Phan Thiet Attacked!

Credit to Jerry Berry, 506th PIR Combat Photographer

There are focal points all Currahees seem to share. One memory is crossing the bridge, into the enemy occupied residential area of Phan Thiet. We crossed as a staggered unit…one man at a time. I saw the bridge on a dead run. It was the longest bridge I ever laid eyes upon. This was my beginning of the Tet Offensive 1968.

We were in the field, doing our part in the war. Orders came at the crack of dawn. We were to fly back to base camp ASAP. Charlie had overrun the city. Everything was routine until we landed. Trucks awaited us; I had never seen an assault by truck! We piled in and headed to town. We entered the business section. All the windows were shuttered; no human dare enter those barren streets.

Every trooper locked and loaded, weapons drawn to the ready. We were given permission to shoot anything that moved. Anyone with good intentions would realize our orders. The trucks stopped near the river. We quickly assembled at the bridge.

Those crossing were under fire. However, the rounds seemed to come from a distance. Once across, I could see one of our companies already engaging the enemy. We ran across with full ruck. I prayed for every man on the bridge, a bit selfish, because I would have to stop and drag somebody’s butt with me. As I remember, both ends of the bridge were exposed. Once our platoon crossed, we headed for the relative safety of the buildings.

From the carnage of the second picture, this looked like a WWII scenario. Our platoon moved up to plug up a fighting perimeter. Advancing, we ran head first into a tall brick wall. Our platoon leader called for directive. We were told to hold the wall; don’t let nothing come over it! For the longest while I watched the platoons, both right and left, in heated battle. A 106 recoilless gun set up on the left. They touched off their gun down the street, while blowing the wall behind them with the backlash. Bricks flew everywhere!

We finally moved out, in the direction the 106mm had repeatedly fired. House to house fighting is uniquely dangerous. It can easily turn into room to room fighting. I am thinking to myself, ‘I can’t see all the members of my platoon. How to heck am I going to get to their wounded?’ Moving around was tricky business, if you valued your life. The rooms were pretty barren by our standards. Our men were firing out of windows and doorframes, as the structure permitted.

About dark, I remember holding up in one room with a small pile of books. As a young man, with a thirst for learning, I respectfully looked through the pile. My guess is that they belonged to a high school student. They were simple paperback textbooks. However, I could recognize that one was a French language book. Another text was filled with geometry problems. Since I don’t know Vietnamese, the last book had me in a quandary. I turned it over and saw a black and white picture of Ernest Hemmingway. I realized this young student was far more educated than I. It was then, that I wondered if we really knew these people called Vietnamese. I carefully restored the book to the pile.

My last recollection was the best surprise. I thought we were finally in the meat grinder; we would trade man for man in this insanity. Then a Cobra helicopter swooped down and blew out the house in front of us. What house? That was the beginning of the end for this residential district. Our technology blew them up, and we advanced. This precious cycle of destruction was our salvation. When the enemy ran out of real estate, they had another unpleasant surprise waiting them. They were hammered by another 506th company, as they headed for the hills!

My memory fades, but I believe we were finally extracted by choppers the next morning. I had one full day of house to house combat. I prayed for the comfort of a friendly jungle, rice paddy or rainforest.

Currahees…in tomorrow’s early dawn, I pray to assemble with those I have learned to love. We go to The Wall. We will remember those who gave their all amongst us. We lost so many in that Tet Offensive of 1968. This post is dedicated to those whose names are written on The Wall.