TBS 2-67 Cruisebook_Updated_7Jan23

Tet
Tet
If a C­130 trip to remote, fog­shrouded Khe Sanh was akin
to some sort of eco­tour with your buddies: you know, the
nature hikes and pick­your­own­coffee­beans variety, then
Tet was of the room­service variety. It came to you. No
waiting, either. It came one week after the NVA 66 th
regiment got lodged in Khe Sanh’s wire. This time Hanoi
sent all they had at everyone’s barbed wire, all at once. They
gambled everything, willing to fight to their last VC.
What a shock that was to the starchies in Saigon, and
understandably so: MAC(V) had undersold Hanoi’s
capabilities at every turn. If, however, you made your living
in jungle utilities, say out in Quang Nam, there was more
pragmatism in considering how things might careen off in
unexpected directions, particularly when you were
approaching the forty­third cease fire that Lady Bird had
negotiated, of which Hanoi had previously violated only
forty­two. Lying was high on the list of Hanoi’s proclivities
that Saigon undersold.
And there’s us: Marines are comfortable with
amusing embellishments to an already good tale – or the
prowess of their Corps. We learned, albeit slowly, that our
own intel folks weren't any less susceptible to selling
themselves a load of goods than were the geniuses in
Saigon.
***
There is a long ridge line separating jungle from paddy
fields northwest of Hue City. It’s referred to as Co Bi –
Than Tan ridge after the pitiful little villages that sit
abandoned beneath its shadow. From up on the ridge you
could peer right into Hue one way or up past Camp Evans,
the other way, to the hazy outline of Quang Tri city.
Sometime in the last few weeks before Tet
somebody sent a recon team up the ridge. (Probably one
from McBride’s company.) Either way, the first night went
fine, but then in the early darkness of the next comm went
silent. Gone.
Daylight they found the bodies, all but one
(presumed captured). Different, however, was that all
their stuff was there: radios, M‐16s – everything. (Maybe
not watches). From their wounds it was clear that they
had been overwhelmed with a volley of grenades. Their
magazines were full.
But untouched radios?
“Happened too close to Camp Evan’s 155s.” G‐2
suggested. Or: “the VC know how fast Marine air can
descend on them and they were afraid to hang around.”
Every explanation had the NVA off‐balance in some way,
skittering off before retribution arrived.
Four days or so later, the lone missing Marine was
spotted, waving out in front of an ARVN 105 battery. They
pulled him in, fed him, and called for Recon to come get
him.
Grenades blew him backwards, right off the ridge
and down into the jungle, he explains. Lost, no map, he
hid days and moved nights towards the sound of guns.
Back at Phu Bai he asks S‐2 Lt Lance Zellers: Where do I
turn in my dog‐tags?
Nobody snorted.
Leaving the radios? Ah, figured that out at Tet:
They didn’t need them.
***
A‐37