Riot Control & Vietnam

C H A P T E R IV
(1969-1970)
During this period of time, there was a lot of unrest throughout the country over our (the U.S.'s) involvement in Vietnam. There were riots going on everywhere. One of the new objectives of HHT, 4/12 Cav., was to train in riot control so that, if we were needed anywhere, we would know what to do to disperse a crowd. To that end, we spent days and weeks practicing different formations and movements within that formation. For example, the most common formation was a wedge shaped formation, used to enter a crowd and disperse it to either side.

We practiced with sheathed bayonets on our rifles. In actual riot control maneuvers, they would be unsheathed. We wore protective masks around our waist, ready to put them on if tear gas should have to be used. The officers or leaders who directed the formation, did so from just inside the "V" of the wedge, and were prepared to reach out in front of the wedge to grab any protesting leaders, drag him/her within the wedge, subdue them, and take them into custody. They would also determine when to use tear gas, and when to have the troops put on their masks.

It was July and August that this almost daily regimen of practice would take place. It was sultry and hot, and almost everyone was griping about having to practice these maneuvers. We doubted we'd ever be called upon to actually use such tactics.
What was our surprise, then, when we were alerted to load-up for deployment to Washington, D.C. for riot control! We were loaded aboard C-5 Galaxy Starlifters (four planeloads of troops) at Colorado Springs Airport, and flown to Washington, D.C., where the rioting was taking place.

We had to bivouac at Andrews AFB until such time as we would be called to action. We were there for four days, but were never called upon to go into the city to quell riots. We heard on the radio that the riots were taking place, but the National Guard had been called in to put down the disturbances. The powers-that-be, decided that it wouldn't do to have regular troops trying to put down such disturbances, that it might, in fact, cause more unrest. At the end of the four days, we were loaded back on board the Starlifters and sent winging back to Colorado. While this exercise was a part of history, and hair-raising at times, I'm just as glad that we weren't used.

Shortly after our return to the unit, A troop and D troop (which was a helicopter unit) were alerted for Vietnam duty. They had about three weeks to do all the paperwork processing, get their shots and records brought up-to-date, and say good bye to their families prior to departure.

They asked for volunteers from HHT, B, and C troops, to flesh out their units where they were short. Roy Flegle volunteered to go, as well as several others of my friends. I elected to stay where I was. I might as well have volunteered to go with them as a unit, because only four months later, I came down on individual orders for Vietnam anyway.

I wanted to use my Ford Falcon 500 right up until the last day I left. I'd gotten used to having my own transportation to take me around post and off post for recreation. I didn't want to have to start relying on post taxis to process out. I gave Sergeant Sullivan a limited power of attorney to sell the car after I'd left. I had been quite close to him and his family, even baby-sitting for them occasionally. I asked him to send me any money he got for the car whenever he sold it. Although I wrote him several times from Vietnam, he never answered me. It wasn't until I returned thirteen months later, that I learned he had let the car be repossessed, and he had been posted to Europe.

We flew into Cam Rhan Bay on a commercial flight. That was a surprise to me, because I just didn't connect the civilian airlines with being in a war zone. However, those pilots knew their stuff. Combat landings are very steep, and not the same gentle glide to a landing that you get in stateside airports. We were encouraged to disembark the plane as fast as possible because the plane had to make a rapid turn-around time on the ground to lessen the chance of being hit by enemy fire.

The first thing we all noticed as soon as our feet hit the tarmac, was the heat! It was oppressive! We were quick-timed over to a large open-spaced area, under a tin-canopied enclosure. There our paper work was processed. We were loaded onto buses and driven to a huge area of quonset huts. These are rounded buildings made of corrugated tin, generally with an open bay inside, with bunks lining both sides of the bay. The quonset hut was sand-bagged all the way around on the outside, to about waist height. This was to protect against shrapnel from incoming rounds.

We would be here for four days. It was a replacement center, where they kept you temporarily until they found a unit in-country that needed your particular rank and MOS. During the day, a lot of combat briefings were given and the culture and customs of the Vietnamese were taught.

It was also the start of our acclimatization to the temperatures of Vietnam. During our stay, we were given a new issue of tropical fatigues, boots, undies, combat gear, etc. They took away our field jackets, saying there was no place in Vietnam where they would be needed. Oh, how little they knew! Nights in the Central Highlands, do get very cold, and a field jacket is needed. That was to be my ultimate destination.

They flew me out to Pleku, in the Central Highlands, the headquarters for the 43rd Signal Batallion. I would be here another ten days, acclimatizing to the temperatures. I was issued a .45 caliber pistol and given the job of escorting a prisoner to his courts-martial every day. By this time, I figured I must be a bad looking dude, because this was about the third time that the military had picked me for this type of duty.

