Copyright © 2006. Gamble Dick. All rights reserved.
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Continued from  If I Should Die Before I Wake...

A Day Like No Other...

"Contemplate the mangled bodies of your countrymen, and then say, 'What should be the reward of such sacrifices? 'Bid us and our posterity bow the knee, supplicate the friendship, and plough, and sow, and reap..."

-- Samuel Adams

Hill 891 (YC016919) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 0630 hours / November 9, 1967... 2230 hours Zulu

The clouds are moving in quickly and the ceiling is lowering. Not only will we be stuck here, but we also won't be getting any air support or resupply for a while due to the worsening weather. A light drizzle starts just after the group going in search of the Jolly Green 26 crash site disappears into the tree line a hundred meters or so to our southwest.

Those of us manning the hilltop consolidate our perimeter and put out Observation Posts to our east and west. The mountaintop to our south is now shrouded in clouds. The drizzle softens the clay soil somewhat and we are able to dig a little deeper. Unfortunately water also collects in the bottom of the holes and will make the coming night just a little more miserable…if we are still here. Our situation could only be worse if we were under attack. I keep wondering why we aren't. What are they waiting for; they have all the advantages and we are so vulnerable right now? Our force is split, the weather is bad, and they out-number us by thousands.

In my opinion there may be several factors working in our favor:

Our force is larger than the usual rescue force and the NVA are not prepared to deal with us. They are set up around the crash site prepared to shoot down more rescue helicopters and supporting aircraft or to ambush a small rescue team. Our large insertion has caught them unaware and unprepared.

Just as the weather and terrain are making things difficult for us, it slows down the enemy as well. It may take the NVA several days to bring in, and position, a force large enough to take us out in a quick, decisive engagement. They want to avoid a protracted battle because, if the weather clears and we regain our air support, the cost to them might be more than they are willing to bear. However, if the weather stays bad for several days, it will negate our air power advantage and improve the odds of their success.

Finally, and probably most important, the enemy troops in the area seem to be on a mission and cannot afford the time or resources to deal with us. They are listening to our radio transmissions and know that our mission is to rescue and recover. They correctly guess that we will try to avoid enemy contact. They are satisfied with containing us and continuing their mission. They will take what they can get without suffering too many losses. If we make a serious mistake, they will exploit it.

U.S. Intelligence will later learn that the North Vietnamese are moving major NVA units, including the 325C, 304 and 320 NVA Divisions plus a regiment of the 324 Division, through Laos into South Vietnam in November 1967.

"Flat Foot", and later "Bull Dog" landed near the transportation corridor that the NVA designated Route B45. Rt. B45 was an east-west connector route between the main north-south corridor of the Ho Chi Minh Trail and the upper reaches of the A Shau-A Luoi Valley. Rt. B45 was the main corridor for supplying men and material to Communist B4 Front Headquarters (also known as Military Region Tri-Thien-Hue), which was located in the upper reaches of the A Shau-A Luoi Valley.

The Communist High Command in Hanoi divided the South into five military fronts (B1, B2, B3, B4, and B5). Headquarters B4 Front commanded NVA regular forces in Thua Thien Province and the portion of Quang Tri Province south of National Highway 9. The Rt. B45 corridor was a very important strategic line of communication and transportation. In early November 1967, the NVA was in the midst of pushing men and material into B4 Front and the Khe Sanh area (in B5 Front) in preparation for the 1968 Tet offensive.

NVA forces along this corridor reacted quickly and forcefully to any threat to this important corridor…and the NVA regarded reconnaissance teams as very serious threats. These factors help explain why “Flat Foot” and the rescue forces encountered such difficulty in the area. "Flat Foot" was the proverbial stick poking the hornet's nest with the usual result.

JG-26 Crash Site (YC016916) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 0745 hours / November 9, 1967... 2345 hours Zulu

The Rescue/Recovery element is at the JG-26 crash site. The previous evening, Covey 51 flew low over the site to help us locate it this morning. His description of JG-26 at that time was, "70 to 80 pounds of molten metal." Almost immediately SFC Bruce Luttrell finds what he believes is the Flight Deck of JG-26. He can make out two bodies, imbedded in the wreckage. Identification can't be positively made in the field, but Dog Tags on the remains indicate that the two are Captain Ralph Brower, the co-pilot of JG-26 and Staff Sergeant Eugene Clay, the Flight Engineer.

