Blackhorse Tales

Stories of 11th Armored Cavalry Troopers at War

Don Snedeker

• Publisher: Casemate
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781636240435
• Topic: Storia
• Subtopic: Guerra del Vietnam

When the U.S. Army went to war in South Vietnam in 1965, the general consensus was that counterinsurgency was an infantryman’s war; if there were any role at all for armored forces, it would be strictly to support the infantry. However, from the time the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment arrived in country in September 1966, troopers of the Blackhorse Regiment demonstrated the fallacy of this assumption. By the time of Tet '68, the Army’s leadership began to understand that the Regiment’s mobility, firepower, flexibility, and leadership made a difference on the battlefield well beyond its numbers. Over the course of the 11th Cavalry’s five-and-a-half years in combat in South Vietnam and Cambodia, over 25, 000 young men served in the Regiment. Their stories—and those of their families—represent the Vietnam generation in graphic, sometimes humorous, often heart-wrenching detail. Collected by the author through hundreds of in-person, telephone, and electronic interviews over a period of 25-plus years, these “war stories” provide context for the companion volume, The Blackhorse in Vietnam. Amongst the stories of the Blackhorse troopers and their families are the tales of the wide variety of animals they encountered during their time in combat, as well as the variable landscape, from jungle to rice paddies, and weather. Blackhorse Tales concludes with a look at how the troopers dealt with their combat experiences since returning from Vietnam. Between the chapters are combat narratives, one from each year of the Regiment’s five-and-a-half years in Southeast Asia. These combat vignettes begin on 2 December 1966, when a small column of 1st Squadron vehicles and troopers was ambushed on Highway 1 and emerged victorious despite being outnumbered. They go on to describe the one-of-a-kind crossing of the Dong Nai River on 25 April 1968, as the Blackhorse Regiment rode to the rescue during Mini-Tet 1968, and the 2nd Squadron's fight to clear the Boi Loi Woods in late April 1971.

CHAPTER 1

The Troopers

We were young, we were committed, and we were very good at what we did.

JOHN CASTERMAN, M COMPANY, 3/11, 1966–67

The Blackhorse is like a ’57 Chevy. It’s the most recognized car in the world. And the Blackhorse patch is the most recognized patch in the world.

JERRY UTTERBACK, B TROOP, 1/11, 1970–71

A good cavalryman has got to be half crazy like George Custer. It’s just the wrong business for careful people to be in.

BILL PARIS, AIR CAVALRY TROOP, 1969–70

It was a crazy time, the Sixties. The whole world seemed to be in flux. The staid Fifties made the Sixties even more surreal. The Vietnam War was tailor-made for the Psychodelia Sixties. Talk about surreal …

Male high school graduates—and drop-outs too—were faced with a life-altering choice. To serve in the military or not. If you chose yes, then the next choice was multiple choice: volunteer, wait to get drafted, or join the National Guard or Reserves (if you had connections and could). Of course, there were various alternatives associated with each choice. If you volunteered, you got to choose what your military specialty would be.¹ Choose combat arms, you’re probably going to end up in Vietnam; choose ballistic missile repair, likely not.

There were even options for when you might get drafted. Get married (maybe a draft deferment), go to college (probably a deferment), see a doctor about your bone spurs (likely a deferment). Go to graduate school, have a baby, claim a moral objection to war, go to work in a defense industry factory—all potential get-out-of-jail-free cards.

So, everybody had choices. For Bryant Nelson, the choice was clear. “My father-in-law … [who] served as a fighter pilot for the famous Flying Tigers in China and Burma … without saying a word, had strong influence on me to pick up the responsibility to serve my country and help in whatever way I could in a war I believed help free the Vietnamese from the yoke of Communism.” Bryant ended up in artillery, serving with 1/11 Howitzer Battery in 1969–70.²

“A war I believed help free the Vietnamese from the yoke of Communism,” Bryant Nelson with his battery’s mascot, 1969. (Bryant Nelson)

Contrary to the popular notion at the time, most of those who became Blackhorse troopers in Vietnam were volunteers, not draftees. While some joined the Army in order to pick their specialty, others were motivated by patriotism, a need to get away from home, trouble with the law, and a wide variety of other reasons.

Daryl Carlson (Mike Company and India Troop, 1969–70), for example, signed up with Uncle Sam because he had “too many traffic tickets.”

Golf Troop’s Bruce Watson joined in 1966 after he was “caught in a compromising situation” with the daughter of the president of the local draft board. He chose tanks as his military occupational specialty “because of course nobody would think of using a tank in the rice paddies and jungle of Southeast Asia.” Less than a year later he was in Vietnam.

Greg Mason (Headquarters Troop, 3/11, 1968–69) was drafted in the fall of 1967: “I spent my academic career chasing girls and drinking a little too much beer …”

Dan Nedolast (Echo Troop, 1968–69) received a letter from his brother in early 1968 who had deployed to Vietnam with the 9th Infantry Division a year earlier. The letter said “whatever you do, stay in school. Don’t come over here.” Dan volunteered for the draft the Monday after he got that letter. When he arrived in-country and processed through the 90th Replacement Battalion, a Sergeant First Class picked Dan and seven other medics and said: “You guys are going to the best damn fightin’ unit in Vietnam, the 11th Armored Cav Blackhorse.” Dan admits: “I had no idea what he was talking about.”

