Welcome to Vietnam

  ...Later I realized that one of the rocks was really a .45 caliber round which had bounced off the ground and went through my lower left jaw, through the roof of my mouth and stopped about an inch from my brain...

Contributed by PFC Bill Carpenter

5 January 1967

Most grunts that served in Vietnam have a lot more stories than I, especially the LRRP/Rangers. In the big picture, this story is small potatoes, but it was a big deal to six of us. I was only in one firefight before coming home. The average infantryman who pulled a full one-year tour would be in about 10 battles. The average LRRP would pull 30-40 missions in a year, half of these would end with a “hot extraction”.

I arrived in Vietnam after the winter monsoon season. On March 20th, 1967, I was assigned to the 1st Cavalry Division. I figured a grunt is a grunt, so it doesn’t really matter where I go. I was just glad I was not a Marine. They were getting the shit shot out of them.

During the “Welcome to Vietnam” training there was a demonstration on how quick Medivac could get the wounded to a hospital. Why did they make a big deal out of this? Did they expect a lot of us to be wounded? One night we were put out on the green line, perimeter duty, with M-14’s and one clip of ammo. A little better than spit wads and rubber bands, but not much better. A single clip of ammo doesn’t last very long in a firefight.

We were told during the indoctrination that very few of the women were whores, and most of the whores had VD. Also, a staff sergeant told us, “When you kill a Chinese or Russian, not if you kill a Chinese or Russian, because if you are in enough firefights you will kill one. When you kill a Chinese or Russian, don’t tell anyone, all it will do is cause you a lot of paperwork. Everyone knows they are here.”

While I was at the 1st Cavalry’s replacement depot, Captain James came down and gave us a little talk about joining the divisions Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol (LRRP) unit. I thought, why not, at least I will be with some good troops to keep me out of trouble. Military rule number one, never volunteer for anything. Why did I volunteer for LRRP? It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. So I talked to Captain James. I had to come up with an instant sales pitch for this job interview. What I told him was that the West Virginia hills are very much like the Vietnam hills, and I had been running ridges all of my life. I also told him that I had probably spent two or three years of my life camping out, so sleeping on the ground in the rain was not new to me.

On March 28th, 1967 I reported to Company A, 1st Battalion, 8th Cavalry at LZ English. The company was on perimeter duty for a new artillery firebase on top of a hill near English. We could look across the Bong Song Plains and see the South China Sea. It was beautiful. We spent most of our time clearing the green line, laying concertina wire and building bunkers. There was no serious action during the week I was there.

3 April 1967

Six of us came to LRRP together. We had to set up our own GP tent. It took a few days to “requisition” canvas cots for us to sleep on. Until then the unit was 18 men and the new guys became Team 3 after we completed training. The idea of pulling a mission with five other new guys scared me.

The unit was a detachment, working directly under division headquarters. We were a bunch of orphans looking for a home. We were called “The James Gang”, named after Captain Jim James. Lt. Ron Hall was the XO and SFC Fred Kelly was the First Sergeant. Sometime during the second week of April 1967, the unit became HHC G-2, LRRP. I think the unit got a TO&E with that. In January 1969, the unit became Company H (Ranger), 75th Regiment.

Special Forces had worked out the principle of long range patrolling, but the entire idea of a division LRRP unit was new. There was a lot of resistance to this change from the higher ranks. We didn’t do it this way in WW II or Korea, so why change? The answer; this was a different kind of war. Most of the NCO’s were ranger trained, but it was all OJT for the enlisted ranks.

For the next two weeks, SFC Kelly tried to teach us everything he knew. The training was very intense. The running winded me, but running is supposed to wind you. Lt. Hall did like to run. Two-a-days in football were a lot harder than the physical part of the training. I had a lot of civilian experience in topog maps and first aid, so no problem there. I did not know radios and the idea of calling in an artillery strike scared me.

It was about the third week of April and about 8-10 new guys came in to start training for Team 4.

Team 1 was down to four members, so at the end of the training, Bill Carpenter and David Ives joined them. John Simones was the team leader and Doug Fletcher the ATL. The other two team members were Art Guerrero and Goeff Koper, medic.

John had been in the Marine Force Recon before coming over to the Army. Doug had been with 2/8 Cavalry before LRRP, and had earned a Silver Star in the A Shau Valley. Art had been with 1/7 Cavalry, Custer’s old outfit, and also had a Silver Star from the A Shau Valley. Geoff was the combat medic. All of them had been in the country for several months before coming to LRRP. They had pulled about 10 missions as a team. Good people, they took care of this newbie.

