Death Valley_ The Summer Offensive, I Corps, August 1969 - Keith Nolan [140]
1stLt Lloyd L. Lindsey, Battalion Intelligence officer, summed it up when he said they fought the entire battle in a state of shock.
At 1800 on 25 August, Lieutenant Vannoy radioed Lieutenant Brennon to pull out of the paddy. It was getting dark and the Phantoms were coming in one more time to cover their retreat. Lieutenant Vallance’s platoon on the right flank would also be firing cover, then coming out after them.
The men crawled away from the protection of the boulder one at a time, and the NVA on the high ground opened fire with a renewed fury. The point man and rifleman went first, then the wounded corpsman, the squad leader, and finally Brennon and his radioman. They rolled over the first dike under heavy fire, then crawled through a wet paddy to the next dike. The point man jumped quickly over it, then reached back to help the rifleman hoist the seriously wounded corpsman over the berm.
In seconds, NVA snipers killed the first three men.
They collapsed in the mud, shot through their heads and throats. Brennon, his radioman, and the squad leader crawled back to the cover of the boulder. They crouched, exhausted and dirty, and called in more air strikes. The Phantoms came in low and put their ordnance right on the NVA, but it didn’t stop their fire. In the bushes to their left, only fifty meters away, they could hear men moving towards their rear. The NVA were trying to surround them in the dark. Brennon had only two men with him. They’d used M16s, M60s, M79s, Cobras, Phantoms. Well, he thought with a combination of irony and terror, I’m all out of tricks.
There was, however, one more ploy. Brennon radioed the jet pilots to scream in as low as possible, but not drop any bombs. Hopefully, the NVA would duck long enough for the three Marines to jump a dike at each pass. It was slow and scary and some of the snipers continued fighting—one shot the magazine right out of Brennon’s M16.
When the last Phantom made its last pass, the pilot radioed Brennon, “Hey, buddy, today it looks like you’re just SOL.” Shit Outta Luck.
But the maneuver worked; once out of the worst of the crossfire, the three grunts low-crawled the last hundred yards along the dikes into the sanctuary of the tree line behind them that had been secured by the CP and 2d Platoon. They lost the platoon leader lieutenant in the process; he took a bullet in his shoulder. Lieutenant Vallance and his platoon were able to pull back without drawing a shot. Perhaps it was getting too dark for the NVA to see them.
The fight had lasted more than eight hours. Five dead men were left in the field; one man was missing. In Hotel Company, both ammunition and spirits were very low.
The men headed back to link up with Golf Company.
Golf had also pulled back with a dead point man left lying in the dirt. They’d finally consolidated on the main trail and secured the area for Hotel’s withdrawal. While they were waiting, there was movement in the roadside brush, then a shout for help. Golf Two’s corpsman was about to run towards the call, but Staff Sergeant Clements stopped him, “No, stop doc. Think a minute. Might be some turncoats out there.” Clements shouted for the men to show themselves. Two grunts stumbled onto the trail, one shot in the leg and leaning against his buddy. They were pissed. “Those sonsuvbitches! They run off and left us!” The doc bandaged the man’s leg in an abandoned hootch, then directed them down the road to where the Golf CP was set up in another dilapidated hootch. It was doubtful that the two Marines were actually left behind. It was more probable that they were separated in the confusing night move, because the main body of Hotel did not pass through Golf for another thirty minutes. The company filed past in the dark, casualties carried in sagging ponchos between bent figures.
At least one thing went right on