By: John "Tilt" Stryker Meyer, One
Zero of Spike Team Idaho
In November 1968 I was
team leader (one-zero) of Spike Team Idaho. John ?Bubba? Shore was my
assistant. We were running top-secret missions for MACV-SOG (Military
Assistance Command Vietnam ? Studies and Observation Group) out of FOB-1
(Forward Operating Base) in Phu Bai, South Vietnam.
We?d been detailed to assist
FOB-6 near Ho Ngoc Tao. Intelligence estimates had NVA strength across the
Cambodian border at more than 100,000, and the terrain for our first target
was flat as a pancake. The mission: Locate one of three NVA divisions which
had disappeared.
As our team sat at the launch
site in Bo Dop, a chopper landed with a Thanksgiving feast, complete with hot
turkey, cranberry roll, gravy and mashed potatoes. As we finished
overindulging, Air Force Hueys arrived to slip us into Cambodia.
The insertion was slick and
quick. We flew into the target area at treetop, full speed. We were so close
I was worried about branches hitting my feet.
Because this was an area where
FOB-6 teams had been taking serious casualties recently, the command and
control chopper remained airborne a few miles away, far enough where NVA
troops couldn?t hear the bird but close enough for radio contact.
Special operations teams could
only go 10 klicks into Cambodia. If attacked by NVA troops, we were
?forbidden? for using fixed-wing assets--assets we used heavily in our Prairie
Fire AO, assets which kept us alive when surrounded by hundreds of NVA troops.
Not only were the rules
different in Cambodia, but instead of the dense jungle foliage of Laos, it was
more like the thinly wooded central New Jersey countryside I had hunted a few
years earlier. With no double canopy, we could see sunlight. And we could
see straight ahead, through the trees, more than 100 yards.
During our first break,
because the vegetation remained thin, I had Phouc, our point man, and Bubba
put five-second fuses in two claymores--the openness of the wooded area made
me hinky. Then we moved on.
Sau, my counterpart, spotted
smoke and we moved toward it. Sau said, ?No VC,? and we continued forward.
As always, Sau?s reading of the NVA was correct. We were in an NVA bivouac
area, the smoke originating from a fading fire.
I started taking pictures, but
Sau was nervous. His eyes were getting bigger. His speech was quicker. Heip,
my interpreter, was getting nervous from talking to Sau. Sau was quick,
smart, agile, and fearless. He could smell the NVA and knew how they worked.
I wanted to see if we could
find a cache and suggested going further west.
Not waiting for Heip?s
interpretation, Sau looked at me and said, ?Call helicopters now! Beaucoup
NVA come now!?
I must have had an incredulous
look on my face, because I couldn?t hear anything, and I certainly didn?t see
any NVA troops.
Sau turned to Heip, now more
than a little agitated. Before Heip said a word, I turned to Bubba, who was
tail-gunner in our formation. I signaled our point man to head back to our LZ.
Heip explained: ?Sau say this
is enemy camp. We?re beaucoup lucky because no VC here. But, he found
hundreds of fresh footprints going there,? he pointed south. As Bubba passed
me, I told him to give me a claymore mine with a five-second fuse.
?De!? (Go) Sau hissed.
?De, de mou!? (Go quickly).
We were in Cambodia. Alone.
With no fixed-wing aircraft. And Sau?s eyes were as wide as saucers.
As we moved forward, Sau
backpedaled, hastily covering our tracks. We had only gone a short distance
when Sau hissed: ?Beaucoup VC! Beaucoup VC!?
I could see pith helmets coming
from the south. I radioed the C&C helicopter, told them to return with Cobra
gunships and to pick us up at the primary LZ, ASAP! C&C said they?d have assets
on site in 10 minutes.
I fired my M79 in the NVA?s
direction, two high bursts, which slowed them down for a few seconds. I yelled
to Bubba to move out. The race for life was on.
Sau hissed to Heip and pointed
north. Damn, there were pith helmets and NVA uniforms coming at us from the
north, too--at a dead run. The elements from the south were from the
division which had left the base camp, and the NVA from the north were moving
into it.
Sau and I placed the first
claymore behind a tree and ran. The NVA were now running and shooting wildly.
We sprinted to catch up as the
claymore exploded. The NVA kept on charging. Sau quickly placed his
five-second claymore in front of a tree and ran. We sprinted toward our team as
the second claymore detonated. We felt the backblast as we ran.
At the LZ, heip placed another
claymore toward the charging NVA. To the north, Bubba rigged a claymore with a
contact detonator on a trip wire. As the tide of pith helmets flowed toward us,
Bubba and I opened fire with our M79s, and Sau and Heip opened up full-auto with
their CAR-15s.
More NVA emerged from the smoke
and tripped Bubba?s claymore. The rest of the team jumped on the chopper and I
fired the last claymore as a wave of NVA troops got in front of it. The blast
gave me a few seconds to make the Huey.
As we pulled out of the LZ,
several NVA burst from the woods, surprised to see the choppers. One NVA tried
to stop, his boots kicking up clumps of mud as he tried to bring up his AK from
port-arms.
I watched the mud kicking upward
toward the rotors as the doorgunner and I hit him in the cest with a burst,
stopping him suddenly--so suddenly he reminded me of a cartoon character whose
head and feet moved forward while his chest and stomach were slammed with lead,
driving him back into the woods.
When we landed at Bo Dop at
1400, the Air Force pilots invited us for Thanksgiving dinner. We were
starved. The narrow escape from Cambodia was sobering. If the Air Force had
delayed a few more minutes...
As we rolled out of the mess
hall, one of the SF launch site people said we had to get back to FOB-6 ASAP for
debriefing.
I reported directly to the CO,
who said, ?Give me a thumbnail description of what happened, so I can send that
to Saigon, then we can eat our Thanksgiving dinner and do the detailed report
afterward. That makes it two Thanksgiving dinners and one mission. Not bad for
a day?s work,?
?Make that three
dinners,? I laughed.
Bubba and I ate the third
dinner. But this time we passed on the second helping and thanked God for the
U.S. Air Force.