Photo: SGM Petry reflecting after the first SOG mission and the good life back at camp with his trusted companion

Forward: This story is dedicated to the MACV-SOG soldiers. It was written by Alfred C. Friend, SGM, deceased, known as "Al" to his friends. Al was a former SFA and SOA member. He spent many hours writing of his experiences in Vietnam to pass on to the future generations of the Special Forces community. The manuscript was given to his Special Forces buddy, SGM Ben (Bennie) Dunakoskie, Ret.. After Al’s passing, the manuscript came into the possession of SGM Bert Moore, Ret., also a MACV-SOG veteran, who has passed them on to me to have them published on the MACV-SOG website in his honor. Photographs and notes added by Robert L. Noe.

Edited and submitted by Cpt. Robert L. Noe, (MACV-SOG) whose brother, Frank Ray Noe, also a SOG vet, who was killed in action---in memory of those who served.

Special appreciation to Randy Goodfriend for assisting me in the final edit and proof reading in this endeavor.

"What kind of man volunteered for SOG?", and "Why would a man volunteer for SOG?" Although there seemed to be no single reason for placing ones-self in jeopardy, there were some obvious reasons which explained the steady stream of volunteers flowing into SOG. Some volunteered for this most hazardous duty because of a deep sense of patriotism and devotion to duty; others, volunteered for their own personal reasons which defied explanation and some soldiers, returning home after a tour in Vietnam, found themselves divorced, deserted, or betrayed by their wives, they returned to Vietnam to fight their own inner battles. There are a number of spouses who could not or would not understand the reason why their men "went off to war to protect them." These SOG volunteers accepted their responsibilities with the knowledge they would probably die within the coming year. Death was an ever present companion of every reconnaissance man, it keep him company throughout his tour, in his loneliness and fear. "Every SOG mission (regardless of type) was fraught with inherent dangers which were above and beyond the call of duty," that went routinely unrewarded and without recognition due to the classified nature of the various missions- to each and every man, this nation owes a great debt of gratitude.

Harve Saal, SOG, MACV Studies and Observation Group (Behind Enemy Lines), Volume III, Pg 7 & 8. Edward Brothers, Inc., 1990

A WALK INSIDE THE INDIAN’S CAMP

One afternoon, after a hard day’s training in the jungle heat, several of the training cadre and students were in the club relaxing having a couple of beers when Woody (SSG Jason T Woodworth) of FOB-2 asked, Al, you and Ben have already taken a team out, what’s it like, I mean as compared to the patrols we’ve taken out from our other camps? I considered this for a few minutes then responded with as much seriousness as I could muster. Well, for one thing, you're in Indian country. (In the middle of hostile territory.)  

Photo:  SGM Petry (fourth from left, top), SFC Jim "HALO" Smith (top left) and SFC Steven W. Comerford (bottom left) from Okinawa)

You're like a mouse trying to tiptoe through a room full of sleeping cats. You know if one wakes up it's going to be a fight and if he catches you, that's it! You also know that if they catch you it's going to go hard on an American¹. As an American, you have a certain intelligence value, not to mention a hostage value, and almost certainly will endure a visit to one of their POW camps, if they don’t execute you on the spot. But for the Viets (Vietnamese) and Nungs (ethnic Chinese), it's certain death - a long hard one! Once you’ve crossed the border and are detected by a superior enemy force, you’re in for the fight for your life. You can certainly relate to the entire emotional range that General Custer’s men felt with all those hostile Indians trying to forcefully evict them, with all the means at their disposal, from what they feel is their territory. These factors do come to mind every now and then when you’re inside the Indian’s camp, checking them out, they aren’t too happy with you being there!

You and one or two other Americans have a seven or eight man team in the middle of thousands of North Vietnamese and if you stir them up, they're like a hive of mad hornets. If you’re not shot out of the air trying to get in or out, from the time you get off of the chopper until you get picked up, you're on your own. You live with a tight ass the whole time, get little or no sleep and when you do come out, there's no "atta boy" you weren't there in the first place. Other than that, it's a piece of cake².

