The snatch proved valuable. One of the rucksacks contained a detailed map showing infiltration and resupply routes through War Zone C, as well as unit identification. This map was immensely useful to 2nd Squadron and allowed them to set numerous ambushes along those trails.
Later the next day, Brigadier General George Casey, the assistant division commander of the 1st Cavalry Division, on one of his many visits to the regiment, visited Franks, Farfel, and Lamontia in an informal ceremony. "Franks," he said, "I don't know whether to court-martial you for stupidity or pin a medal on all of you for what you did out there. I guess because it turned out OK, I'll pin a medal on you all. That's the spirit of the cavalry we want. That's what the cavalry's all about--out in front."
TWO months later, at the end of April, the Blackhorse was out in front again. They were going into Cambodia. Second Squadron would lead.
CHAPTER THREE
Cambodia
GOING into Cambodia made sense. If Vietnamization was to work, then the United States had to buy time for the South Vietnamese, so they could grow stronger and take over the war. General Creighton Abrams, MACV commander, planned the spoiling attack into Cambodia to give them that time. The NVA sanctuary there had to be destroyed--up to now, it had been off limits--the enormous stores of arms and supplies and all the other NVA infrastructure near the border had to be captured or eliminated; and the NVA themselves had to be killed or taken prisoner, or else pushed back and kept back.
When Brookshire learned they were to go in, he and Franks put a plan together in less than forty-eight hours--far less time than the weeks it took to plan VII Corps's attack into Iraq twenty years later. There were other differences.
The squadron had about 900 soldiers and maybe 200 vehicles in a zone about fifteen kilometers wide. VII Corps had 146,000 soldiers and close to 50,000 vehicles in a sector 120 kilometers wide and over 250 kilometers deep. Both missions were force-oriented, with terrain as a guide, and for both, the mission was to destroy the enemy in zone. In Iraq, however, they had better intelligence about specific enemy locations--Franks does not recall any intelligence that was accurate in pinning down enemy locations in Cambodia, except around Snoul. But they knew their enemy well when they went into Cambodia. They had fought him for a long time. Their enemy knew them as well. It was not like that in Iraq at the beginning.
The squadron mission was straightforward: 2nd Squadron would lead the 11th Cavalry units, as part of Task Force Shoemaker, and formed of units of the 1st CAV Division and the 11th ACR. They would attack into the Fishhook (just north of War Zone C) and move quickly to Cambodian Highway 7, and on the third day, the plan was to attack up the highway to the town of Snoul, a rubber plantation town and provincial capital of a size and importance comparable to An Loc, on the Vietnamese side of the border. Along the way they would seek out and destroy North Vietnamese supplies and units, and especially the large cache that was thought to be near Snoul. Intelligence additionally believed that a major NVA headquarters was located in the area.
In technical Army talk, this was to be a tactical reconnaissance in force, with some meeting engagements toward a specific terrain and enemy at some distance, all within the larger operational framework of a spoiling attack. By contrast, the mission in War Zone C had been a security and interdict operation over a specific piece of terrain. In War Zone C, the mission was similar to the 11th CAV's role in Germany facing the Warsaw Pact: to screen the border and barrier interdiction, a traditional cavalry operation. The operation into Cambodia was no less traditional: to penetrate quick and hard.
The territory between War Zone C and Snoul was a mixture of grassy savanna-like lowlands and somewhat higher ridgelines of iron-rich, clayey soil along which the rubber plantations were situated. One of these ridges ran from Snoul through Loc Ninh to An Loc. Highway 7 ran along another extension of this ridge. The tactical problem was this: if you wanted to attack toward Snoul, you couldn't move through the savannas; they were too boggy. You had to follow the ridgeline, and thus were forced into a predictable corridor where setting up defenses and ambushes was much easier for the North Vietnamese.
The other planning problems were more immediate. War Zone C was vastly different from the part of Cambodia they were entering. War Zone C was mostly empty of people, and except for the areas defoliated by Agent Orange, it was heavily covered by tall, triple-canopy rain forest. In Cambodia, once the squadron reached Highway 7, they would run into a large number of civilians and all the infrastructure of civilian life: villages, poles and wires for phones and electricity, trucks, cars, buses, bicycles, normal commerce--none of which they had seen much since they were near An Loc or Loc Ninh. For the past weeks, they had been operating under rules of engagement that did not take into account the presence of civilians. Cambodia was different. As it happened, Cambodian civilians proved to be naturally friendly and helpful to Americans. The North Vietnamese had been there for some time now, and the Cambodians seemed glad to see our soldiers coming in and running the NVA out.
Logistics was going to have to involve helicopters. The regiment had many gas- and diesel-guzzling vehicles to be fed. Fuel and supply trucks could come up from C on a few roads and trails, but it made more sense to bring in most of what they needed by air. Typically, the squadron would operate during the day and draw up into semi-defensive laagers at night. Helicopters would bring in large fuel bladders and drop these down near the laagers. The tanks and other vehicles would then line up to refuel just like at a filling station. There was never a scarcity of fuel during the Cambodian invasion.