While the team Medic, Ron Bock, begins the grisly and painstaking task of removing the remains of two U.S. military men from the wreckage of the big Sikorsky CH-3 Jolly Green Giant helicopter, other members of the team fan out in search of other victims or survivors. Once removed, the remains of the two Air Force men, with the Dog Tags affixed to them, are moved to the center of the small perimeter set up by the team.

The main cabin area of JG-26 is near by. There is another body in this portion of what's left of the helicopter. Ron believes this is the body of Sp4 Joe Kusick because of the radio parts and antenna from the PRC-25 Radio on the body. The body does not have Dog Tags. SOG Teams never wore Dog Tags into Laos. Ron, with the help of Brooke Bell, extricates Joe's remains and adds them to the poncho containing the remains of the two Air Force men in the center of the perimeter.

All this work is being accomplished in misty rain and intermittent showers.

JG-26 Crash Site (YC016916) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 0806 hours / November 10, 1967... 0006 hours Zulu

The ground party at the crash site sees two individuals watching them from the ridgeline. Thinking that they might be survivors, a squad starts toward them. But their actions are suspicious and it is quickly determined that they are enemy soldiers. Perhaps they are trying to lure our troops into an ambush…a typical NVA tactic. The squad returns to the crash site and the two enemy soldiers disappear. It leaves no doubt that there are NVA about and they are monitoring our activities.

SFC Robert Cavanaugh informs Ron that he and Lloyd have found another Air Force crewman's body at the bottom of a ravine in a fairly flat and open area. They have also found Bruce Baxter's body towards the top of the same ravine. Both bodies are downhill from the wreckage. The Covey that relieved Captain Kippenhan the night before, had reported seeing one person, on fire, running down hill from the crashed JG-26. When Captain Gerry Young, the Pilot of JG-26 was fleeing the crashed aircraft, he reported finding a grievously injured American downhill from the wreckage. He could hear NVA approaching. Although partially blinded by the fire that enveloped him in the helicopter, he covered the body with brush to conceal it from the NVA.

Ron and Rick Bayer join MSG Charlie Harper at the body at the top of the ravine. It is 38 meters downhill from the crash site, badly burned and entangled in jungle growth in a narrow ravine cut into a very steep part of the hill below the wreckage of JG-26. The body is lying face up and it is definitely MSG Bruce Baxter. Although all his clothing has burned off, except his white underwear and his white socks, his face is recognizable. Bruce always wore white socks as a preventative measure against foot fungus problems.

Extrication of Bruce Baxter's body will be extremely difficult due to the weather, terrain, and condition of the body. It is decided to lift the remains straight up with a helicopter rather than try to drag them out of the gully and up the hill. Rick Bayer and Ron Bock rig the body for extraction using some rappelling rope. The other remains are brought from the perimeter to the site of MSG Baxter's remains so they can be lifted out also. Lifting them out will be less difficult and less damaging to them than dragging them up the steep, rain-slick hill.

After recovering those remains, the helicopter can hover down to the last body, that of Sergeant Larry Maysey, JG-26's Pararescueman, and land to recover the remains.

There is confusion about how many remains have been recovered, the number of survivors rescued, and the total number of persons for whom we are searching. The Rescue/Recovery element continues to search the area for the next hour with no new contacts.

JG-26 Crash Site (YC016916) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 0910 hours / November 10, 1967... 0110 hours Zulu

We believe that all souls are accounted for and that seems to be the consensus at all levels of command. Although the Air Force has terminated its search and rescue activity, they are keeping helicopters on standby to come for the remains if the weather breaks. The decision has finally been made to stand down because the forecasters say the weather won't break before nightfall. The Rescue/Recovery element begins the climb up the steep, wet hillside to our perimeter at the crown of Hill 891. All remains that were recovered are left in the ravine for helicopter recovery when the weather clears.

Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 1100 hours / November 10, 1967... 0300 hours Zulu

By late morning, the Rescue/Recovery element is rejoined with our perimeter. We all take a break and dine on lo-cal meals of…Nothing…and then set about expanding and refining the perimeter for the coming night defense. It is raining lightly, but steadily, now, so we make sure everyone fills his canteens.

Hill 891 (YC016919) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 1330 hours / November 10, 1967... 0530 hours Zulu

Several "Bodes" are talking excitedly and pointing down the hill. SFC Hamilton is the first American to see them. A platoon of NVA (maybe 30 or more) walking single file from west to east along a trail at the bottom of the hill. He takes the binoculars that were taken from the NVA body the day before and tries to get a better look.

"Look at that! There's a Caucasian leading them. He has a white Pith Helmet and a red beard."

I can see the Pith Helmet with out using the binoculars. We have had several recon teams report seeing a red bearded Caucasian, perhaps a Russian Advisor, wearing a Pith Helmet. I thought he was a myth, but maybe he is real.

Lloyd is checking it out with the binoculars now and agrees that it might be a Caucasian. We're looking at a map. Lloyd is plotting the NVA position on the map. The NVA are at least 1000 meters downhill from us. Gilbert Hamilton is setting the bi-pod of an M-60 Machine Gun on a stump in the middle of our perimeter. Now I look through the binoculars. I tell Gilbert that it is an impossible shot. It's beyond effective maximum range and downhill. He responds in his usual fashion, "Bull shit!"

He opens up with the M-60. I am watching through the binoculars. I'm skeptical but ready to adjust his fire. I am amazed as I see NVA falling; including the guy we think may be the Russian, and dirt kicking up along the column. I am in awe. I look over at Gilbert and he has the M-60 pointing at the sky, launching bullets like the Machine Gun is a Mortar. This guy is Davy Crockett, Alvin York, and Houdini all in one. What shooting…and in the rain to boot!

I look back at the NVA and now some of them are running for the tree line, others are dragging dead and wounded, and some are just staring at the top of the hill. I can only imagine what must be going through the minds of the NVA under attack. Bullets are falling on them from the thick clouds like lead raindrops. It takes them many seconds to identify the source of the incoming Machine Gun rounds. The superstitious nature of their culture causes them to panic.

Actual combat is not like the movies. You don't hear the gun when it is fired at you. You hear the bullet as it passes by (hopefully). It makes a cracking sound caused by the projectile breaking the sound barrier. Then you might hear the sound of the gun firing, depending upon how far away the gun is. It may take several seconds for the sound of the shot to reach you. If there are many bullets being fired in your direction, which is commonly the case in modern combat, you may never hear the guns being fired because their sound will be overridden by the louder sound of the bullets. Often, you can get a sense of direction from the noise on the battlefield and individual firing positions can be located visually by the small puffs of smoke emitted from the gun barrels. Modern automatic weapons fire doesn't sound like movie gunfire either, it sounds more like popcorn popping (unless you are very close to it).

The NVA have disappeared into the tree line.

Gilbert has a little grin on his face. Only one in a thousand marksmen could make this shot. He has definitely extracted some revenge for the men wrapped in a poncho a few hundred yards below us waiting for a ride home that will sadly never come.

I am on the radio to Covey to get a "Sky Spot". There is no way that fighter-bombers can come through the clouds to deliver air-strikes in this weather, but if we relay 8 digit coordinates to the Air Force, they can enter them into their bombing computers. The computers take into account many variables, including average wind-speed and direction, to determine a point in the sky that the aircraft must release its ordinance to hit the coordinates we are giving. Lloyd has the coordinates ready.

Eventually a fighter-bomber will arrive in the area above the clouds, the tops of which are probably 15,000 to 20,000 feet above the ground, and fly an azimuth (compass heading) until he reaches a spot in the sky where two computed radar beams intersect and he will “pickle” (drop) his ordinance. The bombs will fall through 20,000 feet of swirling winds and hopefully detonate some where near the coordinates Lloyd has computed.