Ben and I, with Sgt Gene Williams ran the fifth SOG mission into Laos. SGM Charles "Slat" Petry, SFC William Card and SFC Jim "Halo" Smith ran the first two missions with similar results. That's why we stress your team selection and training so much. If you come upon a bad apple, you've got to throw it out. Just one can screw the whole operation up. Let me tell you about our mission, when we were trying to get this thing off the ground. It'll give you a good idea of how screwed up things can get on both sides and it taught us a lot of lessons we can pass on to you.

Graphic: During May, 1968, the Special Forces Camp at Kham Duc reinforced by an Americal battalion was attacked by an estimated two reinforced regiments of a North Vietnamese Army Division. In this battle, 37 Americans lives wre lost with the North Vietnamese Army loses being between 1,500- 2,000 men from US air power. In August, 1970, Command and Control North (CCN), SOG with an element of the Americal Division attempted to reopen the camp. Kham Duc again came under a sapper attack and SOG abandoned the camp permanently (CCN's team to reopen the camp consisted of Cpt G. Jordan, SFC RL Noe [on R&R at the time of the attack] and P. Bellofatto, Sgt's A. Zapada, J. Lyman, M. Jordan, Billips, and M. Gonzales.

We were staging out of Kham Duc in late 1965 in the mountains close to the Lao border, Southwest of Da Nang. It used to be Emperor Dao Dai’s hunting lodge, but we've got Detachment A-105 there now and I don't envy them one bit. If you don't know where it's at, don't worry, you soon will. It's our Forward Operating Base - FOB, we call it - in

I Corps and the arm pit of all SF camps in Vietnam. You can walk out the front gate and get ambushed before you get to the runway. The team before the one that's in there now laid out a minefield, but the grass has grown so high, nobody knows where the mines are located, so the grass just keeps growing higher and nobody wants to go out into the field because they’re not to hot on the idea of being blown to hell by American mines.

Our target was a possible storage area in the mountains across the border in Laos and we had been waiting a week for the rain to let up. I had just about given up hope when the clouds lifted. COL Call (LTC Raymond "Cherokee" Call) in Da Nang shot the helicopters right up to Kham Duc to take advantage of the weather break and I was a little antsy about going in with that marginal weather. If it closes in after you get in your operational area, there's no way to get you out, except to walk. But MACV was pushing to get the program moving, so we went in.

We got off the landing zone with no problem, but just as I had feared, the weather socked back in right after we started moving. Rain was really coming down. It was really miserable slogging through the underbrush and elephant grass, some of it ten to twelve feet high and water logged with about a week's rain and every time we brushed up against a bush or the grass, we got showered.

Photo: Typical scene where dense vegetation severely limits the ability of a team fixing their exact location on the ground 

Finally, we decided that the NVA (North Vietnamese Army) weren't on the trails in this lousy weather so we decided to make as much time as we could on the trails until the weather cleared. We were still in our black pajamas, since we were soaked already, we were not going to change them. Our three best Nungs were on point and Ski (SFC Bennie ‘Ben’ Dunakoskie), the Vietnamese Lieutenant and I were in the back of the column. The Viet was not too bad, but a little flaky. I had to watch him like a hawk so I kept him in a position where he couldn't cause too much serious trouble.

Well, we’re smoking up that trail and didn't run into anyone so when the rain let up we decided to push on a little further, then move back into the brush. We were a little strung out and the trail twisted and turned quite a bit so we couldn't keep the point in view all of the time. Our point men came around one curve and saw an NVA patrol coming down the trail right at them and passed a signal back to alert us, but somehow it didn't get passed back to us. Well, it was the damnest thing you ever saw! When we came around our part of the curve, we could see our point on the trail ahead jacking jaws with the NVA patrol like they were old friends.

I signaled for everybody to hold back, so we could see what was going to happen, but our Viet sort of came unglued when he came around the corner and saw what was going on. Before I could get back to him, he cocked his "K" (a Swedish Submachine gun) and shot a burst into the NVA. Then all hell broke loose.