Team 1, four old pros and two new guys, was inserted at dusk on Thursday, April 20th 1967. We were put in close to the head of a stream. We were to follow this stream and see what we could see. See what you see, hear what you hear, smell what you smell, and think before you act. The stream ran to the southwest and the closest U.S. Army troops were at An Khe, about 15 kilometers south of us. The nearest friendlies were at Kan Nak, some 7-8 km away. Kan Nak is where the stream we were on empties into the Song Ba. The Green Berets had a base there at one time, but there was only an irregular force there then. We didn’t depend on them. Our E&E plan was to head for Kan Nak.

We were outside of artillery cover, and because of the mountains, radio contact was difficult. There were no radio relay points and we were to report in the morning and evening. Most of the time, the base had to put a chopper in the air for radio contact.

This was not going to be like hunting back home, the squirrels shot back.

On Friday we went through a lot of elephant grass, 7-8 feet tall. The word “leach” took on a whole new meaning for me as the elephant grass was loaded with them. We would walk, pick off six or eight leaches, walk, and pick off six or eight more leaches. We would hear someone cutting wood, nothing out of line, and hear a hen cackling. I was told that they run wild in the jungle.

On Saturday morning, we moved from some open timber to some pretty thick new-growth jungle. We went slow to keep quiet, and we couldn’t see more than 10-15 feet in any direction. We ate the first meal of the day and noticed we were low on water, so Art and I took the canteens down to the stream to fill them. The stream was about 20 meters away.

As we neared the stream, Art and I encountered a major trail, a “high speed runner”. The tall timber kept the trail well hidden from aircraft; you had to be on the ground to see it. Finding things like this was the LRRP’s job. This “trail” was wide enough, and smooth enough, to drive a jeep on. This meant that the trail had a lot of foot traffic, not just someone going to grandma’s house.

There was a little hooch set on low stilts by the trail. There were several firing positions in an arch on the downhill side of the hooch, overlooking the trail. The opening/door to the hooch was on the uphill side. We didn’t see any people around at the time so Art decided to check the hooch out. He saw some paper on a shelf inside the hooch and I pulled security while he went after the papers. He ended up getting stuck in the door, because of his gear, and then we heard voices, not in English, from the other side of the hooch about 10 feet away. I let Art know we had company. He was still stuck in the door, but finally got free, soundlessly. He told me to take off while he pulled rear security. The “high speeder” was between us and the cover of the jungle.

Think before you act. Not this time, I had a split-second mental lapse that would be fatal for David Ives. I took off too fast, and hit the brush hard. This by a guy who spent his life in the woods and knows how not to spook wild animals. Art was watching the people, he says later that there was a woman and some men; the woman had something in her hand. When I hit the brush, she screamed and threw the item in the air.

When we finally got back to the other four guys there was the 20 questions situation on why it took us so long to go 20 meters to get some water. We call in a sitrep.

We were on the NW side of the stream and there was a clearing on the hillside across the stream from us. It was big enough to get a chopper in. John decided to move over beside the field and set up for the night. We heard someone following us as we moved; we had a “trailer”. When we got over by the field, we button hooked to see if we could pick up our trailer. We were set in ambush mode for a while, but saw nothing. It was getting late by then anyway. When it got darker we moved about 20 yards to a different position that John had checked out before we button hooked. We were in a little cove with open timber on one side and the open field up the hill from us. There was heavy brush on the other two sides.

We could hear them getting into position during the night. We thought it was wild boar out there, but it was better to think that it was Charlie and be ready. It now seems strange, but I slept well that night, knowing that Charlie was out there and could hit us at any time. You get tired humping 100 lbs. through the jungle all day. I didn’t know how Geoff did it. He weighed about 150 lbs. I kept thinking “will Charlie try to crawl up on us during the night?” I also kept wondering what it would be like to kill a man with a knife in hand-to-hand combat. I felt inadequately trained and realized a person can be trained on how to kill, but they cannot be trained to kill. You just do it.

It was Sunday, April 23rd, 1967. David and I had the 5-7 a.m. shift. I am not a morning person; I never have been a morning person. I sat up against my pack, which was in turn leaning against a tree. Why do all of the Hollywood battles begin at dawn?

There was another problem. Either the LRP rations, or the malaria pills, have given me a diarrhea. It was about 6:00 a.m. and the sun was just coming up. I told Dave, and picked up my rifle and some toilet paper, and walked away from the other guys to take care of the diarrhea. I wondered if I saw someone, would I shoot before they did?

I didn’t see anyone, but I didn’t look too hard either. We knew they were there.