It is a time consuming process, so we make the request a "Prairie Fire Emergency" to speed things up. They are powerfully magic words, not to be used indiscriminately. Our request moves up to THE first priority for air support. Within fifteen minutes Covey radios, "Bull Dog, get your heads down. You'll have bombs in thirty seconds!" We comply instantly. Normally "Sky Spots" are not authorized within 2000 meters of friendly personnel…and that's when the wind is much more predictable. However, the magic words "Prairie Fire Emergency" have over-ridden normal policies and the bombs have been released to strike a point about 1200 meters from us. With the winds being so unpredictable, there's a chance the bombs could land on us.

In about twenty seconds we hear a sound like a freight train coming and the bombs come whooshing out of the clouds to land right on the target. There is a huge secondary explosion and a large box-like object trailing smoke and fire comes up from the trees. It travels about 400 meters east before landing and exploding in the jungle.

Faint sounds of the "spooked" and wounded drift up to us from the bombed location. First they were hit by lead rain and now an aircraft has bombed them they neither heard nor saw. They are panicked! And I fear we may have poked the hornet's nest with our stick.

Lloyd's recollection:

"My recall of the sequence of events on that day is foggy at best. I know our main effort was to search the crash site and prepare the remains for extraction (Ron Bock handled most of that load and did a superb job).

"Our other concern was getting the “Bodes” prepared to defend that hill top against an NVA attack that we knew was most likely to come at any time. With the ceiling closed in we didn't have many options.

"Gil Hamilton did engage that NVA column with the M-60 MG, placing accurate/effective fire on them and undoubtedly causing KIA/WIA to the NVA. Great shooting by a fine soldier.

"I recall plotting a 8-digit grid coordinate of the NVA location that was relayed to Covey (probably by you) and I think it was sent as a Prairie Fire request. The fast mover dropped his load dead on the NVA location - great support by the AF."

The bombing results are radioed to Covey and we get back to work on our perimeter. Covey advises he must RTB but will be back before sundown to check on us.

Ron Bock adds one of his recollections:

"... after Ham laid in some rounds with the M-60, there was a lull in all activity, and it began to rain lightly. I took a squad and secured the west side of the perimeter. We moved carefully just into the tree line, not far from where "Ozzie" had stepped on the toe-popper the night before. I heard someone walking towards us from outside the perimeter. I alerted my squad to this with hand signals and we all peered into the woods from where the footsteps could be heard moving through the leaves. I saw what I believed was an enemy soldier and fired my M-16 twice on semi-auto. The person went down, and then my entire squad opened up with full auto. The BAR man was to my left, and his empty shells ejected, hitting me on my left side. Whereupon, it sounded to me like the entire perimeter opened up with full auto, shooting at what I don't know. Just nerves, I guess.

"Pretty soon, Ham came over, and I explained why I shot. Ham started to go into the tree line to check things out, but I cautioned him not to because that was the area where Baxter's team had put out the toe-poppers so he decided stay back."

I share Ron's memories of the brief "mad minute". The Cambodians don't need much excuse to fire their weapons. Fortunately we get them to cease-fire in just a few seconds. We might need all the ammo we can get later. The little firepower demonstration has served to let our enemies know that we pack a punch and that we won't be an easy victory for them.

Hill 891 (YC016919) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 1530 hours / November 10, 1967... 0730 hours Zulu

It's been quiet for a while and we are using the time to strengthen our perimeter. The NCO's and I have been walking around the perimeter checking things out. I left the radio propped against the same stump that SFC Hamilton used to elevate his Machine Gun a few hours ago. I see him there now talking on the radio and start in his direction. As I get closer, I over hear him say, "Fuck you, bitch!"

What now?

"Who are you talking to?"

"Some Russian bitch. She wants us to surrender."

Several days ago, one of the teams had reported hearing Russian being spoken on the radio. There is mounting evidence that the Communist advisors (Russians and Chinese) to the NVA are taking to the field, as the following excerpts from the previous week's weekly report from SOG to CINCPAC (Commander in Chief Pacific Forces) indicate.

PRAIRIE FIRE WEEKLY REPORTS (2 February - 29 Dec 1967)
(The 1967 reports were discovered in Air Force History files at Maxwell AFB No later reports have been discovered. Provided by Steve Sherman and RADIX Press. Transcription by Robert L. Noe.)