The point men picked up on it right away and they cut down whatever NVA they could see and started backing down the trail towards us, firing as they came. As more NVA came up the trail, we opened fire on them to let the point get back to us then started a fire and fall back maneuver to get into the brush. Luckily the NVA held their position, firing into the bush where we had gone. My point man said the NVA they had ran into was the point for a company-size unit. I peeked out of the grass and saw that the NVA were standing there arguing, probably trying to make a decision as to whether to go into the bush after us or wait for reinforcements.

We moved a little further back in the brush, then got everybody together. I noticed that Lon, one of the point men, had caught a round in the shoulder so I dressed it the best I could and then put the point at the rear of the column, with me and Ski now on the point. We started hauling ass out of there, back towards our Landing Zone (LZ). After we had moved as fast as we could for about an hour, we stopped and checked everybody out. A couple more of the Nungs had slight wounds and we patched them up so they wouldn't leave blood trails and started out again. The adrenaline from the fire fight had worn off and was replaced with a sort of cold fear. I knew that when they found our trail and got organized, they would be coming after us and I wanted to put as much distance as possible between us and them before darkness fell. We didn't worry too much about noise as we crashed through the dense brush. We stopped every once in awhile to shoot azimuths and check our maps to try to find our exfiltration LZ; the brush was so thick we couldn't see any terrain features to locate ourselves and just hoped we were going in the general direction. We discovered some trails, probably made by natives of the area hunting, that cris-crossed the area and I decided we might use one of them to move faster. We had a scheduled radio contact with the Control Team to make, but that was more than two hours off, so we just shot azimuths and followed them.

I could faintly hear the NVA in the distance hollering to each other, they sounded some distance off and scattered, but I knew that when they found our trail and sent their trackers after us, it wouldn't take them long to get the pursuit started. I stopped the team and got Ski, the Viet, and the point man together and told them we were going to do a step off from the trail, back into the bush. We had practiced it in training, so everybody knew the drill. See, we kept moving, but every few meters, starting with the point man, we stop and one man moves off the trail. The man stepping off the trail takes off his pack and other members part the brush for him so he can step off the trail and into the deep brush without leaving any sign of his departure. When he's in the bush, we pass his rucksack to him, then let the brush stand back in its normal position, clean up any marks that might be on the trail and begin our movement again. The man in the bush parallels us about six feet off the trail as we move up and repeat the process until the team is down to the last two men, these two men then do a "stutter step" to make about the same number of tracks as the entire team would have made on the trail until they get another few meters up the trail, then back down and move off. Hopefully the NVA would follow our tracks on up the trail until they stopped and then try to figure out what happened. It wouldn't fool them forever but would buy us enough time to put some distance between them and us.

By the time we got everybody together, it was almost time for our radio contact, we started moving faster, looking for a small clearing where we could get out from beneath the tree cover. We couldn't hear any voices behind us but knew that didn't mean they had given up. If they had moved off into another direction or further up the trail, they would soon realize that we had given them the slip and they would go back to the trail. Their trackers would be scouring every step of that trail until they found out where we left it.

This procedure allowed us to gain some time, hopefully enough to get out. About fifteen minutes before contact, we found a small clearing that could be seen from the air and put out our signal panels. I turned the radio on low and could hear Control calling us, using our calling sign. As soon as we could hear the aircraft, I started guiding him to our location by the sound of his engine. It took the aircraft a couple of passes before he finally saw our panels and gave us a grid coordinate on the location, then an azimuth to the nearest cleared area where helicopters could land, which was about three kilometers from our current position. He asked if we were under pressure and I gave him two clicks for ‘yes’ and he told us the next contact would be at nine the next morning since the clouds were rolling in and it’s now too late for the choppers to get there before night fall. I clicked for okay and he peeled off and began circling another location and talking to try to throw the NVA off of our location. We packed up and moved out to make as much time as we could before the darkness fell.

