1E FRENCH FORT ASSIGNMENT- JANUARY 1969

My first week in Vietnam was not getting off to a good start. My orders assigning me to the 25th Infantry Division in Cu Chi could not be found, and I wound up spending my time in limbo until the paperwork got straightened out. The week I spent at Cu Chi gave my body time to get acclimated to the tropical heat and allowed me to explore the layout of the camp and its defenses. Cu Chi was a base camp that the 25th Infantry Division built right in the middle of a Viet Cong stronghold. Our presence there had annoyed the local Viet Cong to such a point that they let us know it daily by sending us deadly “presents”, 122mm rockets and 82mm mortar rounds. The sounds of war were always present; fighter planes and helicopters arriving and departing, artillery fire pounding enemy positions, and in the distance, the never-ending small arms fire and exploding bombs. By the third day, boredom had set in, and I decided I would rather risk a field assignment than get stuck with the stateside routines that I hated so much: morning roll calls, inspections, troop harassment.
Now, all I had to figure out was how to get a field assignment that would not get me killed. Everyone I spoke to said War Zone C was a smoking hot area and to avoid it at all costs. I did not care where I went, but seeing a dozen filled body bags was warning enough for me that Vietnam was one assignment where complacency and carelessness could cost you more than a lousy evaluation report: mistakes here cost lives. I am not sure if it was the brigade signal officer or his executive officer, but somehow during that first week I pissed someone off with my overconfident attitude, and whoever it was, got his revenge by assigning me to a unit in none other than “War Zone C.”
My new assignment had me working with a ten-man counterinsurgency team that operated under the cover name “25th Division Forward.” The name was a ruse to confuse the local communists, but it was our actions contributing to our demise. I was not thrilled to find out that the city I was going to was close to the Cambodian border, but I must admit the Tay Ninh East countryside was beautiful, and it made up for my initial disappointment. The terrain was mostly flat with rice paddies scattered across the land, and you could even get a glimpse of jungle if you stared towards Cambodia. The countryside surrounding Tay Ninh also turned out to be a major staging area for enemy troops heading towards Saigon. During the war, there were significant engagements to control it. I wanted excitement, and I may have just found it. Our team operated out of an old French fort, which we shared with three Vietnamese units: Rangers, Popular Forces, and the Civilian Irregular Defense Group. These units worked with the 5th Special Forces and The Phoenix Program (more on that later).
The French fort had a ten-foot-high red brick wall with built-in shooting ports spaced every ten feet. The four corners had fortified bunkers built into the walls staffed by two Vietnamese soldiers. The main entrance had a steel gate for vehicle security and a shelter with two armed guards. Just inside the compound were two large, two-story brick buildings, which housed French troops during the Indochina War. During that war, the first building served a dual purpose, the first floor secured an ammo dump, the second floor housed elite Vietnamese Rangers and Special Forces. I never knew the exact amount of ammunition the building held, but I had heard rumors that the Tay Ninh Province Chief stored all the province’s munitions there. Looking behind the fort, you would see a small cemetery, and attached to it was the well-fortified B-32 Special Forces camp. In the distance, beyond B-32, was the majestic mountain called Nui Ba Den (Black Virgin Mountain), a dormant volcano rising almost 3,000 feet above sea level. Getting to my new assignment meant driving into the fort and then riding parallel to the main building. As you rode alongside the building, you could not help but notice all the artillery rounds stacked on pallets three-high, running the length of the building. Looking through the windows, you could see 500 lb. dumb bombs piled chest-high while the remainder of the building had assorted weapons and small arms ammo. As you came to the end of the building, you had to turn right, then drive past the second barracks. In the distance, you could see our fenced-in compound. My initial thoughts upon seeing my new home reminded me of a POW compound. Once inside our compound, there was an assortment of trailers for both work and housing. The largest trailer was twenty-four feet long and served as a meeting room and eating area. Perpendicular to that trailer was another, eighteen-feet, housing the officers. Our signal men had their fortified housing on the right side of the compound. For overhead defensive protection, we had an arched bunker made from concrete-filled sandbags, and inside that structure was a sixteen-foot trailer used by the officers as a meeting room.
