I don't go off subject in the blog very often so hope you can indulge me today, on Memorial Day. We all have friends and/or relatives who have served in the military. My mom (a nurse from Dublin, Ireland) and my dad (a farm kid from South Dakota and medic in World War II) met at a hospital in England during the war.
This morning I was reflecting on the true meaning of Memorial Day and decided I would use today to share a story I recently wrote for the family of the youngest guy in our unit in Vietnam, David Cassidy, who was killed at the age of 19. Through some luck and the help of social media I was able to recently track down David's relatives and asked if they were ever given any details of what David did in Vietnam and the circumstances of his death. When they told me they had no information I offered to share my memory of our unit and what happened that day over 50 years ago and they eagerly accepted. Here is the letter I recently wrote. This is just one story of over 58,000 that are remembered today, just from Vietnam.
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| David Cassidy - 10/8/1949 to 11/22/1968 |
To the Cassidy family,
It has been almost 52 years since I was in Vietnam. I was a young
idealistic 21 year old from Bloomington, Minnesota (home of the
Minnesota Twins and Vikings) who was attending the
University of Minnesota and decided to volunteer for the draft. It
wasn't because I believed in the Vietnam War but because I knew I would
have to serve when I finished my bachelor's degree in Social Work. I
wanted to go to graduate school so decided to fulfill my military
obligation and use the GI bill to get my master's degree.
After basic training (Fort Campbell, Kentucky) and advanced infantryman
training (Fort Polk Louisiana) I arrived in Vietnam on October 8, 1968. I
was assigned to a 4.2 Mortar platoon with the 1st Battalion, 26th
Infantry Regiment, which was known as the "Blue Spaders" because of the
distinctive unit insignia. We were part of the famous 1st Infantry
Division which was known as the "The Big Red One" and was constituted in
1917 during WW I. The division comprised the first wave of troops that
assaulted German Army defenses in the invasion of Normandy when they
landed on Omaha beach on D-Day on June 6, 1944.
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| Big Red One & Blue Spader Insignias |
Even though we were an infantry platoon we were assigned to a Field Artillery Unit because the 4.2 mortar was an awkward, heavy (675 pounds) piece of equipment that was not suitable for a ground infantry unit. If you asked a soldier whose specialty was 4.2 inch mortars they would say they were in a "four deuce heavy mortar" unit. We had three different types of rounds we would shoot, high explosive (to suppress or kill the enemy), illumination (reveal location of enemy concealed by darkness) and white phosphorus (to mark targets for engagement by aircraft).
Our platoon consisted of four firing squads (4 mortars) and a FDC (fire direction control) squad. Most of the time we were in a more semi-permanent area called a fire support base (FSB). These FSB's provided a center of defense for the artillerymen and infantry troops operating in the area, protection for command and control personnel, a first-aid medical facility, and a relatively safe place for helicopters to land to resupply the FSB. When we were in base camp (FSB) it was relatively safe, the biggest danger was being hit by the occasional rocket attack but everyone lived in sand bag fortified bunkers that could withstand a direct hit. Most of the time we were idle and waiting for "fire missions" when we would have to fire our mortars. There were daily duties but a lot of time to play cards, write letters, etc.
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| A typical 4.2 mortar setup |
I arrived in Vietnam on October 8, 1968 and while there were nerve-racking moments we never left our base camp in a place called Quan Loi until November 22. On that day we were sent to the field to support a Rome Plow mission. These plow tractors were equipped with very sharp blades which weighed more than two tons and were used to destroy trees and other jungle flora that could be used by enemy forces. We were assigned along with a tank platoon and infantry company for security. There was a lot of activity as we came into this open field and were off loaded by Chinook helicopters. Wave after wave of helicopters dropping off troops and equipment in what I remember was tall elephant grass. It was a busy day as each squad had to haul their equipment to their designated spot, fill sand bags to build protection around their mortar, dig fox holes etc. The FDC squad, which David was a part of, had to build two bunkers, one for the charts and equipment where they "worked" and another for where they would sleep when not on duty. While we were setting up our areas the other units (tanks & infantry) were setting up their areas and the entire operation was encircled by concertina wire to protect us from being overrun in an attack.
