Death Valley_ The Summer Offensive, I Corps, August 1969 - Keith Nolan [129]
The Army was very grateful to the Marines for their quick deployment to the valley; some were convinced that it saved 4–31 Infantry from being completely overrun. But all was not cozy. For example, two days later—the size of the NVA finally confirmed—another Marine battalion was helicoptered wholesale from LZ Baldy to LZ West. Almost immediately, the Marines began their hump down the mountainside with full packs. It was over 100 degrees and windless and Major Lee had suggested they leave their flak jackets on the LZ. His advice was ignored and, in short order, the Marines were clogging the medevac chain with dozens of sun victims. It was a common problem. Captain Downey—who admired the Marine Corps—noted, “I’ll never forget the silly sight of a Marine unit on the march in full field gear as well as the old heavy flak jackets, having more men fall out as heat casualties then ever hurt by enemy fire. I’m sure even today there are some jackass officers somewhere who can deliver a ringing defense of the flak jacket policy. I doubt if any of them ever humped one in the Que Sons, though.”
26 August. The grunts of Charlie Company, 4th Battalion, 31st Infantry saddled up with all the enthusiasm of survivors being sent back into the meatgrinder. After the original ambushing, they’d dug in around Million Dollar Hill. Nerves were still taut, and the men were filthy, unshaven, numbed from lack of sleep. They knew the NVA were still dug in and waiting; but with the loss of their original company commander, their leadership was untested and, thus, untrusted.
Capt John R. Thomas had been in command five days.
Capt Spencer Wolfe, liaison officer, 3–82 FA, was the FO, temporarily replacing Lieutenant Wilson, who’d been medevacked with immersion foot to LZ West on 21 August. Lieutenant Robinson, commanding the point platoon, was now on day four in the bush.
This was to be their first firefight.
As Charlie Company rucked up, Captain Thomas briefed Lieutenant Robinson. The gravity of the situation did not really click with Robinson until he showed his map to the Kit Carson Scout. Twenty exclaimed, “No go, beaucoup NVA!” It was advice, not a refusal. The grunts respected Twenty’s experience, and his comment rattled them. When the squad leader picked a man to walk point, the GI said with resignation, “What are you trying to do, kill me?”
But the men followed orders, mostly because of SFC Marshall Robertson, the platoon cornerstone. He was a thin, white-haired veteran with a Virginia accent. He carried an AR15 Shorty, and was aggressive but calmly prudent. He was a thoroughly professional soldier, and most of the company just liked the hell out of him. He had been slotted for R and R but, with a new second lieutenant on hand, had postponed it.
Sergeant Robertson accompanied the rear squad of the platoon while Lieutenant Robinson went with the lead squad. Robinson was fifth man back from the point. The platoon filed atop a paddy berm paralleling a tree line to their left, approaching another tree line that intersected their path. The point man stepped onto the last dike before the trees.
An RPD machine gun abruptly knocked him down.
Lieutenant Robinson instantly dove to the right and scrambled forward to the next dike. He flopped beside the cover man. The RPD was in the trees ahead, joined by several AK47 and RPG gunners and an NVA with an M79 who lobbed rounds into the paddy. The sudden fusillade had fragmented the platoon. Robinson was flat