Company A and the Bridge at Bong Son
Phil Blake, Commanding Officer
Company A, 1st Battalion, 12th Cavalry (Airborne)

This incident could probably be called the Waterloo of Company A because it was our greatest defeat. In fact, it was our only defeat, and the really strange aspect about it is that it did not come at the hands of the NVA or VC.

In late 1966 or early 1967 (as I’m sure you’ve also discovered, memory is the second thing that fades as we age), I was tasked by LTC George Eggers, the Commander of 1st Bn (Abn), 12th Cav to proceed with my company to Bong Son to guard one of the bridges over the Song Lai Giang. Colonel Eggers told me that we could expect to have this mission for a week, possibly longer. For the men of A Company, this period out of the boondocks seemed almost like an R & R. Certainly, it was to be easy duty. We had been in the field, constantly on the move, for many weeks. Being in one place was an opportunity to rest, dry out, receive plenty of re-supply, and perhaps get more than the usual number of meals of hot chow.

There was also the chance to visit Bong Son, a fairly sizable little city. It was a district capital, and therefore the headquarters of the US district advisory team. My company was placed under the operational control (OPCON) of this team, which meant that my temporary boss was the senior advisor, a major.

When we arrived at the bridge, Colonel Eggers instructed me that as soon as we had our defense established I could let the off-duty troops go into Bong Son. So later that day, under squad leaders control, several squads set off for town, with the stipulations to stay together by squads and to return by a designated time early that evening. I anticipated that during our time at the bridge everyone would have the chance to go into town at least once and probably more often. However, that was not to be.

At the designated hour all had returned except one young sergeant (E5), whose name I will not reveal. I immediately sent the rest of his squad back to look for him. Shortly thereafter, I received a call on the radio from a very irate senior advisor. It seems that my young sergeant had imbibed a little too much firewater, decided that he had been cheated somewhere along the way, and had advanced on the advisors compound, M16 in hand, to seek retribution. Why he held the advisors responsible is anybody’s guess. Due to his inebriated state, he was quickly disarmed by some of the advisors.

The senior advisor made two demands: send someone to retrieve the now subdued young sergeant and then get my company out of his town. Since the rest of the sergeant’s squad was still in Bong Son conducting its search, it was an east matter to comply with the first demand. He was soon back in our custody. I appealed getting kicked out to Colonel Eggers, but, although somewhat sympathetic, his hands were tied. We quickly packed up and moved back into the bush, our tail between our legs, in disgrace.

In even less time, the young sergeant became a young private. However, since he was a top-notch infantryman in a company composed of superb soldiers, he had won back some stripes by the time he DEROS’d.

To that fine soldier and great American, wherever you may be, if you read this little tale, I want you to know that I hope your life since Viet Nam has been, and will continue to be, an absolute joy.