From Hoc Man we moved to Siagon where the fighting was street to street. It was here in Siagon that I once again had a PRC 25 strapped to my back, the fighting was bad enough without having a sniper taking shots at us but we had one who was in a pagoda. The CO had put out the word that we were to respect the religious shrines and pagodas of the country or else we would have just used the main gun on a tank to blast it out of existence. One of the platoon sgts from my old platoon needed an RTO so I was volunteered for the task, which was to gain entry into the pagoda and eliminate the sniper with the least amount of damage. That antenna on the PRC 25 makes a wonderful aiming point, all one has to do is drop on about 2 and a half meters and squeeze off a round, most times it would get the RTO in the head, which was not a very endearing  prospect, for a RTO. Getting into the pagoda was fairly easy the hard part was making our way down corridors and stairways that lead to the roof area. There was one instance when we rounded a corner in a corridor where we ran into a few monks and nuns luckily for them our squad leader had enough self restraint to hold off firing on them so we identified them as friendly if that was really possible, it was hard to tell friend from foe most of the time. It took us 15 or 20 minutes to make it to the roof area but once there we found no sniper although there was plenty of spent casings there, a radio call to the CO confirmed that the sniper fire a ceased soon after we entered the pagoda and all we could figure is that one of the monks or nuns for that matter had to have been the sniper. 

The 25th Infantry Division became the 2nd most decorated division to come out of Vietnam, surpassed only by the 1st Cavalry Division. I read somewhere that a US Marine stood a one in four chance of becoming a casualities whereas a soldier with the 25th Infantry Division stood a three in four chance of this happening. The 3/4 Cavalry served as Division reconnaissance, which meant that we spent the majority of our time out in the boonies. We averaged between 60 to 90 days out in the field coming into Cu Chi basecamp for a 3 day stand-down. Our area of operation encompassed Siagon, Cu Chi, Dau Tieng, Tay Ninh to the Phou Cong Bridge. We had the thankless job of working in some of the most infamous areas of Vietnam such as the Ho Bo Woods, the Bo Loi Woods, the Iron Triangle, the Fhilhol Rubber Plantation, War Zone C, the Parrots Beak, the Angel's Wing over to the Michelin Rubber Plantation. Being the Recon force for the division meant we would usually be the first to make contact with the enemy, which accounts for the 326 troopers who died in the line of duty from 1966 to 1970. I am placing links to pages that list each of the men who were KIA that will include their position on the Wall.

I was fortunate to have served with some real fine commanding officers they were Capt Malcolm Otis, Captain James Westbrook (KIA 8/25/68) and Capt Jerry Headley. Captain Headley became our CO the day Capt Westbrook was killed. August 25, 1968 is a day I will long remember ,it started with the troop guarding the Trang Bang Bridge and ended in one of those firefights that seemed to go on forever. At the time Jerry Headley was the 3rd platoon leader, we were called to an area known as the Little Rubber, which was between Go Dau Ha and Tay Ninh, a convoy had been ambushed going to Tay Ninh and we were called upon to help clear out the VC. I as the TC on the commo track and we had just entered the fray when Captain Westbrook was hit, at the time Lt Headley had been with the troop around three months but he took over as soon as it was clear that the CO was dead. This firefight raged in the rubber plantation with it many ditches and spiderholes. We were assailed by small arms fire and plenty of RPG's , at the time as in any firefight, many things were happening at once. It was my job to keep track of the messages from the CO to the Squadron and from a helicopter that carried the 3rd Brigade Commander, Colonel Duke Wolf, who was trying to coordinate the movement of the convoy out of the ambush area, needless to say confusion reigned supreme. Besides communications my track was also responsible for calling in the dustoffs and resupply choppers, while moving around the battlefield. I recall having to change at least one barrel on my 50 cal. before we started calling in dustoffs. Due to the very hot LZ conditions and the lack of clearings in the rubber plantation, the dustoffs were unable to land close to the battle. On orders from Lt Headley we started to transport the wounded back to Go Dau Ha for dustoff back to the 12th Evac Hospital at Cu Chi. I believe that I made three or four runs back to Go Dau Ha a distance of around 10 to 12 clicks, each time removing wounded and returning with ammo resupply. One of the first casualities we brought back to Go Dau Ha was a young soldier named Danny King. He suffered horrendous wounds to the face and neck and if it hadn't been for Joe Bronis and the medic, Danny probably would not have made it. Today although, blinded by his wounds Danny has gone on to become a Phd in Psychology and now works for the VA dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.   It was getting dark when I made the last run so Lt Headley told us to stay at the ARVN Compound in Go Dau Ha until morning. As fate would have it the ARVN's refused to allow my track entry into their compound so myself and my crew spent one very long wet night sitting in the middle of Go Dau Ha by ourselves. Being separated form your troop, which was still in contact with the enemy, gives one a whole new outlook on survival.  Sitting in the middle of Go Dau Ha trying to monitor what was happening out on the battlefield, attempting to set up a single vehicle night defensive position as best we could, as our weapons consisted of the 50 cal., 2 M-60s, 1 M-79 and our M-16s. With only 4 of us on the track we were spread pretty thin with standing watch, especially after the rain started, it got pretty cold sitting in the cupola that night. The next morning we had our track commandeered by a Captain from the 4th of the 9th Manchus who was ordering me to go up the MSR toward the Little Rubber, all the time Lt Headley was ordering me to stay put until he could get the road swept from his location to mine. At the time I was an E-5 who was caught between a rock and a hard spot. I was listening to Headley and this Manchu was telling me that if I didn't get this track moving he would see that I get busted back to E-1, all the time my driver was just sitting in place, with the engine running but he would not move unless I told him too. Luckily, being the commo track I had radio communications with not only the troop CO but also with Squadron. I guess that the Squadron Commander was monitoring the traffic between myself and Lt Headley because he called me on the Squadron push and told me to put the Manchu Captain on the horn. I am not really sure what the Squadron CO said to this guy but whatever it was it ended his attempts to get me to move up the MSR.  After talking to the Squadron Commander the Manchu Captain got off my track and left he never looked at me or said another word to me, he just left. Jerry Headley was probably the finest CO I have ever served with, he knew how to treat his men. Don't get me wrong he was not an easy man to work for, he expected you to know your job and excel at it, however he always treated you fair and you always knew where you stood with him. Jerry was by far the most savvy CO we had when it came to a firefight, somehow he was able to co-ordinate every aspect of the battlefield which instilled confidence in our ability to survive.

