The author recounts a vehicle recovery operation in Go Noi Island,
Guang Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam.

The Official Story

By 7 September, the storm abated and the weather improved enough that field operations could resume, although the flooding still hampered movement considerably. Company A, 1st Battalion, 5th Marines provided security for a recovery unit of Company B [author’s note: actually, it was Company A], 3d Amphibian Tractor Battalion attempting to retrieve two inoperative amphibian tractors abandoned by the 5th Marines on Go Noi Island during the storm. Normally, when a vehicle broke down in the field, it was guarded until it could be repaired or recovered. To abandon a vehicle was highly unusual, but in this instance necessary, because of the flooding. When the Marines reached the vehicles on the morning of 8 September, they found both destroyed by demolition and fire, the result of enemy action.

. . . Colonel Stemple, the 2d Battalion commander, recalled that the Navy several months later provided a LCU (Landing Craft Utility) with a tank retriever and recovered all the tanks and the two remaining LVTs [landing vehicles tracked]. According to Stemple, ‘miraculously, the enemy had not discovered them and except for the water damage, they were recovered intact.’

These quotations from Jack Shulimson’s U.S. Marines in Vietnam: The Defining Year, 1968 (pp. 383–4 (hereafter cited as The Defining Year, 1968) give the imprimatur of the Marine Corps Historical Branch authenticity to a strange event that took place in the Da Nang tactical area of responsibility (TAOR) in early September 1968. Although a simple review of the command chronologies of the 1st Marine Division (1st MarDiv), 5th Marine Regiment (5th Mar), and 3d LVT Battalion would have proven Col Stemple’s recollection to be inaccurate, it appears that the authors of The Defining Year, 1968 opted for a colorful rather than a historically accurate description of the denouement of an operation that was flawed by poor timing and questionable command decisions.

LVT–5s operating in support of 2/5. (Photo courtesy of United States Marine Corps Vietnam Tankers Association.)

The Real Story
One in a sequence of summer offensives that focused on the “Arizona Territory” and Go Noi Island, Operation SUSSEX BAY (OSB) ended in early September 1968. For some who were involved, the pain of their failure to effectively discharge serious responsibilities for the safety and well-being of troops and equipment, memories of this unfortunate affair still rankle. We are not haunted, but the recollections are nearly toxic. Among those who still seethe are Steve Day, the second lieutenant LVT platoon commander who led the troops providing amtrac support for OSB and his company commander, the author, who was tasked with the recovery of four of his vehicles that had been abandoned by the infantry units they were supporting. At the request of then-LtCol Frank “Stub” Chace, then-Commanding Officer (CO), 3d LVT Battalion, two of us with firsthand knowledge of the facts on the ground offer this corrective to the published official account.

OSB took place on the notoriously dangerous Go Noi Island, one of the many locations I Corps described in operation plans as having been “under Communist control for decades.” The operation planners sought to continue the losses inflicted on Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army forces by the recent Operation ALLENBROOK and Operation MAMELUKE THRUST. In comparing the results of these three 1st MarDiv summer operations, OSB was not particularly successful in terms of significant enemy losses. Much of this could have been caused by Typhoon Bess which dumped massive amounts of rain throughout the Da Nang TAOR during the first week of September.

Because Go Noi Island (not a true island) was basically at sea level except for a few hamlets and the old French railroad that was built on a berm perhaps 8 to 10 feet above the rest of the Go Noi area of operations (AO), heavy rains and rising rivers spelled the threat of flooding for most, if not all, of the island. Although 1st MarDiv and 1st Marine Aircraft Wing meteorologists had predicted the impending deluge, OSB went forward.

