Into the Storm: On the Ground in Iraq sic-1 Page 7

  Though Agent Orange had been heavily used in War Zone C, the effects were intermittent. There were bare patches that left the jungle looking as if it had been hit by winter, and there were large areas of dense rain forest. But on the whole, despite the defoliants, the forests of War Zone C were higher and denser than what the squadron had experienced up to then — triple canopy rather than single canopy. The NVA were transporting their people and supplies through this labyrinth on bicycles along a network of jungle trails and often using flashlights to do it at night.

  Time and again after fights and B-52 strikes, American soldiers discovered flashlights on dead and captured NVA. Nobody made very much of this until, all of a sudden, it hit someone that they carried flashlights because they couldn't see at night, not nearly as well as Americans. Because of their diet — fish and rice, few fresh vegetables — they were practically blind in the dark. At night in thick jungle, they could hardly see the trails with their flashlights, much less navigate. The only reason they operated at night was that operating during the day was even more dangerous. In other words, the NVA didn't own the night. They were vulnerable.

  When that point grew clear, one of the officers had an inspiration. His name was Captain Sewall Menzel, and he came up with a way to lay an ambush for the NVA without exposing American troops. When the North Vietnamese came down a trail, one of them would hit a trip wire; behind him, preset claymore mines and other weapons would go off, killing nearly everyone on the trail. They had tried it earlier with some success. It would work much better in War Zone C.

  Soon, 2nd Squadron troops were setting "trap lines," as they called them, along assigned trails. Each of the cavalry troops had an assigned area and their "trap lines" to set and check daily. Before long, these automatic ambushes had succeeded in cutting way back on the amount of men and supplies coming through.

  When you really know the enemy, you can see his weaknesses and hit him hard.

  Prepare Soldiers to Fight

  Doing this has both immediate and long-term aspects.

  Long-term preparation for combat is absolutely the most crucial component of keeping soldiers at a combat edge. The word for long-term preparation is training. Franks later liked to quote Rommel, who said, "The best form of welfare for the troops is first-class training."

  If you don't have much experience with today's Army, there's a good chance you have misconceptions about how soldiers spend their working life. The tendency is to think of Army life as dull but predictable: you have to work your way, as best you can, around a large, unresponsive bureaucracy. In truth, there's more than a little bit of all that, but none of this is the true Army.

  Soldiers and leaders in the U.S. Army spend the better part of their lives training for war, and training hard. American soldiers train like Olympic athletes — but with this difference: they train their bodies to perform at the highest pitch, but they also train their minds to work at the same high pitch. In combat, the mental edge is as important as the physical. You also have to know how to handle your weapons. You have to know how to run and maintain your vehicles. And you have to know how to do all that in consort with other vehicles… in a team, with other teams. And that means you have to think, not only about what's going on now, in your own immediate situation, but also in relation to several other situations that depend on you. And at the same time, you have to think about how each of these situations is changing, and likely to change, over the course of the next few minutes, or hours… or for longer periods for higher commanders. Finally, you have to be able to predict or judge or intuit or guess how your enemy is going to be acting and reacting to all these situations, then decide on a course of action that gives your units the edge they need.

  This kind of thinking is thinking at a very high level.

  Fred Franks has always had a passion for units skilled in combat fundamentals, a carryover from playing lots of sports. He particularly valued accurate firepower, for being able to hit what you aim at. It is his conviction that most battles and engagements are won by units with weapons skills. Maneuver is important, as is knowing how to maneuver, but in the final crunch, it's the unit's fighting capability in terms of toughness and their weapons skills that wins in a fight.

  How do you train for toughness and weapons skills? By drills and exercises. By setting up a qualification course for vehicles such as tanks. And then by practice and more practice to reach combat standards. You push your unit's edge as far as you can. Then you push it farther than that.

  Units need intensive training — if they can get it — even in combat zones.