With these elements under control, the rest of the planning was relatively straightforward. Devising an operation for a squadron does not take long, and they were a veteran team. It was a matter of asking and answering questions such as "How are we going to attack? What kind of alignment are we getting into? How do we arrange the corridors for moving the squadron from their interdiction mission in C to their attack positions for driving into Cambodia?" And: "Will our fire support keep up with us? Or will we outrun it?" On the plus side, they would have far more indirect fires available than they were used to, both from artillery and from TAC air. They even got some naval air, flying off carriers. In consequence, Franks had to devote serious planning to managing the amount of close air support available.
On April 30, just south of the Cambodian border, Brookshire called in the troop commanders to brief them about the structure of the mission and the tactics of their attack across the border. It was a simple scheme of maneuver. They would initially go in column, then spread the three cavalry troops across the sector, each with its own zone, to move toward Highway 7. Once there, they would advance on the road, with cavalry troops on either side of the road heading toward Snoul. When they got to Snoul, they would decide how to attack from there. Second Squadron, with Brookshire commanding and Franks as S-3, was the lead squadron.
By then, all the troop commanders were veterans. The squadron's string of tactical successes had driven morale high and confidence even higher. They were good, and the troops knew it. So did the NVA, Franks suspected. By this time, he had been the S-3 for more than eight months. Brookshire had stayed in command longer than the normal six months' tour. Some of the troop commanders also had been there longer than the normal six months. Starry encouraged that. Franks suspected it was because he disagreed with the six-month-and-out policy for commanders and others in key positions, because it broke the teamwork so necessary in combat. Their senior NCOs were strong. Teamwork in the squadron was almost automatic, without a lot of talk. The squadron command radio frequency was incredibly crisp and free of any useless chatter. Everyone realized the importance in battle of a disciplined radio frequency. Franks had never felt as close to any organization or group of soldiers as he was then. It was real family.
It was also intensely personal by that time. His driver, Specialist Ray Williams, had been killed in action on April 8 while going back to help a fellow soldier, CSM Burkett. Franks had w
ritten in a letter to Denise, "The real blow of the whole action was that my driver was killed. . . ." Burkett lost an arm. Earlier in the month, First Sergeant Willie Johnson of Troop F also had been killed in action.
During the squadron's final preparations, Donn Starry showed up at the squadron command post and announced that he wanted to go in with them--the lead squadron--and that he needed a vehicle. They found him a command ACAV. But the vehicle they found for him immediately threw a track, so he had to get off that and climb aboard Fred Franks's vehicle. Franks stayed in his ACAV the first two days of the operation.
On 1 May, at 0730, they moved into Cambodia through a marsh they called the Pig Path. Because the weather had been dry recently, the marsh didn't prove to be as difficult a passage as the leaders thought. In fact, the skies remained clear throughout the Cambodia operation.
During the next four days, there were several heated incidents, but they did not make major contact with the enemy until they reached Snoul. The NVA, knocked off balance by the invasion, were not eager to make a stand until they could pull themselves together. Time and again on the way to Snoul, troops came across abandoned NVA positions and caches. The attack had yielded sizable results toward its spoiling attack objective.
Second Squadron pushed on, rapidly improvising crossings over bridges the NVA had destroyed, until they reached the neighborhood of Snoul. On the evening of 4 May, they were in a laager five kilometers from the town. It was clear that evening that the NVA had stopped running. Snoul was for them a vital supply area and force concentration. They would make their stand there. They'd fight there, no matter what it cost them.
SNOUL
The next morning, 5 May, Major Franks and Lieutenant Colonel Brookshire were hunched over a map, planning the attack they would launch in less than an hour. They knew they were in for some serious action. They were going to fight at least one NVA regiment, maybe two. The enemy knew the territory, they were expecting Americans, and they'd had time to prepare. The first days in Cambodia had gone relatively smoothly, with running actions and hasty attacks. This day called for more detailed orders and a full squadron attack.
As they huddled over the map, these questions remained in the back of their minds: "How do we find the enemy? How do we smoke them out? How do we hit them the way we want to hit them, and not let them hit us the way they want to hit us?"
They would put 2nd Squadron into what the Army calls a reconnaissance in force. When they located the enemy, they would isolate and fix them in position with air and artillery, then maneuver the ground units in for the kill. As always, they would use maximum force and try to win at the least cost.
If they were lucky, they would be able to interrogate some captured NVA, to learn from them the locations of the enemy forces. If they were to lessen the chances of harming civilians and damaging Snoul--if they were to increase their own chances for success while minimizing their own losses--it was absolutely critical to find an NVA prisoner who would talk.
They looked at their options: To attack directly into town up Route 7? Or to maneuver through the rubber plantation toward the plantation airstrip?
A large number of refugees were fleeing Snoul. The locals weren't blind to what was going on around them. They knew that luck would more likely flow to those out of town when the Blackhorse arrived than those who stayed at home. Some of these civilians reported the NVA were setting up an ambush in the rubber trees along the highway--bringing back memories of other ambushes in other rubber plantations: Echo Troop in August, Fox Troop near Bu Dop.
