May 15, 1975
The Trip to Bad Intelligence
Up early on the 15th, Lindow, his fellow crewmen and mechanics and the Marines began preparing for the assault.
L/Cpl. Joseph Hargrove, an E Co. machine gunner must have said to himself, “What a birthday party!” He was 24. Just three weeks prior, he and Rogers had made a trip into Henoko, the Okinawa village outside of the 9th Marines base at Camp Schaub to purchase a gift for Hargrove’s new wife. But that was so long ago. Now he had to find out which chopper he and his team, PFC Gary Hall and Pvt. Danny Marshall had been assigned. The only thing for certain Hargrove knew was that they weren’t taking him anyplace to celebrate.
Rogers was part of a two man 3.5 rocket team and it wasn’t until an officer drew an island map in the sand and pointed to the spot he wanted the team to cover, that Rogers had any inkling of where he was going. Accounts vary as to how many Marines were intended to take part in the assault. However, only 11 CH 53s and HH 53s were available; eight for the beach assault for the first wave of Marines on Koh Tang and three assigned to the 4th Marines to take the ship. Those choppers were to ferry in three waves of Marines. That would never happen.
Tom Lindow became part of the frenzied flight line that morning. Lt. Bob Blough wouldn’t.
“Again, I watched as my squadron flew off, feeling helpless and guilty for not being able to go along and join in,” said Lindow. “From the looks on the faces of the flight crews and Marines sitting in the back of the aircraft, it wasn’t something that was going to be fun.”
“When I woke up early in the morning [of the 15th] the other crews had already left,” recalled Blough. “I woke my guys, and told them to meet me at Base Ops. When I got to the flight line, all the helicopters were gone, including our two alert birds!
“When I found Assistant Operations Officer Capt. Vern Sheffield, he said, ‘We had to launch at 04:30. You guys were out on crew rest, so we assigned your aircraft to other crews. Maintenance back at NKP is working on getting two more aircraft operational. As soon as one becomes available, I’ll let you know.’”
The accepted intelligence concerning the island’s defenses originally came from a single source, a former Cambodian Naval officer in a refugee camp. The man had escaped the Pol Pot regime in April and was unaware that reinforcements and defenses at Koh Tang had been prepared for a Vietnamese invasion. He told planners to expect only about 60 irregulars. The Marine ground commander was told to expect 20-30; no one knows why. Subsequent estimates of the number of defenders range from 80 to 300. The most realistic is between 120 and 150 simply because the island had to be supplied daily. The defenders were chronically short of everything except ammunition.
A military map of the jungle island didn’t exist; only photos. There were only two suitable landing sites, small beaches opposite to each other on a small peninsula jutting north at the island’s north end. Another small peninsula bordered the south end of the east beach and ran to the east. This formed an ‘L’ shaped defensive position; a flank. Perhaps that’s why planners determined a diversionary assault should take place here. It was the better of the two beaches to land on but even if there were only 20 Khmer on the island, this would still be dangerous terrain for an assault force. And so it was.
Almost all of the five mile long island was thick jungle. This put all of the defenses between the east and west beaches at its narrow northern prong; exactly where the landings were to take place.
Air reconnaissance disagreed with the refugee’s assessment of enemy troop strength. Although little could be seen under the jungle canopy, what was coming up out of it was pretty intense. Whatcould be determined is that the ground fire directed toward the aircraft was concentrated north, south and between the planed invasion beaches. Where the reports from these pilots stopped in the chain of command is uncertain. What is certain is that the chopper pilots and the Marine planners never got them.
Casualties
Gale Rogers and L/Cpl Hargrove’s machine gun team stood with the men assigned to a helicopter waiting to go in on the second of three planned insertions. The first wave of the eight choppers had taken off for Koh Tang at 03:30 for the four hour round trip. Three others took 70 Marines to the USS Holt to prepare to board the Mayaguez. For three bound for Koh Tang, it would be one way. Four would limp back with one of them barely able to make the southern tip of Thailand with all the Marines still aboard, including the G Company Commander,
About 07:20 on the 15th of May, Marines from Delta Co. 1/4 aboard theUSS Holt came aside the Mayaguez and boarded her. The Mayaguez was deserted.
At Utapao Rogers watched one of the Koh Tang CH 53s return with a gaping hole in its side. Now reality set in, or was it sur-reality? Was he dreaming or did he see a crewman waving them onboard another chopper wearing only a helmet, boots and skivvies? What he saw was a para-rescue/Jumper or PJ, a highly trained medic appropriately dressed to pull Marines out of the water if need be.
Rogers boarded with twenty-five or so other silent Marines and in short order watched the air base disappear beneath them.
He came out of a trance to the sound of the now partially dressed crewman (he had donned a wet suit top) firing off a burst from the mini-gun. Some time passed when he noticed a large fixed wing aircraft approach from the rear. Since he was told little of his mission, Rogers wasn’t quite sure if his enemy had large aircraft capable of shooting down his helicopter. Does our enemy have an Air Force? Are we sitting ducks? These are the things that pester the mind of an uninformed Grunt. It turned out Rogers was fortunate to be on board the more heavily armored, less flammable HH 53s witnessing an in-flight refueling. His pilot and two others had earlier dropped off a detachment of the 4th Marines aboard theUSS Holt. In his pre-battle trance Rogers hadn’t noticed his chopper reverse course twice.
The first assault wave of eight choppers ran smack in the face of bad intelligence; or perhaps more accurately, bad dissemination of intelligence. Two were shot down on the East Beach, one of which lost 13, or half its men killed. The other chopper managed to get the Marines and crewmembers on East Beach after its tail was shot off. Another went down a mile offshore on the western side with the loss of one crewman and a fourth barely made it back to Thai territory with its troops still aboard. All of these 110 men who landed were pinned down in three separate pockets on the beaches. To those who were informed about the number of enemy to be expected, it was obvious a CF had occurred (an acceptable translation for CF would be:convoluted orgy). But it would get worse. The Mayaguez crewmen were free.
Mission Accomplished
How can things get worse when the mission is accomplished? That’s exactly what happened to the first wave of Marines when the Mayaguez crewmen were discovered aboard that pirated Thai fishing vessel headed back to their ship. They were intercepted by the newly arrived Destroyer USS Henry B. Wilson and brought aboard during rescue operations for survivors of the first chopper shot down.
