Run Run Cricket Run, page 25
Thatcher, sitting at the head table with the Squadron Commander and the other departing Nails, stood last and approached the podium. He paused, took a deep breath, and began. “Gentlemen, I am reminded of a line from Macbeth, ‘it was a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, and signifying nothing.’”
The laughter, hoots, and whistles that erupted showed the assembled Nails the message was understood clearly.
“I am also here to announce tonight that the War is over!”
More laughter erupted, followed by cheers and whistles. After it died down, Thatcher continued. “I’m not kidding you drunk bastards, so listen up. There is going to be an attempt to end this nightmare, and it ain’t gonna be pretty. As you know, we’ve been fighting two wars in Laos, making it the most devastated country since the end of WWII. One war was the Truck War which was really a part of the Viet Nam War. The Viet Nam war will be over soon. We all know that; the U. S. Government knows that; the North Vietnamese know that. It was conceived by successive American leaders to prevent the unification of Viet Nam. I won’t go into the history, but suffice to say we didn’t have a clue how to create a viable government in a third world nation whose people can’t read or write and whose economy is not based on producing cars or any other manufactured product. Their economy rises and falls on the success or failure of the rice crop. North Viet Nam can’t grow rice, at least reliably; South Viet Nam can triple crop. So why did we divide it? And if you were Ho Chi Minh, what would you have done? The need for rice alone would have justified North Viet Nam’s war efforts. But we also know we shouldn’t be in Viet Nam for political reasons. Whoever was responsible for dividing the country and creating a government in the South out of thin air was a few beers short of a six pack. That’s why we use the ‘F’ word to describe the Truck War and sing a few disgusting songs when we’ve had too much to drink in the Nail Hole. Come to think of it, most of the songs we sing in the Nail Hole are disgusting. I’m surprised those songs and the jokes we share every night haven’t peeled the paint off the Nail Hole walls.
“But back to my Master’s Thesis: What you and I were supposed to do here was simple: stop the trucks, win the war, starve the invaders. We all know how that’s working out. It’s not because we aren’t killing trucks, but when we blow up one, two more take its place. And while we mourn the loss of over 50,000 of our countrymen, South Viet Nam has suffered three times that at last count. Civilian casualties We’ve done our job, but that won’t win the war, if the definition of winning is stopping the convoys full of troops, supplies, and ammunition headed to South Viet Nam. We all know triple canopy jungle is impossible to penetrate on any meaningful scale from the air and our efforts, spectacular as they may be and as brave as you are, will never be enough.”
Someone from the crowd shouted, “Tell it Ted! Tell it!” and was met by howls of alcohol-induced laughter.
Thatcher paused, smiled, took another swig, and then continued. Dignity and drunk Nails, after all, were mutually exclusive.
“OK, I will tell it: News flash. The powers that be have decided to win the Truck War by invading Laos from South Viet Nam using South Vietnamese infantry and tanks supported by American air power. The goal is to block the trail from the ground in Laos, physically stopping the trucks, and plugging the supply pipeline. That would allow faster American troop drawdowns in South Viet Nam. The name of the operation is Lam Son 719. Lam Son is an ancient battle won by the Vietnamese. The ‘71’ comes from the planned launch year, 1971, just next month, and the ‘9’ comes from Route 9, the major road through Tchepone, or what’s left of Tchepone. Lam Son 719 has disaster written all over it. Unfortunately, you will be heavily involved in the coming weeks. So be careful.”
The formerly boisterous audience became more attentive. Thatcher paused for another drink and then continued, obviously serious. “Last week I provided air cover for a battalion-sized test of the concept. A CIA operative I only knew as Red Man led an indigenous force down Route 9 toward Tchepone from the mountains just west of the trail. I was able to do something I was never able to do before, except in the rainy season. I dropped down to a few hundred feet above the ground ahead of the infantry column. It was the only mission I ever flew where I wasn’t hosed down. Of course, I was jinking like a hummingbird on steroids and my X-Ray, Lt. Boun Tang, got a little green around the gills. I suspected the lack of gunfire was a trap to get the battalion coming up behind me farther into the trap.
