By Andrew P. O’Meara, Jr.
Colonel, United States Army, Retired
GCC/Staff
August 6. 2011 

It is ancient history now, but the scars of the spirit are as fresh as if it happened yesterday. I suppose the failure was inevitable.

I knew I was not qualified to be the Intelligence Officer of a Cavalry Regiment. I had served as the assistant operation officer of the V Corps Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol Company (Airborne) in Germany.

The job carried an intelligence job description, which appeared on my official records.

It was 1968. My flight to Vietnam touched down at Saigon and was met by a bus that transported the replacements to the reception station – a collection of GP Medium tents that smelled musty and were surrounded by shoulder high sand bags.

We were assigned to tents, told to stow our duffel bags, and await unit assignment orders.

I was assigned to the 11^th Armored Cavalry Regiment. The Regimental Personnel Officer found me at the reception station and told me to grab my duffel bag and throw it in the back of his jeep.

I arrived at the Command Post of the 11^th Cavalry in the early hours of the morning. The sky was clear and the sun beat down hard upon new arrivals, unaccustomed to the tropical heat and humidity.

I asked about my assignment and was told to report to the Regimental Executive Officer. I reported as directed. He looked me up and down and scowled. We took an instant dislike to one another.

He didn’t like my looks and I found his frosty reception a bad omen. He told me that I was to be the new Regimental Intelligence Officer.

I responded that I had hoped to be assigned as a squadron operations officer. He replied, “The S-2 is leaving in the morning.

You better get down there and learn as much as you can because tomorrow you will be in charge of the Section.” I saluted and departed.

My assignment had been preordained. I was the only cavalry replacement with intelligence experience. It wasn’t much, but an intelligence assignment had been duly recorded in my records.

The position called for a major. I was a major. The decision had been made as soon as I was assigned to the unit. There was no escaping it.

I asked the departing Intelligence Officer about his duties. He was a tall lanky man of few words. He replied that he covered the weather for the next twenty-four hours and made an assessment of enemy activity in our sector.

I learned from the members of the intelligence staff that his contribution to the commander’s evening briefing consisted of the weather report followed by a joke in his cultivated southern drawl, which was greeted with guffaws and then he promptly sat down.

It was a hard act to follow unless you were a stand-up comedian, which was not my calling. The intelligence briefing should consist of a summary of recent enemy activity followed by a prediction of anticipated enemy actions.

I found that the section hadn’t a clue as to enemy units or strength in our sector, their locations, nor the remotest idea of what tomorrow might bring. 

My attempts to formulate a proper intelligence briefing from the sketchy holdings of the section received a cool reception. The commander listened in silence and gave no guidance.

It soon became obvious that the odds of my survival in the job were slim to none. My imminent departure as the former S-2 was averted by the firing of the Regimental Commander. The scuttlebutt in the headquarters was that his performance during the Tet Offensive had been dismal.

Although the Squadrons of the Regiment attached to the 25^th Infantry Division and the 1^st Infantry Division had fought valiantly inflicting heavy casualties on the enemy, the Commander demonstrated little grasp of his role in the fight. Evidently, his preoccupation with his own survival hadn’t impressed his superiors.

Whatever the case, he didn’t remain in command long. He was replaced by Colonel George S. Patton, III, and son of the Third Army Commander during World War II.

Colonel Patton was an experienced operator in the intelligence field. He had previous assignments with the Special Operations Group that handled the intelligence collection efforts directed at enemy units on the Ho Chi Minh Trail used to move troops and supplies from Hanoi through Laos, Cambodia and into Vietnam. Colonel Patton quickly recognized the weakness of the Regimental intelligence collection efforts.

He broke up the Military Intelligence Detachment located in the Blackhorse (11^th Cavalry) rear base camp and organized Battlefield Intelligence Collection Centers (BICC) at the Regimental Headquarters and at each of the Squadrons.

Captain Ralph Rosenberg and Lieutenant Johnson were assigned to the Regimental S-2 Section with an interrogation team. Both officers were superb.

They built a data base that allowed us to assess enemy activity reported in each grid square in our Area of Operations (AO).

Colonel Patton used my experience as a combat infantryman and airborne ranger to accompany night patrols. We were not getting the result he expected from our ambush patrols.