  After Grail Brookshire took command as 2nd Squadron commander from Jim Aarstaat early in September, the squadron completed its move to Di An. There they were to exchange most of their M113s for newer Sheridan light tanks. And there they also drew 81-mm mortars in exchange for their 4.2-in weapons (the 81-mm mortar could shoot closer in to its own position, a capability Brookshire wanted).

  At Di An, in addition to receiving new weapons, the squadron would undergo a CMMI (Command Maintenance Management Inspection), an administrative procedure that looked into how the squadron's maintenance program was going. The new weapons were an important addition to the squadron. The CMMI was a bureaucratic joke.

  "For Christ's sake," Franks said to himself when the inspectors made their appearance in their crisp, spiffy rear area uniforms, "the squadron's in the middle of a combat theater, and here come these rear area guys with clipboards checking us out like we're at Fort Knox with nothing better to do."

  There were too many scenes like this:

  "Hey, look here," a CMMI officer laments, adding up check marks on his clipboard. "These vehicles have holes in them."

  "Shit, sir, they got hit by RPGs," a soldier answers, with barely concealed disgust. "That happens when you fight."

  Franks knew the CMMI threatened to take the squadron's focus off needed combat training. They did not let it happen. They kept their eye on the ball. It was a great lesson. Franks would later remember this as he kept focused on the training and preparation for war amid all the distractions of VII Corps's deployment to Saudi Arabia.

  Despite the CMMI, the standdown for maintenance came at a good time for the unit. Most vehicles the squadron was keeping needed to be fitted out with new tracks or otherwise repaired and brought up to speed. This time also gave Brookshire a chance to get to know the squadron and for them to get to know him. More important, they needed a rest. They had been on line in operations for more than six months without a break.

  It wasn't a holiday. Brookshire wanted discipline, combat discipline. He wanted a training program, to institute maintenance procedures that would work in combat, and to stress teamwork. He also wanted to get the squadron provisioned with all the right equipment, and to replace what was lost to combat actions. Weapons needed to be fixed or replaced, and fire control on tracked vehicles corrected. They needed spare parts, and they needed to load up on ammunition. While all this was going on, Brookshire was everywhere looking into everything, and he expected Franks as the S-3 and Gilbreath as the executive officer to be doing the same thing. It was a break from combat, but a busy time for the squadron.

  Meanwhile, they took in the new Sheridans, and on the whole, they were glad to have them.

  The Sheridan light tank was an innovative, and in many ways a flawed, machine (its official title was Armored Airborne Reconnaissance Assault Vehicle, or AARAV). Originally designed to be dropped by parachute, for use by airborne units (the 82nd Airborne is phasing out Sheridans, but used them effectively in Panama in 1989), the Sheridan was fitted with aluminum armor and an aluminum frame. It had a decent powerplant, which made it quick and agile (much better than the M113 in that regard); and because it was light, it didn't normally bog down in the often soft terrain of Vietnam. Soldiers also welcomed the big weapon it carried, a 152-mm cannon (the tank commander had, additionally, a.50-caliber machine gun). From this you could fire either an antipersonnel flechette round, a
HEAT round, or even a Shillelagh antitank missile. The flechette round is packed like a shotgun shell with three-inch-long darts that are propelled to a velocity comparable to the muzzle velocity of a bullet. HEAT rounds (High Explosive Anti-Tank) were used for bunker busting. They were not actually used against tanks, since in those days the U.S. Army did not see NVA tanks. Shillelaghs were not used in Vietnam.

  On the other hand, the Sheridan came with serious drawbacks. Its aluminum underside offered little protection against mines. The remedy for this problem, three- or four-inch belly armor bolted underneath, meant that the Sheridan could no longer be air-dropped. The aluminum armor on the front and sides didn't offer a lot of protection, either. This made the Sheridan especially vulnerable to NVA RPGs. Worse, the Sheridan's cannon used what is called combustible-case ammunition (This was the Army's first attempt at combustible-case ammunition. Though there were problems with it, the Army continued to correct these problems. The 120-mm combustible-case ammunition on the M1A1 works very well.) During that time, all too often, when you were firing a number of rounds in a short time period — as in a fight — still-burning residue from incompletely consumed rounds would often stay in the chamber, and you'd get a premature detonation. You don't want to be inside a Sheridan when that happens.