Attacking into an ambush had little appeal to Fred Franks and Grail Brookshire. They did not want to get tangled up with enemy RPGs and small arms on the road with little room to maneuver. The civilians were friendly, even helpful. They wanted the NVA out more than the Americans did. All that came down to: "If we can stay out of Snoul, we will."
"What do you think, Three?" Brookshire asked Franks. "Three" was Franks's radio call sign.6
"Intel plus some locals say some NVA are waiting for us up Highway 7 in the rubber," Franks answered. "I recommend we go around them to the east and approach the airfield and their major positions from the south."
"I agree. Get the commanders huddled over here ASAP."
Brookshire gave the order quickly. He was precise and direct about what he wanted done, as always. There was no doubt who was to do what.
"When we get there, four-six [our tank company] and three-six [Troop G] will break out and start down this way. And I don't think that going down the redball [Highway 7] is necessarily the way we want to go. Work your way through the rubber [trees]. One-six [Troop E], you'll start here and move on up into the town. . . .
"Now if you take fire, return it. . . .
"This is a reconnaissance in force to find out what's in there and also, if possible, to take the town--without destroying it . . . and when you take fire, shoot. Try to avoid shooting into crowds of civilians. . . .
"Now, if we can get around these f'ers, we might have them bottled up down in this end of the rubber. They figure us to come right up Highway 7. Villagers between here and there told us they have broken the highway, and they undoubtedly have. We'll have to find a way around it. We can always come up through the rubber through this draw.
"Three, I'll be on the ground with Blackhorse 6 [Colonel Starry] with the lead troop. You get airborne."
"Wilco."
In Southeast Asia, rubber plantation towns all look pretty much alike. Because it was a provincial capital on a major crossroads, Snoul was a little larger than some. But aside from that, if you've seen An Loc, you've seen Snoul. If you've seen Snoul, you've seen Loc Ninh--the same red, clayey soil; the same ranks of rubber trees at various stages of growth; the same manor house, with surrounding veranda, and maybe a pool; the same grassy airstrip nearby, so the French managers could fly over to Phnom Penh or Saigon for business or shopping. Rubber trees grow moderately high, up to fifty feet or so, and the mature ones are fifteen or eighteen inches wide at the base. So you couldn't easily bull your way through a rubber plantation with tanks. On the other hand, the ranks of rubber trees were wide enough to create lanes Sheridans and ACAVs could pass through. Maneuvering through the rubber was bold, but it was not impossible, and they hoped it would catch the NVA by surprise.
Once they committed to that action, Franks knew, it was essential that they keep moving without interruption to sustain the momentum of the attack. Once they showed their hand and turned east, that would be apparent to the NVA. So there could be no poking around to give them time to adjust. Surprise lasts only as long as it takes the enemy to adjust. Tactically, you have to continue to give the enemy more and more situations to adjust to, thus maintaining and keeping the initiative and, at the same time, keeping him off balance.
For the record, the halt on the night of the fourth did not count as an interruption of momentum. As long as they had the option of going either up Highway 7 or east toward the airfield, the enemy had no way to adjust until 2nd Squadron had committed to one way or the other. In other words, the elements of momentum and surprise were completely under 2nd Squadron's control.
There was one other advantage to taking the airfield. The airstrip at Snoul was long enough to handle C-130s, and C-130s could bring in far more supplies than the trucks driving overland or the helicopters coming in from An Loc. They also could base their attack helicopters out of there, rather than have them go through the long turnaround at An Loc.
In that event, the choice of the airport over the town was the right one. The NVA were dug in around the strip, and they'd placed three 12.7-mm antiaircraft machine guns in doughnut-shaped gun pits on the southern end of the runway. It seems they expected the Americans to make an air assault on the airfield by elements of the 1st Cavalry Division, followed by linkup with the Blackhorse. So they set up their ambush on Highway 7 to stop the Blackhorse, and they placed their antiaircraft on the south side of the airstrip to face the direction of approach of the A
merican air-assault helicopters.
When the Americans came in on the ground, they weren't ready for that. Meanwhile, the American helicopters that were in the air stayed low and far enough to the east to avoid giving away the ground attack.
WARRANT Officer John Mallette and Specialist Terzala were Fred Franks's crew that morning. Mallette already had the Loach running when Franks stepped up to board it. Before he climbed in, Terzala grabbed him. "Major," he said, "today you need to wear your chicken plate. You are not getting on this helo until you put it on."
Franks didn't usually wear the chicken plate, but he took Terzala's advice and put it on.
The chicken plate was a steel vest that protected the chest and back from shrapnel and direct-fire weapons such as the AK-47. Because it was hot and heavy (when you wore it, you were even more bent over after a day of flying), the chicken plate wasn't always worn. But in the helicopter, Franks and his crews had come to trust and look out for one another, and Terzala knew that they were going into a situation that was likely to be more heated than normal. No sense messing around with fate.