Khê Sanh Campaign

APRIL 5, 1968 — The Marines had gotten themselves into a fix at Khê Sanh, not too far from the DMZ. The North Vietnamese had brought it under intense artillery fire from very large guns situated in the mountain side of the Korak ridge in Laos, just across the Perfume River. They were called the "Guns of Navarone" after a recent movie in which the Germans had super-guns on tracks in cement caverns tunneled into the mountains. The guns of Korak were of a similar character. It had been feared that they could cover an enemy advance, and that the Marines would be overrun in another Dien Bien Phu. Since simple retreat would have had much the same propaganda effect, it was decided that something had to be done to defeat the enemy before the Marines could be pulled out of their vulnerable position. The generals decided to send the Cav to seize the adjacent hills to the south and west, and to send the ARVNs on a much publicized campaign into Laos to knock out the guns of Korak (if necessary).

Khê Sanh and the Guns of Korak. This was a risky proposition for us. We were told that when we went in that we had to set up and dig in in a hurry, since we could expect fire from the guns on the Laotian ridge, guns at least of an 8 inch caliber. The next morning we saddled up and several flights of Hueys came in to pick us up. We came up on the south side of the ridge that we were to occupy. It had steep slopes and an actual landing was impossible. The choppers hovered momentarily off the hill while we scrambled out. I, as the sergeant, was seated in the middle of the chopper, and chose to jump out the right side, toward the higher ground. The last guy jumped out the left side as the chopper was moving away. The hill was so steep that he fell quite a distance, and when he landed, he broke his ankle. We were supposed to scramble to our positions, then dig in. I rapidly moved the guns into a good position while coördinating with the squads on my right and left. However, no sooner did we start to dig than the platoon sergeant came by and said they had to adjust the lines. So we all picked up and moved. But this was not stable either — we soon moved again, and finally, it was decided to move the guns out on to "spits" projecting out of the ridge so that they had maximum effect. By then, quite some time had passed, perhaps as much as 45 minutes. Fortunately, no artillery came in. The 1/12 had landed on the adjacent ridge just to the north and east. Even though I was on the southwestern side, the ridge sloped down enough that I could see most of their ridge. The sound of artillery could be heard, which we took to be our own making a plot of prepositioned firing. However, I could see one of the men of the 1/12 running for his foxhole and yelling "incoming!". Quite a barrage ensued, but it all landed off to the north, missing the positions of the 1/12. It later became clear that the Guns of Korak could be wheeled only so far out of their caverns, and that while they had a clear shot at Khê Sanh, their barrels hit the sides of the cement retainer walls before coming into perfect alignment with our positions to the south. Consequently, all their rounds landed too far north, and from that point on we had no further worry about artillery.

From the other side of the ridge we had a good view of Khê Sanh and the surrounding area. I have never seen anything like it. The terrain bore no resemblance to anything on earth, and the only thing to which I could compare it was the surface of the moon. It was not merely cratered, with craters inside craters, and craters overlapping craters, but so thoroughly was it shattered and dug up that no a living things remained. I do not mean to suggest that foliage was scattered about the ground — there was not a trace of it. It had been vaporized as if struck by meteorites for centuries. Such was the terrain for miles around Khê Sanh, forming a giant circle of total devastation. No enemy in any shape or form could advance on Khê Sanh without being as visible as if they were in a desert. Indeed it was a desert, a desert of mud, dirt and stone. It was clear that we had one thing they lacked at Dien Bien Phu: overwhelming air support, enough to annihilate the very landscape.

Before sunset we had quite an interesting show. Flying almost directly over us was a squadron of B-52 bombers. I can't say how many, but there were enough to cover the entire sky. They were not flying particularly high either. They turned and flew lengthwise (to the north) over Korak Ridge, which they plastered with tons of bombs. Despite the distance to the ridge, we could feel the earth shake in a steady tremor as the bombs fell. This never failed to have an impressive effect, and we figured that the guns had been dealt a blow.

The next day, if I remember correctly, brought another B-52 strike. That was the day (if it was not the same day that we landed) that the ARVNs flew nearly overhead in a vast armada of American Hueys towards Laos. I could not help but think of how rickety and antique the helicopters seemed, and how they might so impress future generations with their primitive flimsiness; yet it must be said that 30 years later they have not changed much at all.

The ridge we were on was covered with relatively short green grass. The spit on which the gun was situated was devoid of vegetation altogether. We considered that there was some chance that the enemy might attack in force, and we contemplated how we might handle such an attack. However, we had heard that elsewhere not too long ago, a company of the 1/5 had set up on one of these ridges, and during the night the enemy moved in on the ridge facing it. They were armed with 144 mm Soviet rockets, and fired them at almost point blank range on the 1/5. The result was astronomical casualties, I believe something like 50 men in the company were killed. Consequently, we were concerned that the enemy might move on to the opposite ridge and repeat this performance on us. A ground attack, though, seemed the least likely alternative of the two.