PRAIRIE FIRE Weekly Reports prior to 2 Feb 67 NOT FOUND/SGS

PRAIRIE FIRE WEEKLY REPORTS 162
Air Force Historical Agency Declassified 4 Feb 93 SEA Declassification & Review Team
TOP SECRET LIMDIS PRAIRIE FIRE
FROM: COMUSMACV (COURIER)
TO: CINCPAC (COURIER)
INFO: JCS (COURIER)
CINCUSARPAC (COURIER)
CINCPACAF (COURIER)
SOCPAC (COURIER)
TOP SECRET LIMDIS PRAIRIE FIRE JPCCO MACSOG 5625
Subj: PRAIRIE FIRE Weekly Report, 4 - 10 Nov 67 (U)
1. (TS) HIGHLIGHTS:

Excerpted from above described report:

g. Spike Team NORTH CAROLINA landed in the vicinity of DM—4(XD724664) at XD715661 on 3OO918Z Oct 67. During the mission several groups of enemy personnel were heard speaking Chinese and Lao. The ST was extracted from the target area at XD708663 on 010115Z Oct 67. A heavy volume of AW fire was received during the extraction.

2. (TS) SUMMARY OF OPERATIONS:
a. ST IOWA landed in the vicinity of target CHARLIE-6 (YB509302) at YB506289 on 010720Z Nov 67. An estimated squad sized bivouac area was located by the ST. On 4 Nov the team monitored a radio transmission in Russian. On the same day the FAC directed TAC air strikes against personnel and equipment resulting in one secondary fire. The ST was extracted from the target area at YB475313 on 040815Z Nov 67.

As impressed as I am by SFC Hamilton's usual eloquence, I am even more impressed by what he has just said.

"What? Give me that handset." I demand.

"This is Bull Dog six. Who is this, over?"

A female voice speaking excellent, but accented, English responds, "This is Lieutenant Colonel (She gives an obvious Russian name, Ludmillea something or other), Advisor to the People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN-the name used by the NVA)."

I know I should terminate the conversation immediately and switch to an alternate frequency, but I can't. This is just too unreal. I know that the enemy is using direction-finding equipment to try and triangulate the source of my transmissions, but I compelled to listen and respond for a few more seconds.

Ludmilla something or other continues. Something to the effect that, "You are brave men and honorable warriors and there is no need for you to die. If you come to the bottom of the hill and surrender, you will not be harmed and will be treated with respect."

I can't help myself. Taking a page from SFC Hamilton's Book of Radio Procedures, I reply, "Fuck you, bitch. You come up here and surrender to us." And I switch the radio to the alternate frequency and listen for a few moments to make sure the Russian isn't on this frequency as well. It seems clear.

SFC Hamilton says, "See, I told you."

Apparently no one else has overheard us and no record of the Russian transmission exists today. SFC Hamilton died less than three months later of wounds received on January 17, 1968 when we were on another rescue/recovery mission. It is my word against the world regarding this conversation…but it happened.

I stay there with the handset cradled on my shoulder so I won't miss any attempt to contact us. It is obvious to me that something big is going on and that the NVA troops in the area are much better equipped and advised than what we've been used to. Up until today I did not believe that foreign advisors to the NVA ventured out of North Vietnam. Currently there is no one to relay this information to and no way to know if the transmission was monitored by the Army Security Agency (ASA) or any other intelligence gathering unit.

Sometime later we all hear the unmistakable sound of a mortar round leaving the tube somewhere to the west or southwest. We all dive for cover. Ron Bock throws his body over the Cambodian soldier, who was wounded last night, to protect him from the incoming mortar round. About ten seconds later there is a "Crump" outside our perimeter to the northeast. The shot is long. A gray cloud of dust and smoke drifts westward from the explosion.

"Foop" another round is on the way. "Crump", still northeast, but closer. "Foop", "Crump" five more times. They are close but haven't got our range. Then it stops. They have probably expended all the rounds they carried up the hill.

About an hour later, Covey is back. A panicked voice on the radio is saying, "Bull Dog, Bull Dog, this is Covey, over." Before I can answer, it comes again.

