| First Person |
| “The Montagnards,” by Douglas Robb |
| No matter where you were, life in Vietnam was stressful, lonely and, occasionally, terrifying. Some soldiers attempted to cope by creating a personal fantasy that their time in Vietnam did not count. It was time spent in a parallel universe. Eventually, they believed, it would end and they would get on the freedom bird and be transported back to real life in the “land of the big PX.” Unfortunately, that attitude sometimes resulted in risky behavior that had lifetime consequences: courts-martial, penicillin-resistant venereal disease, self-inflicted wounds. |
| As a company commander, I was provided with a better way of coping. Being responsible for 140 young soldiers forced you to put aside your own needs, fears and loneliness to focus on the welfare of your troops. The Army credo is, “Mission first, people always.” However, by 1969, on my second tour in Vietnam as a combat engineer, I had long since reversed that. |
| I was on the final five months of my tour, and the war was the beginning to wind down. With fewer American troops needing our help, my company had the job of supporting a Vietnamese infantry regiment in the Central Highlands. We were improving the fortifications around the regiment’s old French garrison, providing daily mine sweeps on Main Supply Route QL-19, and demolition support on the few operations the ARVN soldiers went out on. |
| Our mine sweeps were done by a squad of engineers with three handheld mine detectors and a five-ton dump truck containing the demolitions used to blow up in place any mines we found. The ARVN soldiers provided our security, usually an armored personnel carrier with a .50-caliber machine gun and a squad of infantrymen. |
| When properly adjusted and in the hands of an experienced operator, the Army’s P153 mine detector was reliable. We routinely detected 80 percent of mines. When everyone on the team was at his best and alert for clues, the percentage detected could sometimes exceed 90 percent, but the odds that we would find every single one always favored the enemy. |
| Usually, the mines were planted at night, when the security was withdrawn. Even during daylight the only sections of the road under continuous observation were the ones near bridges and checkpoints. During the day between convoys, it was possible for the Vietcong to sneak out and place mines. Rarely, they would even attempt to ambush our mine sweep teams. |
| The reaction of the security teams was unpredictable, affected by the intensity of the Vietcong effort. If the “ambush” consisted of a few rifle or machine-gun rounds fired from a thousand yards or more, the ARVN security usually could be depended on to respond. But if the Vietcong chucked a couple of mortar rounds at us, it was even odds the ARVN soldiers would hustle back to base. The level of trust and respect between us was not high. |
| I had repeatedly complained to my superiors that my troops were at risk, and requested an American mechanized infantry squad be assigned to us. Periodically, I accompanied the mine sweep teams to provide them moral support and a better radio. I also hoped I could personally observe and report the Vietnamese deserting us. |
| It was one of those times that we came upon a group of Montagnards – members of a minority ethnic group that lived in the Highlands and often worked with America forces – at the side of the road frantically waving us down. They were carrying a half-dozen improvised litters. When we got closer I could see the litters each held a small child. We had no medic, but it was apparent that only three of the children were still alive. The remaining three were in deep shock and would not last much longer. I immediately called for a medevac. |
| It appeared that all of them had been wounded by shrapnel, probably from American or South Vietnamese artillery fire the previous night. I set up a security cordon to await the chopper. When it arrived we rushed the three children on board. Two of the Montagnards tried to accompany the children to the hospital, but the crew threw them off. Then the chopper lifted off and quickly disappeared. |
| Later, while returning to the ARVN base after completing our mine sweep, I attempted to deal with my conflicted feelings. I couldn’t get the get the image of the silent, accusing Montagnards out of my mind. I had no answers for them or myself. Was the hospital able to save the children? Were they reunited with their families? I never found out. |
| Until then I had been able to divorce myself from any questions about the war. I was a regular Army officer on his second tour. After completing my first tour in Vietnam and my three-year initial obligation I had attempted to resign my commission. But the Engineer branch had quickly told me that the president was not accepting resignations at this time, thank you. |
| When I took my oath and accepted my commission I had done so without fully understanding that regular officers served at the pleasure of the president. I had to accept the consequences of my stupidity, and try to serve as honorably as I could until the war ended or something else released me. In the meantime, it was a game – us against the godless Commies, I told myself. |
| My first duty was to try to keep my troops safe and motivated, accomplish the mission, and get home myself. The problem was that my encounter with the Montagnards had suddenly made the war personal. I had been forced to deal with the reality that the game we were playing was killing children. Nothing I knew about the war could justify that. |
| Not that it was my fault. I hadn’t called in those artillery rounds. Some Vietnamese provincial chief had probably drawn some lines on a map and declared an area a free-fire zone, and it was probably an ARVN artillery unit that had fired the shells. I told myself the Montagnards weren’t blameless. They shouldn’t have been where they were. They should have resettled into an area controlled by the ARVNs. |
| Normally, my driver and I carried on a little banter when we were moving. He was a kid from Tennessee. He’d never been out of his county until he was drafted and shipped to Vietnam a couple of months before. Normally, I couldn’t shut him up. He told me more than I wanted to know about his family, his girlfriend, his dog and his plans when he got back home. |
| Now, we drove in silence. Periodically, he looked over at me with the same accusing expression I had seen on the faces of the Montagnards. He expected me to explain what had happened. I have never been able to. |
Douglas Robb served 32 years, active duty and reserves, in the Army Corps of Engineers and retired in 1998 as a lieutenant colonel. He later worked as the chief for engineering and planning at West Point.
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