Although, infantry battalions assigned to the operational control of the Regiment consistently succeeded in getting enemy kills from their ambush patrols. I accompanied both to provide feedback on the planning, preparation and conduct of our ambush patrols.

Colonel Patton had me accompany the Scout Patrols of the Air Cavalry Troop in their search of the jungle covered sectors of our AO. The work was aimed at locating enemy base camps that became targets for B-52 strikes.

Colonel Patton approved our reconnaissance plans to preclude enemy rocket and mortar attacks on Bien Hoa Air Base, which eliminated enemy attacks.

Colonel Patton was especially demanding of his intelligence officer and S-2 intelligence section until we could meet his expectations. It was demanding work.

I was in job jeopardy throughout the period, but with the expert assistance of the BICC and the great scouting efforts of the Air Cavalry Troop we were soon producing accurate assessments and targets of enemy units in our AO.

The BICC used all sources of intelligence in their appraisals. These included captured documents, prisoner interrogation reports, unit spot reports, intelligence summaries of adjacent and higher headquarters, reconnaissance reports of Air Cavalry Scouts that revealed bunkers and trenches of enemy jungle base camps, and agent’s reports of enemy activity in our AO.

The agent reports were a two edged weapon. Vietnamese units, American intelligence detachments and North Vietnamese intelligence officers all recruited agents with jobs supporting enemy units.

A high priority was to penetrate the enemy intelligence collection nets by recruiting double agents, which were not uncommon and dangerous.

When reading an agent report we used special caution to discard reports that smelled bad – possibly the work of a planted or double agent. Such intelligence was used to lure the enemy into a false sense of security, or worse yet to lure units into a trap.

Captain Rosenberg brought me an agent report he considered promising. The agent was considered highly reliable with a record of accurate information on communist activity.

The report revealed the location of periodic meetings of communist guerrillas in a nearby communist village. The report also revealed that ammunition and weapons caches were concealed in the area. I distrusted the report.

I told Ralph that it looked too good. He was quick to point out that the agent had a long record of good information. After weighing the odds, I decided to accept the report at face value.

I took the report to the Lieutenant Colonel Dozier, the Operations Officer. After he had a chance to read the report, we discussed the search of the village.

I suggested that we use Armored Cavalry to surround the village and Vietnamese infantry to search the village. Dozier contacted the American advisor of the Vietnamese Eighth Infantry Regiment.

He agreed to coordinate with the Vietnamese Commander to arrange for the search of the village. Heavy lift helicopters were scheduled to transport the Vietnamese infantry company.

Once the plans for the search were in place, Dozier briefed the commander and published an operation order that directed the transport, search and seal of the village.

Colonel Patton flew to the village as the Regimental Squadron was moving into position. He landed his chopper on the edge of the landing zone (LZ). I accompanied him.

After a short wait we heard the choppers approaching the LZ. After the first lift was completed, the choppers returned to pick up the remainder of the Vietnamese unit. I spotted the Vietnamese Company Commander. He was a tall man, several inches taller than I.

I went up to him and introduced myself. He was a handsome man – a graduate of the Vietnamese Military Academy at Dalat in the Central Highlands.

I asked him if he would need any help in the search of the village. He smiled and said that Vietnamese soldiers were well equipped to conduct a village search. The fact that they were more qualified to conduct the search than American soldiers went without saying.

We exchanged pleasantries as we awaited the arrival of the rest of the unit. When the unit was assembled the Commander directed his platoon leaders to commence the search. I waited and watched as the men moved through the village searching each hut.

After thirty minutes I returned to Colonel Patton, who had been talking to the American troopers surrounding the village. I told him that the search had produced nothing of interest and concluded that it was a dry hole. The agent report appeared to be wrong.

Colonel Patton returned to his command and control helicopter and told the pilot to crank it up. We were leaving. As the chopper blades slowly picked up speed and gained sufficient thrust, the pilot lifted the bird.

Dipping the nose of the aircraft, we began a long ascent round the village before turning and heading north. As we came around the aircraft banked sharply giving me a view of the entire village and the Cavalry unit surrounding it.

As I watched, I saw puffs of gray smoke along the sides of several of the armored vehicles surrounding the village. Simultaneously, black smoke appeared in the center of the village in several locations. I quickly alerted the Colonel that we had contact. He told the pilot to return and land at the LZ.

