Pat Mclaughlin's Account of Actual Attack on the NDP Nov. 2,1967 1/18th Battalion commanded by Richard Cavazos
1 November 1967
It was Charlie Company’s turn for patrol and we were joined by one of
the other companies—I believe Alpha. The Battalion Commander would be
with us as we all expected some action. I was called up to Lima’s CP and
Annan told me that Dogface 6 had again directed that First Squad, Lima
Platoon take the point. This was highly unusual for one squad to be
singled out when there were so many others that had not yet had their
“turn” on point—particularly since we were in a very bad neighborhood.
I viewed this as the ultimate compliment by LTC Cavazos, and CPT Annan,
yet felt that we were being asked to carry a bigger load than any other
squad in Charlie Company or, likely, the Dogface Battalion. Walking back
to brief First Squad I wasn’t sure how the guys would react. They let me
know.
“What, are we the only squad capable of taking the point in the
company?”
“SGT Mac, this is unfair.”
“The ‘old man’ is asking more of First Squad Lima than of any other
squad.”
I couldn’t challenge the merits of any of the comments. When they were
done I simply pointed out that we were given the point because we were
the best and it was vital to all that the best take the point out. I
asked one or two of my most experienced guys if they wanted the point,
and none did. No problem, I’ll take it.
When we stepped off, with the scent of death floating in the air, the
two Dogface Companies were in a single file column and not in an
inverted “V.” Nor did we have guys out on the flanks which would be
typical. We were expecting trouble.
The unknown always accompanies the point. The Point Man understands that
with the heightened danger comes a heightened responsibility. More than
just self preservation drives the man on point. He knows that his
ability to discern, to analyze, to comprehend, and then to react is
fundamental to the well being of the unit. It is best when the man on
point wants to be there.
As I led the column through the Rubber I was in a zone. Blocking out the
noises behind me my senses were locked on the sights and sounds to my
front and the periphery. Safety off, my 14 was at the ready. I glanced
at the compass, spotted my target to work toward then scanned the
terrain to choose the best path to reach my compass point. We had gone a
thousand meters or more when I spotted movement to my right and up a
hill which we were navigating around. Holding the patrol I froze to take
stock.
Seconds passed as I zeroed in on the area where I discerned movement
then I saw them as they stepped into the open at the crest of the hill.
Three NVA soldiers in uniform and helmet, wearing backpacks, carrying
AK-47s remained standing and glared down at me. Fine, I’ll take a shot.
Just as quick as I brought the 14 to my shoulder to draw a bead the 3
soldiers ducked out of sight. “Coleman, I need the radio.”
“Lima 1 to Lima 6, over.”
“Lima 6, over.”
“I’ve got 3 enemy soldiers in uniform and backpacks, with AKs, up the
hill to right front, around 2 o’clock. They wanted me to see them before
disappearing, over.”
“Lima 6, roger, checking with Charlie 6.”
“Charlie 6 to Lima 1, over.”
“Lima 1, over.”
“Lima 1, tell me what you have, over.” I advised situation report as
requested, then asked, “Do you want First Squad to go up and check it
out, over?”
“Wait one, checking with Dogface 6, out”. I didn’t wait long.
“Charlie 6 to Lima 1, over.”
“Lima 1, go.”
“The ‘old man’ wants clarification. Are you certain that they wanted you
to see them, over?”
“Affirmative, they made sure that I saw them before they ducked out of
sight, over.”
“Charlie 6 to Lima 1, over.”
“Lima 1, go.”
“Dogface 6 says this is a trap. We are cutting a new azimuth and calling
in artillery. Charlie 6 out.”
We headed off in a new direction while Dogface 6 called in artillery on
the hill and surrounding area. The two companies of infantry “snaked”
our way back to the perimeter. Another day, another patrol--otherwise
uneventful-- or was it?
It was Lima Platoon’s turn for ambush patrol, not an entirely happy fact
considering that there were a bunch of angry NVA and VC fellows in the
area with unpleasant designs on us. It was Second Squad’s rotation.
Sergeant O’Brien and Lt. Zima returned from the CP after briefing and
O’Be began to brief his guys. I walked over to listen in as did John
May.
It was important to know where Second Squad would be positioned. This
also placed a burden on First Squad as we would need to fan out and
occupy Lima’s positions over the platoon front. We would be spread too
thin. Especially since Lima Platoon on the north side, and the
Battalion’s Recon Platoon on the south side, protected the artillery and
mortar positions so vital to the overall operation. Staff Sergeant May
and I worked out how First Squad would “fill-in” the vacant Second Squad
bunkers.