The Terry brothers from Monroe, LA—Gary, Pete, and Wesley—all volunteered for the Army when they came of age. All three served in the Blackhorse in Vietnam. Wesley joined Alpha Troop in 1967 (he was wounded and medevaced in January 1969). Gary was assigned to Headquarters Troop Regiment in early 1969. Younger brother Pete went to Kilo Troop at the end of the year. They knew about the Army policy to not assign brothers to the same unit; they weren’t about to let a policy stand in their way. Gary recalls:

While Wesley was home on convalescence leave and I was home on leave going to Vietnam he told me some stories about the 11th Cav, I remember the last thing he told me before I boarded the plane was that I didn’t need to go to the 11th but as luck would have it I was the only one at the 90th Repo [90th Replacement Battalion] to get assigned to them that day … I knew about the no brothers policy before Pete came over but decided if he really wanted to come then I would do what I could to get him assigned with me and it worked out that we were able to do it with some help from the personnel officer of the regiment.

And even when you’d finished Basic Training and were in-country, your choices didn’t end. Mark Crist was a school-trained helicopter mechanic assigned to Air Cav Troop in 1968. “I could have stayed one,” he says, “but I had to see the war.” Three weeks later he was a gunner on an ACAV in India Troop.

Bob McNeil (Mike Company, 1967–69) was sent to Vietnam right out of Advanced Individual Training. When the sergeant major found out he could type, he was assigned to the staff as a clerk. He recalls: “The Sergeant Major says all you guys who can type, you’re staying at headquarters, you’re lucky, you will be typing for a year.” But Bob didn’t feel lucky. He wanted to be on tanks. So, he did what you’re told to do from day one in the Army. Got a problem? Go see the chaplain. Who just happened to come from near his home in Massachusetts. A couple weeks later Bob was reassigned to a Mike Company tank.

When Dave Summers arrived in-country just after Tet ’68, he flew into Cam Ranh Bay. “I had a direct assignment to the 18th Engineer Brigade in Cam Ranh Bay. And we’re landing at Cam Ranh Bay and I’m looking down, and they’re water skiing on Cam Ranh Bay. And it’s beautiful. And I’m thinking: ‘Um, I don’t think I’m going to mind this much …’” Two days later, he was told he was going to the 11th Cav. “But I’m an engineer. I have a directed assignment to the 18th Engineer Brigade.” All to no avail. Dave joined the 919th Engineer Company shortly thereafter. Six months later, he was tasked with teaching the Aero Rifle Platoon (ARP) how to use explosives. The ARPs were impressed with Dave’s skills, and he thought it “looked like a big adventure.” So, Dave spent the rest of his tour as an ARP.

So much for water skiing on Cam Ranh Bay.

Jim Smith was a Cobra crew chief in Air Cav Troop (1968–69). He remembers thinking: “I wanted to get in a small unit that saw a lot of action. Not because I’m a hero, but because I wanted to mentally know whether I could do it or not. And the 11th Armored Cav was the answer.”

After being commissioned out of Officers Candidate School (OCS), Davidson Loehr (17th Public Information Detachment, 1967) was given a “cushy” assignment—Vietnam Entertainment Officer, responsible for coordinating all the United Service Organization (USO) shows that entertained the troops in Vietnam. Living in Saigon. With an expense account. Beautiful, talented round-eyed women. Hot and cold running water. Flush toilets. Tu Do Street nearby.

After meeting two of his OCS classmates (both assigned to combat jobs in infantry divisions), “my cocky little world came crashing down.” He recalled the words of two people who had influenced his young life up to that point (and still do today). One, a leadership instructor in the 7th Army NCO Academy in Germany, the other a Tactical Officer (TAC) in OCS. Their words made Davidson realize: “This wasn’t about patriotism or courage, but about the fact that war is an archetypal experience, much the same for soldiers in all eras, and this was my only chance for it. If I returned home without experiencing war, without being out where the action was, I wouldn’t want to live with myself. I will not feel cowardly and ashamed! Not again, not ever! Thank you Dr Jones … and Captain Whitehead.”

Much to the amazement of his commander, Loehr volunteered to be reassigned to the 11th Cav. His transfer was approved in early 1967. After the war, he wrote: “My first five months, in Saigon, were fun and cool; the last seven months in the field were sacred.”

* * *

The first few days in-country were a shock. First, the heat getting off the airplane hit you like a ton of red-hot bricks. When you finally caught your breath, you almost wished that you hadn’t. Vietnam smelled. No, it stank! Like crossing the border into Tijuana in the 1960s—on steroids. Rotting vegetation, nuoc mam (Vietnamese fish sauce), burning shit, jet fuel exhaust, acid rain. Fox Troop’s Cary McMasters says his duffle bag from 1966 “still smells that way.” You almost wished you could go back and sit next to that fat, drunk sergeant on the plane (who hadn’t showered for a week) for another 18 hours.

