Dzung and The Dike at Long Quang
1st Lieutenant Tran Thien Nguyen
We were sitting in the bunker headquarters of Company 3 of the 8th Marine Battalion. By the dim light of the PRC 25 radio's battery I could make out the five of us:
- 1st Lieutenant Loi, the Company's Executive Officer
- 2nd Lieutenant Phu, leader of Platoon 1
- 2nd Lieutenant Dzung, leader of Platoon 3
- 2nd Lieutenant Han, leader of Platoon 4
- And myself, leader of Platoon 2
We sat silently waiting for the Company's Commander, 1st Lieutenant Loi, to return from a briefing. He would then instruct us on the targets for the following day's operation.
In addition to sharing the same first name and the same rank of 1st Lieutenant, the Company's Commander and Executive Officer were of the same vintage: both had graduated from Class 3 of 1969 from the Thu Duc Military School. Given so many commonalities, it was not surprising that the men were given differentiating nick names.
The Company Commander's facial hair earned him the name “Whiskers Loi”. After graduating from military school I was assigned to Company 3 of the 8th Battalion. Presenting my fresh face for duty I remember the first time I met the Commander. He was coming out of a bunker with an intimidating growth of stubble casting shadows across his visage. “It's not going to be a bed of roses working under this cranky old man” I whispered to my friend Dzung. But I was wrong. First impressions can be off as I discovered after our first meal with the Company Commander. Whiskers Loi was far from the cranky old man I took him to be. Yes, he was older than us by a couple of years, but that did not make him old. He was a young man who was open and cheerful. Later we got to know him better, his style of commanding and how he worked when under pressure and in the face of battle danger. We witnessed his other traits - his calmness, bravery and ability to think on his feet.
Like the Company Commander, Executive Officer Loi was also a cheerful man. As if they didn't have enough in common. The Executive Officer was always grinning and genial irrespective of the situation. I guess that's why we called him “Smiling Loi”.
In the still silence we heard footsteps in the trench and moments later the Commander entered the bunker. His was stern. “As expected, our company is to attack the Long Quang Dike tomorrow” he announced. The dike was to the east of the Old Citadel, about 8km from the sea as the crow flies. “It's going to be the last target which we need to occupy before they replace us and we can all get some rest” he added.
Opening his map of operations the Commander pointed at the target and identified the various positions of the enemy. They were positioned on a higher terrain than us, with solid bunkers, and armed with collective machine guns and anti-tank weapons. They were supported by artillery including 130mm guns. As for us, the friendly forces providing support were one squadron of M48 tanks (from Tank Regiment 20) and the 2nd Marine Artillery Battalion. Air support would be provided as necessary. The Commander issued the following orders:
1. Platoons 2 and 3 will be the main attacking forces. 2nd Lieutenant Nguyen's Platoon 2 are going to be facing significant danger since they are going to be advancing to the target from a barren field. So do what it takes to get across there as fast as you can.
2. Platoon 1 under 2nd Lieutenant Phu will be ready to reinforce Platoon 3.
3. Platoon 4 will go with Company Headquarters.
4. The Executive Officer 1st Lieutenant Loi will accompany Platoon 3.
5. Platoons 2 and 3 are not to carry rucksacks. They are to bring as many hand grenades and M72s as they can with them.
The orders over we resumed our normal positions. I shook hands with Dzung as usual and wished him a good win.
We set out the following day in the dull light which precedes dawn accompanied by the wintry rain of central Vietnam. Quietly we crossed the departure lines making straight for the Long Quang Dike. The loud engines on the tanks reinforcing us alerted the enemy to our movements. They opened fire with B40s, B41s, machine guns and 82mm recoilless rifles. We spread out, laying behind the raised edges of rice paddies and hiding in bomb craters, waiting for the right time to charge.
In spite of the fire support provided by the tanks and the artillery, the first wave of our charge failed. The enemy fire was just too intense and they had the added benefit and protection of solid defensive bunkers. I reported to Company Headquarters and requested manpower to evacuate the wounded.