Second Squad was uneasy about this ambush, and rightly so. O’Be calmed
his guys and Porky provided seasoned leadership to the newer soldiers.
In the end you b---hed, shook it off, and carried on with the mission.
That’s what Second Squad did. As Second Squad lined-up, single file,
grunts double checking weapons, ammo, frags, and claymores I poked,
“Hey, O’Be.”
“Yea, Mac.”
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish out there.”
“We’re just going out to make a little fire, toast marsh mellows, and
tell some ghost stories. Wanna come?”
“Appreciate the invite but someone’s got to hold this perimeter while
y’all out camping. See you in the morning.”
As light was fading, O’Be and his men, twelve strong, headed north into
the Rubber. If the enemy challenged these men they would have one
hell-of-a-fight on their hands.
Lima also had listening post (LP) so O’Connor and two others were out
less than a hundred meters to Lima’s front, directly west of the
artillery. The terrain to our front was clear then somewhat abruptly
sloped down to a larger valley which appeared to be thick jungle. Off in
the distance was Cambodia. Coleman handed Lima 1’s radio to O’Connor so
the LP could communicate with Lima 6 and Charlie 6.
0030 hours on 2 November 1967
If I was dreaming at all, it must have been about Sydney. Coleman had
watch, and I was napping in the sanctuary of the sand bags stacked 3
high extending behind our bunker. “We’ve got incoming”, shouted Coleman.
Yes, we did. Explosions were loud and frequent. Shrapnel ripping
everywhere. Coleman climbed into the bunker, as I shook the sleep off.
At this point O’Connor hauls ass back to the bunker and dives into the
sanctuary of the sleeping area. Coleman takes the radio back, “I felt
naked without it.” I suggested O’C take shelter in the bunker. “No way,
I’ll stay here.” He reported that when the first mortar rounds hit,
unable to reach Lima 6, he radioed Charlie 6 who directed that the LP
get back to the perimeter.
We kept a low profile, but eyes to the front expecting an assault when
the mortar attack ceased. The mortar rounds rained on us, Oscar’s
mortars, and the 105’s. Whoever was directing the incoming knew what he
was doing. If the enemy followed the mortar barrage with a ground
assault Lima was in trouble with Second Squad on ambush.
Sitting in the well of the bunker I caught a piece of shrapnel in the
upper left back. O’Connor was behind me and hollared, “Mac, there’s a
piece of shrapnel sticking out of your back.”
“Well, pull it out Johnny!” O’Connor did causing burns on his hand from
the hot shrapnel. The wound was a modest one, nothing to worry about.
Someone must have called our medic and Doc Houchins showed up.
“Mac, are you hit?”
“Doc, I’m fine. Get back to your bunker, it is too dangerous for you to
be out.”
The mortar attack was slowing. Stuffing two magazines in my pants side
pockets and a frag grenade in my shirt I told O’Connor and Coleman that
I am checking on the CP bunker. Keep a keen eye out to our front as we
may get a probe or ground assault at any time.
The sleeping area at the CP bunker had taken a direct hit. Our Platoon
Sergeant, John May, died instantly. Paul Zima, Platoon Leader, was
seriously wounded. Lima 6 RTO, David Estus, was hit with multiple
shrapnel wounds in the upper and lower back. In the bunker next to the
CP, Ken Gardellis was on guard sitting on the sand bags. The first round
coming in had struck the CP bunker and Ken was hit with shrapnel
knocking him to the ground. Lima grunt, Dennis Beal, was also wounded
during the mortar attack.
I needed to get back to my radio and report to Charlie 6. As I turned
from the CP bunker, or what once resembled a bunker, my attention was
drawn to the “ammo pit” that Lima dug to hold our extra M14, M16, M60,
and M79 rounds along with frag, Claymore, and smoke grenades. The pit
was round and about 4 to 5 feet deep. It, too, had taken a direct hit.
There was some fire in the pit and a couple rounds “cooked off” drawing
my attention. This is not good.
Stepping back to the rear of the CP bunker I located a 5-gallon can of
water and dragged it over to the pit keeping as low a profile as
possible. As I stood and tilted the water can to attempt to douse the
rising flames rounds cooked off right and left, with increasing
rapidity. Seeing the grenades and “thump gun” rounds in the midst of
flames my thoughts were rather uncomplicated: “I don’t know if I am
going to be alive when the sun comes up, but I’m damn sure not going to
die with this water can in my hands.” I moved on.
Making the round of Lima bunkers, stating the obvious, the guys were
definitely “up and alert” gathering ammo and grenades to their person.
The M60 team, with a new gunner, was ready. Bob Duncan injured his knee
during the battle on October 29th and it swelled double normal size. He
couldn’t walk much less carry Lima’s M60. Over his objection, he was
dusted-off on October 31st. Kimball Myrick, from Mississippi, took over
First Squad’s Gun. The Gun was in good hands.
The fire and explosions from the ammo pit lit up the area which allowed
any enemy watching to view us, the bunkers, and the 105’s. I prayed that
they could not discern that the Lima bunkers were scantily manned.
Back at my bunker Coleman radioed Charlie 6 Kilo to advise that Lima 1
wanted to speak with Charlie 6. Coleman handed me the radio. “Charlie 6,
over.”
“Charlie 6 this is Lima 1 with a SitRep, over.”
“Roger, go Lima 1.”
“Lima 5 is KIA, Lima 6 is WIA, needs medic, others WIA. I am taking
command of the Platoon, over.” My hope was that my voice did not expose
to the Company Commander the fear that I felt at that moment.
“Say again, over.”
“I am taking command of Lima. Lima 5 is KIA, Lima 6 is WIA , others also
wounded, over”
“[Pause], I read you Lima Charlie. Charlie 6, out.”
0100 hours on 2 November 1967
The word went out that Lima Platoon had casualties. Doc Simpson grabbed
his medic bag and hustled over to Lima. Arriving at the CP bunker he
first spotted Lima 5. Simpson reached down to attend to SSG May,
observed that he had died instantly, then was blown back landing aside
the bunker and on top of Paul Zima. Dazed and shaken, Doc wondered what
had just happened. It was the ammo pit, grenades had exploded. Quickly
looking himself over Doc had escaped any shrapnel wounds. He turned his
attention to Paul Zima. Lima 6 was unable to speak due to wounds to his
face and head. Another medic arrived and assisted Simpson in attending
to Zima and to Lima 6 Kilo, David Estus. Doc advised Charlie 6 that Zima
required MEDEVAC now, couldn’t wait for the morning sun.
Dogface 6 couldn’t get a MEDEVAC to come in but a supply chopper did.
O’Connor and I ran over to assist the medics in carrying Paul Zima and
placing him on the Huey. The slick touched down, we placed Zima in and
shouted “Get him out of here!” As we did they were kicking boxes of ammo
and grenades off the supply slick. Supplies Dogface would need. Not
appreciating the seriousness of his wounds, and in the hurly-burly of
the night and fast changing events, Estus wasn’t dusted-off till
November 4th.
John May had been very excited as he was leaving the field on November
2nd to head back to Dian and from there to Hawaii. He was meeting his
wife on R&R. We never learned whether Mrs. May was informed of her
husband’s death before she left her young children to travel to Hawaii
to meet John. Death is tragic and cruel.
The Ambushes’ Blow
Monitoring the radio traffic, Coleman advised that the Second Squad was
reporting movement coming up through the Rubber.
Suddenly, to the south, the Alpha Company ambush blew their claymores
and headed up a small road inside the Rubber which ran straight through
the NDP. A Recon Platoon bunker on the west edge of the road awaited the
ambush patrol, as did the Alpha bunker on the east edge. As the
approaching dark silhouettes took shape they hollered, “Ambush coming
in!” A soldier standing by the edge of his bunker shouted back, “Ambush
come on in.” The Recon grunts began the count as the Alpha ambush
reached the NDP: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,
ten, eleven, and twelve. Ambush accounted for—wait. Coming up the road
is another silhouette yelling in perfect English, “Ambush coming in.
Ambush coming in.” The Recon grunt glanced at his bunker-mates and
instantly they communicated, although not a word was spoken. One grunt
hollered back, “Ambush come on in.” When the dark shape was within feet
of the sentries guarding access to the Dogface perimeter he was cut down
in a barrage of fire.