Bob Walradth (Lima Troop, 1969–70) describes the feeling: “You walked off the plane and took that first or second step off that ladder to come off it and you’re thinking, ‘Man, I got 12 months of this crap’ … But there’s others out there doing it and they done it before we did and it wasn’t easy for anybody over there.”

Then it was off to 90th Replacement Battalion, fill out forms, stand in line, stand in formation, pull a detail, stand in another formation. Jack Stoddard (Air Cav Troop, 1968–69) recalls the ordeal: “I have never been in so many small offices and long lines in my life. One for filling out your will, the next to get paid, and another to fill out your life insurance form. This went on for two full days until I was finally given my orders …” When your name is called, you’re loaded onto a truck/helicopter for the trip to your new unit. The 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. THE BLACKHORSE.

Jack Stoddard, Aero Rifle Platoon guidon bearer, 1969. (Jack Stoddard)

Jim Smith remembers landing at Fire Support Base Holiday Inn in April 1969. He was joining 3/11’s Howitzer Battery. “Finally, the chopper landed and the [door] gunner told me to ‘get out newbie’ … There I was, with my two duffle bags of clothes and gear and my nice clean, new jungle fatigues. There were a couple of Blackhorse troopers there to greet me. Their uniforms looked nothing like mine, they were worn and dusty, and the guys looked mean and serious.” Then came the hammer: “I heard someone say in the background, ‘Here comes my replacement.’”

Welcome to the Regiment, Newbie. Stow your stuff and get to work.

In the following sections, troopers explain what it was like to be a Blackhorse trooper. “A day in the life” describes a typical 24-hour day living in an armored vehicle in the field. “Firefights” outlines a not-so-typical day—a day when you were involved in a deadly battle with the enemy. “Down time” turns to those times when troopers tried to take a break from reality and have a little fun.

A Day in the Life

They [armored vehicles] were our house, they were our fortress, they were our assault vehicle, they did everything.

DEE CUTTELL, B TROOP, 1/11, 1967–68

We rarely saw Base Camp as we were constantly on operations. Food, fuel, ammunition, and spare parts were all flown out to us by helicopter. The squadrons were self-sufficient. Tank engines were even changed in the middle of the jungle.

MICHAEL COYNE, D COMPANY, 1/11, 1967–68

Each day is different, but just the same as before.

JEFFREY LOPEZ, HOWITZER BATTERY, 3/11, 1966–67

Bob Hersey arrived in Vietnam just after Tet ’68. He immediately ran into a problem. No one in the personnel shop had ever heard of his military occupational specialty before. “What is a 94Delta, anyway,” the personnel sergeant asked? “I’m a school-trained baker,” Bob replied. There were no slots in the Regiment for a baker; cook was close enough, though. Bob learned to cook (the Army way) on the job from the Kilo Troop “Mess Daddy” (affectionate nickname for a unit’s chief cook).

For the next year, Bob was up before dawn—either in the base camp or in a troop-sized night defensive position—cooking breakfast for his very hungry fellow Blackhorse troopers. Bob admits that he “wasn’t much of a cook and didn’t really care for it that much.” But there was one thing that Bob was famous for. If gasoline, diesel, and aviation gas were the lifeblood of the Blackhorse trooper’s mounts in Vietnam, coffee was the lifeblood of the troopers themselves.

To make my famous GI field coffee, you will need to begin with 20 gallons of potable water from the water trailer. It’s best when it’s carried through a rice paddy knee deep full of water. Bring to a boil in a kettle over a standard issue field mess gasoline operated burner—preferably in the early morning darkness so as to give your position away to the enemy. If you survive the lighting of the stove then proceed to the next step. When the water boils, stir in two, 2-pound cans of ground coffee … Once thoroughly stirred, lower the stove’s setting until the water simmers. Cover and let simmer for about 5 minutes. Remove from the stove and add slowly one quart of cold water in a circular fashion starting in the center and working outward. This step takes the grounds to the bottom of the pot. Be careful not to disturb the brewed coffee but gently ladle from the top downward the coffee into another container, preferably into a coffee urn. Leave the little bit of coffee remaining in the bottom of the kettle behind. It contains the grounds.

And that’s how Blackhorse troopers started their days in Vietnam.

A day in the life of an armored cavalry trooper was different than in the lives of most other GIs in Vietnam. Grunts typically split their time between the bush and base camp. Grunts in the bush had to carry what they needed on their backs—C-rations, extra sox, radio batteries, bandoleers of ammo, hand and smoke grenades, a towel, and four canteens of water. When those ran out, they were either resupplied by helicopter or returned to home base. An infantry patrol typically lasted a week or less; then you stood down for at least several days. Artillerymen (except for the forward observers, who lived like the grunts and cavalrymen they worked with) lived on fire support bases. Even further away from the action were those who populated the major base camps—suppl...