2nd Issue, 2025
 

Echoes from the Regiment’s Service in Vietnam 1966-1972 - Part II

SGT Richard Tuten (D Company, 1/11 67-68 and C Troop, 1/11, 69, killed in action), compared to these seasoned NCOs, a relative rookie. He was only 23 years old when he went to war with the Blackhorse in 1967. But he had learned his trade from some of those two-war vets and he learned it well. One of the most important lessons he had learned in his short Army career was a responsibility to pass on those elements of tradecraft to the even younger Troopers Uncle Sam and Bengal 6 entrusted to him. Nineteen-year old James Mullican (D Company, 1/11, 68-69) was one of those Troopers.

Although not physically imposing in his five-foot-nothing frame, Trooper Mullican immediately recognized that his new TC could teach him how to survive his tour in Vietnam. “‘Mack,’ he said, ‘this shit is real, if you want to go home, listen to me and listen good’”. SGT Tuten taught Jim Mullican discipline, the value of family, the importance of duty to country, the honor of wearing a Combat Infantryman’s Badge (CIB), and the need to take his job seriously. Among the most essential life-saving lessons he taught his two side gunners was how to handle an M-60 machine gun. “He taught me how to shoot an M-60 [machine gun] effectively from the roadsides to long shots or trimming grass, searching for VC. He taught me to be a machine gunner, not a shooter, for shooters were in the infantry and we are in the CAV.”

SGT Richard Tuten, along with the rest of his D-49 ACAV crew, was wounded in an ambush on 13 May 1968. After recovering from his wounds at Walter Reed, SGT Tuten volunteered to return to the Blackhorse. Assigned to Charlie Troop on this second tour, he was killed in action on 14 April 1969, just 17 days after he got back in country.

New York-born Robert Meeker (L Troop, 3/11, 68-69) joined the Blackhorse on 7 September 1968, two years to the day after the Regiment arrived in Vietnam. A graduate of Fort Benning’s Non-Commissioned Officer Corps (CCOC) Class 25-68 (frequently referred to as ‘Shake ‘n’ Bake school) the previous June, he was assigned as a scout section leader in Lima Troop. Rumors of peace filled the pages of the Stars & Stripes, but the Bandit Troopers remained focused on their combat missions – finding the enemy around Blackhorse Base Camp and Fire Support Base (FSB) Bandit Hill, while working with and training the soldiers of the 18th South Vietnamese Infantry Division. In the span of the six months that SSG Meeker was with the Blackhorse, he earned two Silver Stars. In February, Lima Troop moved with the rest of 3/11 to FSB Holiday Inn to work with the 1st (US) Infantry Division and the 5th South Vietnamese Infantry Division. SSG Meeker and his platoon were on a routine reconnaissance on 18 February 1969 when “suddenly the armored column was raked by automatic weapons and antitank grenade fire.” His Silver Star citation continues.

In the initial burst of fire, Sergeant Meeker’s vehicle sustained a direct hit from a rocket propelled grenade round, knocking him from the vehicle and severely wounding him. Although wounded and dazed, he remounted his vehicle and began directing accurate and deadly machinegun fire upon the hostile elements. While engaging the enemy forces from his vehicle, he was again hit by enemy small arms fire … Suddenly his vehicle received another direct hit from an enemy rocket propelled grenade round, wounding his entire crew and causing the vehicle to erupt into flames. Yet, he continued to shower the enemy positions with machinegun fire, pinning the hostile elements down long enough to allow the evacuation of his wounded comrades. For a third time his vehicle was hit by a rocket propelled grenade round, again knocking him to the ground. In spite of his severe wounds, he refused medical attention until his wounded comrades had been attended to.

No junior leadership positions in the 11th Cav were more demanding than those in the Aero Rifle Platoon in Air Cav Troop. The ARPs made contact with a higher degree of frequency and intensity than any other platoon in the Regiment. For the most part, their contacts were ‘up close and personal’. As a result, the NCOs had to be not only good leaders who could show rather than just tell, they also had to be personally fearless. Major (MAJ) John ‘Doc’ Bahnsen (Air Cav Troop and 1/11 Commander, 68-69), who knew something about leadership and personal bravery, made this observation.

