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Marine Combined Action Platoons won hearts and minds—and some ferocious battles—deep inside enemy strongholds.

With its “clear-hold-build” philosophy, the “Surge” initiated in 2007 by General David Petraeus proved to be dramatically effective in taming violence in Iraq. While touted by the United States Marine Corps as “a new counterinsurgency strategy,” the practice of using small units of Marines to live among the population actually has its roots in Vietnam, where Combined Action Platoons (CAPs) worked effectively to clear and pacify many villages that had been strongholds of the Viet Cong. The mission assigned to Marines in Vietnam more than four decades ago is assigned to them again today in such places as Afghanistan’s Helmand Valley. It is built upon the concept that small units live on their own in villages and towns where they partner with local forces to “win hearts and minds” of the population, to try to help fight off the enemy and drive a wedge between residents and the insurgents. With General Petraeus now directly running the war in Afghanistan, he will likely be driving his counterinsurgency strategy hard as he confronts the same challenges as the Marine CAPs did in Vietnam— entrenched political corruption, shifting loyalties and alliances, the enemy’s ability to hide within the population like “fish in the sea,” as Mao Zedong put it, and villagers afraid that the Americans would desert them.

“All alone in Indian country” was how Marine Corporal Gene Beck thought of it in August 1967 when he landed with CAP 2-7-3 near the village of Lo-Giang and watched as the two H-34 helicopters that had brought them leapt back into the air, leaving behind himself, Sergeant B.J. Kitts, 12 other Marines and one Navy corpsman.

“Saddle up, ladies!” Beck called out as the roar of the engines quickly faded and the helicopter hulks turned into specks on the horizon.

Surrounded by jungle, booby traps, thousands of unfriendly natives and hostile Viet Cong, the Marines were understandably apprehensive as they prepared to march into Lo-Giang, part of the Hoa Da district of hamlets about a dozen miles south of Da Nang. They were to link up with a 30-man South Vietnamese Popular Force (PF) platoon and spend the next several months in three small hamlets defending about 2,000 villagers against local guerrillas.

They knew that the village chiefs and most of the district inhabitants were Communist sympathizers who provided food and refuge to the local Viet Cong, mainly out of fear.

Also, the Americans understood that they had a long way to go to win over the villagers’ trust. Damaging to their efforts were actions typified by one incident that occurred two years earlier in the nearby village of Cam Ne. After taking heavy fire while clearing the village, Marines proceeded to burn down the grass-thatched homes suspected of hiding Viet Cong. With the Marines was news correspondent Morley Safer, whose report showing a Marine setting huts afire with his Zippo lighter— broadcast on the CBS Evening News— had ignited intense controversy among the public back home.

Most CAPs were armed to the teeth on their missions, because when the proverbial crap hit the fan, the only things the teams could depend on were their weapons and a small band of Popular Force troops; other than that, they were on their own. Beck carried an M-16 and an M-79 40mm grenade launcher. Team leader Kitts, to whom Beck was “Bravo,” his assistant team leader, carried an M-14. Each Marine also lugged frag grenades, knives, personal ammo, food, water, sleeping bags and extra belts of M-60 ammo for the machine gunner.

Originally called the Civil Guard of the Self-Defense Corps, and later Regional and Popular Forces (RF/PF or “Ruff Puffs,” as some Americans dismissively called them), these local militias were integrated into theArmy of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) in 1964. Nevertheless, they were poorly trained, even more poorly paid and had proved themselves less than steady against their Viet Cong or North Vietnamese Army (NVA) opponents.

The combined action Program in Vietnam originated in pacification programs U.S. Marines devised during the so-called “Banana Wars” in Haiti, Nicaragua and the Dominican Republic from about 1914 to 1923. In remote outreaches there, Marines in small units combined with local forces to provide security and fight off insurgents until the host nations could fend for themselves.

In 1965, Marines in Vietnam’s I Corps Tactical Zone were responsible for securing 100,000 square miles of terrain with more than 2 million people in the four northernmost provinces of Vietnam. Until then, Army Special Forces through its Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG) had practiced a form of civic action focused more upon village defense units and mobile strike forces than upon a “hearts and minds” campaign.

In August 1965, Lt. Col. William Taylor, commander of 3rd Battalion, 4th Marines, whose tactical area of responsibility encompassed six villages and an airfield in a 10-square-mile area, suggested he incorporate local militia units into his operations as a force multiplier. He handpicked four squads of Marines and integrated them with local PF units in villages outside Da Nang. Colonel Taylor counted on a formula in which Marines brought highly trained, well-led and aggressive combat troops to a local guard that knew the people and terrain. These “Combined Action Platoons” fortified defense in their areas of operation, while simultaneously winning over the population through civic action and medical programs. The CAPs sought to reverse the philosophy expressed in the popular phrase, “Get ’em by the balls and their hearts and minds will follow,” with, “Their balls will follow once you have their hearts and minds.”