It should be noted here that the 5th Mar planning staff had received warnings from experienced sources that amtracs would be at risk if the predicted monsoonal rains fell. 2dLt Steve Day had attempted to advise the regimental S–3 (operations) as to appropriate deployment of the four LVTP–5s (LVT personnel) assigned to the operation. His recollection is that the S–3 was not interested in advice from a brownbar lieutenant with little more than a month in country. According to Day:

I had not been in country long but one thing I knew was that our vehicles needed to operate in mutually supporting teams. I raised that at a Regimental briefing and got the Regimental XO [executive officer] on my case, big time. First, lowly 2d Lts of support units do not speak at briefings and, second, they sure as hell do not tell the Regimental Commander or his staff that he can’t use his equipment as he pleases. I tried to be polite but firm but it got pretty loud and nasty.

According to LtCol Chace, he had personally communicated with the S–3 of 5th Mar and advised against the use of amtracs on Go Noi during a period of heavy rain. When the floods did arrive, 5th Mar battalion commanders were in the dark as to the extent of the threat. According to Col James Stemple, the regimental staff back at An Hoa Combat Base did not pass crucial weather information to the battalions in the field. As the floodwaters rose during the afternoon of 5 September 1968, regimental staff officers made hasty and unprecedented decisions. In a nutshell, 2d Battalion, 5th Marines (2/5) and 3/5 were ordered to withdraw to high ground for helicopter evacuation. The two battalion commanders were also ordered to abandon the tanks, LVTs, and artillery accompanying them in direct support. An e-mail from the lead author of The Defining Year, 1968 quotes and comments on LtCol Stemple’s reaction:

Told by the S–3, Joe Cody, ‘to abandon my tanks and LVTs and to proceed as rapidly as possible to the Liberty Bridge area.’ As I had never heard of abandoning tanks, I requested to confirm the order with Colonel Graham. He confirmed the order and we commenced our westward movement. There were some trees and hedgerows near the center of [the] island on the east end and the tanks and LVTs were driven to that area and hidden as best we could. We removed the radios and machine guns and ‘buttoned up’ the vehicles. By this time the water covering the island was ankle deep. . . .

When this word reached 3d LVT Battalion, all hell broke loose. The four affected LVTs—in direct violation of 3d LVT Battalion policy and against the specific protests of the platoon commander—had been parceled out as individual attachments to four different units of 2/5 and 3/5. In other words, the four LVTs were operating on their own. 3d LVT Battalion and Company A policy specifically mandated that LVTs were never to be deployed singly. In preoperation meetings the LVT platoon commander had been emphatic with the 5th Mar S–3 that LVTs must always operate as pairs or more. Once the operation was launched the LVT lieutenant’s concerns were simply ignored by both the regimental staff and the two battalion commanders.

In 1966 I was an LVT platoon commander in the Chu Lai TAOR and quickly learned that an LVT alone in the rivers and mudflats of Vietnam was a disaster waiting to happen. I also learned that infantry battalion commanders were very possessive with attached LVTs. They tended to consider them “their” combination combat operations center (COC) and recreational vehicle. An amtrac lieutenant could make little headway with a determined infantry battalion commander who truly called all of the shots in the field.

Flooding and the inability of LVTs to help each other through the deep gumbo-like mud of Go Noi led to broken tracks and bogging down. By that evening, as the floodwaters continued to rise and no infantry protection was offered to the tank, LVT, and artillery units that were immobilized and at risk, the choices for the supporting units’ leaders had narrowed down to what looked like suicide or survival. It would have been impossible for them to stay with their amtracs, tanks, and artillery pieces with no infantry protection. Recognizing that the infantry was leaving whether his amtracs were running or not, 2dLt Day and his “tracrats” had no choice. He ordered his troops to strip the four vehicles of guns and radios. They then buttoned up and locked all the hatches, walked out with the infantry and, the next day, were helilifted to 5th Mar rear. Once they reached the flight line at An Hoa, Day and some of his troops returned to 3d LVT’s cantonment. There they regrouped, rounded up the track parts and other spares they needed, and waited for orders.