  Still, for all that, the Sheridan was an improvement over the older M113s, and the troops welcomed them. Meanwhile, they had to learn how to use them. They had to learn to drive, load, shoot, and maintain them, and the vehicle commanders had to be taught how to command them.

  When the Sheridans arrived, Brookshire asked Franks to draw up the new equipment training program — a job very like the one he would have on a larger scale twenty years later as brigadier general in Grafenwohr for the Seventh Army Training Command in Europe. There he put together the new equipment training programs for the M1 tanks, Bradley fighting vehicles, and MLRSs (Multiple-Launch Rocket Systems), then newly arriving in Europe. In Di An, the job was smaller, but more immediately pressing. Second Squadron would be taking the Sheridans into combat in only a few weeks.

  For the training program, they had some help. The Army sent a team along with the Sheridans to teach the squadron's crews about the vehicle — about how to drive it, how to operate the turret, and about maintenance (both in the shop and at crew level). But it was Franks's responsibility to train the crews how to fight with the Sheridan and to determine whether they were combat ready. He wanted to create a rite of passage.

  Under Franks's direction, the noncommissioned officers of the squadron built a crew qualification course near Di An, where crews would have to pass a series of tough, realistic exercises with strict standards. On the course, Sheridan crews would fire at a number of situational targets, that is, standard silhouette targets that replicated the kinds of situations they were likely to face in combat. There also were a few hard targets — damaged vehicles were used for that purpose. For these exercises, live ammunition was used and tank crew examiners rode along in the vehicles when they were shooting to score and critique the crews. If the crews didn't pass, they shot again until they did. At the end of the training, there was a graduation course. When they passed that, they were certified ready for combat.

  It was a good program, and it paid off. When 2nd Squadron crews completed Fred Franks's training program, they were ready to fight with the new vehicles, and to fight with them in units.

  ACTION

  In early October, the squadron was sent to Loc Ninh, about thirty kilometers north of An Loc, with a mission much like their earlier operation in August, to secure both the road to An Loc — Highway 14—and the area around Loc Ninh.

  Loc Ninh was a village of close to fifteen hundred people (three or four thousand people lived in An Loc, which was the market town and commercial center for the district). Around and about Loc Ninh were farms and rice paddies, and a small logging industry operated in the forests nearby. The road was the only access for the local people to their markets, and the Army needed the highway for military convoys to resupply 2nd Squadron. The North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong tried to close the road by laying mines and setting up ambushes. There were quite a few NVA around Loc Ninh, and Franks and the squadron saw constant action, sometimes two or three times a day.

  Just as on the road to An Loc, the squadron set up a fire support base for the tank company, the artillery battery, and the forward command post element. (Franks named the base "Marge," after his daughter.) From there, the cavalry troops would fan out in their own areas of operation, searching for the enemy. When the cavalry troops found NVA units, they'd call in artillery and, if necessary, the tank company, and usually air. The artillery battery and air would fix the enemy in one place, while the cavalry troops and, as needed, the big fist of the tanks moved in and destroyed or captured them.

  Franks or Brookshire, meanwhile, would be in a helicopter. Whoever was in the air at the time the fight started would organize it. He'd isolate the enemy, call in artillery, call in TAC air and attack helicopters, and maneuver the ground troops and help them navigate. The other would be in the firebase — in the command M577s and on the radio a short distance away or with the troops. Rarely would they both be on the ground. Usually they could do more for the troops if one of them was in the air, as most of the action involved only one of the cavalry troops. The helos were based in Quan Loi.

  Although Franks spent some time on the ground to get a feel for what the fights looked like from there, most of the time he was in the helicopter eight or ten hours a day. In between operations, he and the troop commanders talked together a lot, so Franks knew how best to help them in their operations when he was in the helicopter.