By the time CAP 2-7-3 inserted into Lo-Giang in 1967, the Combined Action Program had grown to 50 platoons operating in the four northern provinces of I Corps. Each province came under a Combined Action Group (CAG). The first number in the team designation was its CAG, as in 2-7-3 (Second CAG), followed by numbers describing the unit’s company and team. With 36 platoons operating in the province at its peak, 2nd CAG was the largest group.

Kitts and Beck anticipated that the area was crawling with Viet Cong spies despite the wide coverage of CAPS in I Corps. When their platoon hit the ground, they figured that the Communists probably already knew how many men they had, what their aims and fighting attitude would be and where they were headed.

Knowing their cover had already been blown, the two men spread their force and marched into Lo-Giang to make as grand an entrance as possible into the village. Alongside the village chief, the Popular Forces commander, Sergeant Man, met the Marines on the outskirts of Lo-Giang. Man, a tall, lean man in sandals, fatigue cutoffs and a fatigue jacket, carried a WWII .30-caliber rifle slung over one shoulder.

His troops, who called him General Man, were equally rag-tag, some wearing pieces of uniforms and most carrying Browning automatic rifles (BARs), Garand rifles, carbines and .45-caliber Thompson submachine guns from WWII. A few sported rocket-propelled grenades or M-79 grenade launchers. A kid of about 16 had a live goose stuffed in his pack—dinner in case the American team wanted to go into action right away.

“You speak English?” Kitts asked Man. “Are you ready?”

“But, of course,” he replied.

The Americans intended to demonstrate to the enemy that the Marines were there to stay and would not be intimidated. Beck, the village chief and Sergeant Man strode from one end of the village to the other with a bullhorn. Beck asked Man to translate—literally—every word he shouted into the bullhorn.

“We’re bolder than anybody else in the valley,” Beck challenged. “We’re here to stay. If you bastards think you’re bad enough, if you got the hair on your ass for it, then come on out and fight.”

Beck knew the fight had to start somewhere, and he and Sergeant Kitts sought a psychological advantage. The platoon was there to protect the villagers, not to hide. He figured it wouldn’t take local guerrillas long to respond. His men had to be smarter, faster, deadlier—and more savage—than the enemy to survive and carry out their mission.

Initially, CAP teams remained static and lived inside their host villages, but because of frequent attacks and high casualties, CAPs began to rotate among two or more hamlets and to spend most of their time in the field, preferring the jungle at night to being sitting ducks in a village.

From day one, Sergeant Kitts and Corporal Beck moved the team every night, sometimes more than once. Beck had developed a strong sixth sense. He couldn’t explain the “little voice” that always seemed to warn him of danger. He only knew it worked.

Shortly after they arrived in Lo-Giang, the platoon was digging fighting holes for an overnight in the jungle about a kilometer away from the village. But as the sun was setting, Beck suddenly turned to Kitts. “Sergeant, we’d better saddle ’em up,” he said. “What?” Kitts shot back. “It’s getting dark. They’re tired and hungry.”

“We’re about to be shelled,” Beck said. “We’re moving out.”

The grumbling platoon had barely cleared the area when enemy mortar rounds began falling on it. After that, Beck’s instincts were never questioned.

The platoon quickly settled into a “nonroutine” that included movement and patrolling for roughly two-thirds of the force while the other-third rested, pulled village security and engaged in civic action. The “active” element scoured rice paddies, jungles and bamboo thickets, hoping to surprise guerrillas into an open battle they were unlikely to win. As night approached, the patrols would rendezvous at predesignated bivouac sites, but not necessarily to sleep. A third of the force rested and pulled camp security, another third patrolled while the final third set up ambushes along likely avenues of enemy travel.

The CAPs basically had six different missions: Destroy Communist infrastructure; protect public security and help maintain law and order; organize local intelligence nets; participate in civic action and coordinate counter-propaganda against the Communists; motivate and instill pride, patriotism and aggressiveness in local militias; and conduct training.

