For anyone in the I Corps area of Vietnam in 1965-66 eras, Hill #55 had the reputation of being a very dangerous location.
Third Battalion, Third Marines relieved the line in March of 1966. Our brothers in the Ninth Marines had warned us, when we took their place that the hill was deadly at all times, and the VC/NVA had a sniper in the area that could really “Ding”. The VC/NVA wasted no time letting us know that we were unwelcome. First with mortars, and then with constant probing and fire fights at night. The sniper did not make his presence known all of the time, but when he did, someone got hit. This situation lasted until a young Third Division sniper named Carlos Hathcock put an end to that sniper’s career. But that was later, after this incident.
One afternoon in April, I was sitting in the fighting hole, next to the bunker I shared with Pfc. Eddie Lujan, cleaning my rifle, when our squad leader came up and informed me that the Undersecretary of the Navy was coming out that afternoon to inspect the forward positions. As incredulous as this sounded we were instructed to pick up the cigarette butts and paper around our bunker. (We certainly didn’t want him to think we kept a messy battlefield.)
Shortly after we finished doing that, the battalion sergeant major came around and was gathering up men for a working party. We were to report to the Battalion CP and wait for him.
When I arrived there was a sizable group assembled. I was not the only one standing in that “group” who felt like they were in crosshairs. A gathered group certainly invited incoming sniper rounds. Even a poor shot had an excellent chance of hitting someone in a group.
The sergeant major again informed all hands that the Undersecretary of the Navy was in Da Nang and was going to be “inspecting” various Marine positions. Our job was to “police up” the hill. Needless to say, this sparked a sizable uproar. To no avail. We dressed right at double arm interval across the crest of the hill and began moving toward the wire, picking up any stray cigarette butts and paper that happened to be in our “zone of responsibility.” We hadn’t gone 20 feet when the first snipers round kicked up dirt down the line to my left and behind us. Without waiting for any kind of order, the “working party” made a rapid dispersal in all directions. Each man headed either back to his bunker or to the nearest cover, leaving the sergeant major on the crest of the hill yelling orders for everyone to come back and continue policing up or “there will be reprisals”, only to be met with a cuckoo-like response from various fleeing Marines that began with the “F” word. He finally gave up.
Later that afternoon a tiny speck appeared in the sky. If you looked real hard you could just make out the shape of a Huey overhead that circled the hill. Yes, it was later passed on, down the food chain; the Undersecretary of the Navy had been in THAT helicopter. I really don’t think he could tell we had neglected to police up all of the cigarette butts and empty c-ration cartons on the hill.
That’s funny. Back in the day when I was a kid, my friend’s dad was a Marine. I don’t know the MOS #, but one of his MOS’s in his WWII tour in the Pacific was dog handler. One of the island campaigns I think. He described that when they were behind lines for for some stationary time, they’d dig in and the longer they were there, he & buddies would go into scrounge mode, and start making their holes into bunkers, and make themselves at home, make tables, something to sit on, shelving for their “stuff”. Just making themselves as cozy as possible And it would bit by bit, be less & less military.
Then word came down, that the brass, a general, was going to visit and inspect their “base”. Orders followed to clean up, square away, & get rid of all that crap. Fast! So they did bitching and moaning. When the time came, almost word for word as you described.. a plane flew over and went on its way. They found the General had visited & seemingly inspected their base. Mount down.
Then he said, like a hill of ants the Marines busied themselves out & about, scrounging for supplies & restored their homey holes to their previous comforts
Oh how the brass like to keep things “ship shape”. I was at 1st MAW HQ in 1968-1969. a lot of VIP’s passed though there and we would have to whitewash the rocks lining the paths. Can anyone remember how white objects stand out a night? We learned to whitewash only the sides of the rocks that faced out from the compound. The senior enlisted and Colonels and above never noticed. Semper Fi
Very familiar with Hill 55. Was with 11th Motor Transport (December ‘66 until July/August ‘67) and convoyed a lot to An Hoa where 2/5 was at that time. Went south on Hwy. 1 out of Danang, then to and over Hill 55, then south from Dai Loc to be ferried across a river to An Hoa. Recall 7th Marines had Hill 55 at that time but could be wrong. Interesting enough, Hill 55 was a big promontory in the middle of a wide coastal plain and commanded a great view of the surrounding TAOR. Semper Fi John
Very similar story to Mr. Fronkier: From April ’69 to June ’69 I was atop Hill 1467 (Vietnamese called it~ and still do, “Ba Na”) in the mountains west of Da Nang, helping run a “radio relay” site of jeep mounted radios. We helped coordinate artillery support from 11th Marines units east of the mountains in support of our Grunts of 7th Marines and 26th Marines who were tasked with “search and clear” mission in Charlie Ridge area pursuing NVA units. Word came out of the radio one day that Maj.General Ormond Simpson, C.G. of 1st Marine Division was to visit our mountain top and we were tasked with similar nonsensical “police call”. Central to that mountain top was a destroyed two story “hotel” that was once a French retreat site. The NCOIC tasked us with taking bricks & rubble from around the site and lining a cleared walkway from the small LZ to the hotel. Sure enough, the General showed up a couple days later with his entourage, in starched jungle shirts and pants, with starched and “blocked” covers atop their heads. Simpson walked much of the small hilltop and chatted with various enlisted men, 7th Marines Grunts who helped with security and those of us from 3/11 Comm. Platoon who kept the radios functioning. I still shake my head that such “leaders” would waste their subordinates’ time and energy with such nonsense.