 I do remember a day when he was got so mad at me I thought I probably would get busted. It was one of the rare occasions when he brought the Mess Section out into the field and the cooks needed a garbage pit dug. Good old Jerry has me assign one of my new radio mechanics to the detail. This kid and I think his name was Gay or something like that wants to know how deep. So I tell him Oh six or eight feet deep ought to be good enough. Of course this was nothing more that making the FNG part of the team, there was probably three or four of these FNG's working on this garbage pit and they did get it about eight foot deep. We all have a good laugh after they were done because the average garbage pit was lucky to be two feet deep. What really got Headley was after the evening meal all the cooks were sitting on a paddy berm when I get the idea to see what they would do if a grenade happened to drop in on them. I had taken apart one of my  grenades and removed the fuse and detonator after re-assembling it, I strolled over behind this group of cooks and very gently lob the dummy grenade over their heads so it lands right in front of them. With the word GRENADE they all take off running in every direction well one of them forgets about the eight foot garbage pit and runs right over it dropping out of sight like a rock. The whole time I am rolling on the ground laughing so hard I could not control myself. Because there was no explosion they figure it was a dud or something but I pick it up and stick it in my pocket as I walk over to the garbage pit and there at the bottom all covered with old food and such is this cook, welcome to the field I say and go about my business. Well the Mess Sgt is not pleased about the cooks being harassed especially the one who fell into the garbage pit, so he goes to Headley with the story. For some reason Headley knows that I was the one responsible for this little episode and he reads me the riot act especially when it came to playing with explosives. I try to remember the funny thing about the war but the more serious ones always make their way to the forefront. The reality of combat hit when one of your buddies bought it the invincibility of youth becomes a myth. 

There was a time during my tour when we had a group of B-52 pilots on the ground with us. There was going to be a 52 raid near our night laager and these guys wanted to see what it was like on the ground when the raid came off.  The Viet Cong had a name for the B-52 raids they called it "Muttering Death" because by the time you hear the bombs coming in it is too late, Sing Loi. We let the pilots, all of them were the rank of Major or above, fire every weapon we had from the main gun on the M48A3's down to the M79 and M16. We also told them they had to dig in for the night as every man regardless of rank dug his own hole, the raid was timed to start about midnight so they would be spending the night out in the boonies. As fate would have it these pilots got a lot more than they bargained for, because the raid did go off and they were very impressed by the amount of noise and flashes that could be seen from the distant raid. However around 0300 hrs we were paid a visit by sir Charles, being pilots this was their first real experience with combat and to say the least they were not very comfortable. They did get to see first hand the awesome power of an armored cavalry troop when engaged in mortal combat, after the firefight we swept the area as was our procedure, but we also took the pilots to the area of the 52 strike so they could assess the damage which is always impressive.  All the pilots admitted to being scared during the firefight but they served themselves proud by following the commands of the CO, Platoon Leaders and NCO's and all came through the experience none the worst for wear, but with a greater respect for the grunts on the ground. They did say one thing as they were leaving and that was God Bless the ground troops because we had a much hard job to do then they did flying at 70,000 feet.