“It was. Two days later, when I flew my next mission, half the battalion was dead, and the other half was back on the mountains just west of the trail where they originally started. They got Tchepone but only held it for a few minutes. The men were being hammered by mortars as I arrived and wouldn’t have made it much longer. It was obvious there was a substantial North Vietnamese force parked there. I was able to snag some F-4 pilots with CBU who saved those who were left. The survivors made it back to the Mekong, but the test was a complete failure if the definition of success was being able to penetrate and hold a position on the trail. Now, believe it or not, despite the obvious failure of the test, the South Vietnamese invasion into Laos is going ahead as planned anyway, so you guys be careful. If there is any good news, the failure of this idiotic scheme may end the war because it’s going to show how little control we have over anything.” Then Thatcher, after a pause, got more serious.
“Looking back over the past year is painful. I don’t know why … some would call it fate, I suppose … but I showed up in this fairly small squadron and found a lot of friends from my previous days in the Air Force. Statistically, it really doesn’t make sense. Bill Stancil, who we lost a few months ago on a highly dangerous Heavy Hook mission, was a classmate of mine at Moody Air Force Base in pilot training. I knew his wife when she was just his fiancée. I feel so sorry for her. Can you imagine not even having your husband’s body to bury?
“The senior cadet who met me as I got off the bus my first day at the Air Force Academy, the element leader who trained me, Capt. Paul Bartram, was killed by Pathet Lao troops a few weeks after I got here. He was a Raven and I was on the radio with him when he was shot. I hadn’t met him here in country, but I recognized his voice over the radio as I was trying to vector the Jolly Greens to his position. They didn’t get there in time.
“Nail 33, Tex Robertson, whom most of you senior Nails knew, was two years ahead of me at the Zoo, but we were both in the same squadron. He was shot down near the ford at Ban Laboy directing some Navy A-4s. He scrambled up a slope and hid in a clump of bamboo. A North Vietnamese officer climbed up the hill within a few feet and was staring right at him when some Navy A-4s roared in overhead. When the NVA officer heard the noise of the jets, he just turned and walked away, blowing a whistle and taking his troops with him without firing a shot. If nothing else, it shows their respect for CBU. Tex is home now, thank God, but he’ll be staring at that face for a long time. A long, long time. I suspect we’ll all be staring at things from this war as well.
“Nail 52, Mark Tinga, was a Zoo classmate of mine, and a fierce competitor on the Rugby Field. He knocked the crap out of me more times than I can remember. He was, as you all know, a full-blooded Indian. Mark watched as a MiG shot down a Jolly Green at Mu Gia during an attempted rescue of two F-4 pilots he was directing who got shot down by a 23mm. He was sent back to the States after getting shot down for the second time himself only a week later.
“Another Air Force Academy classmate of mine here at NKP, Al Carpenter, was the pilot of the Jolly Green shot down a month ago on a simple training mission to the airfield at Ubon, Thailand, 30 miles south of here. Unbelievably, his Jolly Green was right over the Mekong River in Thailand. He was not even over the trail! Al and I lived on the same hall at the Zoo. His room was about 30 feet away from mine. Let me repeat: he was shot down over the Mekong River just ten miles south of here! He wasn’t even in Laos!” Thatcher paused again composing himself. Then he continued.
“Our loss of Art Kazinski, our most senior navigator, and his pilot, Tom Stevens, a New Bean, were especially painful. I didn’t know Tom well, but I flew more night missions with Art than any other navigator here. We’ve lost many others here at NKP as well, airmen I didn’t know personally: A-1 drivers, EC-47 crews, the C-123 crews flying the Agent Orange missions over the trail that give us so much better visibility, and the Green Berets that provide so much of our Intel.
“I’m trying to make the point that I’m not a disinterested observer. I have an emotional investment here just as you do. I conclude after my year here that despite the courage and sacrifice of all the aircrews, we can’t possibly win either of these so-called secret wars.
“To conclude, my conscience tells me the Viet Nam War was an inexcusable exercise in political arrogance and will soon be over. My instinct also tells me the gentle people of Laos will be left with a very uncertain political future in a country scarred by the most intense bombing campaign since Germany in WWII. I hope our nation won’t walk away from the damage we did here and the destruction we leave behind. God Bless you. Do your duty, but don’t be a hero. I would finish with this classic Nail salute: ‘You Nails is ‘shit hot!’’ It has been my honor to serve with you.”