During those first few weeks in the fort, I got little sleep, and I was convinced the Vietnamese were going to turn on us and overrun this joke of a compound. All of us knew the Viet Cong had infiltrated every Vietnamese Army unit, and it was only a matter of time before they started challenging our presence and mission. I might have been new in-country, but I felt the other officers I worked with were a little too complacent about security. Other than the cyclone fence, we had no real security if we had a significant attack, and to make matters worse, none of the other officers seemed to be concerned about the defenses (or lack thereof). They reasoned that since we were guests of the Vietnamese, they would protect us.
Riiiiight.
It took a near-fatal incident (see CIA Ambush) to awaken my senior officers as to how vulnerable our team was to an attack. After the CIA ambush, General Black put me in charge of our defenses, and I wasted no time fortifying the compound.
I began by filling 55-gallon drums with water, then placing them around the fencing, welded together to prevent anyone from getting under the fence. Next, I had the MP detachment keep two men on duty around the clock. We even utilized their jeep as a barricade to hopefully stop any suicide bomber attacks. I had the MP detachment leave their M-60 machine guns* back at their camp (if we were attacked, the MPs would be the first killed, and I did not want that machine gun being used against us). Next, I reconnoitered a 5 KW generator, ten extra gas cans for the generator, then had the Army Engineers install lighting for the whole compound. The lighting would cause night blindness to anyone trying to observe us. I accomplished the most significant improvements to security at night, during curfew. First, I had my men construct a U-shaped bunker on top of the concrete one and had it outfitted with an M-60. We then camouflaged it with plywood and netting so during daytime, it looked like a storage area. It was large enough for three men to fight out of, creating a formidable obstacle for any enemy. In the new bunker, we kept 1,500 rounds of linked ammo, ten grenades, three LAWS (light anti-tank weapons), two spare M-16 rifles with thirty extra loaded magazines. Our weapons inventory also included ten Claymore mines, but I never needed them and only planned to use them during a final stand if it ever came to that. Our team members took turns staffing the new fighting position at night, and we all seemed to sleep better, knowing now we were actually helping each other to survive. Another incentive for a strong defense was that we all knew no one was coming to save our asses if the Viet Cong attacked.
After the security additions, I settled down to the daily routine of managing the radios and making sure the ten radios we used did not overheat in the 100-degree weather. By the end of the month, boredom had settled in, and two of the infantry officers I worked with had noticed my behavior. Both men had just come back from spending the last six months humping the rice paddies and thought I was nuts wanting more challenges. They were always reminding me that volunteering could get you killed in a combat zone. I could not help myself: I was raised in a family business where time was money, and the job came before your personal needs. I didn’t want to sit around playing cards all day, so I asked the intelligence officers if they needed any extra help. Before long, I had a second job, playing courier for the intelligence officers, traveling between B-32 Special Forces Camp, the CIA Compound, and an assortment of “A” Camps. I never had a set route, and sometimes they had me flying to Saigon, Cu Chi, and Tay Ninh Base Camp on whatever type of aircraft I could hop a ride on. Usually, I flew by Huey (combat helicopter), but sometimes a Loach (Light Observation Helicopter) or even a twin-engine Caribou. My deliveries went to the intelligence units at the various locations and always at random times so as not to set a pattern. The courier job had taken up my spare time, but I loved traveling and the freedom it provided. I especially liked going to the Special Forces Camps, where I studied their layout, especially the fighting positions. The team members always accepted me as if I were one of them, and I admired their motivation and professionalism.
By the third month, my curiosity was getting to me. I was curious as to the meaning of the “Phoenix Program” sign on the building next to our compound. Now, if the intelligence officers would have just lied to me and told me it was a Vietnamese housing project, my life would have been easier.
But, no.
Instead, I had to hear, “You don’t need to know.”
That reply was not what an overly aggressive Army Signal Officer wanted to hear. Something was being held back from me, but I could not put the pieces together, since none of us were allowed to talk about our job assignments. It took the grenade incident to finally set me off. (See Special Forces and the Phoenix Program).
* The M60 machine gun was what the military called a “crew-served weapon,” requiring a team of three soldiers to transport, load, and fire it. It was capable of several types of fire: grazing, plunging, flanking, oblique, and enfilading. Aside from vehicular-mounted fire, it could be fired from the shoulder (kneeling and standing) and from a prone position as well. Its available ammunition consisted of ball (for use against light materials and personnel and for range training); armor-piercing (for use against lightly armored targets); tracer (for observation of fire, incendiary effects, signaling, and training); dummy (for use during mechanical training); and blanks (for use during training when simulated fire was desired; a blank firing attachment was required to fire this ammunition).