I went back to sitting against my pack while the other guys stirred a little, getting ready to start another day. The next thing I know, I was laying about 8 feet down the hill from my pack. A hand grenade had blown me down the hill. I had just become LRRP’s first WIA. I had heard nothing and felt no pain, but I was dazed and knew I had been hit. Shrapnel had chewed up my face and left arm. My pack and the tree had taken most of the blast.

I crawled back up the hill to my weapon, ammunition and pack. As I got to the pack, a burst from an automatic weapon hit the ground in front of me. A lot of dirt and rocks kicked up into my face. I thought, “Wow, just like in the movies”. Later I realized that one of the rocks was really a .45 caliber round which had bounced off the ground and went through my lower left jaw, through the roof of my mouth and stopped about an inch from my brain. It broke my jaw, along with taking out about 8 teeth. The nerve to my left ear was severed along with several nerves to my left cheek.

The impact of the bullet had knocked me out. After that, the events became flashes of consciousness a few seconds long. I do not know what order they occurred in.

I was trying to cover my sector and return fire, but I couldn’t see. I felt a lump under my left eye and later realize that the lump was what was left of my eye and lower eyelid. If I put a little pressure on the lump, I would get a little dizzy, but for a moment I could see. I thought, with the right pressure I would be able to see to return fire.

I tried to raise my rifle and return fire, but my left hand was too weak to support it. I realized that a lot of the muscles in my left forearm were hanging in shreds. So I took my right hand and shoved the muscles back where they belonged. Did I think they would stay there? I didn’t know. So I propped up my left arm and rifle with my right hand, but when I moved my right hand to the trigger, the rifle sunk. I needed three hands.

Dave and I had shared a poncho to sleep on. We were literally shoulder-to-shoulder. The grenade had exploded on Dave’s side of me and some time later I realized that Dave was dead. I guess it was because he was lying there on his back not moving. I did not see any wounds on him and later Geoff said that Dave lived long enough to get the radio operational. Art told us later that Dave had been shot through the head. I don’t know how, but maybe the grenade didn’t get him and he was shot while working with the radio. I just knew that Dave was dead.

I was passing in and out of consciousness when Art reached up and yanked on my foot to wake me. The nerve damage from the bullet and the grenade concussion had almost deafened me, but I heard Art telling me to get the radio to him. I told him that I couldn’t see to return fire. He said he knew that, so get the radio. I said “Dave’s dead”. He said he knew that, and that was why I needed to get the radio to him.

Dave’s pack with the radio was on the other side of Dave. I had to crawl on top of Dave to reach his pack. This pack, with the radio, weighed 80-90 lbs. I was lying on my chest and had to reach out with my right hand to grab the pack and drag it down to Art. I couldn’t pick it up. So I grabbed the pack and tried to slide it down to Art. I did not get it all the way to Art.

Art had been shot through both legs and through the left shoulder, but he was still able to use “JoJo”, the sawed-off M-79 “chucker”. Art told me later that the enemy had tried a human wave assault. He fired an M-79 HE round into the line. It hit a woman in the chest. The head went up, the arms went out, the legs kept running, and the trunk disappeared. Try living with that memory.

When I came to, Doug was carrying me to the chopper. He had me in his arms like a baby. I had my rifle in my left hand and my right side was toward Doug. The rifle was dangling down. I wondered if the weapon was safe. What if the trigger catches a branch and a bullet hits someone? I’d better check the safety. I couldn’t lift my left arm, so I moved my right hand to check the rifle. Doug said, “It’s ok, it’s over, it’s over”. His voice was so calm, like a father comforting a child with a bad dream. I don’t remember actually being loaded on the chopper.

When I came to I lifted my head and saw my blood on the chopper floor. I thought “Hey, if I can see my own blood, I am going to make it, I am alive”. I looked out the side of the chopper at the forest below; so green, so quiet, so calm, just like my West Virginia hills. I saw feet to my left and there was a pool of blood around them. Someone was sitting on the bench. It was Art, he said, “It’s ok, it’s over, it’s over, lay back down.” At some point I raised my head and looked to my right, I saw another pair of feet, no blood. I tried to lift my head to see a face, I couldn’t. Somehow I knew that it was Geoff. Where were John, Doug, and Dave? I guessed they were taking another chopper. They would not leave Dave.

WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM
APRIL 25th, 1967

Mr. and Mrs. Ova M. Carpenter,

The secretary of the Navy has asked me to express his deep regret that your son, PFC William D. Carpenter was placed on the seriously ill list in Vietnam on 23 April 67 as the result of gunshot wounds to left arm, left thigh, buttocks, facial fractures and loss of left eye. He was on reconnaissance patrol when hit by hostile small arms fire. In the judgment of the attending physician, his condition is of such severity that there is cause for concern, but no imminent danger of life.