We ate on the move and just before dusk took a fifteen minute break to take a nap and get everything settled down. I checked Lon and his wound was still bleeding so I stuffed another bandage in under the old one and tightened it down to try to stop the flow of blood. Then we moved until it was almost too dark to go anymore. We found a pretty good clump of brush and crawled into it forming a circle, everybody lying in a circular formation, where each is within touching distance of a team member one at his feet and one at his head. That way we can wake somebody snoring, alert each other and wake the next guy up for guard duty. I don't think anybody really fell asleep. Like me, I guess they were waiting to see if we had really lost our trackers.

Photo: Team member with his Swedish "K"

We laid there for about an hour, cold as hell and wet, when we heard automatic firing in the distance. The NVA were performing a tactical technique referred to as "reconnaissance by fire." I nudged Can (Nung) and told him to pass the word for everybody to keep the bolts on their K’s forward so they wouldn't go off accidentally and not to fire until I did. As the enemy’s firing and voices came closer, I could feel the hair on my neck rising and my guts were tightening. The shooting was sporadic, a burst or two, then another burst. I knew they were hoping we would spook and return fire and then they would have us. As they got closer, I got more nervous, hoping everybody would keep their cool. A few rounds zipped about seven or eight feet over our heads and I gripped the ankle of the Nung in front of me to tell him to keep his cool. This message was passed around the circle. Finally, I could see them about thirty yards in front of us carrying torches and searching the ground for tracks but the thick grass would pretty much have straightened out and erased our footprints. During one burst of fire, I eased the bolt on my K back and it sounded like a thunder clap to me, but was lost in their firing. They sprayed the clumps of bushes around them, including ours but the bullets were passing over or heads about 4-5 feet.

They stopped about thirty or forty feet from our place of hiding and held a pow wow. I thought they'd never leave, then Can reached up and patted my ankle softly.

I turned, but couldn't see him, but then saw the NVA heading off in the direction we had come from. Let me tell you, I was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm and it damn sure wasn't from the cold. We waited for about 45 minutes as the torches and voices died away, I then posted a guard and we caught a few winks.

Just before daylight, we ate some chow and pushed on, a few yards at a time, stopping every few minutes to listen for voices, then moving and listening again. Jungle sounds of birds and animals began again and we knew we had lost them. The clouds were still hanging over us and everything was a haze. I hoped, if the sun came up, it would burn some of the cloud cover off.

At about six thirty we found a small stream coming down off the mountain from the direction of where our exfiltration (Exfil) LZ was located and I decided we could move up it since it was heading in the right direction and would wash away our tracks. It was pretty fair moving, so about seven thirty we pulled up on the bank to rest which gave me a chance to check the wounds. Lon’s shoulder wasn't looking too good and the night on the ground hadn't helped it. I took off the old bandage, cleaned the wound the as best I could and put a new one on, tightening it down again to stop the flow of blood. The bullet was still in there and he had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming. I put a better bandage on it and tightened it down and gave him some tetracycline (tet) to fight a possible infection. Finally, I fashioned a sling to keep his arm up and we transferred most of his food and ammo to the other team members and got rid of his pack. The other two Nungs' wounds were minor, so I redressed them, gave them some "tet" and buried the old bandages. We took another twenty minutes to rest and when we stood up I reached for Lon's ‘K', but he shook his head and slung it over his good shoulder.

We stopped at eight to make radio contact and waited for thirty minutes, but didn't hear any aircraft. The weather was socked in and I didn't really expect anything to be flying and I can say we were all a little disappointed. During the 2^nd mission, with SGM Petry, a CH-34 helicopter with Captain Thorne³, and a bird dog had crashed after inserting them because of the adverse weather, neither were ever recovered and assumed dead.

We must have been about 200 meters from the LZ when the point opened fire and all hell broke loose. Evidently we had zigged when we should have zagged and ran directly head on to one of the NVA’s search parties. The Nungs didn't hesitate, just charged into the NVA hooting and shooting. It took the enemy totally by surprise and I guess we pretty well wiped them out and broke for our exfil LZ as fast as we could. We knew our only hope now was to set up the exfil LZ and try to hold on until the air contact came in. We didn't get any more enemy fire and I figured the NVA had spread into small parties to check different areas to see if they could find us.

