199th LIB |
(A Book Excerpt from Military Life – Service or Career: A Soldier's Perspective, by John McClarren)
The subject at hand is the subordinate-superior relationship,
and I cannot help but use a personal example, because it illustrates perfectly what
we’re dealing with.
This one begins with an operation initiated by all the
activities going on during the Tet ‘68 offensive in South Vietnam with my unit
operating in the surrounding areas of Saigon. It is a situation that could occur
anywhere at any time, not at all unique to the war in Vietnam.
The mission of my unit, the 199th Light Infantry Brigade
(LIB), included guarding the southern approaches to Saigon. My platoon was
given an extremely simple and routine mission to patrol and check out activities
in the southern outskirts of the city. We
were only to observe what was going on and report what we saw. In that respect,
it was more of a reconnaissance mission.
We began our patrol at the southern part of a road leading
north into the city. We were to proceed north for a kilometer or so, turn right
at a major intersection, continue for approximately another thousand meters and
make another right, heading south, and then return to our base of
operations. It all sounds pretty simple, right?
I always remember the old Jell-O commercial on
television, which ended with, “All that wiggles is not Jell-O.” What a
wonderful analogy, the concept of which certainly never occurred to me as a dumb
kid. However, later in life, as a less dumb adult, I have been
able to apply that concept to a tremendous number of situations, where things
do not turn out how you imagined them to be.
We headed north from our starting point and found that
all along the left flank of our designated route, everything seemed quite normal, in that there were normal
activities among the people; motor vehicles, mopeds, bicycles and pedestrians all seemed to be moving
along and milling about with absolutely nothing interfering with what one might
expect on a typical day in Saigon.
We reached the intersection where we were to turn right
and head east on the north leg of our route and noticed exactly the same things going on along that segment
of the route; nothing out of the ordinary. We were not doing house-to-house
searches; we were merely observing all activities along the route, looking for
anything that might seem unusual for that area.
We came to the last intersection, where we were to head
back south and return to our base camp. After a short distance, it occurred to
us that the situation had changed rather remarkably and abruptly. Activity in
this area was not only abnormal, but had ceased entirely. All traffic
disappeared; no vehicles, no people. There was nothing but an eerie silence.
At this point, I instructed all of my squads to proceed much
more slowly and cautiously, looking carefully into every house and building
along the way. As we proceeded down the street, we noticed a canal on our left
flank.
A hundred meters or so to the south, on the far side of
the canal, was a Vietnamese P.F. (Popular Forces) camp. The Popular Forces were
similar to our state National Guard forces; citizen soldiers.
As we continued further, we noticed ahead of us, a barricade across the road. It was composed of a variety of junk, stacked high
and wrapped with barbed wire. We
proceeded down the road, closer to the barricade.
The PF soldiers, observing our approach, began to call out
to us in broken English from across the canal, “No further, G.I.; beaucoup
(always pronounced by the Vietnamese, and American troops bookoo) VC”. They were
giving us warnings that could not have been misunderstood.
It was very clear to
me that there was a whole bunch of bad guys to my front. I had a few options at
my disposal, but, silly as it may seem now, I opted for doing things the
“right” way.
I brought my company commander up on the radio and
requested permission to recon by fire. That merely meant that I wanted to open
up with small arms fire, and see what I might receive in return, thereby
identifying enemy targets and taking the offensive at that point.
What was the response to my request? “Negative!”
I immediately came back with, “Say again, over.”
“Negative on that request. There may be innocent civilians
in the area,” he responded.
I was dumbfounded. I came back with, “Six (Six being the
commander’s designation or call sign), let me make myself perfectly clear. I have friendlies to my left
who have told me very clearly that there are Victor Charlies to my front on the
other side of the barrier.” (Victor Charlie was the name we always used for Viet
Cong or VC).
I continued with my request. “Now, once again, request
permission to recon by fire! Over.”
“Three-six, this is six. I say again, Lieutenant, (a very
significant breach in communications security) permission denied! Consider this
a direct order. Proceed forward until you make contact. Do you roger that?”
“Affirmative, six, but a couple more requests: Have med-evac
on-call, as we will take casualties. Also, request that you, too, be on-call, as
I am quite sure we will need assistance. Over.”
“Roger that. Will be ready to assist. Out.”
Well, there I was with a “Direct Order” for what I considered
a potential suicide mission from a company commander for whom I had little or no respect (and we were
both of the same rank, first lieutenants, he ranking me by about three months).