Word reached Washington quickly and the Koh Tang mission was aborted. But the order never reached the Khmer Rouge on the island. They kept fighting. The second wave of Marines in the air with Rogers on board was ordered back to Utapao.
Thirty-eight men had died to this point; all but one of them in choppers. Twenty-three died due to a faulty manufactured part assembly while deploying to Utapao, thirteen in the water off East Beach, one lost in the water off West Beach; all due to bad intelligence in the first hours of the assault. One Marine died on the island that morning attempting to link up the two separated groups on the west side. Forty civilian crewmen were free and the Mayaguez was in the hands of the 4th Marines.
Waste Management
One-hundred and ten Marines and five Airmen were now scattered in pockets on an island outnumbered by and blind to enemy capabilities. That’s where they would remain for another eleven hours; a few, forever.
Many young boys, if not most are fascinated by the story of war. And why not? These are stories of courage, conflict—good and evil. The Vietnam generation grew up on the stories of WWII. Their fathers had served. But more often than not the stories came from books, magazines and movies. If their fathers told any stories of war it was more likely the adventures rather than the combat. This is because the true story of war is not so much the story of glory; but the story of waste.
Our fathers and grandfathers conquered Europe and Asia. These victories are recorded in books. But they were rarely chronicled by the participants on a personal level. Why?
Perhaps our fathers were reluctant to talk about their victories because it reminded them of the waste. Their silence betrayed the priorities they had set; of regret over glory. They may have done us a disservice for had they warned us of the waste we may have been more prepared for it when it came our way.
It’s arguable that one of the most despised personalities of the Vietnam era prior to Mr. Fonda’s daughter was John Wayne. He lied to us. His wars were scripted. Ours were not. In his attempt to honor us he was showing us how little he knew about our work.
General Robert E. Lee commented to a Lieutenant during the battle of Fredericksburg, “It is well that war is so terrible, lest men grow fond of it.”
He was talking about the intoxicating aroma of glory and adventure which green men seek and the devastating surprise in store for those who attain it.
Still, there is evil that must be tamed and we must have men willing to attack it. We must reserve honor for them. It is only a small homage though. What they see and experience in their sworn duty is beyond payment of accolades.
The Mayaguez rescue was no more. It had ended successfully but at a high cost. However, this operation would never be widely known as a battle. If it was known at all it would be called the ‘Mayaguez Incident’. Pick any famous battle and call it an ‘incident’. Four-hundred years from now would historians get a true sense of 1944 if history called it the ‘Normandy Incident’? It would take twenty-five years before an author, Ralph Wetterhahn would correctly identify this day for posterity when he called it The Last Battle. The Mayaguez Incident was closing as the Battle of Koh Tang Island was opening. In that overlap, Marine PFC Ashton Loney would lose his life in that battle to Khmer gunfire. When Washington ordered all offensive operations to cease, the battle of Koh Tang Island would become one of the most successful missions in U.S. history— to prevent waste.
President Ford would later call it the defining moment of his Presidency. But he slept through most of it.
When President Ford ordered the mission aborted, he went back to his dinner party. The Marines in the second wave were called back—and headed back. What was to become of 2/9; Lt. Col. Randall Austin’s men without reinforcements?
The fact that the second wave was called back at all is an indication that no one in the higher military ranks argued the order. It was Austin that had to slap someone awake after he was informed that his reinforcements were headed back to Utapao. Even so, a call had to be made back to the White House to rescind the order recalling the second wave. It was in this bizarre command atmosphere that the mission would be changed. Since there was no longer an objective, the mission would be to prevent the destruction of the Marines on Koh Tang.
The President would soon finish his dinner and go to sleep.
As usual, PFC Rogers and the rest of the Marines in the second wave didn’t have a clue.
“Lock and Load!” The HH 53 descended over the water and began erratic maneuvers, sort of like a carnival ride. The Marines of the second wave could see the ocean over the back ramp come up to meet them. All remembered the hole in the chopper back at Utapao and wondered if they were about to see one in theirs. As the ramp came down the scene resembled a movie; one of those sets where the background moved to simulate travel. First, blue water and sky, then a blurry beach scene complete with lush tropical décor. When the beach scene became a snapshot, Rogers remembers thinking, “How could a place this beautiful have people on it who are going to try and kill me?” The thought was fleeting. Rogers stopped thinking and started moving. It was 12:30.
It’s a beautiful day on this lush tropical island. It looks like those remote vacation spots you see in the brochures. It’s hot though. That’s the first thing you notice. And there’s that smell. It’s cordite—burnt gunpowder. You’ve smelled it before; most recently from the door gunner testing his weapon. You don’t realize it now but from here on out whenever you smell that smell, you’ll think of this place because it hangs over your wonderment. It’s like honeysuckle. You think about springtime back home in elementary school whenever you smell honeysuckle.
This vacation spot has a movie quality about it. That’s how contemporary man assesses many of his new experiences. He compares them to related fake ones he’s seen in the movies. This was like a John Wayne movie. Green clad men moving into a green shag carpet, all in a strange slow motion. The movies though, never had the smell. That’s important for some reason. You don’t seem to get a true sense of mortality unless you can smell it.
Someone blows in your ear. Then a whip cracks. It takes a moment to realize that it was a bullet speeding by your head. Now the movie’s over. Now you realize if you can smell it, it can kill you. If it can blow in your ear, it can blow your head off. Now you’re a combat veteran.
You roll over and watch that big, fat light bulb that brought you here attract every mosquito in the swamp as it makes its exit. Just seconds ago you were inside never realizing how attractive it was. You see pieces coming off of it as it lifts away. You file the scene in your memory to marvel at it later because there are people trying to kill you from the other direction. Comparatively speaking though, you feel safe because you can dig a hole.
If your fate is kind, before this day is out you will be amazed at the amount of fire, stone and steel that can surround the human body without contacting it. But of course, sometimes it does.
Waiting
Back at NKP TSgt. Maynard Franklin, a mechanic watched crews working feverishly to get two unserviceable choppers ready to fly. Then he was whisked away to Utapao. They would eventually put one in the air during the battle at Koh Tang. Bob Blough would get it. It is most likely because of that effort by the crews at NKP the names of quite a few Marines would be written on employment applications and marriage licenses rather than on a memorial to appear a decade later.