After we reached our LZ, I stopped the patrol and checked everybody out. I sent Ski and a couple of Nungs back to see if there were any more NVA still in the area. Three of the Nungs had minor wounds but they grinned weakly up to me and wrapped first aid packets around whatever was bleeding. I headed for Lon. He was slumped up against a small tree, his face pale and drawn from fatigue and pain. His black jacket was wet with blood down the right side and it was pretty evident he had lost a lot of it. l straightened him up and pried his "K" from his blood-stained fingers and opened his jacket. The bandage was completely soaked and blood was seeping down from under it. I took it off, applied a couple of compresses over the wound and applied a pressure pad over it and tightened it down as tight as I could. He almost passed out from the pain and I knew I was grinding that bullet down every time I tightened the bandage but I had to stop the bleeding. I lashed adhesive tape over the bandage to hold it down then gave him some aspirin and a dextroamphetamine to keep him moving. I knew it wasn't enough but that was all I could do under the circumstances. Lon was going nowhere and I knew we weren't either.

A burst of fire came from where Ski and Can had gone and bullets snapping over my head brought me out of my worry about Lon. I grabbed his "K," broke it open and threw the bolt in one direction and the rest of the gun in another so it couldn't be used. I then signaled two of the Nungs to come over and get Lon to his feet and head for our LZ. As Ski and Can backed into our position, three NVA came charging through the bushes into our gun sights and when they realized they had stumbled on to us, a look of total surprise and horror was etched onto their faces as our bullets impacted their bodies and they fell dead, but it was too late. Evidently, they were trying to get back to their buddies and weren't expecting to run into us because they had their AK's (Automatic Assault Rifle) slung over their shoulders. I cut down the first one and Ski got the other two. We backed up, covering the two Nungs carrying Lon and moved to the edge of our LZ. We pulled all of our people back into the brush, set up our perimeter and Ski crawled out to the middle of the LZ to set up our panels. Then he and Can moved to the other side of the LZ to secure it.

Typical scene of triple canopy jungle where Moutain Top provides the best clearing which allows for an extraction

Everything moved down to a deathly silence on the LZ as I got out my books and began to make out a message. In the distance I could hear a couple of NVA calling back and forth to each other. I placed my hand on Lon's mouth and signaled silence with a finger across my lips, but he laid his hand on mine and shook his head. I knew it was killing him to keep from crying out loud but he realized he was going to have to put up with the pain. I got my radio out and turned it on low volume, waiting for a call from the recovery crew. We could hear random shooting in the distance but it soon started ebbing away until silence reigned on our LZ. I knew they hadn't given up the search, but were just moving it to other areas. It was getting pretty tight for us. If we didn't get evacuated out before they got reinforcements in they could organize a good sweep that would find us.

As the morning wore on, I started to get worried since the weather wasn't looking too good. I knew if air couldn't get in to us before the afternoon, we were finished, because the NVA wanted us bad and would use everything they had to find us. About ten o'clock, I heard the control AlE aircraft droning through the clouds and switched the air-ground radio on. I kept the volume as low as I could and still hear it. Pretty soon I heard COL Call's voice giving our call sign over and over. I clicked the speaker button on the radio twice, then repeated it to let him know we were on the air. Clicking the radio instead of talking lets the contact group know you're there but under enemy pressure. I didn't want to talk until the very last minute so we guided him over our LZ with clicks. Two meant he was going away from us and three he was headed for us. When he got close, I went under a poncho and went on voice to guide him right over us.

l read off my code sheet twice, to make sure he had it. COL Call gave me a "Roger" and flew off to decode it. About fifteen minutes later he flew back, staying a little off the LZ and circling. If the NVA were trying to track us by the plane's position, it would lead them away from us. While Call was gone, I checked Lon and the other Nungs. Lon's face was grey, the loss of blood was really beginning to tell. I knew we had to get him out fast. The other Nung’s wounds weren't quite as bad, but they were hurting. Still they faced outward from my temporary CP (Command Post) ready for anything that came our way.

