Phil Ball - Ghosts and Shadows: A Marine in Vietnam, 1968-1969

In memory of Donald Schuck, Sal, Tex,
and all the guys from Fox Company,
2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines, 19681969.

McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Jefferson, North Carolina

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUING DATA ARE AVAILABLE

BRITISH LIBRARY CATALOGUING DATA ARE AVAILABLE

e-ISBN: 978-1-4766-2484-6

1998 Phil Ball. All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Box 611, Jefferson, North Carolina 28640
www.mcfarlandpub.com

First of all, though he is no longer with us on earth, I would like to thank Donald Phillip Schuck. Although our paths crossed only briefly, the impact was great. Don, you were always there for me. I only wish I could have been there for you when you needed me most: May 28, 1968.

Special thanks to the Rev. Ray Stubbe. Without you, Ray, this book wouldnt have been possible.

Thank you to all my brothers from Fox 2/3, living and dead. You are the greatest.

Thanks also to those who provided access to important sources. Fred Graboski of the USMC archives provided me with battalion command chronologies, April 1968 through May 1969, as well as F company rosters and unit diaries. Rev. Ray Stubbes Khe Sanh file provided the in-field interview with Lt. J. Jones, May 29, 1968 (see Appendix); the award citations of F Co. Marines from Foxtrot Ridge; the Operation Scotland II sit reps and spot reports; the bomb damage reports; and The Marines in Vietnam, 19541973.

Personal or telephone interviews with the following men were invaluable for the information and personal support they provided: Robert Hillbilly Croft, Joe Quinn, Mark Woodruff, Kevin Howell, Dave Kinsella, Mike Atwood, Lou Rociola, Harold Blunk and Pappy Torrence. My apologies if I left anyone out.

Regrets: Freddy Chico Rodriguez died, 1994, New York.

The 1968 Tet Offensive and the Khe Sanh Siege are widely recognized as bloody, brutal battles of the war in Vietnam, with extremely high casualty rates among United States servicemen. It was the months that followed the JanuaryFebruary enemy attacks, however, that saw the highest American casualties of the war. This book is a factual accounting of the time I spent in Vietnam, April 1968 through May 1969, a period of time that has become known as the bloodiest year of the war.

We called ourselves grunts because we were tough enough to handle anything; we were Marine Corps infantrymen, not more than 18 or 19 years old. Just your typical kids next door, we were sent to the other side of the world to fight a war that nobody wanted in the first place. Before the war I had never heard of this strange little country, much less known where it was, but when 400500 Americans were being killed every week by a group of people known asI thoughtCommunist gorillas, I felt it was my duty to join up.

My Vietnam experience included a small group of close-knit buddies from small towns and big cities all over the United States who also felt a strong sense of duty. After a very short time in country, however, disillusionment and resentment set in over how our leaders expected us to fight a so-called limited war, with one hand tied behind our back. The strong sense of duty was soon replaced with the individual desire just to survive. Duty to country was replaced by duty to one another, and we formed up to help each other make it through a very difficult and dangerous time.

Unlike our fathers wars, when soldiers were in for the duration, we knew from the day we arrived exactly when we would be going back home. This rotation system made for shorter times spent in the war zone12 months for Army, Navy, and Air Force, 13 months for Marinesbut it tended to obliterate any sense of unit cohesiveness. It created an individual, more personalized war, where it no longer mattered so much what your outfit was doing because all that mattered was your own personal rotation date.

In the 20 years between the time I came home from Vietnam in 1969 and my fortieth birthday in 1989, I did my best to try to forget the war and the terrible things that happened over there. I did not attempt to contact any of my old buddies, nor did I read anything related to Vietnam. I tried very hard to block it all out. The memories and nightmares returned on a regular basis, and I reached the point where I started using drugs and alcohol to numb the pain. The feelings of guilt and an overwhelming sense of impending doom kept coming back over and over, regardless of anything I tried. Eventually I was consumed with these bottled-up emotions, and I did not know what was wrong with me.

It wasnt until 1989, when I finally went to the VA hospital and got clean and sober, that I learned I was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). My entire life began to change for the better. I was told it might be helpful to write my feelings down as a way to rid myself of harassing thoughts and unwanted feelings from the past. I was also told, by the disability claim filing process, to write a detailed essay of a near-death incident I experienced in combat that might have been severe enough to cause PTSD.

I started writing, and it made me feel so much better that I havent stopped yet. I also began reading everything I could get my hands on that pertained to my particular era in Vietnam, and I became a student of the war. I obtained official records and documents out of the United States Marine Corps Archives in Washington, D.C., and I began locating and interviewing Vietnam vets who had served in my old unit.

I was somewhat disappointed in the lack of information that had been printed about my unit while I was over there, so I decided to write my own book and document our participation myself. All the dates and places are correct and most of the names are real, though without written permission I am unable to use certain peoples real names.

The 12-hour battle on May 28, 1968, known as Foxtrot Ridge, was by far the most significant encounter my unit had with the North Vietnamese Army (NVA). One hundred and twenty Marines of F Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines, defended a small, overnight position, 3,000 meters southeast of Khe Sanh Combat Base, against a reinforced NVA battalion numbering close to 500 troops. I was a PFC with only one month in country, and this bloody fight was my baptism by fire. Thanks to the experience and bravery of my squadmates, I not only managed to survive, but I was able to participate in my own small way. I did not do anything that night that was terribly heroic, although there were indeed many individual acts of extreme courage and bravery by those Marines close by.

I lost a good friend in that battle, Private Donald Phillip Schuck, and it was his untimely death that became the source of much of my guilt in the following years. Buddies since boot camp, we went to the Nam together and had planned to come home together. We were a team, brothers who were supposed to look out for one another, and I felt like I had let him down. Only after piecing together the events of that fateful night, and finding out that I could not have done anything to save him, was I finally able to put the issue to rest. I think the good Reverend Ray Stubbe, Navy chaplain at Khe Sanh during the infamous Siege of 68 Tet, said it best when he wrote: