Men of 1/26 lay wire along Blue Sector. Dong Tri Mountain is in the background. (Photo courtesy David D. Duncan)
By no stretch of the imagination did the 26th Marines have a monopoly on good snipers. The NVA marksmen, armed with rifles and scopes which were comparable to those of their American counterparts, lurked around the edges of the perimeters--especially the hill outposts--and waited for a target. Although none of this deadly business could be categorized as humorous, there was one sniper incident on Hill 881S which could not help but evoke a chuckle. The men of Company I had been cursed with the presence of a particularly accurate sniper who was located in the brush to the south of their perimeter. The rifleman scored frequently and had wounded 10 Marines in the period of about a week, all of whom were medevaced. In addition to being a hazard, the sniper was also a general nuisance. A man moving from one place to another within the perimeter was always hurried on his way by slugs which kicked up dirt at his heels or buzzed past his head like angry hornets. Thus, the Marines were constantly waiting for the culprit to expose himself and one day a glint off the telescopic sight proved to be his undoing. The Marines marked his position and, on Captain Dabney's order, lugged a 106mm recoilless rifle from the northern side of the hill, sighted in, and blew the sniper away--tree and all. The victory was short lived because his successor proved equally as effective. More Marines were hit. The second rifleman lasted about as long as the first before he suffered the same fate at the hands of the 106mm gunners.
His replacement, however, was a complete wash-out. Expending between 20 and 30 rounds a day, the misfit flailed away for over a week without hitting anyone. In the process, he too gave himself away. After the Marines had manhandled the 106 into position for the third time, and were sighting in, one private, after deep thought, approached the company commander with a proposition: "Skipper, if we get him, they'll just replace him with someone who might be able to shoot. He hasn't hit anyone so why not leave him there until he does." It was so ordered. The sniper's ineptitude had saved his life and he blasted away for the rest of the battle and never touched a soul.[61] [(168)]
The incident with the snipers pointed out the advantage of having 106mm recoilless rifles on the hills. Unlike the artillery pieces at Khe Sanh, the 106mms were used in a direct fire role and because of their extremely flat trajectory, they could be employed when attack aircraft were in the target area. Another feature which endeared these weapons to the Marines was their extraordinary accuracy. The recoilless rifles were used with great finesse, especially against the well-camouflaged enemy gun positions which ringed the outposts. In most cases, it required minute adjustments to put a round squarely on target and knock out these emplacements. This was evident in one instance when a 106mm on 881S was used to silence an NVA 12.7mm machine gun which had been spraying Marine helicopters.
The automatic weapon was situated inside the mouth of a small tunnel which had been cut deep into the side of a hill located north of the Company I, 3/26, perimeter. The tiny aperture, which faced south, restricted the gunner's fields of fire but that was no drawback because he only concentrated on the resupply choppers as they hovered over the Marine positions. On the other hand, the small opening prevented the gun from being knocked out by anything except a direct hit from the front. Once the men on 881S had pinpointed the heavily camouflaged site, they went to work with their 106mm. Out of necessity, their firing routine was erratic; the gunners cranked off a round, dived for cover when enemy mortars responded, jumped up, adjusted the weapon, and fired again. While spotters guided them with such unorthodox jargon as "Right a tad," or "Up a hair," the gunners repeated the process and slowly closed in on the enemy position. Finally, one glowing round disappeared completely into the side of the hill and a split second later there was a muffled explosion from deep within. Smoke belched out the mouth of the tunnel and the NVA machine gun was no more. This performance was repeated several times during the battle with the same results.[(169)]
The three 105mm howitzers on 881S were also used extensively in the direct fire role and were especially useful against targets of opportunity. The ever-present fog around the hill reduced the number of such targets but on one occasion a momentary break in the weather yielded an extremely lucrative prize. When the fog suddenly lifted, an alert Company I machine gunner spotted a 20-man column of North Vietnamese slowly climbing Hill 758 which was due south of 881S. They were carrying what appeared to be several mortar tubes. The Marine immediately opened fire and even though the range was 1,200 meters he managed to hit several of the enemy soldiers. Instead of scattering, the remaining NVA troopers clustered around their fallen comrades and this proved to be a fatal error. The C/1/13 gunners attached to Company I sprang to the 105mm howitzer on the south side of the hill, quickly knocked aside the parapet, and depressed the tube for a downhill shot. Using a combination of point detonating and VT fuzes which were set to explode 50 feet above the ground, the gunners slammed a dozen rounds of direct fire into the midst of the tightly packed enemy soldiers. By the time the fog closed in again, there was no sign of life on the opposite slope. The action was so brief, that the first report received at the 3/26 CP was a laconic message from Captain Dabney that 20 North Vietnamese had been sighted, engaged, and killed.
