A CONSERVATIVE VOICE FOR ALASKANS





Viet Nam remembered 1/19/08

A Marine's Memories of Khe Sanh
Home Is Where You Dig It
By RICHARD DWORSKY

Forty years ago a handful of United States Marines, Army, Navy and Air Force warriors spent more than 77 days defending a small set of outposts in northwest Viet Nam. The place was Khe Sanh and the enemy was led by Gen. Vo Nguyen Giap, the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) commander who defeated the French at Dien Bien Phu. He had three divisions, with an estimated 30,000 troops to attack us at Khe Sanh.
 

The mission of India Co., Third Battalion 26th Marines, was to hold an area known as 881South and act as a combat outpost for the 26th Marines on the Khe Sanh plateau. When it appeared that the enemy was attempting to close on the hill, India requested and received permission to make a company reconnaissance-in-force north on Jan. 20, 1968.  India, with more than 200 Marines and corpsmen, jumped off before dawn and before it had gone 1,000 yards, the 1st Platoon made heavy contact with a sizable NVA unit. There were several casualties, and the platoon consolidated its position, but the first helicopter sent to evacuate the casualties was shot down, crashing about 200 yards down the slope

Another assault by the 3d Platoon succeeded in seizing the objective, but at high cost. Its lieutenant and several others were killed, and for a time the platoon held the hill against strong counterattacks, with a Lance Corporal in command.

At about this time, an NVA lieutenant surrendered to the Marines defending the base. He was immediately interrogated and reported that all outlying positions around the base would be attacked that night. India was consequently ordered to break contact immediately and return to its previous position. It arrived shortly after dark.

That night, all outlying positions around the Khe Sanh Combat Base were assaulted except 881S. The force that had been designated to attack 881S had been met and mauled that afternoon and, having been located, was shelled throughout the night. Additionally, 881S provided more than 1,000 rounds of fire support to another hill that was attacked. That evening began the siege that lasted until April.

In addition to standing watch, digging deeper trenches and fighting positions became the daily routine. The title of this column, “home is where you dig it,” became the Khe Sanh motto. In some ways it was like trench warfare in World War 1. Lack of supplies, digging equipment, bunker material, constant battles with rats, rain and mud, cold, fog, and all under constant artillery, mortar and sniper fire and observation of the enemy seemed to be the order of the day. But, we were never outside the range of our own artillery support, air power and communications.

Logistical support by air also became so hazardous that only the plight of the Marines and the president's order to “Hold Khe Sanh” could justify the terrible losses of aircraft encountered in resupply attempts.

Several C-130s and C-123s were destroyed on Khe Sanh's airstrip while attempting to bring in the supplies, but the enemy siege became so tight that C-130s were finally prevented from landing and were forced to resort to paradropping the supplies. This still did not solve the problem of resupplying the ever-more-besieged outposts around Khe Sanh, where water and food became secondary to ammunition. Helicopters still had to brave the heavy mortar, artillery, rocket and automatic weapons fire to carry the critical supplies from Khe Sanh to the surrounding hilltop outposts. New delivery methods were designed.

Heroism was routine. The helicopter zones were always "hot." The enemy's weapon of choice to attack them was the 120mm mortar, which was always deadly. Most dangerous were the medical evacuation missions. It took time to carry badly wounded men from cover to the helicopter and then return to cover, and the mortar rounds were often already announced as being "on the way."  Yet there was no occasion when men had to be ordered to carry stretchers. To the contrary, it was often necessary to restrain too many men from lending a hand and exposing themselves unnecessarily. Seven helicopters were shot down, yet we never called for a medevac that didn't come, weather permitting.

There was never a climactic day or event. Rather, from Jan. 21 through April 17, the threat to life and limb remained essentially unchanged. The dangers were greatest during helicopter operations because those offered the most lucrative targets to the enemy's gunners.  The potential for catastrophe, however, was greatest at night or during the frequent foggy weather when we could not see to detect the enemy's approach or to bring our massive supporting fires to bear against him. That potential took a psychological as well as a physical toll. To stand in a trench for eight hours on a given night without relief, in total darkness, in a fog so thick that even a magnesium flare could not pierce it, all senses focused on detecting any sound, any smell, any hint of movement to the front. It was trying in the extreme to the Marine required to do it.  To require all hands do so nightly for three months was to stretch the limits of resolve.

Forty-two Marines or Corpsmen died on or near the hill and nearly 200 were wounded, not including aviation casualties whose numbers, being reported separately, were unknown to us. Our commanding officer, Bill Dabney, noted that none of these losses occurred in a single pitched battle, but rather in discrete incidents scattered over the course of the siege. Incoming was constant, and although we learned to cope with it to a point, a lucky round in a trench line or active medevac zone was just as deadly in April as in January. Through it all, the troops did their duty. We stood our watches. Others flew their aircraft or serviced helicopter zones, manned outposts, engaged the enemy and raised the flag daily as zealously at the end as at the beginning. We were never asked to stand back-to-back against the flagpole with fixed bayonets, but rather to endure. By enduring, we triumphed.

I didn’t pick the men I fought with but I have an attachment to them that cannot be described — and I have the same attachment to those who carry on today. Never have I given anyone the trust I gave these men. As William Manchester wrote after his fighting service at Okinawa, and after all these years, I also recognize that these men and women, and I mean all who served in Viet Nam from all branches of the services, in the end, didn’t fight for their country, their government’s mission and not even their branch of service but for each other. I salute those warriors of the past and those of today and I am proud to have been one of you.

Richard Dworsky. Ph.D., was a platoon commander with India Company on Hill 881S during the siege until he was wounded and medevaced. He has several decorations for bravery including a Bronze Star and Navy Commendation Medal and 3 purple hearts as a result of his tour in Viet Nam. He has lived and worked in Anchorage for almost 30 years.

Richard E. Dworsky's History Index

Back Browser  or  Home

.