When I came to again they were taking me off the chopper. They pulled me out and put me on a stretcher lying on the ground. They used scissors to cut my clothes off. Then they put me on a gurney and wheeled me down a hallway, someone was holding my hand.

Putting me on an x-ray table, they laid me on my chest and extended my head forward. They then rested my chin on the table. PAIN. This was the first time I felt any pain.

As soon as I was conscious long enough, I was put on a stretcher and loaded onto a plane. The plane was gutted, and had metal racks to hold stretchers. We were stacked three high.

We headed for a hospital in Japan, but it was full, so they sent me to the hospital in Camp Zama. This would be my fifth temporary duty station in two months.

It was May 20th; I was at the debarkation center in Japan, waiting for my flight home. Forty-five pounds lighter than I was a month ago, they still had me in a bed. Up walked Geoff, he was headed home too. He was ambulatory, but walked with a slump and had some difficulty breathing. The round had gone in his shoulder and ended up in the pelvic area, and it did a lot of damage in between. But we were both alive. There was some small talk, and then he left to catch his flight. What do you say to someone you had shared a look at death with, and survived? We did not communicate again for 32 years.

On May 23rd, 1967, my birthday, the plane I was on landed in Denver. I was home. Happy birthday Bill. A major got on the plane; he was looking for Private Carpenter. What did I do this time? Majors do not escort privates. I was the first off the plane and standing at the bottom of the ramp was my family. Really happy birthday Bill.

John, Doug, Art, and Dave all received Silver Stars and Geoff and I received Bronze Stars for the mission. Why did I get the Bronze Star? The only constructive thing I did was tried to get the radio to Art. What I really did was get the shit shot out of a team. I guess six guys who take on a bunch of bad guys deserve something.

I got the following note from Geoff in 2000, 33 years later:

If the following is not some dream cooked up when I was a little out of it, I remember that when we arrived at the spot where we were attacked the next morning, Art and I laid down on a slope facing uphill behind the root of a very large tree that was next to us and that created a depression on the downhill side that was about 10" or so high; Ives was laying down to our front without any protection. You were behind a tree, to his left. When the shooting started we were screened by the fact that we were laying behind the tree root. At first both Art and I thought that there was firing coming from our rear (down slope as well as from our front) and he fired at least one M79 round in that direction. We then concentrated on the fire to our front. Now, our tree root gave us a problem, in order for Art to aim and fire he had to raise himself up higher than the root and he exposed himself - I believe that this was when he was shot in the arm. By now Ives had been shot at least once and was asking for help (even though he attempted to assemble the PRC25 whip antenna). When I tried to climb over the root I was shot in the chest, which stopped me cold for some time (it could have been seconds or minutes - I don't remember). When I finally managed to crawl to him he was dead and the firing had slackened off to almost nothing. Art and Fletcher were by this time making sure that there were no more live VC to our front, and since I was now next to the radio I started to talk to An Khe (Ives had managed to get the radio going before he died). I was not as coherent as I thought I was and John took the set from me not long after I started talking.

An interesting sidelight to all of this is that when we got into position the night before, Art and I were laying right over the wild animal trail that we had followed into the clearing. That night while I was on watch (Art was also awake) and it was pitch black we heard a rustling noise coming from somewhere down trail from us. It kept getting closer and louder and we could now hear snorting along with the rustling. Art whispered to me that it was a wild boar and while I was still prone pointed my CAR15 in the direction of the ever-increasing noises. Art, who was lying next to me, laid his CAR on my hip and pointed in the same direction. We could still see nothing but we decided that we would have to fire if it got much closer. However, at the last minute the boar (if indeed it was one) seemed to hesitate (maybe it smelled us) and moved off down slope into the brush. I have thought about whether or not our firing at whatever it was could have either sprung the ambush prematurely (and saved us from being fired at when it was light and we were good targets) and possibly saved Ives who I don't think that they could have seen then.

I think what ultimately saved us was the fact that while you, Art, Ives and I were located in a group John and Doug were set up to our right and might have been as much as 10' away. When the VC checked us out at first light they may have thought that the four of us to their front constituted the whole group and did not realize that Fletcher and Simones existed until they began a heavy fire into their flank. I have an image of John and Doug standing and firing on full automatic across our front and into the ambush. I give John and Doug all of the credit in the world for fighting like tigers when the heat was on and giving us the chance to survive.

Merry Christmas,
Geoff

28 April 1967
CARPENTER, WILLIAM D RA16887249
Awarded: Purple Heart
Reason: For wounds received in connection with military operations against a hostile force.