A CAP school of sorts was established near Da Nang, where a 10-day course covered essentials such as civic action precepts, rudimentary Vietnamese phrases and a broad overview of Vietnamese culture. All Marines assigned to a Combined Action Platoon were volunteers. The extra training helped, but the young Marines were still ill prepared for the culture shock of being assigned to a primitive and often hostile countryside. Although tracking down and killing the Communists was part of the CAP mission, the real focus was to gain the trust of the villagers by assisting them in rebuilding secure lives in the midst of chaos. In Lo-Giang, Marines taught locals modern horticultural methods and better techniques of animal husbandry. And by introducing long-grain rice from the Philippines, Kitts and Beck helped the rice farmers double their yield to two crops a year.

They also helped make fish available year round in Lo-Giang. Most rural Vietnamese depended on fish as a diet staple, but under customary farming practices, fish raised in the flooded rice paddies had to be harvested each time the fields were drained, leading to shortages during certain periods of the year. Beck proposed to village elders that they dig a large cooperative fishpond apart from the rice crops. Fish could then be transferred to the pond when the paddies were drained, making them readily available for consumption or to use to barter with other hamlets. The Marines also introduced a faster growing suckerfish, and the collateral benefits became evident almost immediately. The people ate more fish, and the fish ate more mosquitoes, creating a healthier environment for the villagers. These efforts worked as the villagers’ quality of life improved, resulting in fewer contacts with the Communists.

While the Marine CAP’s role was geared toward civic action more than combat, their forward positions inside hostile districts proved key in foiling the 1968 Tet Offensive in the Da Nang area. As the enemy onslaught unfolded, CAP 2-7-3 faced its greatest challenge since the team’s insertion.

Isolated teams such as Kitt’s were particularly vulnerable to being overrun, and just before dark on January 29 he received an urgent radio message, warning him to stand to on alert. Shortly after nightfall, the 1st Marine Division at Da Nang went on 100 percent alert after recon elements spotted enemy movement all over their tactical area of responsibility.

The North Vietnamese attack force consisted of two groups. One would split up and move overland, and the other approach by water in an attempt to knock out the bridge that connected Da Nang to the Tien Shu Peninsula and thus capture I Corps Headquarters.

As daylight approached on January 30, CAP 2-7-3 got an urgent radio message that a helicopter gunship had spotted a battalion-sized NVA element moving toward both the Cam Le Bridge and Liberty Bridge that spanned the Cau Do River, about 10 miles from Lo-Giang. The helicopter had lost sight of the battalion somewhere in the wilderness of mangrove and bamboo south of the Cam Le Bridge and east of the road leading to the bridge. Marine intelligence assumed the enemy was on their way to engage the airfield at Da Nang. Kitts was ordered to immediately move his Marines and Popular Force troops to intercept the enemy before they could reach the Cam Le Bridge, the key route to Da Nang.

Kitts’ little band reached the bridge after nightfall. On the way, it crossed the enemy’s trail where the NVA battalion had waded through an old irrigation ditch. The beaten track entered a field of head-high elephant grass toward swamps and a bamboo hummock covering several acres. From all indications, they had halted out there somewhere to prepare to assault the small Marine military police contingent that was guarding the bridge.

Corporal Beck led a recon patrol of five Marines and PFs to check out the enemy forces, wending their way along a canal toward the bamboo hummock. Rice paddies about 1,000 meters wide stretched between the Cam Le Bridge and the NVA/VC in the swamps, providing open fields of fire for defenders at the bridge. When Beck crawled out of the canal to check the area with a Starlight night vision scope, he was horrified at what he saw. Several hundred uniformed enemy troops stretched shoulder-to-shoulder from one side of the rice paddies to the other, already advancing stealthily toward the bridge.

Meanwhile, at the bridgehead, the rest of the CAP and PFs had linked up with the 10 MPs and a Marine armor platoon of about 10 men and two M-48 Patton tanks. The tanks’ 90mm main guns and .50-caliber machine guns boosted Kitts’ confidence in holding back the enemy. “We think the gooks are out there about 1,000 meters,” Kitts briefed the tankers. “We should expect an attack before daybreak.”

The tanks took up defensive positions on either side of the bridge access as the platoon dug in and prepared for a fight in which their 60 or so fighters would be heavily outnumbered. With their backs to the river, their orders were to deny the enemy a crossing. Retreat was not an option.

If they followed their normal pattern, the enemy would first attempt to sneak up under cover of darkness. Once their troops were in place, the NVA/VC officers would initiate the blitz with a cacophony of whistles, bugles, yells and gunfire, as hordes of soldiers rushed forward.

Even with tanks and air cover on call, Kitts had doubts that his tiny force could repel a full-scale assault. He trusted his Marines without reservation, but the PFs were the wild cards. They had handled themselves well in brief running firefights and occasional ambushes, but no one could be sure how they might react in a major battle once lead started flying and blood flowing.