Most of my nights in Pleku were spent in the NCO club, listening to the "old timers" talk about what the duty was like. I was trying to get a feel for what I was in for. There was such a diversity of sites that the people came from, that without knowing where I'd be going, the talk would give me no clue by just listening. I expect that a lot of the fellows, seeing what
was obviously "new blood," began to lay it on a bit thick. At least that was what I thought at the time. I didn't know that these, and many other stories, were mild compared to what was actually happening.

My final orders were cut for Charlie Company, 43rd Signal Batallion, located in Kontum further up highway #1 in the Central Highlands. I would have to wait for the supply driver from that company to come down to Pleku in convoy and pick me up along with his supplies. That took two days, and gave me time to question some of the "old hands" about my assignment. What I began to hear did not sound good! Just the last year, during Tet offensive, they told me that they were picking bodies off the perimeter wire of the compound. It seems "Charlie" had tried to overrun them. I greeted the supply driver with a little apprehension when he showed up.

The supply driver was specialist four Bartholomew, another O5C, radio-teletype operator. He was short, about five foot four, and wore glasses that were so thick, they looked like the bottoms of coke bottles. Ultimately, this man would work for me, but I was to learn that the company commander of Charlie Company was not using his O5C's for the job they were trained to do.

Instead, he had them doing "housework" duties, such as the convoy runs to Pleku, control of the Montaignyard and Vietnamese workers on the compound, supervising their tasks, and checking perimeter defenses on a daily and weekly schedules. This latter involved making sure that the firing devises for the claymore mines were working, the claymores themselves hadn't been tampered with, bunkers were properly sandbagged, and repairs made where needed. Shortly after my arrival, he also had us digging communication trenches between bunkers.
Bartholomew drove us to the starting point on Highway #1, outside of Pleku, where the convoy would form up for the run to Kontum. This was a bi-weekly event and all the allied forces knew about it (the enemy probably did too). The MP's were in charge of the convoy. They had wheeled and armored, personnel carriers that they positioned at the head, middle and end of the convoy as it formed up. Radio contact was maintained throughout the trip, and anyone who joined the convoy, and had a radio, also tuned to the convoy frequency so that they would know immediately if the convoy came under attack. This was important, because the convoy usually stretched for several miles while rolling. Starting times were varied, so sometimes you would get there at 8 a.m. and wouldn't get underway until 10 or 11 a.m.

We wore flax vest and helmets and traveled the road with a round jacked into the chamber of our rifles. If the convoy came under attack, instructions were to try to keep going right through the "killing zone," and out through the other side. We had to be ready to fire at a moments notice. The killing zone is the area where the enemy expects to be able to do the most damage to a convoy. Because of the element of surprise, it is usually that area where the convoy initially comes under attack.

Highway #1 was paved by the U.S. forces and ran almost as straight as an arrow from Pleku to Kontum. A normal convoy run was made at about 40 MPH, and lasted about 45 minutes. I was nervous as hell during this trip, because of the element of danger and the heightened combat precautions. Bart seemed to take everything in stride though, and must have thought this strange sergeant sitting beside him was overly nervous. He tried to put me at my ease by filling me in on what the duties at Charlie Company were like.

There was an E-6, myself, who was an E-5, Bart, who was an E-4, and one other E-4 at Charlie Company, who were Radio-teletype operators. We all worked for an E-7, commo chief, who was in charge of all the communications personnel on the compound. There were about twenty of us. From what Bart told me, I learned that none of the O5C were being utilized in their MOS. Sergeant Paul Haight, the E-6, was in charge of the indigenous personnel and all the afore-mentioned details around the compound. I was to work directly under him, doing the same type detail work.

When we got to Charlie Company, I reported to the first sergeant and was assigned to a barracks in the center of the compound. It was directly across from the commo bunker and on the other side of a street that ran from the company street, perpendicular to a helipad, and a B-Team of Special Forces and Montaignyards on our inner perimeter. It was the first and only time I'd ever seen a set-up where the communications company was located on the outer perimeter, and the other forces, on the inside. I don't know whos bright idea that was!

Outside my barracks, and in the center of the compound, was a 120 foot communications tower, with microwave dishes for direct, line-of-sight communications with other friendly forces, including Pleku, our Headquarters. This structure made a wonderful aiming point for any VC or NVA who wanted to target surrounding points, consequently, was not targeted for destruction.