I then initiated “my plan".
As soon as I had my first three people across the
barrier, all hell broke loose with small arms and automatic weapons fire,
grenades and RPGs (rocket-propelled grenades). All three men who had maneuvered
across the barrier were wounded and needed immediate extraction and medical evacuation.
That, however, did not happen immediately. We were all pinned
down with little to no ability to move without being cut to pieces. Somehow, in the midst of all that chaos, we
managed to get the wounded to safety and eventually evacuated.
While all this was going on, I was able to return to my company
commander by radio, to inform him of the situation. He assured me that he was
on his way with the remainder of the company. I waited for a painfully long time
while the situation worsened and became critical.
Although some specific details are hazy, somewhere amid
all the confusion, during this rather hellacious firefight, an RPG round quickly caught my eye a second before
it exploded only three to four feet from me, sending me ten or fifteen feet
through the air.
After recovering myself, taking an inventory of all my
arms, legs, fingers, and other body parts, I discovered that I miraculously did
not have a drop of blood flowing from my body. I was amazed at being unscathed
by that one, and continued the mission.
I thanked the Lord for having my guardian angel looking
after me once again, as well as those men who were in close proximity to me. It
seems like it must have taken a whole legion of guardian angels to look after
me while I was over there.
I was prone to being in the wrong places at the
wrong times. It tended to happen quite regularly. At the same time, I have to remind myself that I was the
platoon leader, and, as such was, as my old
OCS instructors used to tell us (students), a prime target for enemy
fire.
While all this was going on, and I still had neither seen
nor heard from my company commander, I was finally able to bring him back up on
the “horn” to find out where he was. Of
course, he was pinned down, having run into the main force of the VC element.
In actuality, these bad boys were no longer Viet Cong,
who were mainly local guerillas, sympathetic to the North Vietnamese cause;
they were NVA regulars. My rescuers had been ambushed and were now immobile!
Needless to say, (but, of course, I’ll say it anyway), I
had mixed emotions on that one. The end result was that a tank company came to
our rescue and leveled that part of the town with their main guns and
50-caliber machine guns. I am not at all certain of it, but we may well have
lost a few “innocent” civilians during that little skirmish.
I learned later that five or six additional infantry
battalions, along with the tank company, came to join in the “fun” that day.
All of that, and I was not initially allowed to recon by fire. What more can I
say?
Hey, apparently, it was another victory for our side; so, who should complain? I still do, however, because some of my guys were hurt, and I always hated that part worse than anything else.
Anyway, so much for the relationship between my commander and me. We did not see eye to eye, but I was forced to take his orders, whether I liked it or not. That is the name of the game.
John McClarren - US Army (Retired) |
About the Author
John McClarren was born at the end of World War II in San Diego, California.
He is currently living in northern Michigan and retired from everything except writing and substitute teaching. His wife, Debbie, is an active special education teacher.
John McClarren was born at the end of World War II in San Diego, California.
He is currently living in northern Michigan and retired from everything except writing and substitute teaching. His wife, Debbie, is an active special education teacher.
John and Debbie raised three boys, two of whom have been on active duty with the US Army and one is a geologist.
John's Website
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Also see John's Other Post:
Military Life - Service or Career
His book is currently available in print and e-book formats.
Published: Createspace Publishing
Paperback and Kindle
224 PagesJohn also has a memoir coming out shortly, titled Taking Risks, Defining Life
Besides the first two books, John is working on a humor book that most likely will be titled, Hey, it Wasn't My Fault, and he is also working on a novel.
“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale
Feel free to comment on this post. You are also invited to write about anything you feel comfortable sharing. Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog. You are writing America's history, sharing the truth about the Vietnam veteran, and what it was like in Our War.
Great post, John. I was planning a military career after college in 1971, and was in ROTC in college. This desire was very naive and full of misguided information.
ReplyDeleteI encountered many situations in ROTC where military wanna-be's showed lack of character and intelligence.
While I have the utmost respect for our past and present boots on the ground, the political element of the military irritated me and I can honestly (and sadly) say that none of the officer candidates I knew were people I would want to go into combat with.
Had I been drafted, I would have proudly served my country, but did ROTC inspire me to enlist? No.
John,
ReplyDeleteYou were at the right place at the right time. You are a Hero! God protected all of you! Thank you for your service and your sacrifice!
Pam