Bob Blough and his experienced crew sat idle at Utapao helpless listening to reports of their friends’ plight.
“As the morning wore on, the mission aircraft would return to Utapao in ones and twos to refuel, pick up some of the Marine reinforcements along with supplies of ammo and water, and head back to Koh Tang. News trickled in slowly, and a mobile blackboard was used to track the status of each aircraft by tail number. Cryptic notes in the Status column became more ominous: ‘Shot up,’ ‘Down on the beach,’ ‘Shot up,’ ‘Shot up,’ ‘Down in the water, ‘Down in the water.’ This was starting to look like a disaster! Then I saw my best friend, John Schramm’s name with ‘Down on East Beach.’ I recall yelling, ‘DAMMIT, VERN. GET ME AN AIRCRAFT!’”
Tom Lindow’s information was mainly second hand.
“Throughout the day we would hear of a’ Dusty’ going down now and then and we all were very concerned for the ‘Jolly’ crews that we knew. I do remember a few times praying – ‘just bring them home’ as if I was talking to these bastard machines that might hear me. I didn’t ask for much, no heroic deeds, not the impossible, just ‘bring them home’. We took great pride in our aircraft and squadron. Although we would swear and ridicule these H-53s that caused us [many] hours of maintenance in near impossible heat conditions, they still were ‘our H-53s’. We wouldn’t stand for anybody else to criticize them or our squadron. We looked at our aircraft as a living thing, almost a person. It might have been ‘a bitch’ or [some] other self-deserved adjective, but it had a personality and a temperament peculiar to each and every machine, just like people. But now we were exposing machines and crews to combat, how do you control that?? Even the best running machine can get shot out of the sky. We took some comfort knowing these aircraft and crews had proven themselves just recently before in the Phnom Penh and Saigon evacuations. They successfully worked together as a squadron, and this was definitely the best squadron I had ever been in. A few times throughout the day I would exchange silent concerned looks with the other mechanics after hearing of an aircraft going down. We could only shake our heads silently and wonder.”
Depleted Assets
Ominous news and idle crews; for Blough’s, it was maddening. The frustrated crew would get its chance to shake that helpless feeling of duty guilt.
That afternoon, while the battle on Koh Tang progressed, one chopper had been put into service at NKP and flown to Utapao. Lt. Blough talked the exhausted crew out of their bird; an HH-53 designated Jolly Green 44. His idle crew now had a stake in the fight and it would be the most intense rescue of Jolly 44’s existence.
With the full Mayaguez crew safely in U. S. hands, air support could now be called upon to cover the extraction from the island. However, it was still a dicey proposition given the grenade throwing distances between the combatants. Gale Rogers was on the West Beach perimeter most of the day. They were ordered inland shortly after landing but the jungle proved impenetrable and they fell back to secure a beach perimeter.
The battle raged and receded all afternoon. The sound of aircraft and helicopters was constant. Gale watched the OV-10 Broncos, armed observation plane which arrived about three hours after his second wave. They “looked like angry bees” turning tight to dive and fire into the jungle in front of him. He was amazed at the silence of the jet aircraft he could see overhead; until they came toward the island in a slow, steady scream. They would always turn right after dropping their ordinance, then the concussion and fire.
The helicopter sounds were rescue attempts for the twenty Marines and five Air Crewmen that had crashed on East Beach only about 200 yards in front of the West Beach perimeter across the narrow neck that separated the two beaches. Each time the pilots were driven off East Beach by heavy gunfire. One of them, ‘Jolly Green 43’ had a fuel line shot up and had to make an emergency landing on the USS Coral Sea thirty minutes away. It would not have made the flight back to Utapao.
TSgt. Billy Willingham and the crew of the USS Coral Sea got the chopper back in action by 17:00. It would become one of only three flyable aircraft available to recover more than two-hundred Marines before dark.
The 25 East Beach men were completely cut off the entire day. The third attempt at 18:00 was successful supported by the OV-10s and small arms fire from the USS Wilson’s gig. The chopper that extracted them however, was badly shot up. The 16 hour day for 1Lt. Dan Blacklund and his crew was finally over.
The ‘gig’ is a small boat normally used to ferry the Captain to shore or to other vessels. The Wilson’s gig was pressed into service at the start of the battle rescuing survivors of the first chopper shot down, Knife 31. It then intercepted the crew of the Mayaguez returning from the Cambodian mainland, then back to rescue. When that task was complete the gig took part in the battle harassing enemy efforts to impede the East Beach rescue.
It was essentially an impromptu, successful combat mission by volunteers who, two days prior had been on routine liberty in Taiwan.
Shortly after the East Beach extraction, Rogers heard the now common, “Get down!” He was already down but felt himself lifting up about a foot off the ground. He was slammed back down for what may have been over a minute before jungle pieces and shards of hot metal came raining down. An Air Force C-130E had just dropped a 15,000 pound ‘Daisy Cutter’ bomb to the south of his position. He could hear agonizing screams. Just the concussion of one of these bombs could make your head explode; or wish it had. Fortunately, none of those screams came from Marines.
The Forward Air Controller (FAC), Capt. Greg ‘Growth’ Wilson flying overhead in an OV-10 was blown into a dive from the concussion.
The daisy cutter is also called ‘Instant Landing Zone’ and indeed it does that. Its use here was to relieve pressure on the West Beach by drawing enemy forces south in anticipation of another landing. It was a surprise to almost everyone; and it was getting dark.
In the Marine Corps the most respected men are not Marines at all. They are Navy Corpsman. They are all volunteers. Since every Marine is by tradition a rifleman first, this morally precludes him from trumping that duty. Therefore, they must seek Navy men who vow to be healers first.
In battle, any weapon carried by a Corpsman, if at all is for self-protection only. He will depend on the Marines for his overall defense and he will go where they go and expose himself as they do; many times even more. In turn, the Marines depend on him for their very lives.
In the Air Force the respected man is the PJ, the para-rescue/Jumper. He is the Super Medic cross trained in all terrain including the watery kind.
When you join the ‘Armed’ Service your ‘arm’ may be a box wrench. But if this mission left only one legacy it should be the importance of every cog in the wheel. If a man’s on the ground waiting for darkness to kill him, there are no words to describe the elation he feels when that big machine arrives to take him away.
