As a member
of the 377th Security Police at Tan Son Nhut,
Vietnam,
during Tet 1968, I worked a bunker several towers down
from the 051 Bunker at Gate 051. Tan Son Nhut gates were
numbered, 051, 055, 057, etceteras. It's Tet 1968, and
my combat experience was zip, and Charlie wanted to kick-ass
right into my bunker.
The night of the Tet Offensive
was a shocker for everyone. I couldn't believe that it
was happening! This was Saigon, Paris of the Orient.
From my first new-guy-day they told me we would never get hit at Tan Son Nhut. This must be somebody's idea
of a sick joke, I had thought. Doesn't Charlie know he's
supposed to be in the jungle, or a nice rice paddy, or
somewhere else? Right? WRONG!!
The attack started as
I watched from my bunker in Alpha Sector. First, rockets
hit Bravo Sector. Then a Freedom Bird started lifting
off the runway. As he climbed over the fence line in
Echo Sector, I saw a curtain of red and green tracers
rise from the ground to the Freedom Bird. Thousands of
tracers told me just how many VC and NVA were kicking
at our door. I heard on the radio that the fence line
was penetrated, and positions in Echo and Alpha Sectors
were overrun. 051 Bunker was hit hard and fighting to
repel the attackers. Then my radio croaked and died and
I was cutoff from the world. I didn't learn until later
that 051 Bunker was overrun and Sergeants Cyr, Fisher,
Hebron, and Mills were killed in valiant defense of their
post.
Scared? You bet! My knees
were knocking louder than a jackhammer, and my teeth
were chattering so hard it's a wonder they didn't shatter.
I didn't lose my cookies, but my bladder and bowels were
taking on a life of their own. It didn't matter that
the 377th Combat SPS was at 100%
alert, the 25th Division and the 199th Infantry Brigade
were taking names, and many more units were engaging
the enemy.
When the first choppers
arrived, my spirits soared, and I knew we then had a FIGHTING CHANCE. With each pass of a gunship I
let out a cheer! Every time a gunship fired a rocket
in to the enemy I shouted GET'EM! Every time a
chopper took a hit and went down another took its place.
Choppers and Security Police--we were in a still desperate
fight for our lives, and we were in it together, to
win, whatever it took.
Heavy automatic firing
chattered for several minutes. All I knew was that I
had a radio that didn't work, there was no one within
actual shooting distance, and Snoopy was on R & R,
so we would be without illumination. For me, there was
only total darkness with combat raging all about with
everyone on the planet trying to kill someone else.
Then I saw a shadow--no--two
shadows, running from the fence line, STRAIGHT TOWARD
MY BUNKER! They were running hard and fast. Only the
lights on the fence line silhouetting the two figures
betrayed their rapid approach. I had the two bobbing
outlines glued in my weapon's sight. I was really SCARED!
But they were in my sights and dead meat,
and Charlie wasn't getting past my bunker. No time to
think, only time to react: "HALT, WHO GOES THERE?" My God! I can't believe I actually made that stateside
challenge! Blow the commie VC away--you idiot,
some forgotten training sergeant screamed in my mind. Lock and load, ready on the right, ready on the left,
ready on the firing line! I started to squeeze off
a clip and then I heard, "DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! IT'S US!"
Wait a minute, who's "us"?
Besides, those VC sure spoke excellent English. But it
was enough to make me hesitate. I didn't fire. Before
I knew what was happening, the two shadows dove into
my bunker. They have no weapons and are wearing jungle
fatigues. No VC in his right mind would wear this stuff.
And these guys are shaking more than I am.
I can't believe this,
its two Air Force dudes from the Quonset hut at the Transient
Ammo Dump. I was so close to giving these two Air dudes
the lick. What's wrong with them??? Can't they see I
was about to do them both--that they were a half-ounce
squeeze from death?
And then the anger set
in--not at them--at myself. I didn't blow
their butts away. I failed to do my job. If they were VC, I would have gone home early in a metal
box. My hesitation had caused me to jeopardize all the
positions behind me. As it was, several in my unit were
KIA that night. I could have been responsible for many
others if they had been Viet Cong or NVA.
Tet raged on for days.
And when it was over, Uncle Ho's clock was cleaned but
good! I never saw the two Air dudes again. I think that
the 188th with their APC's that showed up the next day
wouldn't have blinked an eye before swatting their foolish
lives away.
I remember a memorial
at the 051 Bunker a few days after Tet. But what stuck
with me, was the military salute for Sergeants Cyr, Fisher,
Hebron, and Mills: An Air Force flyby with fast- movers and an Army flyby with Gunships. Those moments of honoring
our own will live with me, forever.
Thirty years later, logic still fails to counter the
dreams. Those two fools ran through K-9, 50-Cals,
and M16s loaded for the bear! Tet was the beginning
of my PTSD's. In my dreams, I have fought more VC in
my bunker that Uncle Ho sent down the trail on a good
month. Guilt of what failing to do my job could have resulted in for those who depended on me has stayed with
me these many years, and became my worst nightmare. But
I deal with it, knowing The
Wall was cheated of two fewer names than the friendly
fire my id still calls for when I sleep--even if
they were two fools running in the Tet night, and knocking
on heaven's door.
