Watching those two Marines get up and walk across those wide-open rice paddies, it really hit me how important it was to make good decisions. A decision I made could literally mean life or death. It was an awesome responsibility for anyone, much less a young, inexperienced second lieutenant. The fact that those two Marines would get up and walk across an open field demonstrates the discipline instilled by the Marine Corps as well as the courage of those young Marines.
After sweeping the paddies, we moved up into the mountains for the night. I set up in my platoon headquarters and began to clean my rifle. Unfortunately, we had been trained with the M14 rifle, and I had to suffer the indignity of having the corpsman show me how to break down my M16 so I could clean it. I was glad none of my Marine Corps buddies were there to see the Navy showing me how to clean my rifle. I would never have lived it down! That night, I slept right next to my hole with my rifle in one hand and helmet in the other. If you want to call it sleep.
September 5, 1969
I led my first platoon patrol. We were sent to explore the surrounding foothills for trails. After a short walk, we came to a trail that branched off in three directions. I set up a patrol base with my platoon sergeant and radio operator and sent a squad up each branch. Within a few minutes, bursts of automatic fire broke out down one of the trail branches. We all hit the deck. The squad leader radioed, “One confirmed enemy KIA (killed in action) and one enemy WIA (wounded in action).” There was a moment of silence, then a single gunshot. The squad leader radioed back, “We now have two enemy KIAs.”
When the squad leader got back, we got all the gory details, including brains being splattered. I sort of lost interest in the meatballs and beans I was eating at the time. Everybody seemed to think that it was pretty good, two kills for the new lieutenant, but I couldn’t see how I had much to do with it.
September 8, 1969
After two days and about five changes in plans, we continued to move into the mountains. At times, we had to hack our way through the undergrowth. It wasn’t really jungle, more like high, thick bushes. Captain Stanat became very agitated over our slow progress and ordered me to get up to the front of my platoon, as we were the lead platoon, and bust my way through. Since the longevity of the people up front is not great, in The Basic School, we were taught to stay right behind the lead squad. I wasn’t overly eager to be up there. But my CO was right behind me, so I didn’t have much choice. I positioned myself right behind the point as he, using a machete, broke brush, forcing his way through the heavy growth. I rotated the point as each became exhausted with the exertion. We were all bathed in sweat. Finally, we found a trail leading to the top of the mountain, our objective.
My platoon had been on the trail awhile when I stopped them so I could find our position on the map. By this time, I was in my usual position behind the point squad, and the CO had gone elsewhere. It occurred to me that I ought to put out security while we were stopped. I was just telling the platoon sergeant to do it when bullets started flying. Everyone hit the deck. I thought my goose was cooked since we were sitting in a line on the trail. We had been told hair-raising stories in The Basic School of entire units being wiped out in ambushes.
I immediately began yelling for the machine guns, “Guns up!” “Get the grenade launcher working!” “Squads on line!” We put out a lot of suppressing firepower. Fortunately, the enemy, there were only three as it turned out, showed their poor marksmanship, or at the least were as startled as we were.
The only casualty we took was a man with a small fragment in his heel. That probably was caused by one of our own M79 rounds exploding prematurely. We were lucky. The point man had seen the three enemy soldiers walking toward him on the trail. He tried to shoot them but had forgotten to chamber a round. By the time he did, the enemy saw him, and everyone started shooting.
We could tell from a heavy blood trail that one of the enemy was badly wounded. We followed his blood trail for a short distance and then were ordered to wait for one of the other platoons to catch up with us. They had taken four prisoners that day, one a lieutenant colonel as we later found out. We spent the night there on a plateau we had used as a landing zone to get out the prisoners, my casualty, and some sick Marines.
Several small plateaus were stair-stepped up the mountainside, probably abandoned fields. Our trail ran along one side of the plateaus, and a stream bordered the other side. Foliage and large rocks surrounded the trail and plateaus. The platoon sergeant took me aside. “Lieutenant, tone down the yelling. It is a good way to get shot. With all that noise, you draw attention to yourself.” I took his advice to heart.
The next day, the CO had my platoon come to his position, which was near a stream. We were to clean up before going out on a patrol. I set my platoon in a perimeter on a plateau below the captain’s and went up to see him. I no sooner got to his position, then he said, “Lieutenant Curry, what’s the deal on the prisoner?”
“What prisoner, sir?” I had no idea what he was talking about. Apparently, while I was on my way to see the CO, some Marines had walked over to the stream and caught an enemy soldier standing in the stream right in front of our perimeter.
On the trail between our perimeter and the stream lay the body of a dead enemy soldier. Whenever we went to wash or fill our canteens, we would gingerly step over him. This was the first dead person I had really seen up close and personal. I wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. On the one hand, I wanted to look like a veteran. On the other hand, I didn’t want to look at him and get sick. That would have been a little hard to explain. One thing about which there was no doubt, I didn’t breath through my nose at any time while in his vicinity! As it turned out, he looked just like a wax dummy, so it was no big thing, at least until he started to swell, and his skin began to peel. One of the troops remarked that he couldn’t help but think of the dead soldier every time a fly landed in his food. After that, I couldn’t either.
After my platoon had washed and eaten, we were sent out on a patrol. Within a short walk, we came upon an empty enemy base camp, actually two camps. In the first, the largest, we found all sorts of gear. The base camp was tucked into a formation of rocks. A sleeping platform in the middle had an earthen oven off to one side. The rocks formed all sorts of little caves and nooks and crannies. Hidden in these places we found a ton of rice, mortars, machine guns, rocket-propelled grenades (RPG), and a lot of other gear. The more stuff we found, the more nervous I got. I figured the enemy wouldn’t leave something behind as important to them as mortars.
I took my first serious casualty here. Three Marines were together, looking for more equipment. One of them got in front of the other two without them knowing it. He popped up in front of the two Marines, and one of them, mistaking him for the enemy, shot him. He was hit in the side. We stopped the bleeding and medevaced him immediately. He was conscious and talking. Hopefully, he will be all right.
A little later in the day, I did a very stupid thing. I sent two of my squad leaders along with two other men to check out the area and look for ambush sites. The stupid part was sending the squad leaders where they both could be hit at the same time.
A short time after the fire team left, the enemy opened up on us. The bullets were going high, but I was ducking anyway. I could hear them cracking overhead. At about the same time, my fire team ran into trouble. I got a frantic radio call saying they were pinned down by many NVA and that all four Marines were wounded. I quickly got my platoon together and started off in the direction of the shooting. I was expecting to get shot every time I crossed a little open ground.
We didn’t end up finding any enemy. Only one Marine was seriously wounded, the same man who had shot his friend earlier in the day. He was hit just above the groin. As he observed while we were carrying him to the LZ, he’d had a very bad day.
We stayed in the base camp for a couple of days along with