As soon as flight operations resumed, the 3d LVT Battalion commander directed me to organize and lead the recovery of the abandoned LVTs. The platoon commander and some of his troops flew out of 3d LVT Battalion headquarters, picking me up at Hill 37—3/7’s combat base. I was there to determine the feasibility of using the LVT platoon at that location to swim the Song Thu Bon at Liberty Bridge in order to gain access to Go Noi. If the river could be crossed, the drive to the abandoned LVTs would have been a short one. The platoon commander at Hill 37 had nearly lost an LVT 2 days earlier and advised me that crossing a flooded Song Thu Bon could be dangerous.

In any case, the arrival of the helicopters and my lieutenant with his troops ended that plan. In addition to the track parts and other essential equipment, I was able to add a section of engineers to the party. We planned to use them to clear any mines/boobytraps the enemy might have left for the unwary. As it turned out they provided much more valuable—if unorthodox—service. I had been on an aerial reconnaissance with the battalion commander that morning and already knew that two of the abandoned LVTs had been destroyed. Some of the crews from the abandoned LVTs were at An Hoa. They had already finagled a flight back to the site where they had been forced to abandon their vehicles. Upon their arrival back on Go Noi, they linked up with a security detachment provided by 1/5. While my party was aboard two UH–1s en route to Go Noi I received radio confirmation from the amtrac platoon sergeant that the two LVTs that had been with 3/5 were operational but were in mud 4 feet deep and in need of track work. 2dLt Day and I landed at this site with the rest of the amtrac troops and the section of engineers.

LVT–5s operating in support of 2/5. (Photo courtesy of United States Marine Corps Vietnam Tankers Association.)

By this time it was early in the afternoon. I touched base with the infantry commander who was providing security then set about organizing the extraction, repair, and recovery. With 5th Mar troops providing security, the amtrac crewmen were able to devote all of their efforts to freeing up and repairing the two survivors. Using shovels and the integral tow cables, we managed to get one LVT free and ready to go by nightfall of 7 September. The second was deeply bogged down, and time was running out.

The next morning, in a radio exchange with my CO, I was advised that the Commanding General (CG), 1st MarDiv had decided that the amtracs had to be off Go Noi by noon or they would be abandoned. Crewmen had removed several ties from the defunct railroad tracks and those, attached to the exposed sections of track with heavy chains, had helped break the remaining LVT loose. There were still several hours of digging to be done which would have meant missing the CG’s deadline. I discussed the situation with the engineer section chief and decided to use their composition 4 (C–4) expertise to expedite the digging. Crewmen dug small holes down the stern and sides of the vehicle, then the engineers placed apple-sized blocks of C–4 in the holes and detonated them. To me, cracking a few welds seemed better than abandoning the vehicle. As the ensuing mudstorms cleared, we could see this unorthodox approach had worked, and the amtrac was free before noon.

The infantry security detail was thanked and, accompanied by the engineer section, began walking out to rejoin their unit. All of the LVT troops mounted up, and with a thumbs up to the grunts, both amtracs sprinted for the Song Thu Bon. Although it took 2 days and several further minirecoveries, both vehicles returned to the battalion’s position under their own power.

Questionable decisions and the refusal of 5th Mar staff to heed the recommendations of unit commanders in direct support cost the 1st MarDiv vehicle and equipment losses that would take weeks, if not months, to replace. Furthermore, the refusal to consider the dangerous consequences of Typhoon Bess cost at least one Marine his life. Both Col Stemple and 2dLt Day remarked on the same incident as follows:

All of Bn lifted out except H/2/5 [Company H, 2/5] which was told to remain on Go Noi and chopped to 5th Mar opcon [operational control]. Stemple objected to this. Graham told him that he intended to have H/2/5 walk off island and to sweep to area back to Liberty Bridge the next day. . . . Received call from Capt Paul Vandenberg the H Co Commander who stated water still high and he was reluctant to attempt the ‘walk’ out. I went to Colonel Graham and expressed my concern and requested that the company be helilifted out. He refused, giving instruction to H Co to tie a rope to a Marine and cross over. Vandenberg did this, however the first Marine to go with a rope tied to his belt was swept away by the swift water and was drowned before he could be hauled safely to shore. Colonel Graham then ordered the helo evacuation of the company.