   Photo: SFC Ben Dunakoskie performing a training exercise in SOG communications procedures

Colonel Call finally got back on the air and said he was sending an evac (evacuation) aircraft for the wounded. "You people have only been out for three days. I want you to continue your recon (reconnaissance patrol) after the wounded are out!" That really pissed me off! There were only three of us not wounded. The NVA were almost on top of us and it was suicide to keep on with the mission after the wounded were out. "Negative!", I answered strongly, hoping to convince him, "We're all coming out. Mission is aborted!" "Negative that," Call came back. "The mission is scheduled for 5 days, continue on after the wounded are out!"

l exploded at that. "No Goddamn way! We wouldn't last another ten hours here. I'm not getting my ass waxed so your damn operations plan goes as scheduled. Get us out of here and now, or I swear to God I'll find my way back and blow your fucking brains out!" I was so damn mad I had stopped talking in code and had almost shouted the last part of the message.

The radio went silent for a few seconds, then Call finally came back on the air. "Roger that Al, are we going to need air to get you out?" That's a Charlie (Roger), all you can get. They're heavy around here and it won't take them long to get here. I told him to use "Shining Brass," our code word that told everybody that a Recon Team was in trouble, once we used that code, the Flying Command Center which controlled all aircraft in our area would stop any combat aircraft in the air and direct them to our location to support us. Call responded with "Roger that." and the Bird Dog flew off so he wouldn't give our location away.

So now we waited. Ski was still maintaining his position but I knew he had heard what went on. I knew that he was probably so damn mad by now that he probably had a few words for Call but he remained silent and continued his surveillance. I sent a note to him to tell him what was going on and for him to send a couple of Nungs out to the middle of the LZ to remove any obstructions to the helicopters landing. The grass was high and there couldn’t be anything under the grass that might damage the birds. We had to do everything on our hands and knees because we didn't want to stand up and possibly have some of the NVA spot us. We didn't have enough people to stand off an attack if they located us.

About twenty minutes later I heard an NVA patrol passing close to our position and heading down the hill away from us. They were joking and laughing and after they passed, one of the Nungs, grabbed my arm when they were out of view. Through the Viet, who interpreted for the Nungs, he said that the NVA soldiers were laughing about a "Tiger Hunt" that would take place when two more companies joined them from the West.

I crawled out toward the center of the LZ to check the weather. It had been cloudy all morning but now some deep and heavy stuff was moving in. By the looks of the clouds, I knew we were in for some heavy weather and didn't have too much time remaining before being locked in. I knew that even with fighter cover it was going to be an ass-kicking contest to get us out and the extraction may be by string, hooked up to a rope under a helicopter.

A typical CH-34 "Kingbee" performing a "string" McGuire Rig extraction with a team member hooked up to a 120' nylon rope under the aircraft. The McGuire Rig was later replaced by the STABO Rig. Both were risky extractions.

We hadn't heard anything and I was seriously making plans to E&E (Escape and Evade) if something didn't come in soon. Just as I had about decided we would have to bug out, I heard a blasting noise and a F-104 fighter zoomed over our position, the sonic boom trailing after it nearly deafening us. He slipped down the slope towards the NVA, then cut off to the right and went screaming back into the air. I heard my radio cracking and turned up the volume. It didn't matter how much noise we made now. The Flight Leader was calling over and over, "Shining Brass,Shining Brass, this is Lancer Leader, over."

Shouting with a big smile on my face, I broke in between his calls, "Lancer Leader, this is Shining Brass. Damn it's good to see you people!"

The pilot laughed. "Roger, understand you people have a little problem down there we can help you with. The chug-a-lugs are right behind us. Where do you want the stuff?"

I knew Call was going to have to coordinate the air while we were getting out so I told Lancer Leader I wanted him to do some clearing around the LZ before the choppers landed. "Everything 50 meters out from our panels is enemy." If you can spray those areas good, I can start getting ready for the evac. Lancer zoomed over us at about 400 feet and started his gun run to the West at about 100 meters from our LZ. He banked off to the right and roared back into the air. I called him, "Lancer, you drew gunfire just as you banked right. Don't bank the same way again."

