FROM THE DIARY OF

SGT. ROBERT P. "MACK', MCDAVID

2019910

USMC

W/2/11

BLT 3/1

1ST MARINE DIVISION

(October 1967 through November 1968)

Whiskey Battery (Originally 107mm Mortars) used the following weapons during our stay in Vietnam. The following is information regarding our guns and equipment that I jotted down upon my assignment to Whiskey 2/11 while I was still an FNG.Sight Units M-34A2 Sight Mount XM7 Sight Night Lights:

Phone Aiming Stake Night Lights:

Boresight M-45

Gunner's Quad

Fuse Wrench M-18

M-14

M-548

Base Plate & Rotator

Tube

38172

1006

1) 7644014

2) 769050

9422

1) 557843

2) 557893

925

120866

7231161

C723 1 161

6176535

6176535

XM 565

4964

12887

107 MM Howtar M-98*

Weight: 1289 Ibs

Sight Unit M-34A2:

I ) M-79 Sight Mount XM7

2) M-9AI Adapter

3) M-62A/C Elbow Telescope

Boresight M-45

24 Lands & Grooves with a graduated right hand twist.

Range: 5,550 Meters

Maximum Elevation: 1184

Minimum Elevation: 500

Recoil: From 29" to 31 ";

Max - 32"; Max allowable - 31 5/8"

*Note: The howtar was later replaced 107mm base plate mortars

R. P. McDavid Vietnam Journal

In my opinion its a big tragedy to have to come to Vietnam in the first place. Who knows what my political views are. I don't really know why we're here, but we are and so am I. To me, the realization of this tragedy came in August, 1967, when I first received orders. I didn't know whether to flee the country, refuse to go, or shoot my big toe off. So, I got drunk and felt sorry for myself for 26 days. (The truth is: I really was curious to see what it was like, but I think what I wanted was to come over, look around for a couple of days, have a few drinks and go home to my wife of less than a year, but the Marines wanted me to take a closer look.)

After a brief indoctrination and conditioning phase call "Staging", I left the USA for a lovely tour of South Vietnam to fight an unpopular war for an unappreciative ally for who knows what reason, the real reason, that is. Actually, South Vietnam is being threatened by the North Vietnamese Communists and other Communist Factions in South Vietnam, like The National Liberation Front or The Viet Cong. We'll call them all "Charlie".

Anyway, I left the "World" October 23, 1967 by commercial air. We made stops in Hawaii, the Philippines, Okinawa, and, finally, Da Nang, RSV. The U.S. Government was nice enough to foot the bill, or should I say the American Tax Payers. I keep forgetting that the government doesn't have money of its own. Its our money.

Weather conditions were horrible on the trip over. That's why we stopped in the Philippines. There was a typhoon, so we spent the night in the Philippines. 27 out of the 165 Marines aboard had to stay in town at a nearby motel. I was one of the lucky 27. We had a pretty good time. It was my 24th birthday and some of the guys bought me a few beers including WO Johnson, Unit Commander of my Staging Unit, fairest and one of the best officers I've ever known. The crew of the commercial airline flying us to Vietnam stayed in the same motel. It was nice to have some female company. We danced and had a great time. The crew bought me a few drinks for my birthday, so everybody, especially me, was feeling pretty good. To top things off, I had a sauna and an alcohol massage where the girls walked on my back and giggled constantly. There's not much else to say about that, except "it was great!"

Twelve hours later, we were taking off for Okinawa. After arriving there, we were restricted to the barracks because of typhoon conditions. It was unbelievable! You could literally face into the wind and lie almost parallel to the ground. I have never been in wind that strong and probably never will again.

October 27th, 1967

Arriving in Vietnam, we were sorted out and delivered to wherever they wanted to put us. They put me in the 11th Marine Regiment of the 1st Marine Division who, in turn, assigned me to the 2nd Battalion, who assigned me to W (Whiskey) Battery, a 107 MM Howtar battery. A Howtar is a mortar on wheels, popular in W.W.II and Korea (probably these same Howtars).

Here, about 7 miles south of Da Nang, I stayed from October 28th to December 2nd, seeing no actual combat. Being a FNG every little shadow was a VC and every loud noise was "incoming".

My first night in the area (I had arrived at night, so I wasn't aware of the area around us) was a real experience. I was just about to doze-off when the tent was shaken by a series of loud explosions. I was in the bunker just outside the tent in about a half second. When I finally stuck my head up over the sand bags to see what was going on, it was obvious that I was the only one worried about anything. The "explosions" were Army 175's right next to us. There were a few "good men", "old salts", to let me in on the scoop after they had their laugh.