Mentions that he and Graham had ‘harsh words’ over this incident, and the whole affair of keeping 2/5 out on the island for as long as he did before ordering our withdrawal. In my opinion it was conceivable that the entire battalion could have been drowned. Our mission on Go Noi had been accomplished before noon on Sept 4 and we could have begun the withdrawal then. I was not privy to the weather warnings. He was, and chose to ignore them.¹

When it got stuck, I think we tried to pull it out. I vaguely remember the second tractor I had with me breaking track . . . but it’s very vague—it happened so often its just not unique. When we dismounted we were at the lead of a 5th Marine unit—don’t know which. We saw a [M]arine try to cross, they lost him.²

Both Col Stemple and LtCol Chace complained to Gen Carl Youngdale, CG, 1st MarDiv about the losses they had incurred as a result of these operational decisions. However, the regimental commander and his staff remained in place, and their careers seemed to have been unaffected by their feckless handling of the final phase of OSB.

The Rest of This Story
The straight-line map distance separating Go Noi Island from the 3d LVT Battalion cantonment was roughly 25 miles. It took us 3 days to complete the trip.

Although we received a few rounds from the distant shore, rolling down the river was a relief. I was reminded again of the quiet beauty of Vietnam’s coastal landscape. This appreciation didn’t last long. As we approached a brand new bridge that carried the main supply route/Highway 1 south from Da Nang to Tam Ky, the lead amtrac ran aground on the submerged footing of one of the supports near the south shore. The Song Cau Lau and Song Thu Bon were both near flood stage. Currents were running well over 5 to 6 knots, the water cruising speed of the LVTP–5. This made for difficult handling and contributed to the grounding of the lead vehicle. We spent the next 2 days refloating it.

Using its tow cable the second amtrac attempted to free the stuck one. As the sun set, no progress had been made. I directed the free vehicle to pull up on the south shore where a Popular Forces (PF) unit had established a defensive position to protect the brand new bridge. (We learned later that no traffic had crossed this bridge since its recent completion.) This amtrac was unable to gain sufficient traction to heave itself ashore, so as night fell, one vehicle was high-centered on a bridge support about 20 meters from shore and the other was stuck half in/half out of the river. We worked out a watch schedule, introduced ourselves to the PF troops, and settled in for the night.

Later that evening I checked in with my company communications watch and with the battalion COC. In the first exchange, I directed my XO, 1stLt Ken Burns, to dispatch the company gunnery sergeant with a section of headquarters LVTP–5s and my company LVTR–1 (amtrac retriever) to my position at first light. Because most of the trip would have been along the beach, they would not have to wait for the morning minesweep. We were less than a 2-hour drive from the battalion command post so the trip would have been more or less routine. LtCol Chace called me from the battalion COC and vetoed the dispatch of my LVTR–1 because Maj Joseph F. Molineaux, the CO of Company B, was less than 5 miles from our position. The major had come down with a section of LVTP–5s and his retriever to recover one of his amtracs that had sunk in a river north and east of us. LtCol Chace didn’t want both Companies A and B retrievers simultaneously in harm’s way.

When we checked in with battalion the next morning, we learned that Maj Molineaux had run into opposition, had taken wounded, and was not going to be joining us any time soon. At this point I radioed 1st Tank Battalion. One of their company commanders was an acquaintance from a previous tour at Camp Lejeune. After explaining the situation to him, he agreed to send his company’s M–51 tank retriever down to the bridge to pull us out of the river and off the bridge support. The M–51 arrived in less than 2 hours.