There were also innovations inside the compound. Ever since 21 January, the NVA gunners had concentrated their fire on the base ammunition dumps. Originally there were two large caches but the main one was totally destroyed on the opening day of the battle. After that, Colonel Lownds decentralized his stores in several widely-scattered berms which were large, 12-foot-deep trenches, gouged out of the ground by bulldozers. One end of the berm was sloping so that 2-1/2 ton trucks could be driven down a corridor between two flanking stacks of ammunition which lined the sides of the trench. This arrangement greatly facilitated loading because the Marines could stand on top of the stacks and pass rounds onto the bed of the truck which was at their level. The driver then backed out of the berm and took the ammunition to the distribution points of the various units. The ammunition was not only dispersed, it was also segregated according to type. This way, if a berm of artillery high-explosive shells was hit, fire fighters were not hampered by tear gas or white phosphorous fumes. On three occasions, ammunition stores were hit but the resulting devastation never reached the proportion of that on the 21st.[(170)]
Although the berms were prime targets, the ASRT, MATCU, FDC, 26th Marines communications center, and other units which depended on sophisticated and delicate equipment suffered from the heavy shelling. Consequently, they all had one common problem--maintenance. The normal difficulties associated with keeping the various radars, radios, antennae, generators, and cooling components in an "up" status were complicated by the constant incoming, the dust, and the limited supply of replacement items. The vans and bunkers were heavily sandbagged but antennae and some communication lines were exposed and frequently knocked out by enemy rounds.[62] [(171)] The speed with which the vital installations were returned to operation served as a tribute to the technicians who maintained the equipment under the most adverse conditions imaginable. In one instance, a 122mm rocket exploded a scant seven meters from the ASRT-B van and sheared off most of the radio antennae. Thanks to several trouble shooters who braved the intense barrage and repaired the damage, the station was back on the air within 20 minutes.[63] Such performances were routine. The ASRT normally operated 23 hours a day and shut down one hour for maintenance. The MATCU, which was essential for ground-controlled approaches and paradrops, was kept operable 95 percent of the time.[(172)]
Major John A. Shepherd, Communications Officer of the 26th Marines, was responsible for the vast network which enabled the ground commanders to keep abreast of the situation and in touch with their units. The major praised the accomplishments of his men, stating that they "provided support in winning every battle, firing every round of artillery, controlling every air strike, and providing the means to receive every bean and bullet." There were six radio relay teams which kept open 52 channels between Khe Sanh and the outside world. In addition, there were five external teletype nets in operation 24-hours a day. Radio relay provided voice and teletype links to agencies at Dong Ha and Da Nang. For classified information, there were two secure voice circuits operating full time. One net linked the Combat Operations Center of the 26th Marines to that of the 3d Marine Division at Dong Ha. The other, the Regimental Tactical Net, enabled Colonel Lownds to disseminate hot information to his battalion commanders.
To protect it against the artillery, mortar, and rocket attacks, all communication equipment was either underground or heavily sandbagged. Major Shepherd moved his communications center into a shelter which was made from 4 conex boxes, 16 feet underground.[64] This nerve center housed the teletype equipment and switchboards which provided service for 65 on-base subscribers and 40 external radio relay voice circuits. In spite of the protective measures, the antenna and internal wire system sustained damage on a daily basis. Following every barrage, wiremen tracked down cuts and spliced them and repaired damaged antennae so that the various nets were back in operation within minutes. The maintenance and repair of the electronic devices used for perimeter security placed an additional burden on the communicators.[(173)]