But the PJ can’t save that man if the pilot doesn’t bring him. The pilot can’t deliver unless he has something to fly. It is the mechanic, the ‘Machine Medic’ that will make any rescue possible.
When the commanders foul up or the intelligence officers make mistakes, lives are lost—sometimes in great numbers. These are Generals and Colonels, important people with great responsibilities. You are just an Airman or a Seaman 2nd Class but with responsibilities just as great. Like the General, you may not be exposed to combat and you will worry about the men who are. But unlike the General, you know the men that depend on you personally. The success of your part of the mission and the lives you may have saved will be known to few. And so it will remain. That is simply your duty and on this particular mission, you did it well.
You will not make the history books. You will receive no medals. What you do have is the respect of those who did.
The Extraction
For the Marines on the beach, the situation was worse than it was when the second wave was called off. Lt. Col. Austin needed reinforcements to consolidate his men. With that done with the arrival of the second wave, he could withdraw. But now a different concern loomed. Men were being extracted. If they weren’t all off before dark, the weakened remaining Marines were sure to be overrun by the obvious superior numbers the Khmer Rouge had on the island. Air support would be a crap shoot.
Gale Rogers watched a flare pop. It made an eerie green glow as it meandered back to earth. Darkness would be here soon. He started to dig anticipating a night time stay when he heard a ping off a rock in front of him. Then the jungle opened up. He hugged the ground as green tracers passed him on their way to the gulf.
He could hear a chopper coming in off West Beach and someone shout, “Fall Back!” In a low crouch, he ran as fast as he could. When the tracers inched closer, he fell in a hole in the sand next to Pvt. Paul Davis. It was almost dark now.
The OV-10 flown by Capt. Wilson (call sign NAIL 69) was on station to coordinate what was hoped to be a complete withdraw of all Marines on the island. Two choppers available to remove them, ‘Jolly 43’ piloted by Capt. Wayne ‘Buford’ Purser had a fuel line jury rigged with rubber hose and duct tape on the recently arrived carrier USS Coal Sea and ‘Knife 51’ flown by 1Lt. Dick Brims was relatively intact for the amount of flying it had done that day; since early that morning. Lt. Bob Blough flew ‘Jolly 44’ which had just been put into service that afternoon at NKP. That was all.
To throw in a little more challenge, none of these pilots were trained in night landings with no lights. Nor had any of the pilots ever landed on a carrier, day or night as they would be forced to do here. The darker the sky became, the more improvisation was required. They would have to go in one at a time to the tight, West Beach LZ and each were to make a 40 minute round trip to the Coral Sea in order to do a necessary second extraction. It would be another new Air Force mission created by junior officers devised in minutes.
Bob Blough would be the last in on the first extraction.
“Nail 69 cleared us into the LZ. We hadn’t heard Purser, at the LZ in ‘Jolly 43’ call clear, but we assumed we’d just missed it. I acknowledged, called for lights out, and began a descent toward the water. By this time it was getting really dark. No moon, no stars and an overcast sky. We descended on instruments. My copilot, Hank Mason gave me a warning call at 150 feet. Absolute concentration was required, with help from Hank’s occasional, ‘Ten feet and descending’ warning. I couldn’t believe Hank sounded so calm, but that’s why I had picked him.
“We groped our way through the dark with all hands straining to see anything looming out of the dark. Even with the instrument panel lights turned down to minimum, they still interfered with our ability to see anything in front of us in the dark. Flight Engineer, Bobby Bounds was hanging out the right door where instrument panel lights didn’t glare. Just as he announced the beach up ahead, a bright light flashed right in front of us.
“’Helicopter in the LZ!’ Bobby yelled as I pulled in max power and turned hard away from the island. Jolly Green 43 was still in the LZ loading Marines. Her copilot, 1Lt Bob Gradle, had heard our call on the radio but was apparently unable to contact us. When he saw the salt spray being kicked up by our rotor wash, he flashed his landing lights as a warning. He risked exposing his own aircraft to the Khmer gunners with his light flash, but he prevented a midair catastrophe that would have wiped out two helicopters, blocked the LZ, and left only one helicopter to try to evacuate almost 200 Marines.
“By the time we had collected ourselves, Jolly 43 had cleared the LZ and we started another approach to the island. It was even darker now, and I was having difficulty maintaining our altitude. Hank’s warning calls of ‘Ten feet and descending’ were still calm, but more frequent. And occasionally I’d feel a slight tug as one of the landing gear contacted a wave. I was still trying to clear the vestiges of that bright landing light from my eyeballs’ memory, and I was fighting vertigo.
“The ground fire became more intense – red and green tracers. One trail looked like big red balls. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I remember thinking in a detached way, ‘Wow. So that’s what incoming ground fire really looks like at night. That Khmer gunner is really disciplined; he’s walking his tracers right up toward the cockpit!’
“At that instant, Bobby Bounds yelled, ‘Break Left!’ I immediately rolled left to 45-degrees angle-of-bank and pulled in power to keep from smashing into the water Almost immediately, the normally stoic Bobby Bounds screamed, ‘Dammit Break Left – Tree!’
“I racked the H-53 over to 90-degrees and pulled in max power, hoping that we had enough altitude that the rotor blades wouldn’t dip into the waves and drag us into the water. Miraculously, we got clear to the west. I took several deep breaths to calm down. I can only imagine what the rest of my crew was feeling.
“I briefed the FAC on what had happened, and asked him for a heading back to the LZ. He said, ‘I saw the 50-cal. Follow my tracers.’ As we headed back toward the island, we could see the tracers coming down from the OV-10′s four M-60s at what seemed to be an impossible dive angle.
“The ground fire was still intense, but not as accurate this time. The Khmer could hear us coming, but they couldn’t see us. Finally Bobby called, ‘Beach at 12-o’clock.’ The beach loomed as a lighter shade of grey in the darkness. A darker line of trees and vegetation loomed to the right-front, so I eased the nose left to land parallel to the narrow strip of sand and rock. The trees were on the right, and the left landing gear was in the water. Now we had to wait for the Marines to climb onto the aft ramp. I just hoped the Marines found us before the Khmer did.