The M–51 crew chief parked his vehicle on the bridge, directly above the amtrac aground on the submerged support. The LVTP–5 had a V-shaped bow and bottom. Unfortunately, this feature, designed for enhanced cavitation in the water, had enabled the amtrac to run well up on the obstacle. This, plus the layer of sandbags laid on the interior decking, resulted in the rear engine hatches being halfway underwater. Amtracs in Vietnam’s rivers had little freeboard. The combination of one or more layers of sandbags in the cargo compartment and sandbagged gun emplacements built over the useless turrets added significantly to vehicle weight. This additional weight destroyed suspension parts and cut down freeboard to 10 to 12 inches at the bow and less than half that at the stern. Because the bow was too far under the bridge to be accessible, the M–51 would have to overcome not only the official 35 tons an LVTP–5 weighed but also the added weight of the waterlogged sandbags.

After reviewing the options with the M–51 crew chief, I told them to lower their hook from the bridge to the stern lifting eye. As the retriever took up the slack, the bridge began to sway in the direction of lift. Instead of lifting the amtrac’s stern, the M–51 was pulling the bridge down. I shouted for the crew chief to shut down the winch, and we surveyed the situation. Deciding there was no way to jerk the amtrac free, the crew chief drove down off the bridge to the second amtrac and swiftly pulled it the rest of the way out of the river. We passed all of this on to battalion and were advised that Maj Molineaux was still working to recover his sunken amtrac. We prepared to spend another night on the river.

By this time we had a congenial relationship with the PF bridge security unit and had become an object of interest to the residents of the village at the northern end of the bridge. I decided we needed to rely less on the PFs for our security and directed 2dLt Day and SSgt P.J. Livingston, his platoon sergeant, to work out a plan for perimeter security. Since there were less than 10 of us, this meant that it was not a restful night.

The next morning, I called 2dLt Day and SSgt Livingston together. We made our way out to the stuck vehicle and stood on its stern talking our way through all of the possibilities. All three of us had recovery experience—mine from my first tour, the two of them from previous operations with 5th Mar. Two days in this fix was enough for all of us. At some point around noon, the light bulb came on above 2dLt Day’s head. He suggested we open the rear engine hatches, already halfway underwater, flood the stern until the vehicle floated free then drive it up on the shore. This was not as off-the-wall as it may have sounded because the LVTP–5’s bilge pumps could spit out 1,300 gallons a minute, and we didn’t plan on taking on more water than was needed to sink the stern by a few inches. SSgt Livingston, a veteran amtracker, was unable to embrace the idea of voluntarily sinking a perfectly good vehicle. I saw the logic of 2dLt Day’s suggestion, queried SSgt Livingston as to his estimate of the bilge pump’s capacity, and decided to give it a shot. We called to the men on shore with the second vehicle and told them of the plan. They had been in the Corps and in country long enough to know that questioning an officer’s cockamamie plan that was not inevitably doomed to failure was not a good idea. (By this time, the “it don’t mean nothin’” mentality had permeated the troops’ outlook on Vietnam’s special realities.) In the absence of any dissent, I told 2dLt Day to go forward and fire up the main engine and put it in reverse. SSgt Livingston and a crewman opened the hatches, the stern began to sink, and as the vehicle began sliding backward, I called to 2dLt Day to turn on the bilge pumps. The bow broke loose, SSgt Livingston secured the engine hatches, and we floated free. 2dLt Day gunned it toward the shore, which we hit just right. The amtrac exited the river easily, and we were back on the road to home.

By this time Maj Molineaux was on the north side of the village across the bridge. Although the PF security troops tried to head us off, I ordered the two amtracs to cross the bridge. (We learned later that we may have been the only traffic to have used the bridge. Viet Cong sappers succeeded in dropping it into the river not long after our transit.) As we entered the ville, we began to receive sporadic sniper fire. Maj Molineaux was on the radio telling me he was unable to link up with us due to a high barbed-wire fence that separated the bridgeside homes from the bulk of the houses. The Republic of Vietnam interpreter with the Company B amtracs told the major that the fence was mined. I asked the major to get as close as possible to my position. We then both dismounted and walked toward the fence where we met and assessed the situation. Molineaux told me that the fence prevented us from linking up and that I should return to the river and swim toward Hoi An until we cleared the ville. Once clear of the ville and its fence, he proposed to join up with us and proceed to Hoi An, the Republic of Korea Marine Corps combat base where Company B maintained a support detachment. I told him I had no intention of returning to a river that had held me captive for 2 days.