"Bull Dog, Bull Dog, this is Covey, Covey, on alternate, over."

I answer, "Covey, Bull Dog, go ahead."

"We've been calling and calling and finally switched to the alternate. What happened to you?"

I reply with the information about Ludmilla something or other and am met with the expected skepticism. I tell them that other than a brief and ineffective mortar attack, things are relatively quiet. I advise that we'll need another alternate frequency in case this one gets compromised. I am told, "Stand by."

I can hear him relaying the information and request back to the Radio Room at Phu Bai. I can only hear Covey's side of the conversation, but it's easy to tell that there is skepticism and concern in the Radio Room at Phu Bai.

Covey gets back to me with a new encoded alternate frequency and the information that the weather in our area should begin to break after dark. We are to be ready for extraction early tomorrow morning.

We again dine on nothing, although the some of the "Bodes" have found some grubs in a couple of the old logs near the perimeter and are happily eating away. It is getting dark and we are getting ready for another long night and, after the brief combat encounters this afternoon, we fully expect to receive a visit from the guys down the hill.

Bruce Luttrell slides into our hole and says, "Here sir, take this."

I ask, "What is it?" and he says, "It's a 'Green Hornet'. It'll help you stay awake."

I take it.

As the last rays of the sun begin to fade we think we can see small patches of clear sky to the east. One more night and we can really think about getting off this hill. Lloyd and I discuss PZ options and how we will remove the remains. We will have to go back to the east for a good PZ, but first we must go to the ravine leading down from the crash site to hook up the remains to a cable from one of the helicopters that will have to hover over the crash site. We will also have to send men to secure the PZ at the site of the last remains so the helicopter can land to take them aboard. We can send a detail, with security, down first thing in the morning. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes to remove the remains once the "choppers" get here.

We get settled in and once again Lloyd and I take turns monitoring the radio and checking the perimeter. It's going to be a long night and I don't think the "Green Hornet" is helping. I am really "on the nod".

Hill 891 (YC016919) Laos, November 10, 1967... approximately 2230 hours / November 10, 1967... 1430 hours Zulu

The weather is clearing nicely and the clouds above us are shredding and thinning. It won't be long before we are in the clear. "Blind Bat" checks in to tell us he is in the area and can be over us in minutes if we need light. We advise the Bat that we will not call for flares unless we are in contact with the enemy, but we appreciate his presence and help. The drone of his far off engines serves notice to the enemy that we are not alone and have help standing by.

A short time later "Alley Cat" comes up on the radio. I can tell from the voice that it is the Airborne Battlefield Commander himself who is talking. He advises that they are lining up plenty of assets (fighter-bombers) for the morning and that they will be getting us out at first light and for us not to worry. If we need anything tonight he will personally see to it.

The night passes peacefully with only the occasional radio call. We are all grateful and surprised that we have not been in large-scale combat on this hillside. The greatest battle of the night for me was staying awake. The “Green Hornet” is highly over-rated in my opinion.

The sun is rising and so are we. Tired, muddy, and cold. We wait for the first radio contact of the morning so we can relay our plans and get everything going. Lloyd puts together a detail to return to the crash site to hook up the remains. They start down the hill just before Covey arrives overhead.

Hill 891 (YC016919) Laos, November 11, 1967... approximately 0730 hours / November 10, 1967... 2330 hours Zulu

Covey checks in and advises that the extraction force is airborne and should reach our location in about twenty minutes. I reply, "Negative. We need one H-34 with a hoist, a chase ship, and some gunship escorts to precede the lift ships by about thirty minutes. We need to lift out the remains."

Covey replies, "Negative on that. They want you out now! They do not want to hover any helicopters in this area. Orders are to move to an PZ for extraction, over."

I reiterate our concerns only to be told more forcefully that I will move the troops to a PZ post haste! I have no option but to call Lloyd and his group back. I'm not leaving any living friendlies on this hill if I can help it. Covey then offers some A-1's, which we call Hobo's, for air strikes on any targets I have.

