Day 21, Operation Pegasus, LZ Wharton
April 1968
Rick Rockholt
Company D, 2/12th Cavalry
After several weeks of humping the brushy hill country between LZ Jane and Camp Evens training and acclimating to Viet Nam’s weather D-2-12 was ready for its first combat mission. We had heard NVA forces were giving the Marines hell at place called Khe Sanh. Now we were part of a relief force to break the NVA attack.
We loaded up with extra ammo, frags, and just about anything else we thought we might need. I never thought I could get so much crap in and on a pack frame and hanging off my body. I had my sleeping and personal gear, flack jacket, steel pot, an M-16 with ammo, frags, a couple of claymores, that damn PRC-25 with two extra batteries, a 10-foot whip antenna, and C-rations for a week. I was carrying so much stuff I could not stand straight. I had to continually lean forward or risk being pulled over backwards by the weight of my pack.
April 3rd … we rode CH-47’s to LZ Stud, a Marine firebase about ¾ of the way to Khe Sanh. 1st Cav troops were everywhere and still the sky was full of helicopters bringing more. We were warned not to take for granted every jet in the sky was ours because the North Vietnamese had a MIG base 50 miles north of the DMZ. (Everyone’s eyes darted to the sky searching for vapor trails.) Also, NVA tanks were in the Khe Sanh area, be sure we had heat rounds for the 90mm recoilless rifles and several LAWS in each platoon. (Shit, Tanks!) That really put the “pucker power” to us. We had a saying. “ Pucker Power, that’s when you can’t drive a knitting needle up your ass with a 3 pound hammer!” We loaded on Hueys and started the air assault on LZ Wharton. Lipsie and I sat in the door with our feet dangling out. What a rush!!
The sky was full of choppers carrying soldiers, Cobra attack helicopters, and Huey gun ships. Ours was the lead flight. As we neared the LZ, the Cobras and Huey gun ships swooped in front of the troop choppers and fired volleys of ARA rockets and machine gun fire. The door gunners on our birds opened fire hosing down the fast approaching ground. The LZ was covered with tall grass and scattered brush. Our scheduled B-52 strike to prep the landing area had done very little to open the thick cover. The Hueys could not to touch down. Instead they hovered above the grass and brush. I thought we were 3 or 4 feet above the ground, so out the door I went and hit the ground so hard I was stunned for several seconds. Looking up I saw the chopper 10 feet above me with other guys bailing off the skids. Time to get moving, and fast. Lipsie quickly set up a platoon perimeter that linked up with other platoons as they landed. As more and more troops landed the perimeter expanded to cover the top of the ridgeline from the grassy finger we were on to the tree line several hundred yards uphill from us.
There was no immediate ground contact with the enemy. Lipsie and I, along with several others were scanning reported movement across a deep ravine on the next ridge. Suddenly there were two loud screaming, whistling sounds, much like the incoming mortars I had heard at LZ Jane but much louder. They ended with crashing explosions in the bottom of the ravine. “What the Hell was that”, someone said as we uneasily looked around trying to see where the sounds came from. The noises sounded something like ARA rockets but there were no helicopters in sight. Several moments had passed when the NVA answered to our questions by slamming two or three 130mm artillery shells into the perimeter. We scattered, diving head first into unfinished foxholes and any depressions we could find. Shooting at our ridge top was like aiming at the edge of a knife. Yet the NVA found the range with the first shells. They followed by hitting our perimeter with 130mm artillery and 122mm rockets day and night over the next several days.
Lipsie and I quickly expanded our fox hole to 6 feet long, 2 feet wide, and 3 feet deep. (There was a third man with us but for the life of me I can’t remember who it was. I think it was the 3rd platoon medic.) We notched the bottom of the hole back into the hillside so we could sit down and press back into the notch offering some overhead cover. The incoming NVA artillery fell throughout the night. Each time we pulled our helmets down and crowded deeper into the notch. We learned by the tone of the screaming shells if they would be close or not. Some fell so close they rocked the ground and knocked clods of dirt from our overhead cover, others missed our sanctuary falling elsewhere in the perimeter. I was terrified and felt totally helpless. All I could do was wait it out and pray the next shell did not have my name on it.
April 4th … most of the day was spent improving our foxholes and fighting positions. Some of the men were going into the ravine and cutting small trees for logs to strengthen their overhead cover. I don’t remember the reason, but Lipsie sent me to deliver a message to one of the squad leaders who was cutting logs. I found the squad leader a hundred yards or so from the perimeter and delivered the message.
As I climbed back up the hillside I heard the screams of incoming NVA shells. I knew by their sounds these were right on top of me. I dropped to the ground and pulled my 180 pounds into the smallest ball I could. The air split with a thunderous KAAABOOOOM! The concussion bounced me off the ground and sprayed dirt and shattered rocks on top of me. “That’s it,” I thought, “ I’m dead,” I lay there waiting for the pain to set in. But none came. I rolled over and sat up. I looked at my hands, arms, and both legs. They were still there. “No pain”, I thought again. “ I’m not hit! Get the hell out of here!” I jumped to my feet and had only made two strides before stopping cold. I had just stepped into the kill zone of the artillery shell. The grass was chopped down in an 8 to 10 feet circle around a two-foot wide smoking crater. I looked back and saw where I had been laying less than 10 feet outside the kill radius. I knew it would be a minute or two before the NVA could reload and fire again. I sprinted all the way to our foxhole and jumped inside crashing into Lipsie and the 3rd platoon medic. I lay there gasping for air, waiting for more incoming. I looked up at the sky and said half out loud, “Thank You.”
April 5th … was spent much like the 4th. I worked feverously on our hole for several hours. Early in the afternoon Lipsie and I went to the northwest side of the perimeter and the CO’s bunker. From there we could clearly see the Marine base at Khe Sanh. They were being hit. Exploding shells threw plumes of smoke and dust into the air. Fires raged throughout the base. I had mixed feelings, if the NVA guns were aimed at Khe Sanh then they would not be firing at us. But, at the same time I felt for the Marines because I knew what they were feeling crouched in their foxholes and bunkers. I continued to watch bombardment while the CO briefed Lipsie. When they finished we went back to our platoon.
Later that night the NVA launched a 122mm rocket attack against us. Screaming incoming rockets and explosions were all around us. I felt more secure with the improvements I had made to the foxhole earlier in the day but I still felt helplessness as we waited out the barrage. I said to Lipsie, “now I know how the guys in WWII felt with incoming German and Japanese artillery. I’ll be glad when we get the hell off this LZ, the NVA have it targeted. We’re sitting ducks here.”
April 6th ... we learned a bunker had taken a hit last night killing four men in our company. Lipsie took me to the CO’s bunker where the four bodies were covered with ponchos awaiting evacuation. He lifted the poncho and I looked at the first dead American Soldiers I was to see. I had only experienced death twice before, my grandfather and a high school friend killed in a motorcycle accident. Like my grandfather and friend, the four fellow soldiers looked like they could wake up at any moment. Death was very unreal to me as of yet. Several other men joined us. They too stood in silence for what seemed a long time. Lipsie looked up at me, “I never want to see you like this,” he said, “keep your head straight!” His words burned into my being and I will never forget them or the circumstances under which they were spoken.
“Never is life so precious as in the aftermath of death”