The Nails stood and applauded. Thatcher took the ceremonial beer mug and tried to chug it down; he got halfway and poured the rest over his head, a mandatory punishment for Nails who were not chuggers.
Col Melendez stood and presented Thatcher with the Brass Balls Award, pinning it on Thatcher’s black party suit and shaking his hand as he did with the previous honorees. After the rest of the speeches and ceremonial presentations, the meeting adjourned to the bar. Ted Thatcher approached Col Melendez and shook his hand.
“Colonel, I want to thank you for your support of the Laotian activities. I don’t know what will happen to our Laotian friends, but I trust we will do the right thing.”
“I will do my best, Ted. Thank you for your efforts here and best of luck in whatever future endeavors you undertake. I haven’t forgotten our discussion on Lam Son 719. I agree with you that it will probably be the end of the war. Maybe someone will write a book one day on how all this nonsense got started.”
“Maybe they will, colonel, maybe they will.”
Thatcher joined the rest of the squadron who adjourned to the bar where the party continued until late in the evening. As was customary, the Nails started the monthly party with the Nail song:
Run, run, Cricket run,
Ho Chi’s coming with a loaded gun.
He’s mighty angry, you’ve caught his eye,
He’s throwing flak up in the sky.
Run, run, Cricket run,
One thing is no lie,
If you wanna get back to your wife in the States,
You better damn well fly high.
You’ve been blowing up all of his guns,
And killing all of his trucks.
You keep doing things like those,
And Ho Chi, he’s fed up!
So, run, run Cricket run!
As fast as you know how.
If you wanna be a Cricket any more,
You better be a chicken now!
Author’s Note
Other than the Civil War, few events in American history have brought so much acrimony as the Viet Nam War, a long, costly, politically divisive exercise initiated in ignorance, pursued in arrogance, and terminated in shame. Television images of the hordes of frantic South Vietnamese clamoring to grab the skids of U.S. helicopters evacuating the U.S. Embassy in Saigon at the end of the war have become iconic. Interspersed with those images were those of Viet Nam veterans marching on the United States Capital. Never before in America have anti-war protesters been led, in large measure, by those who were veterans of their war.
The Viet Nam War was a blunder; most Americans, including most veterans, would agree. The War actually started soon after WWII ended. Here’s how we got there: After the defeat of the Japanese in 1945, President Eisenhower encouraged France to re-colonize Viet Nam. Eisenhower, painfully aware of the communist successes in Europe, coined the phrase “Domino Effect” to describe the expansion of communism there and thought the same thing could occur in Southeast Asia. So, the French marched back in to re-colonize Viet Nam with American encouragement. Looking through the lens of history, the fear of monolithic communism overshadowed Allied thinking in 1945, thanks to Stalin and the Soviet Union, so the decision was not totally imprudent.
Ho Chi Minh thought differently however. He had been the leader of a guerrilla force helping the American O.S.S (Office of Strategic Services and forerunner of the CIA) against the Japanese in WWII. He rescued American pilots shot down by the Japanese, was fluent in English, French and all the Vietnamese dialects, and was the logical leader of post-war Viet Nam. No other Vietnamese had a fraction of his public stature. He was, unquestionably, a nationalist first and a communist second. The Communist Party of China, formed in 1921, fell under Mao Zedong’s control in 1927. Mao led a revolution, defeating American ally Chiang Kai-shek and took control of mainland China in 1947. So, Eisenhower’s caution about communism was not completely unwarranted, but history showed Ho was much more a nationalist than a communist.
When the French returned after the War, Ho immediately became an adversary. The subsequent and infamous defeat of the ‘impregnable’ French fortress at Dien Bien Phu on May 7, 1954, by Ho has become legendary among military historians. (Does the image of a nation achieving its independence in a war against a powerful nation from another continent sound familiar?)