When the morning sun intruded on the horizon the enemy soldier could be
viewed. He had been struck by an M79 “thump gun” round in his head,
caving in the side of his skull. The round had not exploded since it
failed to travel the required distance to arm itself after exiting the
barrel. I observed the enemy body and the unexploded M79 round and asked
one of the Recon guys about it. The conversation went something like
this: I asked, “How could you be so sure that you counted twelve men?”
“I counted twelve”, he stated.
“Obviously,” I said, “but it was dark and the situation was not
conducive to absolute certainty.”
Again, he simply said “I counted twelve, and the other guy coming up
shouting ‘ambush coming in’ was thirteen. He wasn’t getting in.”
Minutes after number thirteen was gunned down the Delta Company ambush,
positioned to the east, blew their claymores and headed back to the
perimeter.
This left Second Squad as the sole ambush out, but not for long. The
guys reported back that heavy movement was approaching the perimeter, in
the Rubber, from the north and northeast. Charlie 6 directed them to
blow the ambush and get back in to the NDP. The blasting claymores
rocked the brief stillness and seconds later automatic weapons, on both
sides, ripped the night. From my bunker I could see the green tracers
coming into and over the Charlie Company line. The Second Squad was
firing and maneuvering to reach the safety of their bunkers. Mike,
November, and Oscar Platoons opened fire on the enemy muzzle flashes and
I was horrified with the certainty that the Second Squad was caught in
the crossfire. I feared that the entire Squad would be wiped out or
suffer massive casualties. The crossfire was intense, green tracers
inbound and red tracers outbound, like ships passing in the night
oblivious to one another— each randomly seeking a target.
As fate would have it the terrain presented a recess allowing the Second
Squad to dip below the ground level and work their way over to the road
leading south into the Dogface position. Mercifully, under the cover of
night, this positioned the squad out of the thunderous crossfire. Out of
breath, adrenalin pumping, Lima 2 radioed over that the Second Squad was
back—twelve men present and accounted for. O’Be had monitored my earlier
transmission to Charlie 6 and was aware that Lima had suffered
casualties during the mortar attack. Still today, I rejoice at the
indescribable sensation of relief, and disbelief, that the twelve
emerged from that crossfire and were back with Lima. I told O’Be to get
his men settled in and ready for action.
“How was your camping trip, over.”
“We ran out of marsh mellows. You got any coffee on over there, over.”
“Negative. We haven’t been focused on coffee. I’ll make some rot-gut
when the sun comes up, over.”
“Roger that, Lima 2 out.”
0200 hours on 2 November 1967
After the three ambush patrols were back with Dogface there was an eerie
silence, akin to being in the “eye” of a hurricane. We all knew it was
coming. We just didn’t know what “it” was. Then, breaking the silence,
over on the east side of the NDP there was a “pop”, like a fire-cracker,
then illumination. It was one of our trip flares put out for just this
purpose. A second “pop”, then a third, a fourth, a fifth, merging into a
string of fire-crackers creating an illumination effect exposing all
engulfed therein stretching from the northeast around to the south of
the NDP. The advancing enemy soldiers hit the ground awaiting the trip
flare burn out but Dogface had been warned. The enemy assault was
directed at Alpha, Delta, and that portion of Charlie located in the
rubber.
Like so many other moments in war, throughout history, opposing ground
forces met on a battlefield where quarter was neither asked for nor
given. The intentions of the combatants hadn’t changed, only the weapons
used to fight and defeat the enemy. Each man present, regardless of
uniform, knew to a certainty that this fight was without quarter.
0230 hours on 2 November 1967
On the ground, infantry elements of the 273rd VC Regiment advanced on
the Dogface NDP. The mortar platoon and gunships put out flares which
provided some illumination, although distorted by the shadows projected
by the Rubber trees. As the enemy advanced automatic weapons exchanged
fire and grenades tossed about. The VC utilized RPG rockets to attempt
to knock out the grunts embedded in the defensive bunkers if the bunkers
could be spotted. Claymores out to the immediate front of the bunkers
were blown as the assaulting forces neared the perimeter.
The VC came at Dogface with flamethrowers. The flamethrowers required
ignition which in the night drew the attention of the intended
recipients. The enemy soldiers must have appreciated that they would be
the number 1 priority of US troops once they were observed and
identified as carrying flamethrowers. According to grunts on the scene,
when the first flamethrower was ignited all within eyeshot promptly
diverted their attention from whomever they were engaged and fired upon
the guy with the flamethrower. Red tracers erupted from all types of
weapons, up and down the line, converging on the soldier carrying the
flamethrower. Both it and he exploded. A second flamethrower was ignited
and just as quickly incinerated. Three additional flamethrowers were
captured and identified as Soviet models.