We dismounted the chopper and started down the single dirt road through the center of the village. The communists had triggered their ambush in the center of the Vietnamese infantry.

Several electrically detonated mines had inflicted heavy casualties and dead soldiers littered the ground like rag dolls.

As we walked through the midst of the fallen soldiers I observed a soldier with both legs blown off. His torso was severely burned. I noticed his rank insignia and realized it was the company commander. I bent down over him and he moved his head and emitted a deep groan. He was alive.

My immediate reaction was to try and save his life. I carried him back to the chopper and asked the Pilot how long before a medical evacuation chopper could reach our location. Thirty minutes was his reply.

That was too long. I asked how far we were from the 1^st Infantry Division MASH. “Five minutes,” was the reply. I said, “Let’s go,” as I loaded the Vietnamese officer into the chopper.

I raised the seat and rested his back against the rear wall. He was in a semi-upright position. He opened his eyes and looked at his body and his face froze in an expression of horror that sent a chill through my soul.

I climbed in beside him and the pilot cranked the bird and we made the short flight to the MASH.

Carrying the Vietnamese officer in my arms, I entered the MASH and laid the Commander on the operating table. An American surgeon entered in surgical gown, mask, and gloves. He took one look at the wounded man and totally lost it.

He began screaming at me at the top of his lungs: “You fucking murderers! You are fucking murders!

You are fucking murders!”

I wanted to explain that we were trying to save a life, but the surgeon kept screaming. I realized communication was impossible and turned and left the MASH and walked back to the chopper.

I could hear the screaming surgeon cursing me every step of the way and realized that there was nothing that could be done to save the severely injured commander. I climbed into the chopper with a heavy heart and we returned to the village.

The firing had stopped. I observed the enemy fighting positions. They had built a series of huts containing camouflaged bunkers.

The bunkers had apertures in front and back allowing rocket propelled grenades to be fired from both sides of the bunkers. Colonel Patton took control of the situation and organized the attack of the fighting positions.

The Cavalry Troop was equipped with heavy cratering charges, ideal for demolishing bunkers. With the cavalry fighting vehicles providing suppressive fires, they approached each hut from the blind side and rigged the charges.

One at a time they blew up the enemy bunkers, obliterating the huts and leaving nothing but dust, smoke and rubble filled holes that had been formidable fighting positions a few minute earlier.

When the last bunker was reduced to ruins, Colonel Patton directed the soldiers to dig out the remains of the bunkers to retrieve the dead and search for documentation that could help identify the enemy unit.

When the last bunker was cleared, a pile of cadavers filled the street that had provided excellent fields of fire for the enemy kill zone. It was all over.

Under Colonel Patton’s leadership the cavalry troopers had annihilated the enemy unit, albeit at a steep price.

We had been led into an ambush. There was no way of knowing if the intelligence failure was the result of a double agent or whether an informer at the district headquarters or within the Eighth Infantry Regiment’s ranks had leaked the plans for the operation.

Subsequent reports from the agent proved accurate suggesting that an informer in friendly ranks had leaked our plan for the operation. The sophistication of the enemy fighting positions, complete with remotely controlled mines, meant that the ambush had been carefully prepared long before we walked into the enemy kill zone.

I took the outcome as a personal failure, despite the fact that we had wiped out a hard corps enemy combat unit, which pleased Colonel Patton.

I became reluctant to use agent reports in the future. Despite my reluctance to use agent reports, we continued to respond to our most reliable sources; although, their use was accompanied with special caution born of heavy losses in the deadly ambush that had crippled an allied company of the Eighth Regiment.

Source: Stolen History

Editor’s Note: Colonel Andy P. O’Meara’s been featured in dozens of publications, published several exceptional titles including; ‘Only the Dead came home’ as well as ‘Accidental Warrior’.

He graduated with the 1959 class of WestPoint and continues his writing, advocacy work and research studies today.

One such program, ‘Science on the cutting edge: Hormonal impact on psychosocial dysfunction as related to PTSD’ is directed by O’Meara, Annie Hamilton, Scientific Researcher and Writer and several other figures within the military, intelligence, medical and scientific community.

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