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RECOLLECTIONS: The Ambush

By David H. Stroup

Lt. Cody's platoon left the battalion perimeter about dusk. Even though they had a pretty good distance to go to reach their ambush site, the terrain was mostly open and they could move quickly. They would reach their ambush in a few minutes—just before dark.

As they wound through the openings in the concertina wire surrounding the camp they looked like any other squad or platoon going on ambush. Each man wore a soft hat, a minimum of web gear, and carried a relatively small amount of ammunition for his weapon along with a few grenades. And he had a claymore and a poncho liner—the claymore to sue if the ambush was triggered and the poncho-liner to let each man get warm, mosquito-free nights sleep before returning in the morning.

Cody thought how secure the perimeter looked. It was surrounded by several strands of concertina wire; each bunker had 2 layers of sandbags for overhead cover. In addition, the battalion had hooked up with a Cav unit during the day and they were spending the night. Their vehicles—several APC's and tanks—had been placed around the perimeter between the bunkers. Cody thought about the Cav's awesome firepower; each APC had a .50 caliber and 2 M-60 machine guns mounted on it. All the NVA in the world couldn't get into this perimeter. He also thought about how much trouble the 1st Infantry Division went to in order to build a perimeter: move out to the boonies; dig bunkers; fly out sandbags for overhead cover; put up concertina wire; then stay 2 or 3 days, tear the whole thing down, go someplace else and do the whole thing over again.

Cody thought all of this was a little silly for this operation. They were in a "safe" area only about 4 or 5 clicks from the battalion base camp at Lai Khe. Lai Khe itself was a "safe" area. His own men called the area R&R. The company has been in area for about a month, just before Tet. And while they had found tons and tons of rice, contact with the VC had been limited to sporadic contact with local yokels sauntering down trails.

In addition to being "safe," the area was "nice" to work. There were only small patches of jungle. Most of the area was wide open like a prairie. Nearby was an old rubber plantation, long ago abandoned. The one unusual thing was the open areas had a checkerboard pattern of trenches, 3 or 4 feet deep every hundred yards or so. Apparently it was some type of drainage system used long ago.

Cody and his men moved quickly over the open areas for several hundred yards. They then entered a small patch of jungle and continued for about 50 or 75 yards when they came upon a trail. This was their ambush site.

The platoon quickly placed their claymores along the trail about a yard or so inside the jungle. Then they positioned themselves several yards behind the claymores. Soon it was dark.

Cody lay with his claymore detonator in his hand staring into the darkness. It was totally black. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't see the trail he was supposed to ambush. He couldn't see anything except blackness. Occasionally his mind wandered. He thought about his wife, California, surfing. God, how he used to surf! That was before the Army got him. But then his mind would return to the ambush and the darkness. He lay like for a couple of hours.

Suddenly he thought he heard something. He listened again. He did hear something—he thought. What the hell was it? He listened. Then he knew what it was: water splashing inside a canteen. He still couldn't see anything but he knew there was a gook walking down the trail. He could hear the water splashing.

Panic struck him. What should he do? Suppose he blew his claymore and the rest of his platoon was asleep and didn't respond. Suppose he blew his claymore and a million NVA overran his platoon while they slept. Cody thought: what should he do?

Then he said to himself, "Fuck it! I'm springing the ambush." He squeezed the detonator and his claymore exploded. And then, almost as if by magic, 25 more claymores went off just a fraction of a second later. And then the entire platoon was firing into the "kill zone" on the trail. Then everything stopped as suddenly as it had begun, again as if by magic. Cody couldn't believe how well his platoon was reacting.

Everything was quiet. Cody listened. He couldn't hear any sounds coming from the "kill zone." Again he listened. No, not a sound. He signaled to the man next to him to come with him; they were going to check the trail. Their hearts pounding, they moved forward.

When they reached the trail there were dead NVA laying all around ?6 or 7 of them. There were no survivors, and apparently no one had gotten away. Quickly they searched the bodies. All the NVA carried pistols. One had a large piece of paper folded like a map. Cody took it and put it in his pocket. They headed back to the platoon.

Soon the platoon was on their feet headed out of the jungle in single file, almost running. They came to the open area, moving quickly. Cody was on the radio telling the company commander what had happened and that the platoon was moving to an alternative site. After about 100 yards Cody stopped his men. They knelt down. He quickly covered himself with his poncho liner and struck a match. He looked at the paper he had taken from the dead NVA. It was a map but he couldn't tell what or where it was. He got the men moving again, another 200 yards.

When they came to an area with a few shrubs and bushes Cody told them to take cover as best they could. The area was pretty much open but it would have to do. He radioed the position to his company commander.

Cody and his men lay perfectly still. They were still nervous but glad to at an alternative site, away from a place where the enemy knew they where they were. The night was clear and the moon was shining. For a couple of hours they stayed like this.

Then Cody movement to his front. Four or 5 gooks had just come out of the jungle pulling a cart of some kind. They came to about 50 yards away from the platoon and stopped. Then Cody saw that it wasn't a cart by a cannon—a 105 or something. And they were setting it up to fire. Again Cody was on the radio, this time whispering.

Then he saw more movement. Another group of gooks had emerged from the jungle, headed right for his platoon's position. There were about 10 of them and they were carrying to mortar tubes. "God, " he thought, "They're going to walk right over us." He started having visions of being taken prisoner or he and his men being killed. He wasn't sure how much ammo they had left.

Suddenly the mortar men stopped 25 yards away and set up their tubes. Cody was whispering all of this to the CO over the radio but then he had to stop even whispering: an NVA with an aiming staked walked to within 5 yards of Cody and stood there holding the stake. Now Cody knew they'd either be killed or captured.

The cannon and the mortars started firing, firing at the perimeter. And Cody could hear small arms fire from the perimeter. He knew it was under attack. He could hear the .50's firing from the APC's and the cracks from the AK 47's.

The cannon and mortars fired several rounds each, then the gooks started packing up to leave. The NVA with the aiming stake walked back to where the mortar men were, and they were gone. Cody couldn't believe the platoon hadn't been spotted.

Cody listened to the firing back at the perimeter. And then it stopped. He was back on the radio telling the CO what had happened. And the CO was telling him that a ground attack had been beaten back, but they weren't sure yet if it was over.

Cody and his men lay quiet and felt relieved. They were still alive and hadn't been captured.

More gooks! Cody couldn't believe his eyes. They were coming from the direction of the perimeter and walking in one of the drainage ditches. The ditch came within 15 yards of Cody and his men. Two or three hundred NVA's walking single file in the ditch. Cody knew now that his platoon would be killed or captured.

Time stood still. One by one the NVA filed past. Cody's heart pounded. For several minutes the NVA walked by. And then they were gone, disappearing into the jungle.

(When Cody and his men returned to base the next day they found out what had happened. The map he had in his pocket showed the perimeter which was to be attacked by 2 NVA regiments, each from an opposite direction. But Cody had ambushed and killed one regimental commander and his entire staff, and that regiment never showed up for the attack. When the 2nd regiment did attack they were overwhelmed by the firepower of the Cav unit (which wasn't supposed to be there) and retreated.)

Cody was again on the radio: the battalion CO wanted him to direct artillery and air support on the retreating NVA. And he did. But he knew it was no use and he didn't care: he and his men were alive. And soon it would be morning.

David H. Stroup