"Roger little buddy he answered. I've got the cure for that." His radio blanked out for a few seconds and a flight of three F4's screamed over the hill and plastered the area with bombs and gunfire.

Ski came up to me while I was on the radio saying, "Lots of movement here Slats, I'm moving my people onto the LZ."

"Roger that." I called Lancer. "My people are moving onto the LZ from the Northwest, about 50 meters from the panels. They report lots of movement about 300 meters from the panels."

"Well, we'll take care of that little thing," Lancer replied and soon after another flight of F-104's streaked over us to hit the area. I was getting almost deaf from the gunfire and bombs, but damn glad to hear them.

Call came on the radio. "Al, Cowboy's⁴ ready to come in"

Lancer Leader stated, "I'll coordinate the air so get your people ready on the LZ." I called back "Roger" and told the Viet to have two of the Nungs carry Lon out to the panels and pick them up. I called Ski and he was on the way. I pointed to the LZ area saying to the other Nungs, Mau Lien, Mau Lien!' (Move fast!). They shouldered their K’s and headed out to the pick-up area. Two H-34 helicopters topped the ridge and dove straight towards the LZ.

About that time, Lancer was back on the air. "I'm following the choppers in, Little buddy, I'll make the first run, you give me corrections, let me have your smoke and identify." I grabbed a yellow smoke and tossed it into the middle of the field and called "Yellow!"

Lancer came back in, "Well, isn't that interesting. Just after you said Yellow another one popped off about 300 yards to your left. Guess we've got a smart ass down there Brass, but we'll take care of that." He banked left and headed to where I could see faint yellow clouds reaching into the air. Evidently the NVA were on our air frequency. Shortly behind Lancer came another flight of FA's. Lancer zoomed over the area and dropped a red marker into the middle of the yellow smoke and the other FA's dropped their ordnance on the red marker. Lancer called. "Now gimme another and identify." I threw a red and identified it.

"Well, that taught them a lesson," Lancer said. He called on his frequency, "Serves the little bastards right, lying to me. Okay gang, now let's get serious about this shit." Fighter bombers came screaming over the hill spraying both sides and the Western portions of the LZ. I could hear, through the exploding bombs and strafing, heavy automatic fire from the NVA and occasional thudding of a heavy machine gun.

Another flight of F104's zoomed over and I told them to move their strike zone to the edge of the LZ, since I could tell by the approaching light weapons fire that the NVA were trying to move closer to us to get away from the jet strikes. I yelled, "Now Ski!" over the radio and we started for the LZ. Moving through the high elephant grass was hell. It can slice you like a knife, but we didn't care. We got to the clearing in the middle of the LZ at the same time as Ski and his troops. I was glad to see Lon conscious, although in obvious pain, but lugging Lon and helping the other wounded took a lot out us. In the distance, I could hear the 'whup whup" of the helicopters chugging in. When Cowboy called and told us he had our panels in sight, we picked them up so they wouldn't fly up into his rotor blades and popped a green smoke so he wouldn't lose our position. I had two Nungs pick up Lon and pointed to three other Nungs and the Viet to go on the first chopper, the rest of us the second. Just as we were getting ready, some UH-lB helicopter gun ships came in, spraying the area around our LZ and I got worried when I heard return fire from the NVA. Cowboy slanted his helicopter toward the LZ, the downdraft from his helicopter blades blowing the grass down. He didn’t even touch the ground as we put Lon and the other Nungs into chopper and he waved his hand at me and really poured on the coals getting out of there.