It took a while to feel comfortable in my new surroundings. I liked most of the people there, but there were a couple of dudes that I didn't like, personality differences, maybe, I don't know. I also felt a little cheated. My orders to Vietnam most certainly delayed a promotion to Cpl. While I was serving as an MP at Long Beach Naval Base, I received a Letter of Commendation from The Long Beach Police Department for "preventing the stabbing assault on one of their Officers" while on duty. Anyway, I was told that I was to be "Marine of the Month" for the second straight time and promoted to Cpl. These things took quite a while to catch-up to my record book and my promotion was lost in the execution of my orders and immediate leave time that I took before going to Staging. I never complained, but I did think about it.

More importantly, there I was in Whiskey Battery and I didn't know a thing about artillery. I had an Artillery (0811) MOS because of my previous Reserve Unit in Birmingham, Alabama. That's a-whole-nother story......... I had plenty of experience as an Marine MP on Shore Patrol and Brig Duty, but there's no MOS for that, at least not yet..

I remember the first time I stood OP. I was so paranoid and the other guys with me didn't help any. They knew how secure our position was, but I didn't. I didn't sleep a minute. I was leery of every sound or shadow. When I went to the "shitter" I could hardly go. I never put my M-14 down. I kept looking around and I even thought about the possibility of one of them (a VC) laying in all that shit under me, waiting to jab me in the ass or shoot my balls off. I really didn't want to go home without my balls. I had become used to them.

Those times passed quickly and I soon realized how secure our position was, and I was able to sleep without any trouble at all. But, all good things must come to an end.........

I got used to almost everything pretty fast. They made me a driver at first, because I had a Government Drivers License. I had one from being an MP. The problem was I didn't know anything, and I mean anything, about maintenance. I did some quick learning, though, on the truck and, especially, on the Gun. I used to practice on the sight during my spare time so I would know it better than the other guys. Finally, I got to be gunner and we got a new driver, lucky for us all. It was a relief for me as well as the guys down at the motor pool. One time I cleaned the engine, making it look outstanding, it took four days for the mechanics to get it running again. I thought I might get "Office Hours", but I didn't.

The most exciting trip I took from this position as driver was with Top Sheppell, shortly after he came to the Battery I had to drive him to another Battery to pick-up some pay records belonging to some of our recent transfers. We had been warned that the roads could be mined and sniper fire had been reported along the route we had to take. Being new, I was a little uneasy, and so was The First Sgt. I had no windshield and it started to rain just after we began our trip. I was "hauling ass" and couldn't see shit in front of me, but we were both afraid to slow down. I'm sure Top Sheppell won't forget that trip, even though nothing happened, if you don't count almost wrecking a couple of times.

The Float

We got the news about The "Float" around the middle of November '67. Everybody was happy because they thought we'd be pulling "Liberty" in a few ports, somewhere. We found out much later that this was to be no pleasure cruise.

Grouping was OK because we got to spend about two weeks in the Philippines. I only went into Olongapo which is about 60 miles north of Manila three or four times during our time there. The whole town is little more than bars and hotels with a few shops. Its a Liberty Town for Marines and Sailors. In every bar (I went in with a guy from H&S, 3/1, a Cpl Potts.) young Philippine girls would greet us and sit with us. If you didn't buy them a drink, they would leave after a little salesmanship. There was one bar called the Hong Kong Club that we liked the best. It was way down at the end of town where not as many military people would go. Potts decided he liked one of the girls there, so we stayed. Eventually, I met a friend of hers, a girl named Leoni. She was very nice looking and it was easy to forget she was just a prostitute. Once you pair-up with a girl in a bar, thats it. No other girls are aloud to approach you. Fights broke out occasionally. Anyway, time passed quickly in the Philippines and it was nice to have a little female companionship.

One amazing thing about these people in Olongapo was that they always knew what our orders were before we did. They knew when we were returning to Vietnam two or three days before we did. The bar girls were very organized, as well. I got a Christmas card from Leoni, actually two cards, but one was addressed to Cpl. Pat McDavid and the other was addressed to Cpl. Robert P. McDavid. Maybe she was just making sure that I got one. Right!

Just before we left the Philippines, we had a mock operation, the works. We set up, fired our weapons and everything. It was so hot and humid. I must have drunk a 1000 sodas. There were some villagers selling cokes, etc. right there in the jungle. One night they even brought out an old scraggly whore, but I don't think she got much business. I know she didn't get mine. I guess this operation was supposed to mold us into an elite fighting unit. It didn't and we weren't, but we would be, and it wouldn't be long.

