NIGHT OF THE DRAGON

Contact

It was February 1969,and 1st Platoon Bravo Co working out of Rach Kien, home of the 5/60th Infantry. We had been there 2 or 3 weeks, and the hunting was good. We were in an area of major VC traffic. The VC had attacked our base camp of Binh Phuoc on Feb 15th, killing Ed Barry, a 1st Platoon legend just days short of going home, and we were looking to avenge his loss. We had ambushed several groups already, taking out part of a Regimental Command group and capturing several 107MM rockets on 2 successive nights . This was the first sustained contact of my tour; the previous 5 months were spent doing endless patrols with sporadic contacts of limited success. Here we were having 3-4 contacts per week. It felt good to finally have found the enemy,all the frustrations were finally being released.

But it came at a price. If no contact was made, you might get 5-6 hours of sleep a night. If contact was made, you had to fight, then sweep the area, then move away and reset in another location. If you were lucky, on those nights you got 2 hours of sleep; many did not get that due to the adrenalin surge from combat. There was no break during the day, Medcaps, sweeps, convoy escorts all still had to be done. By late February, exhaustion was setting in like it never had before. (Days after this story, I spent 2 days in the 5/60th Aid Station packed in ice with a 104+ degree fever of unknown origin--but I knew, nerves and exhaustion had finally gotten me, sorry guys).

Night Ambush

On this night, we moved after dark into position along a rice paddy dike, in an area near our previous successful ambushes. We set up in our usual L-shaped ambush; I was on the extreme right end of the long side of the L. Normally our M-60 would be the end position, to give the gunner more flexibility in firing in a greater arc if needed, and I frequently took the next slot in, my reason being that if we did make contact, the 60 gunner would use the 160 rounds of ammo I carried first, so I'd be free of its weight until resupply occurred . All the 60 gunners knew this, and would leave me a slot. This night I was beat, so when we reached the spot desired, I hastily dropped my gear, and went to put out my claymore mine. As I came in trailing its detonating wire, I found the 60 gunner was already set up inside my gear, making me the end man on line. I did not like the feeling, but he was already settled, so I just said to hell with it and settled in the end spot. I was asleep in seconds.

The Dragon

I began to hear noise, but in my exhausted state, I could not identify it. I struggled to gain some sense of what I was hearing; it sounded like thunder. My poncho liner was pulled over my head to ward off mosquitoes, but as the thunder got louder, I could see the occasional light through it, and I heard the sound of heavy raindrops hitting the ground. ŒDamn rain1, I thought, but no, I wasn't getting wet, or feeling the drops hitting me, so it wasn't rain. Then what? Still in a semi-awake state, I pulled back the poncho liner from my face to get a better view. There, not a foot above my head, was a tongue of flame, dancing right above me!! ŒDamn, they really do have fire breathing dragons in Vietnam!!1 I thought. Terror hit me, as I realized it was not thunder, but the roar and breath of a monster coming to cook and eat me.

I pulled the poncho liner back over my face and prepared to be parbroiled. But then a sense of calm came over me; I knew I could not defend myself against such a creature, but with my dying breath, I would look this fearsome creature in the face, and see something few men had ever seen. I rolled onto my back, pulled back the poncho liner, and looked directly up into.....

the muzzle of a M-60 machine gun going full blast, the flame coming out the barrel and passing about 2 feet down the length of my body. This made sense, the thunder was the weapon firing, what I thought was raindrops had been empty shell casings hitting the ground. I rolled to my right, rolling in a slight arc till I reached the paddy dike, and for the first and only time in my life, did a flying pushup throwing myself over the dike. I looked to my left to see the entire platoon was firing at an as-yet-unseen-by-me enemy. They had come in from behind us, had been spotted, and the platoon had jumped the dike for cover, but no one had woken me!!

Under Attack

I looked at the 60 gunner, he had not missed a beat, but was now looking directly at ME with a look that could only say ŒWHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM?1 I started to reach over the dike for my M-16 and medical supplies when the gunner yelled ŒDoc, get that damn thing out of there1. I looked, and there directly in front of his gun, was my poncho liner, the muzzle blast of his weapon sending bullets through it, the total effect causing the poncho liner to dance in front of him like a handkerchief string puppet, blocking his view down range. At that point, he ran out of ammo; as he reloaded the next belt, I jumped the dike, grabbed the poncho liner and dove back again, just as he cut loose again. I grabbed my M-16, but could see no targets, and thus did not fire. (This was the only ambush I was involved in that I did not fire a round). The fight was over as quickly as it started; we swept the area quickly, found nothing, and moved. In the morning, I asked the gunner why he hadn't alerted me when the enemy came, he said since I wasn't on his left like usual, he thought I had moved down the line. He never thought to look right, as he was supposed to be the last guy in line. What could I say, he was right!

Devise! Invent!

We counted the holes in my poncho liner, there were 67 holes in it, it was shot to say the least (pun intended). Next trip into Rach Kien, I went to their supply, only to be told they would not issue me a new one as I was not 5/60th. I used a wool blanket for the next few nights till we returned to Binh Phuoc. There, Bravo Co Supply sent me to Delta Co Supply, where the clerk refused to issue me a new one, saying I had to turn in the old one, which I had discarded. I was angry as I walked away, but the immortal words of Sgt Sommer came to mind: Think! Devise, Invent, Get the Job Done! So I thought, devised a plan, and got the job done. When the Delta Co. Supply clerk went to lunch, I broke into his hootch and stole the two poncho liners off his bunk!