One of our assignments during operation PEGASUS was to guard a section of highway one to ensure that military supplies will get through to the Khe Sahn combat base where the 26th marines battalion were. Early in the morning we heard fire on top of the hill were Fox company of our 2nd Battalion was holding a position. Fox company was being overrun by north Vietnamese regulars that were operating in the area. We were ordered to move from our position to regain the hill from the NVA. It was early in the morning and still a little dark. We outmaneuvered the enemy and push them back. Our Echo company then set up the 360-defensive perimeter.
I remember that there was a hole where we could set up our 60 mm mortar pit defensive position. L/cpl Gore said he saw it first and argue for it. I remember raising my E Tool in anger and then realized Marines are brothers and should not fight each other. So, I said “fuck it” you can have it. We built a mortar pit not too far from him. It was ideal. We were directly and tactically far enough behind our company defense machine gun team position. We were able to cover their dead space which are folds or depressions in the ground preventing a target from being engaged from a fixed fire position. We estimated the range and set up an aiming stake to pint-point a hill in front of us where we thought the enemy would fire at us with a positioned machine gun. We were there for a few days.
The NVA were firing artillery almost every day. We would yell incoming whenever we heard the sound of the rounds coming out of their artillery muzzles and jump into our fighting holes. We have learned not to be afraid. If we were to get a direct round into our fighting holes we would never live enough to feel the pain. It was in the afternoon we had received dried steaks, they looked like pieces of cardboard, some hot liquid ice cream and hot beer. I remember the corpsman was treating with sponged water a marine that had malaria. Nearby there were about four or five marines bunched up talking to each other about the supplies received. Not too wise to be bunched up under that combat situation. All of the sudden a barrage of NVA artillery rounds came in. I received some small shrapnel in the back of my left forearm and was lifted off the ground and stunned with concussion. My head was going around.
I felt weird.
The enemy had stopped firing artillery. We then set the alarm to prepare or expect an attack. Another marine came up to our 60 mm position and asked me to accompany him to the lines in front of the machine gun fighting hole. It was beginning to get dark. He asked me if I could smell something. He then told me to point my nose in the direction of the wind. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a human odor different from ours. It became obvious that the NVA attack would come from the direction of the wind. He advised the machine team that when it gets darker to throw a few grenades. The defense idea was to prevent any enemy sapper from creeping and throwing a grenade into their hole.
Combat experience taught us that the NVA would send a soldier to quietly crawl, eliminate the machine gun position then infiltrate our lines and from there run to the 60 mm mortar hole. Thereby eliminating our defensive lines support fire. Thanks to this experienced combat marine whose name I wish I remember. We were then all put into a hundred percent alert.
Early in the dark morning before sun set three marines on the perimeter outpost on the north side were killed. The line triggered a claymore mine and the enemy movement was eliminated. One of the enemy’s head was blown up you can only see his shoulder. Next to him there was another body. He was tall and looked Chinese not Vietnamese, with many wounds. There was another dead one caught up who apparently had been running up the hill. There were many others on top of the hill were the main attack came from.
However, we were expecting and ready for the enemy to assault from the other south end of the position. The machine gun team had killed with grenades an NVA soldier who had been crawling to their position.
The enemy then opened fire with a machine gun team precisely where we had set up the prep defense. Our mortar team received a call from the command post. We answered don’t worry we are ready and firing. The first round hit the target. The other two rounds were fired for effect and we saw the enemy machine gun team bodies blown up in the air.
I was in the hole with PFC Jedd de Pope. We then fired a white phosphorous and illumination rounds and followed with two others. We were able to pinpoint the enemy position with the WP rounds. Making it easy for automatic fire of the helicopters, artillery and air strikes in a coordinated attack prevent the enemy from retreating.
They had to come forward over the skyline. It was a Turkey shoot. We were all firing from the lines. L/cpl Gore and I alternated shooting at the enemy. L/cpl Gore asked for a cigarette and
Jedd threw him one. Jedd was wounded in the back of his shoulder but kept firing. After that I didn’t see L/cpl Gore rise again.
We kept fighting till almost sun up. I looked back and saw L/cpl Gore’s body with his face and skull split open with apparent small arms fire. His body was laying back in the fighting hole. I felt tears coming out of my eyes for the first time in the one year and many battles I had fought in Vietnam. It was meant for me. That fighting hole was where we were going to set the mortar position.
I carried a camera in my back pack. A picture was taken of me holding an AK 47 to remember the battle. I think Jedd took the picture. Whatever was left of the enemy had managed to retreat. I took other pictures.
It was estimated that it was a battalion of them. We collected some of the bodies and threw them into a bomb crater. We picked up an enemy machine gun, AK 47 rifles, mortar rounds etc.…
I was still stunned from the concussion and wondered how I managed to survive. When I heard my name called to board the medical evacuation helicopter. Wasn’t sure why I was being removed from combat. Most of the times concussions were common and it was not enough to get medically evacuated. The shrapnel on my arm was minimal and not disabling. I was then flown to the rear, was quickly medically checked and sent to my hooch. That night I slept some, still thinking I was in combat. It was reveille in the morning and a formation was called. My name and some others were called to the front of the formation. It was a promotional ceremony. I had been promoted to L/cpl and also meritoriously promoted to Corporal. I became a non-commissioned officer overnight.
I said to myself, but I just left boot camp a little more than about one year and a half ago. I was in shock. A few days later I was told my flight date came. When is that? I asked, “you are leaving Vietnam tomorrow”. The next day early in the morning I was transported by truck to an airport. Don’t remember where. I went to eat breakfast. On the chow line three marines in front of me there was S/Sgt Cochran my boot camp junior drill instructor. Judging by his new uniform it was obvious to me that this was his first assignment to combat. I had mixed feelings. I remember he used to call me private Castro. He used to say that Fidel Castro had sent me to the U S to fuck up the marine corps. I said the private is from Puerto Rico sir and he would yell back “. Are you calling me a liar?” “No sir”. I was not offended it is part of marine corps training habit to traditionally take away your identity so that you could become only a marine.
When he was reading the MOS assignments he made fun of the fact that I was to be trained as a machine gunner or 0331 and said that the enemy would concentrate their fire on me and kill me. When I arrived in Vietnam I was assigned out of my military occupational specialty to a 60 mm mortar team instead.
I walked up to him and shook his hand and he said “private Castro or should I say Corporal Ayala”. Yes sir, I made corporal. I am boarding after meal, my flight out of this hell, is waiting for me. Thank you for your training and dedication. I made it because of you. Good luck sir. I ate my food and then left to board my flight. As I was leaving not wanting to look back which I did any way. There was a Vietnamese Catholic nun waving good bye to me.
THE LAST BATTLE
By retired Gunnery Sergeant Jesus R Ayala Burgos USMC
OR
Jesus-Ayala-Arreglado
OR
Jesus-Ayala-Arreglado
NOTE:
This is my account of what happened at the 60 mm position in the defense against the NVA attack. If you could help me identify the marine who alerted by smelling the NVA attacking in the direction by smelling their body odor. I’ll will appreciate it. I am working on a project with my Vietnam veteran center. The idea is to explain what really happens in combat. Most of the time the therapists have no clue.
