I have not read the “Dear Rob” letter yet, but I think I know what’s in it. I’m wondering as I get ready to start this letter if I have remembered correctly what happens that caused me to write to Rob instead of my parents. Did I ever write Rob, who was stationed in DC at the time? I don’t think I did. He has not mentioned any other letters that I might have sent him. Anyway, I’m glad he saved this one. Here goes.
“Dear Rob, I’ve elected you to hear this story. I want you to tell dad in case anything happens to me. We left LZ Terry and came north and west of Tay Ninh. Our company was to build a new fire base for our battalion to work from. We landed in the huge field here to begin construction. We had sent a patrol into the wood line for security. Just after they entered the wood line they got hit, and we got hit. The whole company was pinned down until we got air support and reinforcements. Another company was brought in on the other side of the LZ. They also got hit but not as badly as us. Our platoon (3/6) went to help the platoon in the woodline (1/6). We gave them fire support and they withdrew on line with us, leaving their wounded. They couldn’t get to them – 9 guys. The whole company (what was left of it) was on line about 50 yards from the tree line. The diagram shows what we looked like.”
I was unable to recreate the diagram in this blog. Picture a rounded rectangle. On the right side a tree line ran from top to bottom. Our company was spread out vertically in the field about 50 yards from this tree line with very little cover other than high grass. Our company HQ was centered in the top half of the rectangle. C Company was at the bottom of the rectangle also facing the treeline from where we were taking fire. After the air strikes, one squad from 3/6 moved to check the wounded. As we lay there in the hot sun we could see the wounded guys waving to show they were ok. But we couldn’t get there to them and they couldn’t get to us. More air strikes. Napalm! Then our whole company moved out on line firing as we went (we had a platoon from C Company with us also). We hit the tree line and threw everything we had at it. Guys were getting hit. We checked those wounded men we went in to get in the first place. They were all dead! The gooks were still hurting us so we withdrew again. Two of my best friends were killed – one of whom was my squad leader. Throughout the day we had NBC news with us. You may have seen some of this shit on television. I don’t think they were expecting all that contact. In short, we got the shit beat out of us. We recovered none of the bodies. We’re still here on the other side of the field. ‘B’ Company is over where we were, and from the sounds over there, they were also getting hell.”
“As you can tell, I’m pretty dirty right now. We had as many heat casualties yesterday as killed and wounded. I cried late yesterday afternoon when it was all over, cried for my friends who had been killed. I was lucky yesterday. But how long will it last? The whole area needs to be bombed by B-52s. The gooks are dug in well. Even air strikes can’t get them out. We’ve got to get back and recover those bodies. There is not much else to say. B company is near the wood line and we’re providing rear security for them. The gooks must have something in those woods they don’t want us to get near. The LZ remains unbuilt. I don’t know what’s ahead of us, but I feel sure it’s going to be rough and that we will eventually go into those woods again.”
“But if anything happens to me, I want you to know where and what the circumstances were. And I want you to tell dad. I’d write him myself, but mom would want to know what was in the letter. We killed a good amount of gooks when we were in the south – now it looks like our turn. Take care, Dave.”
I knew what was in this letter, but it turned out to be a much harder read than I thought it would be. When an event like that is buried in the past, I didn’t think it would have been this hard emotionally to bring it back. I don’t remember the names of those killed except for my squad leader, Marty Canavan. Marty can be found on the website, the Wall of Faces”. Whenever I hear the Beatles song “Hey Jude”, I think of Marty and I have posted his picture on my Facebook page. You may be interested in the weapon I was firing. It was the M-79 grenade launcher, and I was lobbing High Explosive rounds back behind where our wounded had been pinned down. Hard day, hard read. See ya next Monday.
