his first night in town, at the officer's club named Phượng Hoàng, 'Phoenix', the General himself hosts a party to entertain the heroic fighters who made their mark in our glorious victory this rainy season.  Not counting those who died, among the survivors present are a few truly worthy to be called heroes because of their legendary feats of arms.  Indeed, one can easily identify outstanding figures present at this party.

To begin with, mention should be made of Captain Thoa, the CO or commanding officer of Fire Base 7.  He is a man small in stature.  His darkened skin and hardened facial features testify to the gruelling hardship he has undergone.  He and a Mike-Force unit had to endure their stay in a deep underground shelter for thirty days of defence beneath a rain of artillery and against many attacks by massed enemy troops. 

Then there is the Major, CO of Brown Beret Battalion 93.  Together with his staff, he played the greatest role in removing the enemy's blockade.  His extraordinary skill in arraying troops was esteemed by the American advisors as "the world's best", which was brilliantly displayed in a lightning counterattack that caused severe losses to the opposing forces three days before the battle came to an end.

In the same light, one should not forget to mention Major Binh, a young pilot who is both courteous and full of courage.  Throughout the operation, he commanded Helicopter Squadron 215, which effectively supported units of Brown Beret rangers and Red Beret paratroopers in their counterattack upon and recapture of Fire Base 7.  Despite the enemy’s thick network of anti-aircraft guns on the ground, the Major and his comrades day and night conducted hundreds of sorties to transport troops, food and ammunition, landing even in new bomb craters still smouldering in the heart of the enemy’s operational area.  An inspection showed that none of the helicopters remained undamaged.  The command aircraft of the command and control fleet displayed more than twenty bullet holes.  In one of the particularly critical situations, Major Binh risked landing on top of Hill 1007, and luckily escaped relentless shelling by the enemy.

And finally, it would be negligent not to honor Dr. Bao.  He is the only medical doctor who volunteered for insertion into Fire Base 3, or Hill 1003, which was also in an intense state of siege.  The doctor stayed on in the base for fifteen days until it was liberated, during which time he cared for and performed emergency surgeries on numerous sick and injured soldiers stuck in underground passages.  The manner by which he brought himself down onto the top of the hill was nothing short of reckless – a  very risky calculation, albeit exciting.  The situation was that, after many aircraft had been shot down by enemy anti-aircraft fire issuing from among the rocks down in the valley, the General ordered an airlift suspension until the enemy's pressure had been neutralized. 

Even though food and ammunition were adequate to last for many more days of fighting, of concern was the traumatic situation of the increasing number of sick and wounded soldiers stranded there in dire need of medical attention, while having no access to evacuation.  This deplorable circumstance was precisely the reason for Dr. Bao to volunteer for the risky mission, a mission to which two American helicopter pilots were also assigned.

Early in the morning of D-day, the day of the insertion operation, when the mountains and forests surrounding Hill 1003 were still wrapped in a thick fog, while the doctor’s comrades were holding their breath in great anxiety, from above the clouds a small OH-6A Cayuse light observation helicopter, like a gently falling leaf, landed on the base safely, disgorging the doctor, medical supplies, and other equipment.  This type of helicopter, shaped like a scoop with a long handle, is normally used in a scouting role to find targets for Cobra gunships to attack. 

Unfortunately, this particular aircraft came under fire after landing, and before long the enemy's heavy bombardment demolished it completely.  Together with the two American pilots, Dr. Bao remained in the base amidst the heavy fighting.  He worked day and night in underground passages, attending to the sick and the injured.  His brave appearance at critical moments greatly heartened those soldiers still wielding their weapons in the continuing fight. 

Though he had served to the best of his ability as of an exquisitely skilled surgeon, upon reflection Dr. Bao expressed his dismay at and weariness with the fact that he had not been able to do much on a battlefield which was short of all the necessary medical facilities.  He also expressed his sincere discomfiture with being extolled as a hero because of his volunteer undertaking.  In his words, all he had done was to fulfill the duty expected of a frontline doctor.  Furthermore, he added, only unnamed soldiers who had been killed in action deserved that kind of praise.

I wonder how many more names I should reckon, from among other military services, before I can say that an adequate account has been given of all the heroes who gather here at the Phoenix Club this evening.  At the same time, out of modesty, I do not cite the worthy contributions made by comrades in my Group, namely the assault companies and reconnaissance teams.  They operated in an extraordinary fashion, while surrounded by the enemy, erecting effective blockades which served as obstructions to passage of enemy personnel and supplies.

This evening, the General is no longer seen wearing a sling which helped reduce pain in his left shoulder joint.  Paralleling the rhythm of fighting in the Central Highlands, his arthritis activated at the start of the wet season and began to fade away as the weather turned dry.  At this party, the General wears civilian clothes over which is draped a splendid traditional Thuong tunic.  In the eyes of his subordinates, he is the image of magnanimity, and more importantly, viewed as indispensable for stability of the border areas of II Corps.

After some simple ritual words of welcome, the General joins everyone in raising a glass of whiskey to toast the glorious victory for our side during this rainy season.  Subsequently, he is the first to appear on the dance floor where, together with a gorgeous woman, he performs fancy foot movements to begin the dance party.  The place is animated with boisterous words and laughter, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of hard liquor.  There is live music for dancing.  Readily available women.  All forms of freedom are on the loose, so as to restore a little of the sexual drive that had gone cool, and to obliterate obsession with fear and death.  Touching the wine glass to my lips, I tell myself to think of the living, not of corpses.

But the problem is how we can hope for oblivion, for the ability to erase from memory the horrible images of the battleground overwhelmed with the fetid smell of putrefied corpses from both sides.  Images come of comrades mistakenly strafed by flechettes which completely wiped out their faces.  Individual images: that of a pilot’s corpse retrieved from the jungle by helicopter, drooping from the sling like dead game being pulled up; that of the close and reliable non-commissioned officer who had been attached to me for many years in various battles, and who had recently died, died just the day before we received orders to go back to Saigon. 

His body was discovered two days after his death in dense bush, which suggested to me that he had only been injured in the battle and unknowingly left behind in the field.  With the instinct for survival and avoidance of danger, he had obviously dragged himself into the bush, making it into a safe place to lie and wait for rescue, or at least to prepare himself for a dignified death.  He was found resting his head on his rucksack, his jungle hat laid over his chest where a wound penetrated through from the back.  Such images continue wandering about in my mind, even though I honestly want to be able to forget them forever.    NEXT