Then we waited. Dzung and I shifted impatiently. The Commanding Officer of the Company was asking the Battalion Commander to request air strikes. The deadly accurate aim of the two jets they sent out seemed to quell the enemy's initial aggression. Taking advantage of the lull in enemy action, we initiated the second wave of the charge. This time we managed to reach the banks of the rice paddies which was only some tens of metres from the target. The enemy retaliated. They were buying time for their reinforcements to arrive and for nightfall, neither of which was good for us. Knowing this, the Commander proceeded according to plan. He ordered the tanks to advance and fire at the target to scare the NVA. Under this support, Platoons 2 and 3 were to charge forward with their significant quantities of hand grenades and M72s to clear and occupy the target. One of our M48 tanks was hit by a 82mm round of mortar. Some of the soldiers leapt from the tank and retreated. But undeterred, the tank charged on towards the target. I was incredulous. Later, it transpired that the tank driver had been killed but the weight of his body had depressed the accelerator causing the tank to speed onwards. Frightened by the charging beast, the NVA jumped out of their bunkers and ran. Shouts of “Charge!” were heard and we quickly overran the target. Meanwhile, the “heroic” tank had come to a stop in a bomb crater.
Some minutes before 4pm we successfully destroyed the remaining NVA pockets of resistance. Dzung and I met up, shook hands, and cheerfully reported the result to the Company Commander. At the same time we ordered our troops to start digging trenches and setting up outposts. The Company Commander congratulated us both and we could hear his satisfied laughs over the radio. The Commander of the 8th Marine Battalion, Lieutenant Colonel Phan, also praised us for a job well done.
I stood and scanned the forest in the distance. I was trying to mentally calculate the coordinates to speed up the process of feeding information to the artillery in the event that we needed back up since the enemy could well attack that night. “Nguyen! Watch your head!” Dzung shouted. “Be careful of snipers!” he continued. I turned and caught the helmet he threw at me. “Don't worry. I'm not going any time soon.” I responded. He smiled but did not reply and walked away shaking his head at my stubbornness.
1st Private Mau my radioman approached. “Sirs, have some chow mein.” he said handing us two canteens. “What? Some for me too?” Dzung asked. Scratching his head, Dzung turned to me and said “Maybe we should ask Mau. Do you reckon he's trying to worm a transfer to my Platoon 3? He's probably sick of you.” Poor Mau stuttered in reply. “Oh no 1st Lieutenant! You mustn't think that of me. I saw you both there talking so I just naturally prepared meals for the both of you. I don't want to go to Platoon 3.” and he ran away. Dzung and I laughed at his earnest stuttering defence. Then we wolfed down the meals. “I've got to get back to my platoon” Dzung said. “I need to see how they are progressing on the trenches and if they have joined up with your trenches. I need to give them orders about tonight's watch as well.” he said and left. “Be careful” I shouted after him.
Fatigue and sleepiness crept up on me and I sat down in trench, leant my back against its sandy wall and tried to snatch some rest. I dozed for some time and was awakened by the sound of enemy shelling. The artillery fell closer and closer to our company's position with each round. Then there was a very loud explosion. Sand, dirt and dust flew in all directions. I peered over our trench at looked to see where the round had exploded. It was over Platoon 3's position! At the same time I heard shouts from our outposts. “A Viet Cong forward observer! Shoot him! Shoot!” And then there was the sound of M16 and M79s firing.
The shelling suddenly stopped. I heard Mau shouting from where he was sheltered. “1st Lieutenant! 1st Lieutenant! Platoon 3 have just reported that 1st Lieutenant Dzung was killed by the shelling.” I was stunned. Not waiting for the rest of his report, I spun around and ran along the trenches towards Platoon 3's location. I stumbled across a tragic scene. An enemy mortar had fallen right where Dzung, his platoon executive officer and his squad leaders were having a briefing. A small piece of shrapnel had pierced his skull and lodged behind his ear. Twenty and bursting with life and potential. Gone forever. His eyes were open and they looked angry and accusatory. But who was to blame? It was the nature of war. If it's not you, it's me, or the next guy. I reached out to close his eye lids over, but my hand stayed and cupped his face.