Before we knew it, we were back off the coast of Vietnam aboard the Navy LPH Valley Forge (an old WWII CVS that had been converted to a helicopter landing ship "LPH") We were preparing for our first Combat Operation, but already we had lost one sailor to a "Dear John" letter. He jumped off the Flight Deck. One of our Marines jumped in from the Hanger Deck and tried to save him, but the sailor was never seen again. The Marine was rescued. At any rate, there was a lot of tension and nervousness in preparing for this unknown situation, though nobody wanted to admit it.

I had been promoted in the "Pines" to Cpl and would be taking over a section (a Gun) in about three weeks, so I was busy learning and inventorying, etc. However, I did manage a few card games on the side. The card games got my mind off of what might lie ahead, and I was lucky. For a while I was sending money orders home almost every day from my winnings.

The operation game too quickly. All of a sudden, there we were on the "choppers" (CH-46's) headed toward the NVA. We set up in a sandy area covered with a few trees. Everything went well for Whiskey. No incoming of any kind. The day we left, we wiped out a village and then headed back to the ship. The operation was called "Fortress Ridge". The grunts had a few casualties, but the operation was really not much of anything. It only lasted about 5 days.

Back on the ship we cleaned guns, personal weapons and gear, etc. We slept, wrote letters played cards and I thought about home and Kathy and how much I missed her. The time was obviously not passing fast enough for me.

I stood COG on ship every now and then which was a pain in the ass. The ship was actually very nice and coming in from the field was like the spy that came in from the cold. The chow was fairly good. There was an occasional movie, ice cream, a PX, etc.

December 31, 1967

Soon a second operation came into view: "Badger Tooth". It was the worst, the most miserable operation. I've never been so miserable in my life. We were told at first that we were not going, and then, after everyone else had gone, we got about an hour's notice to get ready and go. We were told that the grunts had run into trouble and needed help. So, away we went. Having so little time to get ready we prepared for the way things were: nice warm weather with clear skies. A good day to die!

After the first day the weather turned on us. It became cold and rainy and hardly anybody had anything to keep dry or warm. We had blanket rolls instead of sleeping bags. We had no rain gear. All I had was the clothes on my back, my flack jacket, helmet, rifle, cartridge belt and gas mask, nothing else. It was awful. We stayed out for 7 long days and nights hardly firing a shot. In addition to the weather, or maybe because of it, I was constipated for the whole 7 days. I mean my eyes turned brown. On the last day I felt horrible. I was throwing-up about every hour. I had a fever so high it made me delirious and Doc Rupp could or would do nothing for me. (In my defense, no one and I mean no one got constipated in Vietnam and we weren't given any meds for this condition! Doc Rupp). One guy had been medevac'd for extreme exposure, and I remember wishing it was me. Finally, there was nothing left for me but to shit or die. My body responded by opening up from both directions, thank God. I must have lost 20 pounds. Pretty gross, I know, but people die from that sort of thing in backward cultures, and as far as I was concerned we were redefining the term "backward culture." At any rate, being sick like that in the middle of No Where, Vietnam, on the last night of an operation, in the cold wet sandy combat fringes of a really bad operation, I was hoping for a miracle and got one in the form of a good 30 minute anal explosion. After a couple of hours my temperature started to fall and I started to feel a little better. One things for sure, if we (Whiskey) had gotten hit hard by the NVA during this operation, nobody would have made it because most of us were too miserable to fight.

During the operation we moved about four times. All positions were sandy. It was on that operation that I saw (and smelled) my first dead man. I remember guys were pissing on him, kicking him and things like that. I didn't really even want to look at him, especially his face. I was afraid it might haunt me, but little did I know just how callused to that sort of thing I would become. It was really only dead Americans that bothered me, so I never looked very hard at them.

They had been right about one thing when they called us into the operation. The grunts took a beating, unnecessarily, some people thought. The Colonel took an ass chewing by the General and there were rumors that he had been relieved of command, but that was all they were, rumors, because, later, he was back. They called him "The Butcher" and during the Float there were many lives lost.

Finally, we were back on the ship, and it wasn't long after our return that Cpl. Burke (our Section Chief) rotated and I took over the gun section. Our stays aboard ship, though short, were pretty nice. Of course, we had our work to do, mainly to be prepared to move out at any time, but to sleep in a bunk was great.

