On the eve of Tet, intercepted U.S. radio communications led to a gutsy VC deception that altered the fight for Hill 108.
Just eight days before the full force of the Tet Offensive was un- leashed, I was commanding a company that engaged in a vicious fight for a nondescript hill in the jungle northeast of the 9th Infantry Division’s base camp at Bearcat. This battle was probably similar to hundreds of others fought all over Vietnam—with one exception. I believe that the Viet Cong, listening to our radio communications, were able to drastically alter the course and outcome of the battle of Hill 108, in which four Americans were killed and more than 30 wounded.
In January 1968, I commanded Charlie Company, 2nd Battalion (Mechanized), 47th Infantry of the 9th Infantry Division. Operation Santa Fe, designed to clear Highway 1 and rebuild the bridges from Xuan Loc to the II Corps border near Phan Thiet, had concluded in the first week of 1968. During this operation the 2-47 had little contact, likely because the enemy was lying low in preparation for the giant offensive to come. After Santa Fe, the 2-47 moved to an area between Long Binh and Xuan Loc, where intelligence indicated a large buildup of Viet Cong south of Highway 1. We established a battalion-sized firebase there, relieving the 4th Battalion, 39th Infantry, whose commander believed there was a large enemy concentration nearby.
During the second week of January, as we patrolled the jungles south of our firebase, I began to get an inkling that the VC were listening to our radio transmissions. It was standard procedure for pilots to ask ground troops to “pop smoke” so the pilots could then identify the color to ensure they were landing in the right place. On one occasion, as a helicopter approached to land at the base, the pilot requested we pop smoke. A yellow smoke grenade was set off, but the pilot reported also seeing purple smoke wafting from the edge of a clearing south of the base. Evidently tuned into our radio communications, enemy soldiers had attempted to lure the chopper into an ambush by popping smoke simultaneously. In response, we poured artillery into that area and changed command frequencies.
On January 22, Charlie Company swept an area to the east of the firebase where a Kit Carson Scout––a Vietnamese who had defected from the Communist side––had reported a VC base. With the scout leading us into the area of operations, we suddenly came under fire from an enemy element. The contact lasted just a few minutes, leaving us with one casualty. Afterward, we searched the area and found no enemy bodies, not even any expended cartridges. This skirmish took place about two kilometers from Hill 108, a flat hilltop about 100 meters in diameter, and we figured we had encountered a security patrol guarding what could be— based on our intelligence and a detailed map study— the center of the VC forces in the area.
The next day, more reports of enemy activity in the area streamed in to the 2-47’s intelligence officer, including further evidence of a large VC concentration near our firebase. In response, the battalion commander devised an operation to take Hill 108, involving Alpha Company, Charlie Company and the battalion’s scout platoon. Bravo Company would stay back to guard the battalion firebase.
The scheme of maneuver called for Alpha Company to move southwest from the firebase, along a stream bed to a position just west of the hill, which was about four kilometers south of our firebase, then to turn east and move up to the hilltop. Charlie Company, mounted on the eight M-113 armored personnel carriers of the scout platoon, would take an indirect route to a point about three kilometers southeast of the hill. It was to search an area just east of the hill and to serve as the anvil for Alpha’s hammer. Acting as a blocking force, the scout platoon’s M-113s would line up on a road running east and west, south of the hill.
At 0800, Alpha Company left the firebase on foot. Charlie Company climbed aboard the M-113s and moved out along roads running east, south, then west, forming a box around Hill 108. We dismounted about three kilometers southeast of Hill 108 and immediately moved into the jungle. The scout platoon’s tracks then continued on to their blocking position.
Throughout the morning, Alpha and Charlie companies converged on foot toward Hill 108. After searching its area of operations, Charlie had to move over a long ridgeline, then into a valley at the base of Hill 108. As the company topped the ridge, point man Spc. 4 Angel Dumont heard a noise ahead of him and signaled for the company to halt. I moved forward and Dumont silently pointed through the dense jungle at several forms moving around and talking. The VC had not seen or heard us. I whispered to the 3rd Platoon leader to line up the entire platoon in a firing position on a large fallen log. I told 1st and 2nd platoons to get down and be prepared to maneuver. When 3rd Platoon was in place, Dumont fired his M-16 and the whole platoon opened up with a storm of fire. After about a minute, I shouted “Cease fire!” and ordered 3rd Platoon to sweep the area ahead. We discovered an enemy bunker system, one dead VC and blood trails indicating that other dead or wounded had been dragged away. We also found an SKS rifle, a 9mm pistol, documents, bags of rice and other supplies. We surmised that this was a VC outpost guarding the approaches to Hill 108.
As we were finishing our search of the enemy bunkers, Alpha Company reached the top of Hill 108. According to 1st Lt. Carl Patrick, one of the platoon leaders, company commander Captain James O’Brien halted the unit and called for the officers to move forward to discuss how to search the hill. Unfortunately, the men were standing just inside a perfectly camouflaged enemy bunker system. The VC had tunneled under the bushes and constructed invisible bunkers with apertures at ground level; many of the bunkers had logs for overhead cover with vegetation planted on top. Vegetation had been cropped at about six inches from the ground, providing perfect fields of fire from under the bushes for the VC automatic weapons. The bunker system was so well camouflaged that the top of Hill 108 looked like any other patch of jungle. As the officers huddled to plan their next moves, VC opened up from only feet away. In the first volley, every officer except one was wounded; Patrick was hit in the arm, O’Brien in the leg. Many other soldiers were wounded by the fusillade. Alpha Company was now in a desperate predicament, pinned down and unable to move.