“We have to hold, you understand that?” Kitts stressed to Sergeant Man. “They will hold,” Man assured him.

In the darkness, the bushes, trees and bamboo took on life as teams of North Vietnamese ventured onto the high-grass plains that formed the bridge approach. Burrowed in at the command and control trench, Kitts, Sergeant Man and a tanker lieutenant scanned the field, but with no moon, the enemy was virtually invisible.

Kitts passed word down through interconnecting trenches. “We’ll have tanks and air support first. Fire only on my command.”

Out in the rice paddy on recon, Beck faced a quandary. After seeing the strength of the advancing enemy force, he had to warn Kitts immediately that the enemy was coming. He saw only one solution. Since the MPs at the bridge were under strict orders not to fire unless they were fired upon first, he ordered his men to open fire through enemy ranks toward friendly forces, a calculated risk that would at least alert Kitts and the other defenders at the bridge. On Beck’s command, they each fired a full magazine on auto, and then ran like hell back down into the canal, following it along the enemy’s flank back to the river and then up to the bridgehead where the friendly defense had dug in.

Kitts reacted immediately to the gunfire and summoned an A-1 Skyraider fighter-bomber, which came shrieking in low over the emerging battlefield, hitting the enemy with high explosives. As Beck and his patrol scurried back to take up defensive positions at the bridge, the Skyraider made a second pass to drop more bombs before the enemy could close, and the Pattons opened up with their main guns, hurling bolts of lightning into the massed enemy. The Marines and PFs unleashed volleys of deadly fire that scythed through the charging attackers.

Attack followed desperate attack, but each became weaker and less effective.

To the Marines’ relief, the PFs fought shoulder-to-shoulder with them; not a single man fled the field of battle. After a long and vicious night of fighting, the rising sun revealed enemy dead strewn all over the scorched and pockmarked terrain between the bridge and the bamboo forest. Many others had been dragged away.

For three days, CAP 2-7-3 held the bridge against an enemy weakened, discouraged and demoralized after that first brutal night. Fighting was reduced to occasional probes and some sniping before the NVA/VC battalion retreated, as the Tet Offensive ended in the Da Nang area. Da Nang was the only city out of 38 primary targets, said Lt. Gen. Victor H. Krulak, “at which the enemy’s effort turned out to be a total failure.” He credited much of the success to CAP teams in the area. Beck knew that for the 2-7-3, the air cover and tanks meant the difference between victory and being overrun and annihilated on the night of the Communist attack.

Although bloodied a bit, the CAP force suffered remarkably few casualties. Popular Force casualties were one killed and five wounded, none critically. No Marines were killed and only a few suffered relatively minor wounds. A bullet had chipped a piece of flesh from Corporal Beck’s arm, the only wound he sustained in nearly three years of combat.

Many other CAPs were attacked during Tet. In the Binh Son District, eight platoons were credited with maintaining the safety of the district’s 73,000 inhabitants. Fleet Marine Force, Pacific, later commended CAP units for making “a vital contribution to the ultimate friendly success, as these small Marine/PF units remaining in place to protect the villages…often made the initial enemy contact, thereby providing larger units the opportunity for exploitation.”

The 2-7-3 CAP marines returned to Lo-Giang victorious, to their imported rice fields and Filipino sucker fish. They were there to stay, as Beck had so boldly announced that first day they marched into the village. If the local Viet Cong did not believe him then, they did now. Lo-Giang thereafter was considered one of the most pacified communities in all of I Corps.

Corporal Gene Beck was soon promoted to sergeant and went on to lead his own CAP teams in I Corps for three years.

While the CAP Program was deactivated as a separate command in September 1970, many of its key concepts live on today in small U.S. detachments living with and helping local populations stave off insurgency in Afghanistan.

Whether they succeed in Afghanistan or not will depend upon decisions at a broader political level, and upon individual soldiers and Marines bold enough to win hearts and minds while “all alone in Indian country.”

“Of all our innovations in Vietnam,” Maj. Gen. Lew Walt wrote in his memoirs, “none was as successful, as lasting in effect, or as useful for the future (of the war’s success) as the Combined Action Program. The struggle was in the rice paddies…in and among the people, not passing through, but living among them night and day….And joining with them in steps toward a better life long overdue.”

 

Charles W. Sasser served in the U.S. Navy and the Army Special Forces and is the author of more than 50 books, his latest being None Left Behind: The 10th Mountain Division and the Triangle of Death from St. Martin’s Press.

Originally published in the October 2010 issue of Vietnam. To subscribe, click here