I advise Covey where our PZ is and he directs a pair of A-1's with rockets, napalm, and cannons onto the tree line overlooking the PZ. I have Covey put the second pair of A-1's on the tree line where Ron shot the NVA soldier yesterday. I am on the westside of the perimeter with Ron.

I put out a day-glow orange panel and request the strike about 50 meters to the west of the panel. That's "danger close" for an air strike, but I have unshakable confidence and affection for the big, single engine, prop plane. From an Infantryman's perspective, the A-1's, variously known to us as "Spads", "Hobos", or "Sandies", are undeniably the finest fixed wing close air support aircraft in the history of the world. It doesn't hurt to have some of the most dedicated and courageous pilots in the Air Force holding the sticks either.

The first Hobo comes in from the east, directly over the perimeter at about two hundred feet and releases two silver canisters of napalm. His release point seems well to our east and the cans of napalm tumble lazily in his wake as he roars over our heads. They catch glints of morning sun making them sparkle a bit as they tumble toward us in slow motion. This is going to be close, I think. But it's not. The napalm hits the mark and sprays its burning contents into the tree line. There is a "Whoosh", the crackling of woods burning... and the enemy. Another pass by the wingman and we are ready to move out.

Ron's recollection:

"... you called in the napalm on that area, which was much appreciated, not only for the security it provided, but also for the heat it generated on that cold, misty morning."

We start toward the grassy area to our east. Lloyd catches up and he's not happy. "We didn't finish the mission.", he says.

Neither am I. "I know, I didn't have any choice. The birds were already inbound when they made the first radio call. They don't want to hover a helicopter down there and I can't say as I blame them. They just want us out as soon as possible."

Ron puts the wounded Cambodian on the first chopper in. I am on the last "Chopper" out, a Kingbee. We take a few hits but it is anti-climactic. Every one gets back to Phu Bai in one piece. We have our steak and eggs. We are ravenous and some of us have two or three helpings. A quick debrief and we are told to "Hit the sack"... and then the "Green Hornet" kicks in and I can't go to sleep for the next eighteen hours. The next morning I am off to Saigon for a debriefing at MACV Headquarters.

The actual debriefing only takes about four hours... just long enough for me to be called a liar. Apparently there are no Russian Advisors anywhere near Laos, there can't be a trail or road where we saw the lights, and I am just a scared young Lieutenant trying to pass myself off as some kind of hero to better my career.

The debriefing in Saigon is scheduled to last a week. It's SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for guys who have "crossed the fence". It allows them time to unwind; but wallowing in one of the great "fleshpots" of Southeast Asia is not my "thing". I am back in Phu Bai two days later. I don't feel much like being among strangers. I have failed the mission.

On July 4th, 2005, I attended the unveiling of a Veteran's Memorial in Chester, New Jersey, dedicated to Larry Maysey and others in the area who have lost their lives in combat. It was a beautiful ceremony. My friend, Rick Fuentes, the Superintendent of the New Jersey State Police provided the State Police Pipe Band for the ceremony. "Amazing Grace", as played on the pipes, is something to be remembered. It should only be played in the presence of Warriors in my opinion.

Rick and several other New Jersey State Troopers and their families met my wife and me for lunch after the official ceremony. I appreciated it more than I was able to express. I told Larry's Aunt and Uncle what I knew and assured them that Larry didn't suffer on the side of that hill and that he died with honor and courage. I believe that.

For forty years I've lived with the thought that I should have done more to get the remains out. I don't know what else to do now but help write the story so that maybe some of the people who spit on my uniform when I got back will realize that a great many of the men and women who went to Vietnam were courageous and dedicated, to each other, as well as the United States of America. And those who made the ultimate sacrifice, deserve respect regardless of one's personal feelings about that time and place.

Lloyd and Ron have gone back to finish the job for which we were sent to Hill 891, but there is nothing left in the area. I am truly sorry that we didn't provide closure for those fine families who lost so much.

I voiced my feelings of failure to Paul Gregoire not long ago and he responded, "Bullshit! (he has written an addendum to SFC Hamilton's Radio Procedures book) You guys should've been wiped out and you weren't. We brought out more people than we took in and that's a success in my book!"

I guess I can live with that.

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