A Close Combat in Quang Tri, 1972
Captain Tran Trung Ngon
He was reticent. He only smiled. He rarely swore at people. However, when he did, it meant that blood would pour and death would accompany.
The first time I met him, I immediately had the feeling that this had been a good brother in arm and would have exemplary conduct. Calmness, bravery, agility and intelligence were features of his character. When receiving a position transferred by a friendly unit, he was always quick to give directives to squads to occupy it neatly and safely:
- "Heavy M60 machine guns squad! Did you see the ruin of a house on your left side? From there, look to the right, about 100m away, you will see a collapsed wall. The enemy would pierce our flank via there. When the clash occurs, fire intensively at that place for me!..."
- Or -"And this is the target to be fired at with M72…”
And he also asked his direct Commander:
- "Master, please request some previewed coordinates for Artillery!"
In the daytime, he always walked around his defensive line to remind his subordinates to solidify trenches, bunkers and foxholes. However, I knew that he, at the same time was observing, investigating terrains to preview the enemy potential directions of attack.
One night, when the enemy was raiding, he fired a M72 at the beginning of the battle and killed a whole NVA team of sappers who had crawling close to his trench, only 15m away. At daybreak, he led a squad search. Three NVA were killed. A NVA was severely wounded, lying some meters from the others. His abdomen was torn apart. His intestines were massively exposed outside. The Marine resolutely swore:
Fuck! No medivac for this NVA! That meant that he had to give him a "coup de grace."
At 4:30am the next day, NVA 130mm rockets torrentially poured down on our positions, ploughing thoroughly the area of his platoon. Explosions of 130mm rockets were extraordinarily terrible. The NVA rockets pounded, volleys after volleys, our positions. After thirty minutes, the NVA charged. From trenches and foxholes, Marines fired M16, M79, M72 and threw M67 grenades at fleshy targets which had been appearing like vague shadows in the light of the moon at the end of a lunar month.
Fifteen minutes passed. It was fifteen minutes of death. That was the first wave of the NVA charge.
More than 30m of the defensive line of his platoon was left open, because a number of Marines had been killed at the NVA first volley of shelling. His platoon had to expand its deployment. The night was still there. It would be another hour before daybreak…
The NVA's second wave of charges started. His platoon's defensive line was broken under the pressure of the two NVA companies. Holding his M16, he rapidly darted toward the Platoon headquarters. It was still dark under the very weak moonlight. About 20m in front of him, a Marine had been supported by a Marine, and a third Marine had been rushing toward them.
He thought: "It was probable that my platoon leader had been wounded!" The distance between him and the other three was now 10m, then 5m. He was suddenly startled as if his feet had been jumping on flames. In reality, a NVA soldier had been trying to throw his platoon leader to the ground. While the other NVA yelled while running forward.
"Marines! Surrender, you live! Resist, you die."
He sprang to that NVA, pointed the nozzle of his M16 on his chest. He released his trigger with his deadly swear word:
"Fuck your mother! I'll let you yell more!"
As rapidly as a lightning, he turned his M16 butt and performed a horizontally swinging stroke. This deadly blow fell on a temporal area of the NVA who had been wrestling with his platoon leader. That NVA immediately collapsed like a banana trunk being chopped down. The Marine stuck the nozzle of his M16 at him. Three bullets flew out automatically… The NVA spastically wriggled like a frog whose head being chopped off. The Marine called, breathing: "My master!"
Captain Tran Trung Ngon
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