Suddenly, I heard Call waving Mustachio (another Vietnamese helicopter pilot), off and calling the Hueys back in. There was about a platoon of NVA about 100 meters from us, moving in fast. The Hueys pored some real heavy fire into them and the NVA began to retreat through the Elephant grass. But we weren't home free yet. Ski and Canh both cut loose with their AK's as two NVA, who had outrun their buddies burst into the clearing. The Hueys came back in sprayed the area. Following them, Mustachio came in behind the Huey's, making a light touchdown. Ski and I tossed the Viet and two Nungs in and scrambled in behind them. The NVA firing seemed to have stopped but Mustachio took no chances. Instead of going straight up, he skimmed the grass towards the top of the hill and as he gained more altitude he really poured the coals to the bird and began to get more altitude. The Hueys remained in the area to keep the NVA down and then later joined us in convoy. Relieved, I sat in my canvas seat and watched our LZ begin to fade in the distance but as the LZ retreated from view, "Spooky," the AC-47 gun ship came in behind us and started working the area over with his mini-guns. These fire at the rate of about four thousand rounds a minute and the whole area erupted. I knew there wasn't much that could have survived that working over. As we chugged along towards Da Nang, I kept thinking about the title to a book, or maybe it was a movie "Hell In A Very Small Place." After returning to base, we had suffered one Vietnamese Killed in action, several wounded and one American wounded.

  Photo: Inspecting the Birds after a mission

Lon was in pretty bad shape and it was touch and go for awhile. We sent the other wounded Nungs to the dispensary to get their wounds treated. I sent Ski to the club to get us a drink then headed over to the Headquarters. COL Call and I had a little heated session and straightened out our differences. I went to the club and Ski and I got half-blasted with Cowboy and Mustachio. There were about forty holes in Cowboy’s bird (helicopter) and he was really pissed off. Ski and I got on a C47 later that afternoon and flew down to Saigon to report to the Bull (Col Arthur D. "Bull" Simon). He likes the Americans to come directly down to report to him after a mission so he can get everything straight before we had to unload the results to MACV. He especially wants to know what problems we encountered so he can straighten them out before MACV debriefs us. Bull doesn't want us washing our dirty laundry with them, for instance like my wrangle with COL Call. I laid the whole thing out to Bull and he later got together with Call and straightened things out.

If you request an exfiltration, nobody will argue with you, you get out, but Bull will damn sure want to know why so your reason had better be damn good." He looked over at me. "You know the Bull (Arthur D. "Bull" Simon⁵), Al, he thinks that anyone only giving 150 percent is a slacker". We decided to break up the team. Sent the Viet back to his unit, retired Lon and absorbed the rest of the Nungs into our strike force here. After what they went through, we weren't sure how they'd react on another mission. We learned a lot on that run and hope it will be of use to you in setting your teams up and your training. If you have any problems, come see Ski or myself. He stood up, "Whew, that brought back a lot of memories, I'm going to bed and get my nightmares started. Good night!" I went out the door leaving Ben and my message to play back in their minds knowing their job was cut out for them.

Photo: SFC Dunakoski after the mission

NOTES

Note 1: By the end of the war, no American running special operations that had been lost in Laos was ever returned alive.

Note 2: By the end of the war, a relative small organization would lose a minimum of 400 Americans killed or missing in action performing across the border operations

Note 3: After inserting the first SOG Reconnaissance mission with SGM Petry, SFC Card, and Smith on 18 October 1995, Cpt Larry Alan Thorne of Norwalk, Conn, US Army Special Forces, FOB-1, Shining Brass, Kham Duc, along with a Vietnamese Pilot, C0-Pilot, and Door Gunner crashed returning from the insertion outside Da Nang aboard a CH-34, Kingbee helicopter. Also, Maj Harley B. Pile and Cpt Winfield W. Sisson, USMC, observer flying in an O-1E Bird Dog as Forward Air Controller for SOG operations 34, crashed and both listed as Missing in Action

Note 4: May 1968, Cowboy, a Vietnamese Captain (Real name unknown), Pilot of a CH-34, Kingbee helicopter from Nguyen Cal Ky’s 219th Air Force squadron, Ops 34, who later had volunteered to extract a SOG Reconnaissance team in trouble and need an emergency extraction in Laos when all US Helicopter pilots refused to attempt the extraction. Cowboy made the extraction, saving the entire team and delivered them to FOB-2, Kontum, when attempting to return to his base, became disoriented in the heavy overcast and crashed into a mountain and was killed in action. Cowboy left a young wife and child (boy). According to Harve Saal, who reported in one of his books, she later married an American airborne bachelor and when last seen, they were happy and expecting their own child.