The battalion commander ordered Charlie Company to move immediately to the aid of Alpha Company. He gave us a compass azimuth to the hill, but we didn’t need it––all we had to do was follow the sound of the battle. With 3rd Platoon again in the lead, we moved out, down the back side of the ridge and into the shallow valley at the base of the hill. As we crossed the valley and began to move up the slope, bullets from the raging battle were cracking overhead.
All we knew, by the sound of the firing, was that Alpha Company’s situation was critical and that we were marching straight into a serious fight. Not one of Charlie Company’s soldiers balked or hesitated as they bent at the waist and moved toward the firestorm. The flat top of Hill 108 saved us as we approached across the valley, since most of the bullets went over our heads. Reaching the crest of the hill, however, we came up into the line of fire.
Alpha Company was desperately trying to form a line facing the enemy and had moved up an M-113 for support. As Charlie Company deployed, we faced not only the fire from the VC, but also from Alpha Company directly across the top of the hill. No artillery could be fired, since our two companies were so close together with the enemy directly between us. As Alpha’s M-113 opened up with its .50-caliber machine gun, its bullets crashed into the VC, but also into Charlie Company on the other side. With the 3rd Platoon now up on the hilltop, it began taking casualties from the VC––and possibly from Alpha Company.
Even as I reported this fact to the battalion commander, he called for Alpha Company to lay down a base of fire and for Charlie Company to attack. We now found ourselves in what was an all-too-frequent situation in Vietnam where a battalion commander in a helicopter––who could not see the battlefield because of jungle canopy—issued unrealistic orders. I responded that such an attack would be impossible, since A and C were facing each other across the hill with the VC between us. Instead, I told him Charlie Company needed to slide sideways around the hill and try to link up with A Company’s right flank. The battalion commander OK’d this move and I ordered my 2nd Platoon to try to slip to the left.
What happened next altered the outcome of the battle. I am convinced that a VC radio operator was monitoring either our company or battalion frequency and interfered with our operations. As Charlie Company’s troops began working their way around to the left, a voice from that direction called out, “Don’t shoot—it’s A Company!” Believing we had linked up with Alpha Company’s flank, we pivoted to resume the attack on the hilltop. About this time, the enemy fired a rocket-propelled grenade that destroyed Alpha Company’s M-113. Meanwhile, Charlie Company’s 3rd Platoon, already on the hilltop, had breached the bunker system and destroyed three enemy bunkers—but like Alpha, it was now pinned down. Alpha Company had already taken three killed and more than 20 wounded; its situation was deteriorating fast when the battalion commander ordered it to evacuate its dead and wounded and to begin withdrawing from the hill. He ordered Alpha’s APCs forward to meet its troops at the base of the hill.
Charlie Company was also in dire straits. Some of the troops were still on the side of the hill, with most of the fire going over their heads, but many of my men, particularly the 3rd Platoon, were assaulting enemy bunkers on the hilltop. Casualty reports began pouring in. Angel Dumont, my experienced and brave point man, was down with multiple wounds. Allen Hall, who had been with the company only a month, a squad leader named Muldrow and many others had been wounded. With the situation deteriorating, the battalion commander told me he was calling in an airstrike and ordered me to pull our troops off the hill. I began yelling for 3rd Platoon to pull back.
When the forward air controller (FAC) came up on our frequency, he said that the only strike aircraft he could get were six F-100s pulled from a mission up north and that they were loaded with wall-to-wall 750- pound high-drag bombs. I knew I had to get our troops away from the hill fast. Since we were still fighting among the bunkers, I asked the FAC to tell the jets to make their first pass with guns only, not bombs. I ordered the troops to pop smoke grenades to mark our positions, and I told the FAC there were no friendly troops west of the smoke, since Alpha Company had now pulled back off the hill.
While each of the six F-100s ripped the jungle with gunfire, we ran for our lives, dragging our wounded with us. We had gone only about 100 meters when the first bomb hit, the concussion knocking many of us flat. The airstrike blasted the hill as we moved back down to the clearing by the road where the scouts’ APCs had dropped us off. There we called in medevacs to take out our casualties. As darkness settled in, the scouts’ APCs came back to pick us up and return us to the firebase.
The next day, Charlie Company went back onto Hill 108 to mop up. There was little left of the hill except bomb craters and the burned-out M-113. We found weapons and equipment dropped by our troops as well as enemy weapons, but no bodies. While walking the terrain, we came to realize that our left flank had been 50 meters from where Alpha Company would have been. Considering the cacophony of the battle, the distance was too great to have heard someone yell from Alpha’s position. It was then that we concluded it must have been a Viet Cong soldier, listening to our radio transmissions, who had yelled at us not to fire.
The battalion commander’s original order had been for Charlie Company to go to the aid of Alpha. Once we were on the hill, attempting to link up with Alpha’s flank, had we not heard the cry of “Don’t shoot!” we could have continued to the left to form an “L” with Alpha. In that situation the combined fire from both companies would have been much more effective. In any event, Charlie Company could have lent more support to Alpha, which was being shredded by enemy fire and taking many casualties while trying to break contact.
But that one cry of “Don’t shoot—it’s A Company!” had changed everything.
John E. Gross commanded C Company, 2-47th Infantry from September 1967 to February 1968. He received a Silver Star for actions during Tet. For additional reading, see: Mounted Combat in Vietnam, by Donn A. Starry; and Mechanized Infantry, by Bryan Perrett.
Originally published in the February 2009 issue of Vietnam Magazine. To subscribe, click here.
