The Biggest Week

Never before had the Communists been hit so hard and in so many places at one time. From south of Saigon to coastal Quang Ngai, over 25,000 allied troops stalked the Reds in six separate operations (see map). It was far and away the biggest battle week of the war. The big six:

> Operation White Wing, mounted by 12,000 men of the U.S. 1st Air Cavalry, Vietnamese airborne and South Korean marines, the first division-size assault of the war. Target: the longtime Viet Cong strongholds between Qui Nhon and Chu Lai along the South China Sea.

> Operation Double Eagle, dovetailing on the north with White Wing, made up of 5,000 U.S. Marines off amphibious assault craft driving south and west toward the Communist enclave of An Lao valley, with flanking support from 2,000 government soldiers.

> Operation Mallet, hammering at a tunnel-and-village complex a scant 15 miles southeast of Saigon. The Thors: some 2,000 men with tanks and artillery of the U.S. 1st Infantry Division, the "Big Red One."

> Operation Van Buren, presided over by 2,500 troopers of the American 101st Airborne and South Korean marines, aimed at guaranteeing that the rice harvest would get to the peasants west of Tuy Hoa--and not to the Viet Cong.

> Operation Buckskin, in which 1,800 men of Big Red One scouted and cleared 13 sq. kil. some 30 miles northwest of Saigon--advance housekeeping in the area due to be the permanent base of the 2nd Brigade of the newly arrived U.S. 25th Infantry division, late of Hawaii.

> Operation Taro Leaf, which fell to the 25th, a search-and-clear maneuver in Hau Nghia province about 20 miles northwest of Saigon.

Pleasant Living. Far and away the most important operation was White Wing, led by 1st Air Cav Colonel Hal G. Moore, 43, a lean, laconic Kentuckian who earned a battlefield promotion at bloody la Drang last November. In that fight, he held together a single infantry battalion surrounded by three battalions of North Vietnamese regulars. This time he was the aggressor, leading the largest allied force of the war: five infantry battalions, four artillery battalions, plus a team of combat engineers and a troop of aerial reconnaissance men, all riding the helicopters of the most mobile force warfare has ever known.

For four years the pleasant coastal plain of Binh Dinh has been a private Communist demiparadise of palm-topped villages and emerald paddies. But underneath paradise were the ubiquitous mole holes of the Viet Cong --an estimated 3,000 strong in the area. It was, as one U.S. officer put it, "V.C. Fat City--mighty pleasant living for them." That came to an abrupt end early one rainy morning when the first helicopter assault forces of the 1st Air Cav took off from Moore's staging area, called "Dog," and headed for LZ-4, a landing zone nestled between two villages.

Kiss & Fire. The enemy was waiting. Almost at once five choppers were shot down. "We're in a hornets' nest!" radioed Captain John Fesmire. Soon, both his mortar platoon leader and radio operator were killed, his company was scattered to the north of the helidrop zone, and a rescue company sent to his assistance was pinned down by crossfire as well. One of Fesmire's lieutenants, his right leg smashed by machine gun bullets, propped himself against a sand dune and, with his back to the battle, called in artillery fire by the sound of the exploding shells. The sergeant who had taken over the weapons platoon was trapped near a machine gun nest. He had his mortar tube--but no base plate, no plotting board, no aiming stakes, no forward observer. With only six rounds of ammunition, he watched five explode harmlessly some distance from the target. Then he lifted his last round, kissed it, and fired. It leveled the machine gunners' hut.

It was nearly 24 hours before the defenders of LZ4 were relieved and White Wing took flight. Choppers dropped fresh troops to roll up the flank of the Viet Cong firing on LZ4 from the southwest, while still another battalion was lifted into a blocking position to the north. As the units began to link up, Colonel Moore, Armalite rifle at the ready, joined his men, spent most of the rest of the week slogging it out beside them. The circle began to close, leaving only escape to the west open to the enemy--and Moore had a solution for that. In an astonishing demonstration of the 1st Air Cav's mobility, 24 105-mm. howitzers were sling-loaded under twin-turbine Chinook helicopters at Dog and lifted to the northwest corner of the valley in little over an hour. There they were able not only to cover all the allied troops in action, but also to lay a curtain of fire across any attempt by the enemy to slip away.

Elbows & Helmets. Unable to escape, the Communists, now identified as two regiments--one regular North Vietnamese, one partly Viet Cong--had to fight, to their sorrow. By the third day of White Wing, nearly 400 of the enemy had been killed, against relatively light casualties by the allies. Casualties could have been worse in one bizarre incident near An Thai. One 1st Air Cav company was mistaken for the enemy by twelve advancing armored personnel carriers full of South Vietnamese. The A.P.C.s let loose with .50-cal. machine gun fire that sent the G.I.s and news correspondents accompanying them sprawling in the sand, digging for their lives with elbows and helmets. "Jesus Christ! Cease fire! Cease fire!" radioed the U.S. company commander as the A.P.C.s advanced relentlessly, all guns blazing. The guns finally fell silent, but not before New York Timesman R. W. (Johnny) Apple had had his pants neatly laid open by a .50-cal. slug.

As White Wing rolled on, Moore from time to time fluttered up in his chopper for a bird's-eye view of the battle. It was quite a scene. Over the coastal checkerboard of the 5,000 advancing U.S. troops, silver spotter planes drifted, directing the fire of artillery batteries, whose guns wafted silver-blue smoke into the air. Humming Hueys and dragonfly-like H13 reconnaissance choppers darted to and fro, the chatter of their guns faintly audible between the artillery's great, earth-shaking thuds. Now and then, overruling his pilot's concern for his commander, Moore would suddenly order an earthward plummet into the melee of battle to consult his officers and men.

The Empty Hueys. When a captured North Vietnamese disclosed the presence of 500 enemy troops in two villages, Moore went after them--but first ordered leaflets to warn the villagers out of the way. "I want delayed fuses on those shells," he barked into his radio at another point. "We've gotta dig those shells in before exploding. These bastards are well dug in." When it seemed that the enemy had a clear escape route west, Moore ordered three flights to overfly them and set down out of sight behind them. The Hueys carried no troops, but Moore wanted the Communists to think that their escape was blocked.

At week's end Operation White Wing was far from over. Indeed, 1,500 more Americans of the First Team were added to the hunt. With them to take personal charge was Major General Harry Kinnard, 1st Air Cav's division commander. Already, over 700 of the enemy were dead, another 120 captured--and the U.S. Marines in Operation Double Eagle and Kinnard's men were both converging on the Communist stronghold in the mountains.

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