“We could do nothing now but wait, feeling naked in the darkness. The entire crew strained to see human silhouettes against the lighter beach, then try to identify them as friend or foe. I reminded my crew, ‘Don’t shoot the good guys,’ but in this darkness it would be almost impossible to make the distinction until they were boarding the chopper. Sitting there in the cockpit surrounded by Plexiglas, I felt vulnerable and mentally urged the Marines to hurry. “
PFC Rogers and the group nearest Blough’s chopper wasted no time.
“A minute or so later,” recalled Rogers, “I could hear another chopper coming into the LZ, still to my left some yards away. I would try to make it to this one. As I ran to the sound, I realized it was hovering over the water. I continued to run toward the sound in about knee to thigh deep water. Next thing I knew I looked up into the cockpit of the pilot and co-pilot. Wrong end!
“I made my way to the rear and dragged myself in. One or two more Marines then climbed in. I felt the chopper moving when a red light came on in the rear. My first thought was that we were hit, but not so. I then felt something cool on my back. It was an open top ice cooler with ice in it. I began scooping the ice out by hand and handing it out to those inside the chopper.”
The Air Show Only One Man Saw
Blough’s ‘Jolly 44’ was the last chopper the Marines would see until ‘Knife 51’ could drop its Marines on the Coral Sea and return. But Blough was concerned it might be too late.
“It seemed like hours, but was actually only minutes until the crew reported we had a full load of Marines and no more could be seen coming. I called, ‘Jolly coming out’ to the FAC, and he replied that he was clear. I took off using my instruments and gratefully climbed out over the water. Now for a chance to calm down during the twenty-minute flight to the Coral Sea.
“I can’t remember who first suggested diverting to the USS Holt, but I think it was the OV-10 FAC, “Growth” Wilson. The Holt was less than five minutes flying time from Koh Tang instead of almost 20 minutes to the Coral Sea. If we could off-load our Marines onto the Holt, it would reduce our round trip time by a good half-hour. We had enough fuel to do this and still get to the Coral Sea if necessary.
“There were good reasons none of the other aircraft had off-loaded their Marines onto the Holt. Foremost was the size of the helipad. It was designed for a helicopter much smaller than, and half the weight of, an H-53. Earlier in the day, three H-53s had off-loaded the Marine force later used to board the Mayaguez from the Holt, but these helos had just hovered over the pad crosswise with their rear landing gear resting lightly on the pad and their noses hanging over the side. The Marines had then jumped off the aft ramp onto the helipad.
“We changed radio frequency to the Holt and asked for permission to land. They responded with, ‘Jolly Green 44 cleared to the helipad, but do not land! You’ll have to hover over the helipad at 90-degrees like the other helos this morning. The pad is not stressed for your weight.’
“This was not an option for us. If I attempted to hover at 90-degrees over the Holt’s helipad, I’d have been unable to see anything but a dark void. And the H-53 was too big to hover facing the ship without our crew door and ramp hanging out over the water.
“I made a low pass over the pad to check it out. As we approached the Holt, the only thing we could see was a small square of light floating in a hundred square miles of black void and one couldn’t distinguish the black sky from the black ocean. I flew low and slow just to the left of the Holt so Bobby Bounds in the right door and I could both get a good look at the helipad. We could see why the Navy didn’t allow its H-53s to land on it. It was tiny! At the front of the pad, the vertical wall of the super-structure rose just inches from it. I asked Bobby if he thought we’d have rotor clearance if we landed 45-degrees to the pad. We’d have to offload the Marines through the right door. Bobby said he thought it would be tight, but possible.
“I called the Holt with our proposed plan. ‘Stand by,’ was the response. I assumed he was conferring with the Holt’s Captain. The Captain and I both understood that this was definitely a high-risk proposal. If I screwed up, it would probably total my craft and do substantial damage to his ship. More importantly, it would kill or injure my crew, my Marines and the sailors on the flight deck. But I wouldn’t have proposed it if those Marines still left on the island weren’t in such jeopardy. The Holt’s Captain, Commander Robert Peterson, had been monitoring all the radio traffic and he apparently agreed with my assessment. But if I screwed up, we’d both probably be court-martialed.
“The Holt radioed, ‘Jolly Green 44’ will be cleared to land.
“Depth perception and closure rate were difficult to judge without any visual references except the small, bright helipad floating in the darkness. Finally, on the third try, I got the angle and rate of descent right.
“On short final, Bobby switched to “hot mike” so he could give me a running commentary on approach speed, rotor clearance on the right side and altitude above the pad. From the H-53 cockpit, the pilot has a very restricted field of view to either side or below the helicopter. And because the rotor mast is so far behind the cockpit, the pilot is totally dependent on his crew in the back to keep him advised of how much clearance is between his rotor tips and any obstructions to the side.
“As we neared the pad, I had doubts about whether we’d have enough rotor clearance to the ship and still get onto the pad. It was really tight. But Bobby kept up his commentary, confirming our clearance to the ship, and guiding me verbally to a hover over the pad. I was totally tuned to Bobby’s voice and a light touch on the controls, trying to sense what my helicopter was going to do before it did it. We needed only a sudden wind gust to drive our rotors into something hard. Finally Bobby, and Bruce on the left side, cleared me to a soft landing with the rear wheels. I let off just enough power for the nose wheel to lightly touch the pad, figuring we were putting only about half the full weight of the H-53 onto the helipad.”
This was a trick you might see at an air show by a stunt pilot with a carefully scripted and well-practiced routine. In reality it was an improvised tactic by a crew who had never landed on a ship. In fact, Blough’s crew was the first ever to do that—and the last with his type of machine.
Gale Rogers and the other Marines on board, as always didn’t have any idea that they were participants in one of the most amazing feats of teamwork in naval aviation history—performed by the Air Force! At the time, no one was checking the record books. At the same time, Blough was adding a stranger to his team.
Trust
“One of my most vivid memories of the Mayaguez operation, “ Blough recalled’, “Is the sight of the Landing Systems Officer standing upright in the corner of the helipad with his lighted wands to guide us into a safe landing. I have to admit that my concentration and my reactions were to Bobby’s guidance because I trusted him. I had no idea how much experience in guiding helicopters the LSO had. However, I was ready to react to him immediately if he had given me a wave-off.