It has been a couple of months since I wrote everything above and to be honest when I got to this part it became very difficult. I hadn't thought in this much detail about the day we were attacked and David was killed for many years and I just couldn't go on. I write a blog about a minor league professional hockey team (ECHL - Allen Americans) so I am used to writing every day. I know my reluctance to finish this story was more psychological and emotional than anything else. This morning I saw a quote that inspired me to finish what I had started months ago.
As the sun set on that Friday night in November in 1968 and light turned to darkness we were still working to get everything completed. A buddy (Bob) and I were digging a foxhole for the two of us. As darkness fell we participated in something we called a "Mad Minute." This was a tactic where everyone would saturate the jungle to show our fire superiority. The mad minute would start as we set off an illumination round and end when the light stopped. For that time everything from mortars, artillery, machine guns, grenade launchers, M16's and .45 caliber pistols were used. The more lead the better just to show anyone in the area the firepower the Americans had. I have a vivid memory of armored personnel carriers (APC's) on the perimeter of our base that were equipped with 50 caliber machine guns that could shoot over 500 rounds in a minute. Every round was a tracer so at night you could see this almost solid red streak.
It wasn't long after the mad minute that we were attacked. The Viet Cong infantry carried a small mortar (60mm) that was easily portable and ideally suited for Vietnam. They launched these mortars so close we could hear the rounds coming out of the tubes and had what seemed like an eternity but was probably 35 to 45 seconds before they landed. All you heard was everyone yelling "incoming, incoming, incoming." It was the start of a long night. Our FDC, where David was working, gave us fire missions to shoot illumination rounds so the infantrymen protecting the perimeter could see the enemy if they tried to breach the concertina wire. Between the mortar barrages there was a lot of small arms fire coming at us. You could tell enemy fire because they had green tracers and we were told every fifth round was a tracer. It seemed like forever before air support arrived and helped drive off the attackers. The memory etched in my brain forever was the arrival of a plane we called "Puff the Magic Dragon." This was a old World War II era fixed wing aircraft (civilian version is DC-3) that was modified to carry three miniguns. Each minigun had six barrels that rotated and was capable of firing up to 6000 rounds per minute. Every fifth round was a red tracer so with three of the guns firing it was a sea of red reigning down on the enemy. There is no doubt in my mind that aircraft prevented us from being overrun that night and minimized our casualties.
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| Spooky aka Puff the Magic Dragon |
It seemed like we went from all hell breaking loose to eerily quiet sometime in the middle of the night. I remember medevac helicopters arriving to evacuate the casualties. I also remember falling asleep in that not completed foxhole with by buddy, Bob. It was so small the next morning it wouldn't even fit one of us.
It wasn't until morning that we were told David did not make it. We had a field funeral and as you might imagine there was not a dry eye. He was the youngest guy in the unit and well liked by everyone. It was a sobering moment for all of us. I had been in country for less than two months and it struck me what I had ahead of me for the next 10 months.
How David was killed is unfortunate as it didn't have to happen. If you look at the crude diagram below you can see the set up for the FDC squad. It is essentially two bunkers, one for working doing all of the computations and one for sleeping. The two bunkers were connected by a tunnel. The roofs of the bunkers were made by laying down engineer stakes and then covering them with sand bags. The FDC squad completed the two bunkers and had the trench dug between them but ran out of engineer stakes so couldn't put a roof over the trench. As fate would have it one of those mortar rounds landed in that trench and all the shrapnel was funneled into the bunker. David was at the bunker opening and took all of the shrapnel. I have always believed he did not suffer and he prevented others deeper in the bunker from getting hit by shrapnel.
I have gone through the few papers and photos I still have from Vietnam and found just one regarding David. It is a special order dated December 7, 1968 awarding the Combat Infantryman Badge to everyone in our unit that was in the battle on November 22. Here is a photo of the entire page and a close up of the part that includes David and another member of the unit that got killed a week after David.
If you have any questions I would be happy to answer them the best I can though after all of these years I find I have forgotten much but have vivid images on the details I described above. I hope this is some benefit to you as it was worthwhile to me to spend time reflecting back. It seems like the older I get the more I think about that time. I had the opportunity to return to Vietnam a few years ago and spend time visiting Hanoi and much of North Vietnam. It gave me a different perspective of the war that the Vietnamese refer to as the American War. When you think that over 3,000,000 people (military and civilian) including 58,000 Americans were killed in the war and more than half of the dead were Vietnamese civilians it was a long, costly divisive conflict.
Barry Janssen
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| That is me on the left and my buddy, Bob, on the right |
