, no sign of the guys. I looked at her, she very excitedly pleaded with me to come and help her grandmother. I told her I couldn't cross the ditch, she told me there was a log bridge behind the hootch up ahead.

To the hootch

She began walking towards the hootch, I reluctantly followed, feeling very naked, and cursing the idiot who insisted I be unarmed, and myself for allowing it to happen. As we approached the hootch, I could see a hole had been cut through the back wall, and just beyond was a downed coconut palm tree, about 8 inches in diameter which crossed the ditch. The ground was heavily packed, indicating this short cut had been there for some time. She passed quickly through the hootch and with a hop and two skips, she crossed that log bridge as only a person who had done it from childhood could. I had nearly emasculated myself on such log bridges before, and as I entered the hootch I hesitated to look it over. It was a cloudy day, very little sunshine. I looked up at the girl, her eyes were narrowed and on fire, she had a half smile-half smirk on her face, the total appearance brought one word instantly to my mind. "EVIL!!!" She called to me "Hurry Boxie" turned and started down the bank of the ditch at a trot. In two steps she was gone.

I was about to go through the hootch when a slice of sunlight broke through, lighting up the backside of the hootch. In a instant, I saw a shadow move across the doorway from the right, and I saw a movement through the thatching on the left. I didn't hesitate, I put it in reverse, backed out of that hootch and back to the last corner we had turned. I then broke into a fast trot and retraced our steps until I ran into my guys who were looking very hard to find me. I quickly explained what I thought had happened, they were skeptical but we went back to the hootch to take a look. Two guys went around each side of the hootch, when they gave the all-clear, the 5th guy and I went through the hootch. At first he thought I had come to the wrong place,but then we saw footprints on the far bank, one set, going where I had described. As we stood there, I looked down. There, on both sides of the hole in the rear wall, were several fresh cigarette butts, one still smoking. One side was American, Marlboro I think, the other was a popular Vietnamese brand. Obviously two or more people had been waiting there. We quickly retraced our steps back to the rest of the platoon.

That was the last time I went anywhere without at least my .45, preferably my trusty M-16.

Ambush?

Was I correct? Had this been a attempt to capture or kill me or any other unsuspecting American? Had the disturbances been a part of a plan to reduce the protection I had? We had been in the village for hours, an astute military mind could have easily detected which men were watching me, and devise a scheme to interfere with their movements. While I might never know for sure, I was told later, after I had been reassigned to the Aid station, that intelligence had heard that there was a price on my head in Long An province, and in the area around Rach Kien. It was said that our Medcaps had been considered too effective by the local VC infrastructure, and they had decided to take steps to rid themselves of this problematic medic. It was also said to me that 1st Platoon had been requested by ARVN District for that mission, and that it was their request that the Medic be unarmed, to avoid insulting our Vietnamese "friends". This was the same District headquarters where the U.S Advisor, an African American Major, was shot 5 times by the trusted ARVN personal aid he had worked with for many months. The Major told me this as I helped change his bandages, he had survived his assassination attempt, too. There is no way I can believe the VC had determined I was such a threat to their security, but then again, the girl had come looking for the "Boxie".