Read Online We Were Soldiers Once...and Young by Harold G. Moore;Joseph L. Galloway - Free Book Online
Authors: Harold G. Moore;Joseph L. Galloway
Tags: General, History; Military, Asia, History, Military, USA, War, vietnam, Asian history, American history: Vietnam War, Military Personal Narratives, Military History, Battle of, Military History - Vietnam Conflict, 1965, Vietnam War, War & defence operations, 1961-1975, Military - Vietnam War, Vietnamese Conflict, History of the Americas, Southeast Asia, Asian history: Vietnam War, Warfare & defence, Ia Drang Valley
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Sergeant Major Plumley and I flew to the scene and met with Nadal and Major Roger (Black Bart) Bartholomew, commander of the aerial rocket artillery helicopter company, who had flown in to investigate. It seems that a unit of our sister battalion--2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry--had screwed up the map coordinates when calling for fire support. Four of Nadal's men were wounded and carried out by medical evacuation choppers.
Not long after, Colonel Brown flew in, checked on the situation with Alpha Company, and then called me aside. "Hal, I'm moving your battalion west tomorrow morning," he said, unfolding his map. "Here is your area of operations-- north of Chu Pong in the Ia Drang Valley. Your mission is the same one you have now: Find and kill the enemy." He rapidly outlined the scope of the operation and the resources he could spare: sixteen UH-1D Hueys to move my troops, two 105mm howitzer batteries within range to support us, and at least two days on the ground patrolling.
He added that Alpha Company of the 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion would provide the helicopters; the 229th's A Company commander, Major Bruce Crandall, was on the way now. "One more thing, Hal. In that area be sure your companies are close enough for mutual support." After he left, I alerted Captain Nadal to what was coming and flew back to the old French fort. On the way, I jotted notes on what needed to be done and radioed Matt Dillon, my operations officer, telling him to put out a warning order to the other company commanders and support units and get the staff together. We had a lot to do and not much time to do it in.
Bruce Crandall, thirty-four years old, was an All-American college baseball star out of Olympia, Washington. He used the distinctive radio call sign "Ancient Serpent 6," which readily lent itself to profane permutations. Crandall was already there with Captain Mickey Parrish, the helicopter liaison officer, who would stay with us throughout the operation to coordinate helicopter movements. This was standard operating procedure in the 1st Cavalry Division: detailed planning and coordination between the helicopter lift company and the infantry.
We had not yet been in any battalion-size fight in Vietnam, and Bruce Crandall's helicopter pilots were likewise unblooded. All of us were soon to be put to the test. Crandall was my kind of guy: good at what he did, straight-talking, and dead honest. He knew his people were good--he personally saw to that--and he expected the same high standards of everyone he worked with. It didn't hurt that Ancient Serpent 6, or
"Old Snake" or
"Snakeshit 6," as everyone called him, was one of the funniest men alive. His pilots and air and ground crews proudly reflected Old Snake's attitudes and professionalism, and Crandall loved them.
"We had sixteen aircraft flying out of twenty assigned to the unit," Crandall says. "What we lacked in combat experience we made up for in flying time. Our junior pilot had about seven hundred hours in helicopters and was instrument-rated. Most were dual-rated [trained to fly] fixed-wing [aircraft] and helicopters, and every one of the leaders was dual instrument-rated. Most of us had been in the battalion through air-assault training, and our company flew with the expeditionary force sent to the Dominican Republic in mid1965." Crandall continues: "On November thirteenth I sat in on a briefing by Colonel Moore. We went through some discussion as to how we could carry out the attack, artillery sites, tactical air support and so forth, and set up a reconnaissance flight for early the next morning. Moore expected us, the aviation element, to be present during planning and briefing and to be a part of his staff. This attitude was shared by his staff and his commanders. As a team we proved that the whole was even better than the sum of the parts."
Captain Paul Patton Winkel, whose great-grandfather rode with William Tecumseh Sherman, was a Bravo Company 229th platoon
Sergeant Major Plumley and I flew to the scene and met with Nadal and Major Roger (Black Bart) Bartholomew, commander of the aerial rocket artillery helicopter company, who had flown in to investigate. It seems that a unit of our sister battalion--2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry--had screwed up the map coordinates when calling for fire support. Four of Nadal's men were wounded and carried out by medical evacuation choppers.
Not long after, Colonel Brown flew in, checked on the situation with Alpha Company, and then called me aside. "Hal, I'm moving your battalion west tomorrow morning," he said, unfolding his map. "Here is your area of operations-- north of Chu Pong in the Ia Drang Valley. Your mission is the same one you have now: Find and kill the enemy." He rapidly outlined the scope of the operation and the resources he could spare: sixteen UH-1D Hueys to move my troops, two 105mm howitzer batteries within range to support us, and at least two days on the ground patrolling.
He added that Alpha Company of the 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion would provide the helicopters; the 229th's A Company commander, Major Bruce Crandall, was on the way now. "One more thing, Hal. In that area be sure your companies are close enough for mutual support." After he left, I alerted Captain Nadal to what was coming and flew back to the old French fort. On the way, I jotted notes on what needed to be done and radioed Matt Dillon, my operations officer, telling him to put out a warning order to the other company commanders and support units and get the staff together. We had a lot to do and not much time to do it in.
Bruce Crandall, thirty-four years old, was an All-American college baseball star out of Olympia, Washington. He used the distinctive radio call sign "Ancient Serpent 6," which readily lent itself to profane permutations. Crandall was already there with Captain Mickey Parrish, the helicopter liaison officer, who would stay with us throughout the operation to coordinate helicopter movements. This was standard operating procedure in the 1st Cavalry Division: detailed planning and coordination between the helicopter lift company and the infantry.
We had not yet been in any battalion-size fight in Vietnam, and Bruce Crandall's helicopter pilots were likewise unblooded. All of us were soon to be put to the test. Crandall was my kind of guy: good at what he did, straight-talking, and dead honest. He knew his people were good--he personally saw to that--and he expected the same high standards of everyone he worked with. It didn't hurt that Ancient Serpent 6, or
"Old Snake" or
"Snakeshit 6," as everyone called him, was one of the funniest men alive. His pilots and air and ground crews proudly reflected Old Snake's attitudes and professionalism, and Crandall loved them.
"We had sixteen aircraft flying out of twenty assigned to the unit," Crandall says. "What we lacked in combat experience we made up for in flying time. Our junior pilot had about seven hundred hours in helicopters and was instrument-rated. Most were dual-rated [trained to fly] fixed-wing [aircraft] and helicopters, and every one of the leaders was dual instrument-rated. Most of us had been in the battalion through air-assault training, and our company flew with the expeditionary force sent to the Dominican Republic in mid1965." Crandall continues: "On November thirteenth I sat in on a briefing by Colonel Moore. We went through some discussion as to how we could carry out the attack, artillery sites, tactical air support and so forth, and set up a reconnaissance flight for early the next morning. Moore expected us, the aviation element, to be present during planning and briefing and to be a part of his staff. This attitude was shared by his staff and his commanders. As a team we proved that the whole was even better than the sum of the parts."
Captain Paul Patton Winkel, whose great-grandfather rode with William Tecumseh Sherman, was a Bravo Company 229th platoon
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