The ARP had trouble retaining any senior NCO leaders for long periods of time primarily because of the nature of their job. E-7s and E-6s came and went as they were wounded in action and evacuated. It was not unusual to have an E-4 as the Platoon Sergeant of the ARPs for long periods of time. Often these leaders were the so called ‘shake and bake’ NCOs with less than two years service. To a man these young soldiers were superb ARP leaders, as their aggressiveness made up for what they lacked in experience.

SGT Frank Gowrie (919th Engineer Company, 66-67 and Air Cav Troop, 67-68, Jack Quilter Award 1991) was one of those young Troopers who had responsibility thrust upon him. After returning from an overnight Long Range Recon Platoon (LRRP) ambush mission in mid-January 1968, the platoon sergeant said that even though they had not made contact, he had a feeling that ‘something’ was in the area. His feeling was not supported by any hard intelligence, so the debriefing of the LRRP team didn’t go so well. Four members of the team believed strongly enough that there was something out there that they decided to go back into the area in daylight.

There was, indeed, something out there – an occupied regimental base camp. The only protection Frank and the other three LRRPs could find once they realized they had stumbled into such a formidable ‘something’ was a slit trench. The NVA had obviously been in the camp for some time, as the trench was about three-quarters full of, well, enemy excrement. Grenades quickly followed the four LRRPs into the trench, and in short order all were wounded. The platoon sergeant was hurt the worst, with a sucking chest wound. That put SGT Kaz Kazarian (Air Cav Troop, 66-68) in charge. After being caught in the middle of a crossfire, 1/11 Troopers linked up with the LRRPs and overran the base camp perimeter. Being good infantrymen, the three who still could, filled their fatigue pockets with grenades and started clearing bunkers; Frank recalls that he had so many grenades “my pants were falling down.” In the process of clearing the bunkers, SGT Kazarian had his right arm blown off at the elbow – making SGT Frank Gowrie the new platoon sergeant. Three decades later, he recalled: “My platoon consisted of 18 men. I was going to lose more. I went to bed that night a scared 20 year old with a lot of weight on my shoulders.” Although still a buck sergeant, he had been in country just about a year and a half; he filled the position admirably.

It was, perhaps, inevitable that some friction arose between the senior NCOs who had earned their stripes in the school of hard knocks and those who earned them in the schoolhouse. A staff sergeant, depending on years in service, was paid the same, regardless of how he earned his stripes. Jealousy, contempt, and hurt pride permeated the relationship between the ‘lifer’ NCOs and the shake ‘n’ bakes. The younger sergeants were closer in age and mentality to the draftees and enlistees they were leading than the veteran NCOs, so an ‘us-vs.-them’ atmosphere sometimes developed. In at least one case, this led to a humorous (for the perpetrators, at least) situation.

After many hard weeks in the jungles of northern War Zone C and D and along Thunder Road, Kilo Troop finally earned a short standdown inside the Lai Khe base camp. Showers, mess halls, and clubs with beer were all available and the dust, stress, and anxiety were quickly washed away or down. After three or four days of such high living, men began to think like boys again. With perhaps too much time – and beer – on/in their hands, three of Kilo Troop’s youngest NCOs decided they would get even with the ‘lifers’ for real and/or perceived injustices. The senior NCOs, most raised in the ‘old’ Army, gathered nightly inside a tent to drink, play poker, and complain about the ‘new’ Army.

The three shake ‘n’ bake NCOs – two staff sergeants and one buck sergeant – designed a fool-proof plan. First, they tied commo wire at ankle-height between the trees outside the hooch. Then they crept up unseen in the dark Vietnamese night. When the senior sergeants had consumed sufficient amounts of alcohol, they tossed tear gas grenades inside the tent. Imagine, if you will, the Keystone Cops trying to get out of the station house as it rapidly fills with noxious gasses.

