By Commander Ed Bookhardt, USN Retired
The end of January ‘68 brought the most festive and holiest of holidays to the Vietnamese people. South Vietnam, as in earlier war years was celebrating the lunar New Year, “Tet” during an uneasy truce with the North. It was the “Year of the Monkey.” I had been relieved at midnight, as Officer of the Day at the OICC, RVN Headquarters located a block from the United States Embassy in central Saigon. It was a routine and uneventful watch; due in part to the holiday truce and that Saigon was considered a “secure” area.
I had gone to the duty officer’s bunkroom where I had my gear stowed for a five a.m. flight out of Tan Son Nhut to Chu Lai and Danang. I was going to investigate some airfield paving and revetment design problems. Our command had six old DC-3s, which we used to carry men and materials to construction sites throughout the four “Corps” areas. I despised those flights as my bony behind stayed raw from sitting for hours in the metal dropdown-seats that hung between crates of cargo.
I sprawled out on a cot, too exhausted to remove my greens and boots. I struggled to catch a few winks before heading to the airfield at four, but unusually fretful I just drifted in and out. Around three o’clock I sprang to my feet! An explosion shook the building! I could hear mortar, rocket and automatic weapons fire nearby! Looking out the window I observed what turned out to be “VC Sapper” teams breaching the U.S. Embassy walls! All hell was breaking loose!
With the initial attack on the U.S. Embassy, Hanoi’s General Giap set in motion the bloodiest communist offensive of the war. His forces simultaneously struck some thirty major cities and nearly every U.S. military installation throughout the length and breadth of South Vietnam. The U.S. and ARVN [Army of Republic of Vietnam] forces were totally unprepared for such an onslaught. Having just come off the staff watch I knew first hand we were caught by surprise as our command; as other units had received absolutely no information, alerts or warnings from MACV Intelligence…
There was no defensive plan for the headquarters complex. It was never conceived by higher ups that one would be needed. Other than a few small arms we had no automatic weapons and only a small night-watch contingent on duty. In the meanwhile a battle was raging less than a block away!
However, fortune was with us in those wee hours as the VC had apparently exerted their entire resources against the ultimate prize and symbol of the United States, the Embassy. We barricaded the doors and windows and then hunkered down until the situation eased. The Chief of Staff along with a number of handpicked personnel arrived mid-morning. Non-essential staff had remained in quarters to reinforce those facilities.
We had several dozen civilian government employees approximately half of which were women scattered in apartment buildings throughout Saigon. They had no armed billet protection or communications. This was a major concern. As the initial VC strike subsided, several two-man teams were organized to bring in as many of the civilians as could be reached. As a lieutenant, with previous experience as a senior enlisted man and weapons instructor, I headed one team with Ensign Dave Williams as driver. We were held back until almost dusk because of continuing pockets of resistance.
Leaving the compound in a Chevy carryall with only carbines and “45s” and remembering the old adage, “Junior Officers are expendable.” I was extremely nervous and apprehensive! Hell’s bells, I was scared friggin’ stiff! However, we had people out there that were in serious danger. It was my duty to try and bring them to safety. I had no second thoughts about that. On the plus side, I didn’t have to fly to Danang that day, though the war would have seemed a hell of a lot safer up in the clouds!
The streets as usual were very dark. MP jeeps, tanks and troop carriers were everywhere frantically racing about the city in crisscrossing disorganized fashion. We cautiously worked our way through the hectic maze and chaos toward the Cholon District. Turning onto a side street we saw muzzle flashes and several rounds whistled over the truck! I screamed, “Oh s**t, we’re screwed! Back it down Dave, quick, back-up Dave!” But, in a split second Ensign Williams was out of the truck, jumping up and down, arms thrashing, shouting, “Americans, Americans, GI, GI don’t shoot!”
I thought, “God, I hope they are friendlies otherwise we’re dead meat!” Ducking down behind the dash I screamed, “Dave, goddamn it, get your dumb ass back in the truck and get us the hell out of here!” Dave spun around fear etched across his young face! He started to jump in the truck and then froze in his tracks. “I can’t, I can’t Ed, there’s a tank coming up behind us!” “What?” His remarks were punctuated by another burst of fire from somewhere up the darkened street. In an instant we were on our bellies beneath the carryall our teeth rattling from fear and the vibrations of the heavy treads of the approaching tank.
The ARVN tank pulled up beside the carryall and stopped. The tank commander looked down from his open hatch at us peering up in sheepish humiliation. I scrambled out from beneath the vehicle and with hand jesters; tried to tell him of the small arms fire we had received. He shrugged, popped us a little salute and with a “typical candy-ass officers” smirk, slapped the side of the turret and proceeded up the street. Following him we reached two female billets near daybreak returning five very frightened and appreciative employees to the more secure area of the main compound…
As is always the case, word of our less than heroic actions became the main topic at happy hour. With each round of libation our valorous conduct spiraled to the point…we were affectionately dubbed the “Cholon Commandos.”
“One of the greatest rewards of military service is memorable moments shared with comrades.”