Miracles
1st Lieutenant Van Tan Thach
For a Marine to survive the war is an amazing piece of good luck, but to survive the war with an intact body, is utterly incredible. I write these memoirs to remind the generations to come, of the numerous Gates of Death a Marine has to go through during his life. I count myself as one of the few lucky ones, who evaded Death.
On The Night of March 30th 1972
On March 30th, the NVA crossed the 17th Parallel. The 3rd Marine Battalion which had been resting at My Chanh Base had to move at night to Ai Tu, where the 3rd Infantry Division Headquarters was situated. It was midnight,but still the enemy artillery pounded the base with thousands of rounds. I found a large crevice, where the military trucks were kept for my platoon to shelter if needs be. We temporarily set up tents next to the crevice, but I warned them that if the shellings came any closer, they were to take shelter in the crevice. Unfortunately everyone was so tired, that we all fell asleep. I was half asleep when a huge blast tore up the ponchos I had been lying on. Thanh, my signalman, suffered a deep cut from a huge piece of shrapnel. He bled like a pig. I was saturated with blood, but was otherwise unhurt. To this day, I can't explain how Thanh, who had been lying in the middle between me and the orderly, had fallen victim to the shrapnel, whilst I escaped.
An Encounter with Death
When the NVA tried to cross the Dong Ha Bridge, the 3rd Marine Battalion kept them at bay on the north bank. We deployed on the south bank, and my platoon had to protect the rear of the Battalion. At about 3.00pm, the Battalion Commander, Le Ba Binh, ordered me to lead my men to a village north east of Dong Ha City to block the enemy. From the north bank, the NVA tanks were still trying to cross the river. One of their tanks was already destroyed at the northern end of the Dong Ha bridge, which had been blown up by the Marines. Thus they were forced to find another way of getting around. After we finished evolving, I walked around to observe the terrain. I could see the enemy clearly from across the river. I called the Marine Artillery to send rounds over to the enemy targets. The fighting spirit of the Marines soared. Suddenly, a shell fell right on our position. Everyone was petrified. I sought a temporarily shelter, but the artillery kept raining down. Houses were blown skyward sending smoke billowing everywhere. I shouted at the top of my voice for my guys to retreat. I had no idea where the shells were coming from. They did not come from the enemy, but rather, from friendly forces. I ran out of the village - at the same time desperately contacting the 3rd Marine Battalion Headquarters to ask what was was happening. But no answers came back. My platoon was forced to run into the empty fields behind the village as more rounds rained down. We were in tatters, and some of us were wounded, but fortunately, no one was critically wounded.
The village was razed. We were forced to retreat in total disarray, caught unawares by the erroneous targetting from our Artillery. And in order to save my men, I had had to retreat without the orders from my superiors.
An Unexploded Enemy Mortar
After participating in stopping the enemy at Dong Ha, the 3rd Marine Battalion was ordered to move back to rest. One morning, the enemy Artillery shelling resumed their firing, but this time we were not directly in the line of fire. I was sipping my coffee contently with one of my soldiers when suddenly an 82 mm mortar fell right in front of us. Our reflex was to lie flat on our bellies to await the explosion that would herald Death. It was only a metre away - definitely too close for us to survive. Time stood still. Seconds passed... minutes passed... nothing happened. Then I heard my soldier shouting “Oh! He ! is killing me !"
I raised my head. The mortar was still sitting there placidly. But my companion was in pain because as it had hit the road, it had sent a pebble flying into his leg. We were so relieved!
Evading Death by Chance
Some weeks later, the enemy savagely increased their shellings one day at noon. As we had prepared our foxholes and bunkers well, the 61mm and 82mm mortars didn't really worry us. I watched the billows of smoke through the observation slit in my bunker. They were pretty accurate in their firing. My eyes began to ache, so I rubbed them and sat down for a while. A Marine rushed to the observation slit to replace me. Suddenly he fell down with a terrible cry, and died. A piece of shrapnel from a 82mm mortar had somehow flown throught the slit and pierced his skull. I held his body in my arms, completely stupefied. I thought of his wife, his children, and his parents, and felt deep sorrow.
First Lieutenant Van Tan Thach
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