The Dogface Battalion did not carry flamethrowers, and I can’t recall
even employing them in advanced infantry training, but all Dogface
soldiers knew what those cataclysmic weapons were capable of doing to a
man. Whatever it took—kill the flamethrowers!
Oscar Platoon, commanded by LT Emmett Smart from Texas, fired
illumination and explosive rounds at a blistering pace. Fired with
minimum charge, the explosive rounds were landing within 50 meters
outside the NDP. Smart would soon be reassigned to become Lima 6.
At some point during the fight word reached Lima and Recon Platoons that
the 105’s were locked and loaded with “beehive” rounds. The 105mm
version contained about 8,000 “Flechettes” each about 1-inch long,
pointed at one end with small fins on the other. If the word came that
the artillery guys had to resort to the “beehive” rounds we grunts would
get in our bunkers to avoid being wiped out by the “Flechettes” aimed at
the enemy ground assault which would have, by then, breached our
perimeter and threatened to overcome the artillery unit.
Gunships are overhead directing fire on the advancing enemy infantry.
They were joined eventually by Air Force fighter jets. The attacking
forces were ready for our air support. During the battle there were
twelve 12.7mm anti-aircraft machinegun positions firing upon our air
support. The 12.7mm heavy machinegun fired .50 caliber rounds at 600
rounds per minute. From our vantage point in the open, unavailable to
our brethren in the Rubber, we had an unimpeded view of the air battle
presenting against the night sky. It was an amazing, if frightening,
show. The red tracers from above passing the green tracers from below,
emanating from multiple sources, and the after-burners of the jets being
chased by green tracers were riveting.
The pilots and door gunners above us were presented with an equally
amazing show. An infantry battalion NDP under attack from several
directions, illumination rounds popping overhead, sinking, then replaced
and ground fires within the perimeter invoking a mini-fireworks display
all framed by the red and green tracers. Add to this the artillery
rounds coming in from the NDP’s within supporting range of Dogface, and
the work of our own mortar platoons, and you had a scene that the men
fortunate enough to be there would mark as a once in a lifetime memory.
One not often repeated in this War.
At one point, framed against the clear black sky to the south of the
NDP, I observed an unforgettable scene. The afterburners on the jets
permitted us to follow the fighter’s path. When the jets dove to strafe
or rocket we could witness the tracers darting to the targets. One
flyboy came in on another pass firing down at an anti-aircraft position
and the 12.7mm firing up, colors immersed as the rounds seemed to blend
together when a midair explosion lit up the sky. Stunned, disbelieving,
had the g--ks just shot down our jet fighter? That instant thought
highlighted just how isolated we were in this patch of nowhere. Then, I
saw the jet’s afterburner pull up and away streaking against the black
of night. I concluded then, and remain committed to the thought, that
the jet dropped a bomb which was, while on the way to the target, struck
by a .50 caliber round detonating the ordinance in flight. Prematurely,
that is, if you were among the good guys. If you were part of the
anti-aircraft machinegun crew you cheered your victory and savored the
time bought by this unforeseen good fortune.
After action reports memorialize that between 0230 and 0430 airstrikes
took out most of the anti-aircraft positions resulting in 55 known enemy
dead manning those heavy machineguns. I can’t testify to the time
interval as we weren’t looking at our watches. However, I’m sure that
all Dogface soldiers can testify that the interval between midnight and
first light seemed a very long time. The 273rd VC Regiment broke contact
around 0415 and withdrew to the southeast. This was, indeed, a very,
very long night for the 273rd and its supporting units.
Dogface tested no longer
We stuck around the NDP for five more days but the 165th NVA Regiment
and the 273rd VC Regiment no longer savored the prospect of taking a
bite out of Dogface. The Battalion had been tested and passed at the
head of the class. The enemy had taken on an experienced BRO infantry
battalion and suffered the consequences. Initial enemy losses were 220
killed, but after several days of patrols finding more dead the final
body count reached 263 from the November 2nd battle. The battle is
referred to as “Srok Silamlite III.” As a testament to the “DePuy”
defensive fighting positions, and our artillery, mortar, and air
support, Dogface losses in that battle were 1 killed and 8 wounded in
action. Lima Platoon of Charlie Company had experienced a
disproportionate percentage of those 9 casualties.