After the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu, the 1954 Geneva Accords divided Viet Nam into northern and southern halves at an arbitrary line, called the Demilitarized Zone, or DMZ. This division was based on nothing but expediency to permit efficient administration of the two halves of Viet Nam pending the scheduled 1956 nationwide elections. Ho Chi Minh would have won the election overwhelmingly, but the U.S. never permitted the election to be held. President Eisenhower, still alarmed over the Balkanization of Europe, formed a totally separate government in the southern half. Even though the situations in Southeast Asia and Europe were not identical, Eisenhower’s fear was far from imaginary. China was already telegraphing its Communist intentions outside its own border. So, the ‘temporary’ DMZ became permanent and Ho proceeded to continue the war for independence he had been fighting since WWII. America made another decision which would come to haunt it: it selected a Roman Catholic, Ngo Dinh Diem, to rule a country that was only 9% Catholic, and where Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism were the predominant religions. Twenty-one years and 58,620 dead Americans later, the War was finally over.
In this book, I demonstrate the Viet Nam War, ‘The War That Should Never Have Been Fought’. Ho Chi Minh was a communist, but there was nothing else to be in a country that was illiterate and poor and whose only concern was the success or failure of the next rice crop. The end result of America’s failure to reunite Viet Nam was tragic. Civilian casualties on both sides have been estimated at between one and two million, but an accurate number would be impossible to ascertain. Over 250,000 South Vietnamese soldiers were killed in South Viet Nam and another 65,000 in North Viet Nam. North Viet Nam and Viet Cong military casualties have been estimated at over one million.
One more mitigating factor was ignored by American planners: Rice. North Vietnam was lucky to get one good rice crop a year; South Viet Nam could triple crop but usually didn’t bother. If the insult of denying Ho Chi Minh control of the country he devoted his life to were not enough, rice alone would have been a compelling economic reason to declare war. An old Vietnamese axiom is illustrative: ‘A grain of rice is worth a drop of blood’ and it literally came true in the Viet Nam War.
One final comment: The Pentagon Papers proved material misrepresentation in the Maddox incident by the U.S. government to justify a war in Vietnam. The Gulf of Tonkin incident, also known as the USS Maddox incident, was an international confrontation that led to the United States engaging more directly in the Vietnam War. The Maddox was a U.S. destroyer involved one real and one falsely claimed confrontation between U.S. ships and those of North Vietnam.
So much for background. Now, to the main focus of this book: the Viet Nam War was not lost in Viet Nam. It was lost in eastern Laos on what became known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Over 80-percent of the bombs dropped in the Viet Nam War were dropped in Laos, not in Viet Nam. Why? Because Viet Nam at the DMZ consisted of flat, open, rice paddies. There was no way to march an army south let alone supply it with the necessary guns and supplies necessary to fight a war. To reunite his country, Ho Chi Minh needed food, ammunition, and other supplies and the only way to transport them to his forces in South Viet Nam was through the triple canopy jungle of Laos by trucks. An army travels on its stomach, if we can believe Napoleon. Ho Chi Minh certainly did. His routes through the jungle became the infamous ‘Ho Chi Minh Trail’. The United States Government realized very early in the conflict that choking off this Laotian pipeline was the key to winning, if indeed the war could be won at all. America devoted billions of dollars and invented new technologies specifically aimed at stopping trucks being used to transport war-making material. The transportation battle became known as ‘The War Against Trucks’ and is one of the two main stories in this book.
The number of bombs, cluster bombs, and napalm canisters dropped in Laos on North Vietnamese truck and storage facilities over a decade long war surpassed any other war ever fought. Because of this decade-long bombardment, Laos has earned the unenviable title of ‘Most Bombed Country on Earth’. To be clear, that would include any war, fought anywhere, at any time. How it happened is answered in this book, and the answer is not especially comforting to those who take pride in being an American, as I do. I refer to the ‘Truck War’ as ‘The War That Should Never Have Been Fought’. Why? If Viet Nam had been united in 1956 in accordance with the 1954 Geneva Conventions, Laos would not have been needed as a transportation corridor. It would not have suffered such horrible bombardment and America would have not suffered a decade of dissension at home, the loss of 58,620 American lives, and a monetary cost which may never be fully measured.