The type antennae on the tower, permitted FM, or frequency modulated signals, as opposed to AM, or amplitude modulated signals, which is the type of radio gear that we radio-teletype
operators used. While it is possible to communicate over longer distances using AM signals, our commander chose to rely more heavily on the FM communications, as did most combat commanders. This is because the equipment was lighter, more portable, and diverse enough to be used as fixed-station, vehicular, back packed, or hand held. Its one drawback was that it generally could only be relied upon for line of sight communications. Because the radio teletype set must be operated out of a van, as a fixed site, or on a vehicle, most commanders used FM.


Our radio teletype set, an AN/GRC-26D, was bunkered in at the end of the street the tower was on, and just before crossing over to the helipad and B-team compound. Concertina wire, to a height of about 10 feet, and three layers thick, surrounded the radio set, and this area was entered through a barbed wire gate that was kept padlocked at all times. This was a secure area because cryptographic equipment was kept on site in a safe inside the AN/GRC-26. At the time of my arrival, and for three months thereafter, the set was not used. It would be turned on, tuned, and a radio check made with Pleku on a daily basis, but no traffic was passed over the radio.

There was a well on the compound which allowed us to get our drinking water, shower water, and water to wash and shave in the morning. There were no toilet facilities with running water on any American compound. Latrine facilities consisted of outhouses with one to eight holes for sitting. Waste products would drop to a half of a 55 gallon drum underneath the seat, and accessible from the outside, rear. These half-drums were taken out daily, kerosine added to the waste, and it would be set afire and burned until there were only ashes left. This latter task was generally done by a Montaignyard man hired for the purpose, but occasionally, some GI would be given the job also, as a form of punishment for some infraction.

Urination sites consisted of hollowed out ammunition tubes, placed into a pre-dug hole that had been filled with gravel and with wire mesh screens across the mouth of the tube to prevent splashing. These sites were generally open, but boxed in for modesty. Since this was the more frequent of the bodily waste disposals, these piss tubes, as they were called, were more numerous than latrines, and were located at strategically placed spots.

The daily routine usually began with a formation of the whole company on the street with the tower. Only those people
That were actually on guard the night before, were excused from this formation. It was a method of getting a headcount of those persons available for duty, but strictly against the policy of "bunching" the troops in any one area. It would have been easy for Charlie or the NVA to decimate our entire company with a rocket or mortar attack on the formation. Why the company commander decided to go against policy, I don't know. We were fortunate that an attack never occurred during these formations.

Our work week consisted of all seven days! There were no days off. It was pretty lax though, and if you had completed your work for that day, and wanted to take a few hours off to relax, as long as you let someone know where you were going, you could go. Drinking beer was generally allowed after sixteen hundred (4 p.m.), but it had to be in moderation. If a person were seen to get drunk, he would be warned the first time and punished the next.

There was a small exchange facility on the B-team compound next door to us, and across the helipad. It offered items like cigarettes, soap, cards, writing paper, etc. They had a small club where one could get beer or soda; occasional movies, or floor shows were put on for the troops. There was also an outdoor area that had a well used ping pong table.

The Montaignyards had a separate club/restaurant that they used to frequent. Although they could, and did use the facilities at the American club, especially the movies and floor shows, few Americans used their club/restaurant. It was fairly spartan accommodations, but a good gathering spot for them when in off patrol or off duty. Paul Haight and I, and maybe one or two other GI's, ate over there from time to time. The local dishes were well prepared, but sometimes the meat came from questionable sources. I stopped eating there when, one day, I was served rat in a noodle soup that I had thought contained beef. I was sick for three days!

We were allowed to leave the compound during the day to spend some time in the local village. We always carried our rifle and live ammunition wherever we went. Haircuts and shaves were offered in nearby shops, mostly given by old men, using squeeze clippers and half of a double edged razor blade. Thinking back on it today, I must have been nuts to submit to anyone wielding such a formidable weapon around my jugular vein!

Whenever we left the compound, there was the inevitable tableau of kids that would gather around us to beg for candy, cigarettes, money, or whatever they thought they could talk us out of. Sometimes they'd have "sisters" to offer as sexual favors. In reality, most of these "sisters" were prostitutes who were paying them a small amount of money to coerce some GI to their hootch. The prostitutes around Kontum were not very comely, and there was one that I know of, who was only thirteen years old.

After you had been there for a while, and made a few trips into the village, you became adopted by a certain urchin. Whenever you stepped off the compound, all the kids would pass the word around to "your" kid, and he would show up to escort you around the village for whatever you were looking for. These kids picked up the English language quicker than most of the adults, and would act as your interpreter. Naturally, they expected you to treat them with special favors or pay them some money. The GI that failed to acknowledge this obligation, quickly found himself with no "guide," and thus, subject to be taken advantage of.