“The reason I remember him so vividly was that he seemed so naked and vulnerable standing there while everyone else on his crew was behind something substantial. To this day, I admire the courage of that LSO who had no idea if I had the skill to pull it off, and most likely would have sacrificed his life had I erred.”
The Holt’s LSO was the only audience to ‘Jolly 44’s’ entire show. The Marines on board weren’t even aware that they were part of it.
“I felt the chopper hovering,” said Rogers about his very short trip. “We stood to exit the rear when shouting began, telling us to exit the front door. Good thing we did. The back end of the chopper was hanging over the edge of the ship above the water.”
After a count of the exiting Marines was confirmed, Blough carefully eased off the Holt and got airborne. He adds, “With a silent salute to the LSO…”
The Night Ends…
‘Jolly 44’ went back to the LZ while the other two choppers were returning from the Coral Sea. It was pitch black so someone on the island had tossed a strobe light at the water’s edge to guide the chopper in. Bob landed on it to deaden its effect. This last run was just as hectic and just as dangerous.
Here, again flight protocol would have to be violated for the sake of urgency. The machine, like the men on board would have to exceed its limits.
“Last one’s aboard. We’re gonna be heavy. Let’s get outta here!” shouted Bobby Bounds to anyone who was listening.
Lt. Blough pulled in full power for an instrument take off.
“I planned to take off straight up initially, then lower the nose while turning right to clear any trees that may be in front of us. But something was wrong! I was pushing full forward on the cyclic stick, but the nose kept rising! That H-53 felt like it wanted to roll over on its back! ‘Guys, I can’t get the nose down,’ I reported.
“ Bobby replied with a breathless, ‘All the Marines are stacked up in the tail, we’re throwing them forward as fast as we can.’ As the Marines had clamored up the aft ramp in the dark, they had tripped over David’s gun mount and were literally stacked up on the floor at the rear of the helicopter. Their combined weight was enough to exceed the center-of-gravity limits of the aircraft, so I didn’t have enough flight control authority to lower the nose.
“’Nail, we’re coming straight up out of the LZ,’ I radioed. ‘Nail’s clear,’ came the response. All we needed now was a mid-air between a blacked-out helicopter and an OV-10 rolling in behind us to protect our withdrawal.
“But now the cockpit was lit up by the bright yellow glare of numerous caution lights. I had inadvertently jerked the controls when the mini-gun went off, sending a surge through both hydraulic systems, and momentarily activating the by-pass function in both hydraulic systems.
“We were still climbing, and the controls were responding normally, except for the nose-high attitude. In fact, the nose was slowly starting to come down as the weight of the Marines was shifted forward.
“I reset the breaker and the CAUTION lights went out. Good. That verified that we didn’t have a hydraulic problem.
“I reclaimed the controls from Hank and was glad to see we were regaining flying speed. The PJs reported several of the Marines were wounded and asked for the white cabin lights to be turned on so they could better treat the wounds and start IVs. I said, ‘Hold off on the white lights for a minute; go ahead with the red lights for now.’ The white lights would destroy everyone’s night vision, and I wasn’t sure yet what our next step would be.”
There were Marines still on the island and with ‘Jolly 43’ and ‘Knife 51’ on the way, Blough made a quick assessment as to whether another Holt landing was wise. He was low on fuel which is why he could pack almost twice the number of Marines on board than the bird was designed to carry. Leaving the scene with men in distress was a hard but practical decision. He had 42 men aboard, some of them wounded. Those were his immediate concern.
‘Jolly 44’ headed for the USS Coral Sea to make its first carrier landing—at night.
‘Growth’ Wilson in his OV-10 was still on station when ‘Knife 51’ and ‘Jolly 43’ returned from the Coral Sea. Dick Brims, ‘Knife’s’ pilot had allowed a PJ from the “Jolly’ squadron to talk himself aboard. When Blough’s crew in ‘Jolly 44’ off-loaded its Marines on the Coral Sea, refueled and returned to Koh Tang, Brims was already on the beach.
With no reference points and the resulting vertigo threatening the extraction, Brims made a desperate move. He turned on his landing lights.
So what is it that overrides self-preservation? Certainly there are those who would risk their lives for riches or fame. There are also those who welcome extinction through the fog of alcohol or drug addiction. But here the spirit is depleted by ego and hopelessness.
We can forever argue the rank between man’s two strongest drives—to survive or to procreate. But aren’t they really one and the same? If a man is willing to forgo his drive to survive for the purpose of saving others, isn’t he simply procreating an extension for those saved? It is a mother’s instinct to risk herself for the survival of her child. She is born with a spiritual superiority in that sense. A soldier however, must develop it in his character. It is a spiritual discipline, or lack thereof which creates the character. Most live their lives unaware of how much of it they have attained. How much of the soul they have cleansed and polished may only be revealed for certain when mortality beckons.
On this long, grueling day every pilot flew into a known carnage willingly. Moreover, he flew in with a crew. They may tell you they were so focused on their duties that they didn’t really think about the danger. That may be true to a point; and that point may have been reached when the first tracer flew by. But before that they had to make a cost assessment. Their own lives had to be part of that assessment, and in addition, the lives of the crew weighed against the lives of the Marines who would surely die without them.
You won’t find assessments this intimate in corporate boardrooms or political offices. In these places the stakes might be higher but the faces of those put in jeopardy are never seen. On a personal level there can be no greater burden than to take friends to death’s door with you.
This mission produced the most awards for valor in a single day in U.S. Air Force history. The citations chronicle the actions taken yet leave silent the burdens accepted.
On the Koh Tang evacuation, each chopper crewman flew into his potential last day at least once; most many times. Not a single Airman was lost. All that were shot to bits still managed to get their Marines safely extracted. Some were repaired and went back. Others would fly no more. Not a single Marine extracted was lost.
Brims steadied the chopper over West Beach and cut the landing lights. His stowaway, TSgt. Wayne Fisk left the chopper and searched for Marines. He would get different versions from those stumbling up the ramp.
“Any more?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any of your guys still out there?”
“Maybe one or two.”
