Loon - Jack McLean [70]
Within seconds, the first mortar round landed inside the Charlie Company lines about thirty yards from where Negron and Tillery were standing. The next round fell about thirty yards past the position. They glanced at each other with tacit mutual understanding.
The gooks were bracketing in on the tree.
If they didn’t move, the next round would be on their heads. So they simultaneously screamed “Incoming!” and, grabbing every marine in their path, fled to a nearby hole. Seconds later it came—KABOOM—right on the tree. Then came another, and then another all on exactly the same spot.
It was now apparent that the NVA forward observer had been using the tree as a focused target for the mortars, so that he could triangulate the grid for the artillery, twelve miles away. The mortars were meant to be little more than spotter rounds to determine precise coordinates.
I thought I had seen the mortar setup. Dan Burton and I were taking a breather while digging our holes and looked out across to the adjacent wooded ridge several hundred yards away. We noticed two men entering a small clearing. Was it the NVA? If it was, it was the first time in my tour that I had seen an NVA soldier in the open. Not a good sign. If they were in the open, it meant there was no room in the woods. Wasn’t Delta over there? We were still becoming oriented to our new position. Moments later we saw a puff of smoke followed seconds later by the tubing sound. The first round landed just outside the perimeter directly in front of us.
We scampered to grab a 60 mm mortar and some ammo. Danny put it between his legs without a tripod or a scope and began lobbing rounds in their direction while I fed him the ammo and stripped off the explosive increments. The next incoming mortar round landed well behind us.
The 106 mm recoilless rifle was positioned right next to us.
The operator turned the six-foot cannon 90 degrees on its tripod, chambered a round, and let go. As the final incoming mortar round came in, the NVA mortar emplacement across the ridge evaporated in a cloud of smoke, dust, and flesh.
Score one for the good guys.
The evening of June 4, 1968, our first night on LZ Loon, was relatively quiet. There was some probing of the lines, several grenades were thrown, and there was occasional small-arms fire.
All ours.
We heard the detonation of one claymore mine. Not a good sign. We slept—for the most part—stood regular watches, and sent out patrols and listening posts.
It was to be our last calm. One of the biggest battles of the Vietnam War was about to be joined.
By dawn of the third day, most of the marines of Charlie and Delta companies would be dead or wounded.
23
ON THE MORNING OF JUNE FIFTH, THE SUN ROSE TO inaugurate a spectacular spring day. But for the intense smell of cordite from the previous day’s incoming mortars, the air was cool and fresh.
Several supply choppers came in early, bringing C rations, fresh fruit—unheard of in the field—pallets of ammo, and mail. We could hear the backhoe beginning to dig the 105 mm howitzer emplacements on the other side of our hill. As planned, the actual guns were to be dropped in by flying crane later in the morning. We would then commence our artillery assault on the encroaching enemy.
General Davis’s plan was being implemented.
Our artillery would fire for two days and then be lifted out along with the rest of us to move on to another hill.
We all took a deep breath. Captain Negron, relieved by the absence of an incoming attack, sent out two squad-size patrols to look around just outside the lines for signs of enemy activity.
The patrols had neither NVA sightings nor contact, but did find an enemy canteen with blood trails nearby. The NVA had certainly been out there the night before. The morning passed uneventfully. We dug our holes deeper, cleaned our rifles, read our mail, and ate fresh fruit.
Early in the afternoon of June 5, choppers brought in Charlie Company’s 3rd Platoon, which had been unable to land the previous day. Although we now