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"We're going up there to save lives; that's all", Captain Mac
insisted, "Now get your people together."
The fear and apprehension were evident in his voice. He couldn't
hide it. This is what we trained for, studied for, sweat for. And
now it would be put to the test. And so we gathered. One by one;
squad by squad and platoons abreast, spreading along this narrow
ridge in the middle of nowhere. I had a strong sense that this was
a place I would never forget.
There we were, like the crusaders
kneeling in prayer during the Holy Wars preparing for battle. What
an eerie religious aura that had crept in. I thought of the bible
stories from old St. James as I related our situation to what I
remembered from them. It served to take my mind far away from
reality; and for a short time it took the pressure from me.
I pictured my aunt, Sister Mary Denis (my namesake
who volunteered her life with the sister of Mount Notre Dame)
standing on that hill with Father Klayer. (Now it was getting
weird; almost hallucinating!) Her hands were folded in prayer with
her fingertips brushing her lower lip. Her hands, as always, were
so clean and so white- symbolic, I thought, of her life that was
dedicated to God. She stood there with Father Klayer and was nodding
her approval as she prayed with us and for us. With her slight
smile and serious and meaningful glance she was saying it was
right what we were doing; and somehow, things would work out.
I
shivered a bit. I felt chills come over my body as I daydreamed -
not listening to the benediction service. Suddenly I shook my head
and brought myself back to that hill. I felt a little guilty. Why
was I thinking about an aunt when I've got a wife and child of my
own to think about; a mom and dad; and sisters and brothers who
were all more close to me than an aunt. But I felt an inner
strength in those thoughts of Sister Mary Denis; and only weakness
as I longed for the touch of my Maggie and Scotty. Weakness,
frustration, and fear in the prospect of missing my family.
So sister gave me the strength; and strength is what I desperately
needed.
"In nominae Patre et Filae et Spiritu Sancti",
Father Klayer's voice rang out over the hill as we received the
Roman Catholic rite of General Absolution. Forgiveness for all
past sins -- a clean slate! Father's blessing ended with the
sprinkling of Holy Water. I was too far
back so none of the Holy Water reached me. I wondered if that made
a difference?
"Let's move out," Captain Mac broke the lingering silence.
As I pulled myself up with relative
ease I thought what a relief, at least we wouldn't have to hump
the heavy load (backpacks) with us on this one. Added to the
contents of our backpacks each of us carried a two-quart canteen
of water, two one-quart canteens full, our basic load of M-16
ammunition (we carried 14 magazines - 270 bullets- criss-crossed
over our chest and, of course, one magazine in the chamber always
ready for action).
The ground already rumbled with the heavy artillery pounding on
Marine Hill from our 8-inch cannons at Charlie-Two firebase. These
were the most accurate of our artillery weapons and used almost
exclusively for close-in fire support. We practically jogged the
two and a half clicks through the valley to the rear (north side)
of Hill 322. As we positioned ourselves in a single echelon at the
base of the hill Captain Mac had one last trick to employ before
we made our way upward. We could hear the jets approach even
before Captain Mac radioed their arrival. He planned to pound the
hill with 500 pound high explosives and 750 pound high drag napalm
before we tried to ascend.
Crouched down behind the heavy underbrush and vines and elephant
grass, we watched as the Navy A-7 fighter jets made their first
pass on an east to west trajectory. Of course, with friendly
troops located on the north and south slopes, the east/west course
was their only safe route.
The explosions were devastating. "Boy are we fighting on the right side," I thought.
The napalm was as beautiful as it was frightening
and destructive. It was like opening the oven door as the heat
suddenly blistered our faces. Wow! What a powerful display. Silence fell briefly as we were all
engaged in holding onto our collective asses. I believe I could
have crawled into a mole hole as the intense heat and liquid
flames filled the air.
The short-lived quiet was broken as a green flare shot up over our
heads- Captain Mac's signal to begin the assault. My platoon and
one squad from second platoon were spread out for nearly 100
meters along the base of Hill 322. At the sight of the flare we
began moving in unison.
We hadn't moved ten meters when shots rang out from both hills. We
were caught in a crossfire. Several friendlies were immediately
dropped. We hit the deck quickly and clung to the ground as the
zing of incoming bullets snapped over our heads. I could see small
arms fire coming from an old Marine bunker about 60 meters up the
hill directly in front of our position.
"Give me a LAW" I yelled down the line. (The LAW light anti-tank
rocket would be useful in penetrating and destroying the bunker
and occupants). "We"ve gotta blow this bunker before we can go
anywhere."
I
heard Sergeant Carr, who was positioned near me; yell for the
nearest law toting private to pass it over. Someone yelled back,
"No way Sarge, we’re pinned down."
"Get me a goddamn LAW, now," Carr replied. (Larry Carr was pretty
quiet most of the time, but he was one of those guys who believed
when the going gets tough the tough get going).
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