The last Marines on the shrunken perimeter scurried onto the aircraft under withering fire. It was so bad that they had to leave the body of PFC Ashton Loney on the beach where it had been prepared for extraction. When it was determined that all Marines were off the island, Fisk held up the flight for just a moment. He thought he saw something. He did. Out of the brush came PFCs Willy Overton and Emilio Trevino. They owed their lives to Fisk’s keen sense and the entire air crew’s willingness to accept it.
Wayne Fisk had been a part of the Son Tay POW rescue attempt in North Vietnam in 1970. The POWs had been moved prior to that well planned raid. Then, as now, the whole operation had been compromised by bad intelligence. This time however, Fisk was able to free the men he came for.
A final check with the Marine CO confirmed all were now off the island. Fisk was the last man to leave. But he wouldn’t be the last man.
…The Nightmare Begins
Aboard the Holt now, Rogers and the rest of the Marines deposited there by Blough were led to the mess hall and ordered to dump their gear. Once they were less dangerous they were given free reign over the ship’s store.
“A sailor by the name of Muse gave his bunk to me and slept in a hallway. For this I was moved and very grateful. To this day, I would still like to personally thank him for this act of kindness.”
Bob Blough and the two other remaining choppers were assured that all Marines were off the island and ordered back to Thailand. There, Tom Lindow waited.
“Near sunset we were told the operation was over and aircraft started returning back to the base. At the moment we were just concerned with getting everybody back safely. Park the aircraft and get ready for the next.
“As we walked about the parked aircraft I was amazed at some of the battle damage. The H-53 is a very big aircraft and you have to get up close to appreciate all it was exposed to. The majority of the main rotor blades had holes in them. Fixed cabin windows were broken out where somebody used the butt of their rifle to hastily create a firing position
“Around [21:00] we got a call of the last aircraft coming in that called an in-flight emergency with hydraulic problems and unsafe ‘landing gear down’ indication. I was a bit worried as I thought we had been very lucky so far, don’t blow it now. I watched as the aircraft hovered over the ramp as one of the maintenance sergeants walked underneath it and inserted the landing gear safety pins, typically used when the aircraft was on the ground. The aircraft slowly and gently settled down and we all let out our breaths. The aircraft was a mess. The right auxiliary fuel tank had a hole in the front of it the size and shape of a football. The explosive proof foam in its tanks obviously did its job keeping it from exploding. The cabin floor was covered everywhere with spent cartridges from the mini-guns. Fluid was leaking all over. It was amazing it flew at all. I stepped outside and patted the side of her saying to myself ‘good job’.
“We spent the rest of the night patching up aircraft and getting them ready to fly again. Parts were coming and going as we replaced what we could while assessing the damage.”
With the Marines scattered aboard three ships and the base at Utapao, it took a while to account for them all. The results were disturbing. Although fairly sure of the fates of those on ‘Knife 31’, the first chopper shot down, there were three unaccounted for. Word spread quickly that Danny Marshall, Gary Hall and Joseph Hargrove, the machine gun team covering the right flank could not be found. Just as quickly, any inquiries from the ranks were firmly squashed.
It was hard to hide that fact since on the morning of the 16th it seemed to everyone aboard all three ships in the area that preparations were underway to revisit Koh Tang. But nothing happened.
Speculation among the Marines was that the rescue for the missing men was cancelled because the brass didn’t want to risk any more Marines. However, no one asked them.
That soupy dread even engulfed Utapao.
“Every one of those pilots wanted to go back and get [the missing Marines],” said Maynard Franklin. And perhaps that’s why he, Lindow and all the other mechanics were pressed to put some damaged birds into service throughout the night and early morning after the battle. But here too, nothing happened.
“When we were pulled out, and on the destroyer that night,” PFC Rogers recalled. “Someone, a staff NCO, I think asked if we had seen the gun team and mentioned the names.
“We replied “no”.
The following morning, Marines were once again asked by senior NCOs if anyone could account for the machine gun team. Rogers was with Curtis Myrick when they were, “approached by someone and asked if we knew of anyone missing. Then we were asked if anyone had seen Hargrove, Hall or Marshall. None of us had. Rumor then had it that we were going back in to recover those left behind. That never developed. Why, I’ll never know, I suppose. But it is those types of decisions and memories that keep me up at night. That machine gun team was left out on the right flank, to my right, still defending while everyone else was being pulled out. It is at this point that it gets difficult for me.
“[That’s the} last word I ever heard of it, period.”
Lies by Omission
TSgt. Ted Whitlock found himself back at Korat on the morning of May 16. His unit was told nothing, but the rumors were that the Marines had lost a lot of men. Whitlock, as with most of the participants, got most of the information on his mission from rumor and the Pacific Stars and Stripes newspaper.
On May 15th, the day of the Koh Tang battle, that paper published a short article on the crash of the CH 53 (Knife 13) from NKP; specifically quoting a Pentagon spokesman that it was not involved in the Mayaguez mission. For those Airmen who knew the truth, this false report bore a sinister air.
That was an intentional lie proven once the National Security Council (NSC) documents were declassified. The Ford Administration was seeking a ‘missile crisis’ style public perception and historic accolades. What might cloud those anticipated accolades were too many American losses. These were to be minimized if at all possible and ‘Knife 13’ was possible to minimize as a non-mission loss.
However, Assistant Secretary of Defense, William Clements made a prophetic declaration at the NSC meeting when he said, “Sooner or later you will get a linkage [of the Mayaguez operation] with the 23 already lost at NKP.” Indeed we did.
The loss of those 23 Airmen, all volunteers on their way to battle was no different than the loss of a landing craft sinking before reaching the beaches of Iwo Jima. No one was written off as an accident loss at ‘Sulfur Island’.
After the battle, with a secure Mayaguez, the task turned to public relations. At the time it must be remembered that any military action in Southeast Asia was a hard sell. America as well as its leaders were simply sick of war in the region. The Cooper Church Amendment, passed in 1971 severely hampered the President’s discretion concerning military action specifically tied to Southeast Asia. This proved to be a major distraction as planning was underway. Now however, the Administration had a successful mission with the rescue of the entire crew which it could tout to minimize criticism of military action. But the cost might be perceived as too high to reap any political rewards.
From witness reports of preparations to return to Koh Tang, it appears senior officers were aware of men left behind on the island and serious about getting them back. Those preparations could not go forward without this authority. But just as quickly, those preparations ended.