Only to trip over the aforementioned commo wire footfalls. Only to have more CS gas canisters tossed in their direction as they lay in an incapacitated heap. SGT Ross Yosnow (K Troop, 3/11, 69-70) remembers: “Meanwhile, the three of us were running and laughing as fast as we could, away from the scene of the crime. The next day the lifers were all talking about killing the guys who did it, but they never found out it was us.”

Who said these young NCOs hadn’t learned anything in instant NCO school? It was the perfect military operation, with accurate intelligence gathering, detailed planning, perfect timing, fiendish field-expedient obstacles, appropriate use of task-specific munitions, and successful escape and evasion. Congratulations candidate, you are now an NCO in the United States Cavalry.

In his keynote remarks at the second 11th ACVVC Reunion in Washington, DC in 1987, the General (Retired) Donn Starry, the 41st Colonel remembered one of the Blackhorse NCOs, Fox Troop’s Top Sergeant, Willie Johnson (F Troop, 2/11, 69-70). 1SGT Johnson was killed in action on 5 March 1970.

Night has fallen along the Cambodian border. The troop has laagered to resupply and dig into a night defensive position. Despite a few contacts during the day, there’s been no heavy fighting. The early evening clouds, which brought a brief thunderstorm, move aside, and the moon makes strange shadows that seem to move now and then as watching gunners set up fields of fire. Claymores are wired in to protect the perimeter and the troop hunkers down for the night—as it has done for more than fourteen hundred nights before. Then there’s a sudden whoosh of incoming rockets, a whump whump of incoming mortar rounds, the hiss of fragments overhead, and salvo after salvo of RPG rounds land in and among the Sheridans and ACAVs. The troop opens fire on the moving shadows 800 meters away. Out of a nearby tree line, several RPG teams work in and out of the fallen timber and bomb craters to get close enough for better shots against the vehicles. Friendly artillery and mortar fire begins to fall on the moving shadows. The troop commander moves his artillery back and forth in the area where he can see flashes from RPGs and machineguns. Watching for the right moment, he lets go a Claymore ambush against the maneuvering RPG teams, then brings down machinegun and mortar fire on fleeing remnants as the enemy breaks and runs for cover. The first sergeant, seeing a nearby ACAV hit by an RPG, rolls out of the back of the command track, grabs medics and fire-fighting equipment, and runs to help the disabled vehicle and its crew. The troop commander shouts at him to keep down and keep control. He does. Incoming fire dies down; no more rocket and mortar incoming, a sharp high-pitched zip from an AK here and there. The shadows move quickly toward jungle cover. The Sheridan gunner has the tail-end RPG team in his sights and is about to let go when the RPG team turns and lets go one last round to end the fight. That last random round, unaimed, screams into the perimeter and hits the first sergeant as he moves quickly from track to track to redistribute ammo and help with the wounded. He falls. Just the day before, I had landed where the first sergeant was directing a recovery operation to ask if he needed help. We talked a little. I said, ‘You’re pretty exposed out here.’ He said, ‘Colonel, I know they are watching us from that tree line over there. So, I’ve got to get this track unstuck before they can get set up and bring the RPGs around. The troops are a little spooky, so the old first sergeant is here to keep them working instead of worrying.’ When they wakened me in the night to tell me he’d been killed, I cried. I was and am a better soldier because of him and dozens like him. Out of heroism grows faith in the worth of heroism. Out of shared danger grows faith in the little bit of heroism that’s in each of us, and in our ability to summon it up when it’s needed.”

Top Johnson’s son, Donald, was the recipient of the Blackhorse Association scholarship for 1989. He used the money to complete his studies at the University of South Carolina – a Gamecock, just like his dad. Top didn’t know that he was about to be a father again – his daughter was born after he died. Twenty-three years later, Willie Mae – named in honor of her father – was also awarded a $6,000 scholarship from the association.

Colonel George Patton (RCO, 68-69, 39th Colonel of the Regiment) wrote: “Nothing could stop them [Blackhorse NCOs]. Nothing did.”
 

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