From my 1966 experiences in the Chu Lai AO, I was fairly certain that the fence would only contain antipersonnel (AP) mines. I directed one of my crewmen to bring an axe from one of the amtracs and to cut down the 7-foot posts holding the fence. He dropped about 50 feet of it to the ground. I had noticed a pair of boltcutters on one of my vehicles and walked over to get them. Using the boltcutters I leveled the fence and directed my two amtracs to drive over it at a 90-degree angle. Since I had assumed that the mines in the fence would be AP, driving across them would not pose a problem for an LVTP–5. Sniper fire from the bridgeside houses picked up. I was armed with a Thompson submachinegun, a gift from my younger brother who was at the end of a tour as a Huey pilot with Marine Light Helicopter Squadron 167, and used it to spray the offending houses. After 30 to 40 rounds the firing subsided, and we completed our linkup with Maj Molineaux.

After a brief stop in Hoi An to call in an update situation report, we headed up the beach and were back in our tractor park below Marble Mountain in time for dinner.

The 1st MarDiv command chronology for September 1968 records the promulgation of a division order for typhoon/storm/flood control “. . . in preparation for the monsoon season” and notes further the incorporation of CG, 1st MarDiv Order 160610Z, September 1968 that was “an additional enclosure . . . which sets forth special considerations for the use of tracked vehicles as related to Monsoon/Typhoon/Flood conditions.” The barn door was firmly closed (on paper) after the horses (the tracked vehicles assigned to OSB) had been abandoned, destroyed, or recovered. At the time, we read these as yet another example of covering up. I can attest from personal experience that the “special considerations” were frequently ignored by both tanks and amtracs throughout the ensuing monsoon season.

It’s likely that Col Stemple had some of the facts right. However, the recovery of the two undamaged LVTs was the result of an operation ordered up by the 3d LVT Battalion commander and organized and directed by the Company A CO within less than 48 hours after their abandonment. It was through the tenacity and what would now be called “out-of-the-box” thinking of the 2d Platoon leader, the competence of the crews, the creative employment of C–4, and the support of the 3d LVT Battalion CO that two valuable pieces of U.S. Marine Corps equipment lived to fight many more days. As for the dispatch of an LCU from Force Service Group Da Nang to retrieve abandoned LVTs, Steve Day opined that this probably did take place weeks later and could have been undertaken to deny the enemy forces on Go Noi the use of them as bunkers.

The lessons learned during this recovery operation seem obvious. Although Bob Dylan was whining away with the message that we “. . . didn’t need a weatherman to tell which way the wind’s blowing,” heeding the weather-related advice of tracked vehicle experts could have prevented the loss of life and equipment. In the same vein, listening to one’s subordinates, especially those in support, can’t hurt. The ignoring of both the weather and the entreaties of amtrac and infantry commanders is still hard to fathom.

In addition to the costs described at the end of the previous section, there were others. Steve Day came to Vietnam with thoughts of a career as a Marine officer. That dream died on Go Noi Island in September 1968.

Notes

1. Stemple, Col James, draft comments in Shulimson e-mail.

2. Excerpt from an e-mail from Steve Day to the author.

>Author’s Note: Special thanks to Stephen L. Day, J.D., who assisted in the preparation of this article.

>>Dr. Sconyers commanded Company A, 3d LVT Battalion from August 1968 to April 1969. He is currently the Dean, School of Arts and Science, South Florida Community College, Avon Park, FL.