A day or two after the November 2nd battle two companies went out on
patrol. Lima Charlie got a break, we weren’t on the point. But we went
up that hill where those three enemy soldiers and I had a brief staring
contest on November 1st. This was the staging area for the force that
hit us shortly after midnight. Throughout the trenches interlacing the
hill and surrounding terrain we observed wire used for communications,
multiple rounds of ammunition, food and various military and personal
items.
“The old man was right. This was a trap.”
This episode has occupied my mind many times over the years. Although I
only served with one infantry battalion in Vietnam I have read a bit and
spoken with a number of my generation who paid their dues as combat
soldiers in ‘Nam. Is it unfair of me to believe, as I do, that many
infantry battalion commanders in Vietnam in 1967, Army or Marine, would
have sent First Squad or all of Lima up that hill? They would not have
recognized this as a “trap.” Rather, viewed it as an opportunity to
engage that enemy but, unforeseen in that commander’s eyes, on the
enemy’s terms.
Many years later, while on a business trip to Texas, the General and I
met for breakfast. We had not seen one another, although we had stayed
in contact over the years, since December, 1967 in Dian when Dogface 6
said an emotional farewell to Charlie Company as he was being promoted
and given a new assignment. I reminded him of the call that he had made
on November 1st and mused that had he sent Lima up that hill I wouldn’t
be here to enjoy our breakfast together. He remembered the call well.
General Cavazos stated that he knew who was on point and was wise enough
to pay attention to what his Point Man reported. When he received my
report the picture, to him, was clear. The enemy’s subtle attempt to
lure Dogface up that hill signaled a trap and he did not commit his
Dogface soldiers unless it was on our terms--not the enemy’s terms. No
argument here.
The Commanding General of the Division during the Loc Ninh battles, MG
John Hay, congratulated the Dogface Battalion and the other infantry ,
artillery, aviation and support units participating for our “completely
outstanding performance…conducted with power and distinction,
contributing immeasurably to victory in Vietnam in the proud name of the
Big Red One.” At the conclusion of the battles around Loc Ninh General
William Westmoreland, Commander of U.S. forces in Vietnam, congratulated
MG Hay in praise of the BRO: “This operation is one of the most
significant and important that has been conducted in Vietnam, and I am
delighted with the tremendous performance of your division. So far as I
can see, you have just made one mistake, and that is you made it look
too easy.”
Valorous Unit Citation: Binh Long Province
At that breakfast with General Cavazos, I learned for the first time
that the battalion had received the Valorous Unit Award for
extraordinary heroism in action during the period October 6 to December
10, 1967. To receive this Award a unit must have performed with marked
distinction under difficult and hazardous conditions so as to set it
apart from other units participating in the same conflict. The degree of
heroism required is equal to that which would warrant the award of the
Silver Star, the nation’s third highest, to an individual.
The Award’s Citation reads as follows:
“The 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry and its assigned units distinguished
themselves by extraordinary heroism while engaged in military operations
in the Republic of Vietnam during the period 6 October to 10 December
1967. During this period the Battalion engaged in eight significant
battles and several smaller skirmishes with hostile forces in the Binh
Long Province. Because of the determined fighting spirit of the
Battalion and its superior tactical capabilities, these engagements
resulted in severe losses of both men and equipment by the North
Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong forces while the friendly forces suffered
only minor losses. Operation Shenandoah II, designed to clear the
northern area of hostile operations resulted in approximately 60 days
and nights of almost continuous action and daily contacts. At the
conclusion of the period, Highway 13 south of Quan Loi was opened and
secured. The Battalion’s excellence in both offensive and defensive
operations was undeniably proven during this period. Its expert
leadership and extraordinary combat effectiveness were responsible for
gaining unquestionable superiority over enemy forces in the area,
resulting in over 700 enemy killed in action and the capture of numerous
weapons and much equipment. The men of the 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry,
1st Division, displayed extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty which
are in keeping with the highest traditions of the military service and
reflect great credit upon themselves, the 1st Infantry Division, and the
United States Army.”
This story, a grunts-eyed view, describes a piece of a portion of the
66-day period during which the Dogface Battalion “displayed
extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty.” I’ll leave it to others to
tell the rest of the stories.
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Staff Sergeant Patrick M. McLaughlin |
Class of 2004  |
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United States Army SILVER STAR |
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Citation |
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