Operation Badger Catch

Soon we were heading out on a five day operation. My first time in combat with my own section. Wow! Our first position was a rice paddy and very sandy. The weather was bad, but we were more prepared for it. The problem was it was hard to keep our engineering stakes up and it was easy to get disoriented. Anyway, on my first combat fire mission I fired 3200 mils out (180 degrees, or exactly backwards) during an illumination mission, or so they thought. Actually, I also fired all my H&I's (Harassment & Interdiction) 3200 mils out. Only a couple of my crew and I knew about that. I had illuminated the Gulf and killed a lot of NVA fish, probably. Not too much was said about it after the initial inquiry. Lt. Rogers secretly advised me of what to say if I was ever officially questioned: basically, deny all but a few rounds. I was lucky, and that was my last mistake.

January, 1968My Loc A few days went by and we moved by amtrack to a place called My Loc and non of us will ever forget this place. It was first my first experience with enemy "incoming" artillery, mortars, and rockets. Those are sounds you never forget, either, ever. The place was bad news. We were there in January & February and it was cold and rainy constantly. There was no drinkable water and no place to wash, and we were getting hit everyday, sometimes, three or four times a day.

There was an old dirty pond, very small, really a rice paddy or a hole that had filled up with rain water, not too far from our position. Most people wouldn't take a chance on walking down there to shave or wash a little. We were just getting hit too much, too often, and we knew we were surrounded by NVA. We were right in the middle of the Tet Offensive of 1968.

Many things happened during this time. One night someone ran over the top of one of our better & bigger bunkers. We were dug-in pretty damn good. I was there when it happened, so I went outside with my 45 to check it out. One of our Claymore mines had been turned around to face us, but the line to the mine was also cut, so it wouldn't have gone off, but it told us that they were getting into our position pretty easily.

Mug

One particular incident that happened at My Loc will always remain with me. We were awakened by Sgt. Oesterle and told that Intelligence was expecting some heavy incoming. Very soon after that we got a fire mission. I got Spurgeon to wake half the guys and I woke-up the others. King, one of my Marines, told Spurgeon to "get fucked and didn't get up. It was too dark and we were too busy to notice that he wasn't there. He was that type. He had an attitude problem. Anyway, as soon as the fire mission began, we started getting incoming. Everybody jumped into their bunkers. I was still getting fire commands from Capt. Rogers, the XO, so I figured the mission was important.

There was no way that FDC & HQ didn't know how bad we were getting hit. I told my crew to stay in their bunkers except for Spurgeon, my Gunner, Harry Handy, my A-Gunner, and myself we did everything as low to the ground as possible. I had the headset on and relayed the commands, cut the charges, and rolled the rounds down to Handy. Spurgeon sighted (aimed) on command and Handy dropped the round down the tube. We didn't have a real parapet, so if one of the incoming rounds had landed in the ammo pit we'd have been gone. As it was, rounds were exploding all around us, really close. I couldn't believe we weren't getting hit by shrapnel, but then a round landed so close the concussion knocked me back a few feet into the ammo pit. It should've killed or wounded all three of us. I waited for the pain of being hit to come, but it didn't. Then I worried about my men and called out for a head check. Everybody responded but King. I knew without checking that he was in trouble. I called for a corpsman over the phone, and sent Spurgeon to check on King. I could see Randy's flashlight hit the side of King's head. Part of it was missing and I was grateful for the darkness.

King apparently was just getting up when the round hit between him and me. He caught the shrapnel and all I got was some of the concussion. I thought there was no way he could be alive. Doc Rupp was on his way. I could see him running every time an incoming round would go off. If it had not been for King's situation, it would have been funny. It looked like one of those old movies where you can actually see the individual frames go by. Doc would run, disappear, fall into a hole, disappear, get up, disappear, and start all over again every time the flash of an incoming round would go off. It only took a couple of minutes for him to get there but it seemed like a full length motion picture.

When Doc was almost there I made Spurgeon get back to his position and we resumed firing. There was no question that the NVA was aiming directly at our gun position that night. In spite of the King tragedy, that was the night I knew we were the best Gun Section in the First Marine Division, maybe in all Vietnam.

I was aided in the treatment of King by Doc Andy (Theodore Edward Anderson III of Greybole, WY). King's wound looked fatal. The scrapnel had entered the back of his head and exited through his right eye. We attempted to get a medevac chopper in to get him back to the Valley Forge, but the fog was so bad the choppers were grounded. Doc Andy and I got very lucky that night. We managed to keep King alive for seven hours during which time he arrested twice and had him ready for the amtrtack that came at first light.

When I returned to the "world" in the fall of 1968 I was assigned to Oakland Naval Hospital in Oakland, California. I worked in the Patient Affairs Department and I had access to all of the old medical records. I pulled King's records and learned that he had survived his wounds and was transferred to a VA Hospital. He could walk, talk and seemed fairly normal from the reports. I never heard anymore about him or if he is still alive. (Doc Rupp).

To be continued