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While on various
operations in Vietnam as an infantryman (11B20) between 16
November 1968 to 16 November 1969 with A Company 1st Battalion,
11th Infantry Regiment, 1st Brigade, 5th Infantry Division (Mech.)
at LZ Sharon in Quang Tri Province in I Corps. I participated in
numerous firefights and also experienced friendly fire on two
separate occasions.
One such incident
follows: I was walking point somewhere up near the DMZ. When I
walked point I always wore an NVA officer’s soft cap. I figured
this would give me a one or two second edge against them. I can
remember the mountaintop was completely bare and barren as
airstrikes had leveled everything. I came near the top of the
mountain and suddenly there were hundreds of bullets whizzing by
my body. I hit the ground and a LOH helicopter had opened up on
me, probably thinking I was a NVA soldier. I remember seconds
after this incident my company commander screamed up the hill and
said, ". . . Schuerer get that goddamn hat off your head!" I know
that he was trying to save my life and I really appreciated it.
That friendly fire almost killed me, and still haunts me to this
day.
Another friendly
fire incident follows: While out on another mission, I went out on
an ambush one night. As we moved down to our position near a
beautiful river we were engaged with automatic weapons fire from
across the river. I dove behind a tree as the bullets whizzed by
my head. Countless rounds of automatic weapons were being fired,
and being the RTO at the time, I called for artillery support.
Then I heard the company commander scream on the horn, "Cease
fire, cease fire!" As it turned out, McCoy's Boys [the Hunter
Killer Team] from our company had opened up on us by mistake. They
evidently weren't where they were supposed to be. Later,
unfortunately, my company commander reprimanded me for not using
the proper protocol on the radio despite receiving friendly fire,
and again almost getting "killed in action".
Although not
friendly fire, another incident follows: We set up away from the
company. I spotted a double-wide tank trail and I set up two
claymore mines with a tripwire crossing both trails. We set up
about quarter mile away and during the middle of the night we
heard a loud explosion. On the radio we were told to get a body
count. So in the middle of the night the six of us made our way
back to the ambush area, and all the guys were mad as hell, and
were cursing, because it put us in danger. As we low-crawled
towards the location, we could see bodies on both side of the tank
trail. As we got closer we saw the bodies of four wild boars. The
adults had to be 250 pounds each and the two smaller ones about
100 pounds each. The next day, local villagers took three of them
and we barbecued one whole pig for the entire day.
This last
incident caused me to think; were they trying to kill us? Why
would they send six guys into the bush in the middle of the night
for a body count? Suppose we ran into a platoon or company of NVA
regulars? I still remember the fear on the faces of the men in our
squad, as we low-crawled up to this area by the light of the full
moon. This event also haunts today. We were just pawns to be used
in a stupid and senseless war; for what -- fucking body counts. |