“I know the flight crews all wanted to go back to get [the missing Marines] immediately after they were confirmed MIA, but were told to stand down,” Tom Lindow remembered. “They were close to having a riot and I saw some of the pilots cursing at this order. For the Jolly Greens, rescuing people in need was our business and we took great pride in that, so leaving those guys behind really left us feeling dejected.”
There is little to research in the Ford Administration records concerning Hargrove, Hall and Marshall, the missing Marines. Who decided to cancel preparations for a rescue could not be determined. However, subsequent evidence points to a political decision which came from the very top; and it came rapidly. The Holt did stay on station in the waters surrounding Koh Tang on the day after the battle but was ordered to depart shortly after. Why?
Consider a speculative but supportable account.
All of the men who died on or surrounding the island were left where they fell. Koh Tang Island is relatively small and isolated. Additional U.S. Naval Forces could have been sent to the area to wait out its garrison if for no other reason than to retrieve the remains of those men.
American air power could have easily prevented any attempt by the Khmer Rouge to reinforce or resupply their garrison from the mainland. Thus, the objective could have been achieved with little or no casualties.
Basically, the U.S. could have laid siege to the island. Money and manpower costs to do this would be justified. After all, we spend this kind of capital on retrieval of wreckage from civilian aircraft disasters over water. Doing so to retrieve the remains of servicemen and live ones as well compels greater urgency.
But had this been done it would have extended the mission. Congressional complaints and press inquiries were sure to follow. With those inquiries it may have been embarrassing to the Ford Administration to admit that it was possible Marines had been left alive on the island. This was only two years after American POWs were released by North Vietnam and already there were some serious charges that not all of them held came home. The loss of ‘Knife 13’ too, might be linked to the mission which would send the loss numbers higher than the pirated crewmen. Ford’s ‘defining moment’ would be compromised.
Throughout the NSC meeting records is the fear that the crew of the Mayaguez could be held hostage and “used to twist our tails,” as Vice-President Nelson Rockefeller put it. Of course, three live Marines could also do the same. Is it conceivable that live men were abandoned purposely to avoid degrading the Commander-in-Chief’s ‘defining moment?’
We get a clue from the American Forces Press Service where President Ford was quoted in eulogy in 2007:
“I got a call from the skipper of the Mayaguez,” Ford said, “and he told me that it was the action of me, President Ford, that saved the lives of the crew of the Mayaguez.”
But did the skipper know he was a serious target—at least for a moment? And who saved the Marines?
An ego can be a dangerous thing. Perhaps we can forgive a President a little puffery and defer to his need to be remembered as a great leader to posterity. Manipulating facts after an event is dishonest, not deadly. Unfortunately, the power to manipulate actions (or in this case, inaction by abandoning the three Marines) to falsify the cost of an event to obtain a complementary blurb in a history book is quite despicable.
The Ford Administration’s willingness to separate the loss of the Security Police at NKP from the Mayaguez mission did not kill those men, it dishonored them. The decision to abandon missing men known to be alive ten minutes before the last chopper departed signed their death warrant.
All of the information concerning their fate came from Khmer sources. The details vary greatly and some are obviously self-serving. But all accounts agree that Hargrove, Hall and Marshall were captured alive and executed.
The Lie Becomes Official
There is no smoking gun to directly tie the White House to the abandonment of the three Marines. To believe they didn’t know about them is ludicrous.
Within weeks, on June 7th the 3rd Marine Division presented the results of its investigation concerning the missing Marines ordered by the Commanding General Kenneth Houghton.
In its ‘Finding of Facts:’
25. That a physical search of Koh Tang Island was not made after Hall, Hargrove and Marshall were discovered missing as the conduct of such a search was not authorized.
In its ‘Opinions:’
20. That Hall, Hargrove and Marshall could have been fatally wounded subsequent to the last time they were seen by Sgt. Anderson at about 20:00 and the time when the final helicopter lifted off, since there was firing by both enemy forces and the Marines awaiting extraction from Koh Tang Island.
And in its ‘Recommendations:’
1. That the status of Hall, Hargrove and Marshall be changed from ‘Missing in Action’ to ‘Killed in Action/Body Not Recovered.
An investigation is supposed to solve mysteries. In just these short excerpts we find more.
Who made the decision not to search the island? Someone had to in order to stop the obvious preparations. It is possible but highly unlikely that a military commander made that decision.
The phrase, ‘could have been fatally wounded’ is not, ‘known to be fatally wounded.’
Hargrove, Hall and Marshall were listed as KIA less than 3 weeks after evidence suggests they were left behind alive.
Now let’s speculate, reasonably on the political advantage to abandoning dead men rather than live ones.
The risk of maintaining MIA status for the three Marines would be realized if they turned up months later as hostages or political pawns. Ford’s rescue of the Mayaguez crew would be dampened by the addition of American hostages. If these men are officially dead, their reappearance would be problematic, but still, the Administration could feign surprise and lessen their complicity in the abandonment. The Marine Corps’ own investigation would take the political hit.
If we can believe the worst in our leadership than we can believe that the best political outcome would be for Hargrove, Hall and Marshall to make their actual status their official one. With their deaths the thorny issue of future White House embarrassment is substantially diminished.
Is such treachery is beyond comprehension?
When a young man joins the Armed Forces he assumes he will be serving his country. For the majority, that assumption is valid. For the minority that find themselves in combat, they quickly learn that they will be serving their brothers. The President won’t be dragging you to safety. The Constitution will not cover your advance or withdraw. Your brothers will.
L/Cpl. Joseph Hargrove, Pfc. Gary Hall and Pvt. Danny Marshall were covering the withdraw of their fellow Marines. How long after the sound of the last helicopter did they realize there would be no more? What was their conversation like?
Speculating on the actions of the missing men may be inappropriate. But there are few if any servicemen involved in that mission who did not at least briefly, put himself in that dilemma. They would have expected a count and a discovery of their absence. They would have expected plans to be drawn up to return for them. They may have cursed themselves for the spot they found themselves in. It is almost a certainty that they would have agonized over the safety of those risking their lives to come get them. Hargrove, Hall and Marshall, like any other serviceman of that era would have expected at the very least, an attempt.
But this was 1975. Only a few then, suspected government treachery concerning Vietnam MIAs; most of them families of the missin