According to one veteran of the river war in Vietnam, 'The Mekong Delta's quiet at night, so quiet you can hear a pin drop for a klick [a kilometer].' And for the crew of USS Westchester County, LST (landing ship, tank) 1167, the night of November 1, 1968, had been no exception — until 0322 hours, when a team of VC swimmers almost succeeded in turning the ship into a fireball.

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Originally designed to transport and land troops directly onto a beach, in late 1968 Westchester County was serving as a temporary home and base to 175 soldiers of the 9th Infantry Division's 3rd Battalion, 34th Artillery, and to the crews of Navy River Assault Division 111. Assigned as support ship for Mobile Riverine Group Alpha, 'Wesco,' as she was known throughout the fleet, was anchored midstream on the muddy My Tho River, 40 miles upstream from the coastal seaport of Vung Tau. Clustered in a rough semicircle around the LST were the Brown Water Navy command ship USS Benewah, the repair vessel USS Askari, two large barracks barges, a small salvage vessel and scores of squat, green armored assault craft. All were fully loaded with fuel and ammunition.

Tied to Wesco's starboard side and cushioned from the ship's hull by a 50-foot-long teakwood log called a 'camel' were three 'ammis,' huge aluminum pontoon barges linked together that served as combination pier, loading dock and ammunition and gasoline storage depot. The 25 monitors, assault support patrol boats and armored transports of River Assault Division 111 were moored to the ammis. On the ship's main deck were five fully fueled Army helicopters; below, on the tank deck, more than 350 tons of high explosives and ammunition were stored.

Operating out of Yokosuka, Japan, the 384-foot-long LST was one of many World War II and postwar amphibious workhorses pressed into service with the Brown Water Navy. She was no stranger to the coffee-colored rivers of the Mekong Delta, and on the night of November 1, the ship was almost at the midpoint of her fifth combat deployment to the Republic of Vietnam. So far, the cruise had been routine — for a combat tour — filled with hot, humid, seven-day workweeks, little liberty time ashore and the always-present chance of VC attack.

Nevertheless, morale was high. The ship's engineering department had recently taken the coveted Squadron 'E' for excellence, and the award was now proudly displayed on her bridge. With only one month left in the delta, Wesco's 132-man crew looked forward to offloading their mobile riverine 'guests' and sailing for Singapore and a well-deserved period of rest and recreation.

It was a typical night on the river. The ship was darkened, with only navigation lights showing. Forward and aft, 3-inch rapid-fire guns were loaded and ready, manned by reduced crews. Armed lookouts were posted on deck. A roving petty officer made sure that gun crews and sentries remained alert. A full watch was in place on the bridge, and in the engineering spaces the'snipes,' as engine-room personnel were known, stood ready to answer all bells. In the distance, muffled thumps could be heard as picket boats made their rounds, dropping concussion grenades to ward off enemy frogmen. Below decks, in the crowded berthing compartments, the silence was disturbed only by the whir of air-conditioning fans and the murmurs of sleeping men.

But as the crew slept, a team of VC frogmen evaded the picket boats and silently approached the ship. The messenger of the watch had just gone below to wake the oncoming duty section when two enormous explosions ripped into Wesco's starboard side. A pair of swimmer-delivered mines, each estimated to contain between 150 and 500 pounds of explosives, had been simultaneously detonated directly beneath the camel.

Compressed between the pontoons and the LST's hull, the force of the explosions was driven upward, shredding steel plating, rupturing fuel tanks and blasting into the berthing compartments. One of the ammis seemed to leap out of the water as a huge spray of oil, water and hardwood splinters was thrown into the air. In an instant, visibility within the ship was reduced to zero as lighting was knocked out and the air filled with clouds of choking steam and vaporized diesel fuel.

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