He who controls the highlands...

We were fortunate once again, however, in that Chuck was not in a position to launch an attack, since he was still licking his wounds from his disastrous losses during the February 1968 Tet offensive.

The Vietnamese military believed that he who controls the highlands, controls Vietnam. This had certainly been the case during the First Indochina War. The highlands were composed of rugged, mountainous terrain, offering excellent hiding places for the NVA/VC, and the French were unsuccessful in defending the region against attack.

The key to defending the highlands was in defending Highway 19, the vital road link between the port city of Qui Nhon and the city of Pleiku some 109 miles (175km) inland. The French had been unable to keep this route open, and suffered major losses in several devastating Vietminh ambushes. Our deployment to the highlands was designed to strengthen our hold on Highway 19.

When we arrived at the home of the 173rd Airborne and 1st Cavalry at Camp Radcliff, we got our first glimpse of Hon Cong mountain, in the center of the sprawling base. On it, people from the two units had inscribed gigantic, full color replicas of their shoulder patches. There must have been competition to see whose would be bigger, and the big yellow patch of the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) seemed to win out, if only slightly.

We were stunned to discover that these guys had a swimming pool. Not only that, but they had a PX, snack bar, service club, and other amenities of home. We also discovered their NCO club, where we promptly got into a brawl with some airborne REMFs, or "Chairborne Rangers", as we liked to call them. These guys were not to be confused with the airborne infantrymen who we fought alongside in the field who were the finest light infantry in the world. Rather these were guys who did anything and everything to avoid going to the field, but who pretended to be just the opposite. We loathed them.

This brawl started the way they always did. The REMFs called us "legs", a pejorative term they used to refer to everyone who wasn't a paratrooper. We responded that they were mistaken, that legs walked, while we rode into battle. They made snide remarks about "iron coffins" and "death traps" and I replied that only two things fell from the sky: airborne, and bird shit.

As was my customary habit in these affairs, I took the first punch squarely in the nose and crumpled to the wooden floor, at which point the bigger guys counterattacked. The REMFs were convinced that they were the baddest people on God's green earth, and it came, I think, as somewhat of a shock to them when they discovered that jumping out of an airplane did not make you a bad-ass: size, strength, and a great deal of pent up rage made you a bad-ass. Some of our guys had all of those ingredients and at worst they fought the REMFs to a bloody-nosed draw.

Actually, I think they kicked their asses. It looked that way as Chuck Barker carried me out of the club over his shoulder anyway. I defiantly flipped the REMFs the bird on the way out. Later I discovered that my nose was broken, again.

We were subsequently banished from the NCO club for life, the remainder of the war, or the remainder of our tours, whichever was greater. It didn't really matter. We never returned there again. It turned out that this would be the only three day stand-down that our platoon would receive during my tour.

The next day we were given a one-day pass to go down to the Vietnamese village that had grown up around Camp Radcliff. This village was known variously as "Sin City" and "Dodge City". The former name was the result of the numerous bars and whore houses, while the latter name was due to the construction of the town. The only exposure to American culture these people had, it turned out, was a number of Cowboy movies. They saw the buildings and streets of Hollywood's version of the Old West and copied it precisely.

Another reason for the name "Dodge City" was the fact that we were required to go downtown fully armed, wearing steel pots and flak vests. Combine all the M-16s with enough booze and sooner or later there was a shoot-out. Although mostly confined to drunken ARVN soldiers, there were a couple of "High Noon" encounters between REMFs from Camp Radcliff.

Fortunately morale, esprit d' corp, and unit cohesiveness were much better in our platoon and we suffered no friendly WIA during this excursion. We did however avail ourselves of the services of several boom-boom girls, then returned safely to Camp Radcliff.

November 4th found our platoon at LZ Scheuller, about 11 miles west of Camp Radcliff on Highway QL19E. We had been placed OPCON (OPerational CONtrol) to the 1st Bn (Mechanized) 50th Infantry, who were themselves OPCON to the 173rd Airborne. The 1st/50th was originally part of the 3rd BDE of the 4th Infantry, as were we.

Intelligence (hehe) had obtained information that the 95B NVA Regiment was planning major attacks against the highway in order to disrupt the supply of Pleiku. We had been assigned to the area to help repulse this attack. As it turned out, the added presence of our tanks may have disuaded the NVA from massing in the formations necessary to conduct such an attack. However, their was still plenty of action, mostly platoon and squad size ambushes along Hwy 19E. The 1/50th was stretched very thin in trying to guard Camp Radcliff, and some twenty miles of Highway 19E.

The next two weeks or so were spent learning our new AO and trying to explain the proper use of armor to the infantry. We were assigned various duties, including escorting the morning mine-sweep detail of 173rd engineers, strongpoint occupation, and bridge guard.

I was not even eligible for an R&R, since the requirements stated explicitly that you had to be in-country a least 6 months before you were entitled to request one. This was the first of many examples of the uncanny ability Stretch possessed in getting around the Army bureaucracy to get things done.