  The OH-6 was a great scout helicopter. Its power-to-weight ratio and general aerodynamics made it an extremely agile machine, immediately responsive and capable of tight maneuvers over the top of the jungle close to the ground. It was crashworthy because of the small passenger bubble and high skids. However, as a command aircraft it was marginal because of the weak radios. For the times when the helicopter FM radio broke, which happened frequently, Franks took along an infantry portable radio, stuffed it next to his seat, and stuck the receiver next to his ear, pushing the handset if he wanted to talk. In addition to FM, it had both VHF and UHF radios, which Franks used mainly to talk to attack helos and close air support. The helo radios were activated by pressing a button on the floor by his foot. Talking on three radios with two different activation devices, plus looking at the ground and his map, and keeping his wits in a fight while sometimes getting ground fire was a challenge, to say the least. Though he considered that minor compared to the troops banging around in their ACAVs and Sheridans all day through jungle…

  They called it "busting jungle," where armored vehicles literally made a road through the forest by knocking down trees. Except for drivers, troops rode on the outside of their vehicles most of the time. It was cooler, and safer — paradoxically. If you were hit by an RPG, you were better off outside than inside. If you had to get inside fast, you could do that. Sometimes they hit bamboo thickets so strong, the M113s would be thrown back (when bamboo grows thick, it grows thick!). Sometimes they hit trees full of large biting red ants that would rain down on the troops. They'd have to stop and strip out of their fatigues and beat the ants off. Sometimes tree limbs would break off and come crashing down on top of the vehicles, or worse, on one of the soldiers. Some of these caused serious injury.

  Every evening, after the day's operations were finished, Franks and Brookshire talked about the operations coming up the next day. They'd look at the mission and the enemy, and then at various hypothetical solutions to mission problems: What if they do this? Can we do that? After they had a good idea of how they wanted the operation to run, they would war-game it. Once they were satisfied, Brookshire would say, "OK, that's what we're going to do. Get the word out to the troops." Either Brookshire or Franks would call the troops on the secure radio and explain the operations to them. Though there'd be an entr
y in the squadron log, the bulk of squadron communications was oral. It was all talked through.

  Few actions involved more than an individual cavalry troop, and rarely required the whole squadron to take part. There also were small-unit patrols and ambushes to stop the NVA and Viet Cong from mining Highway 14. Later, on the mission to Bu Dop, two infantry companies from 1st CAV Division were attached to the squadron. They kept the NVA away from the road-clearing operation. Franks was almost constantly executing coordination of ground units, both mounted and dismounted, artillery, attack aviation, and air strikes. He was confident that Brookshire trusted him to handle all that; he valued the trust. Brookshire often left him to orchestrate actions, without interfering. Later, just after Christmas, Brookshire had to rush back to the States on an emergency leave. While he was away, Franks commanded the forward elements of the squadron. During that time, he took the squadron the rest of the way into Bu Dop.

  They both had a lot of help. The troop commanders were first-rate. Ross Johnson, then Fred Kyle in Troop E, Max Bailey in Troop F, Paul Dickenson, then Sewall Menzel in Troop G. The tanks (H Company) were commanded by Bob Hurt, Malcolm Gilchrest, then Miles Sisson. The artillery (HOW Battery) was under George Fisher, then Dick Trageman. Senior NCOs also were outstanding. The command sergeant major in the 2nd Squadron was Ray Burkett, a highly respected and veteran CSM. Burkett was wounded in early April 1970 and had his left arm amputated. Second Squadron was a sharp, tight team.

  Franks had particular help from his own team, both on the ground and in the air.

  On the ground, in the S-3 shop, were Master Sergeant Bob Bolan and his assistant, Sergeant First Class Tommy Jones. In the air, Franks's pilots were Chief Warrant Officers John Mallette and Doug Farfel; his crew chiefs were Specialists John Lamontia and "Polack" Terzala. It was a tight team — a combat family. Bolan left a large impression on Franks. A wise veteran, he ran the S-3 shop like clockwork, and was on his fourth combat tour in Vietnam. He was killed in action as the squadron command sergeant major in July 1970.