Dzung and I became friends not long after we embarked on our military lives. It happened by chance. We were in the same platoon of the same company from Quang Trung Recruitment and Training Centre to Thu Duc Military School for Officers. As graduation approached I asked him “Will you be waiting for them to allocate you or will you be volunteering for one of the crack units? I'm going for the Marine Corps”. He didn't answer the question, just grinned and said “Very brave indeed.” His response annoyed me but I later discovered that his coyness was because he too was gunning for the Marine Corps like me. We were assigned to the same unit - Company 3 of the 8th Marine Battalion. Our friendship strengthened over the months and years as we faced the same fears and highs of battle. The common experience of danger and constant reminder of mortality merely strengthened our bond as brothers in arms. And the whole time we ignored that Death was loitering like an unpopular outsider desperate to be included in the friendship group.
More than a week ago Dzung had received two letters from Saigon. The first was from his younger sister. She was asking him for money so she could by an “ao dai” - the traditional long dress, to wear to school. The other letter was from Dzung's girlfriend. “Hey Nguyen”, he said “You are never going to guess what she wrote. She's asking for my aluminium name tags so she can wear it around her neck. Is that the current fashion trend amongst the girls in Saigon?” he asked handing me the letter. I went cold. What a bad omen I thought. A soldier's dog tags are usually only sent home to his family to confirm his death. Trying hard to shrug off my superstition, I faked a grin and said “You know, she probably just wants to show off to her friends that her boyfriend is in the army. You should send her the insignia of the Marines as well so she can have a complete pair to show off!” Dzung was clearly puzzled by the request and scratched his head. “She's really got me you know. That girl's going to be the death of me.”
Looking at Dzung's body now, I couldn't help feeling that that letter was indeed the harbinger of doom. What was merely a superstitious omen was now reality. His eyes closed, Dzung looked like he was sleeping peacefully. Another sacrifice for beliefs, for the Marines. Another hero. Farewell friend. Vale 1st Lieutenant Dzung.
The enemy was bound to launch a counterattack to reclaim the Long Quang Dike tonight. With this in mind, the Company Commander ordered my platoon to replace Platoon 3. He ordered us to hold our defensive lines until the following day when the 2nd Marine Battalion would arrive to replace us. Having issued orders to all the platoons he addressed me personally over the radio. “206” he said, calling me by my radio code name “I know you must be very sad about Dzung's death. I know that he was a friend and close brother in arms to you. I too am saddened by his passing. I feel it very much when I loose courageous men like him. You need to remain calm and controlled. The enemy will be attacking our company tonight and your position in the defensive line is going to wear it the most. Now I don't want you to start acting rashly and unthinkingly because you are upset about Dzung's death. No unnecessary acts okay? I don't need to loose another capable platoon leader. 206 do you follow?” I replied, addressing the Company Commander by his radio code name. “648, thank you for your words about Dzung. And for the encouragement and advice. Rest easy. My platoon and I will discharge our responsibility.”
As expected, the NVA's assault began half an hour after midnight. They were hoping that after a hard day's fighting we would let down our guard. After a wave of shelling they attacked, firing cannons directly at us in an intimidatory fashion. Two of our outposts were buckling under the pressure and requested to move back to the platoon's defensive line. The enemy's cries of “Charge! Charge” could be heard, and I even made out some female voices. “You want to charge?” I growled to myself “Come and get it then. Come to the Marines!” I ordered all the squads to aim their M72 and M79s in preparation to fire directly on the approaching waves. Hand grenades were poised and ready at each of the fox holes. I reported the situation to Company Headquarters and requested artillery support. Wave upon wave of enemy fighters charged, each time repelled by the gritty marines of Company 3 and their barrage of fire power. They were finally forced to retreat.
When the noise of firearms had died away I sat flat down in the trench, mentally and physically overcome. I head the sound of footsteps and saw 1st Sergeant Nghia, the platoon executive leader, who had come to report on the casualties. I asked him to radio Company Headquarters and request medevac. Also to remind squads to be alert for more attacks between now and the morning, although there was only a 50% chance.
I looked up at the sky. It was still dark and formed a black backdrop against which the artillery flares lit up every now and then. Images of Dzung from that afternoon flashed before my eyes, disappearing as quickly as they came. “Dzung. The 8th Battalion were going to get some rest tomorrow. It will be no fun without you.” I thought to myself. “I'm going to be floating on a boat down the Perfume River and drinking to you.” For the first time since his death, I let the tears flow unrestrained
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1st Lieutenant Tran Thien Nguyen
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