The intensity of combat can be terrifying, despite your paralyzing fear, your survival demands that you take action! The ability to overcome your fear and move forward into enemy fire, to achieve your objective, this has always been the primary mission of the Airborne Infantry. Defeating the enemy as soon as possible was the best way to survive. Combat in the jungles of Vietnam was a close in thing, in many cases there was less than 10 to 20 meters between you and your opposite number. The closeness made it a very personal affair, because in that close, the enemy was always trying to kill you, before you could kill him. Winning meant survival, it was that simple!

Garry Bowles served with A Company, 2nd Battalion, 8th Airborne from November 1965 to November 1966. This photo was taken in March 1966 a couple of weeks after the conclusion of operation Masher/White Wing. The location is The Air Cav base camp at An Khe. That's Hong Kong Mountain in the background.

Ambush at An Lao
By Garry Bowles
 

It had been six very long weeks since the battalion had left our base camp in the central highlands of Vietnam. We were part of a division size campaign named Masher/White Wing; it was the largest operation since the great battles of the Ia Drang Valley the previous fall. Our battalion was part of the 1st Airborne Brigade of the 1st Air Cavalry Division. We were paratroopers, who rode in helicopters, but in reality we mostly walked, and for the last month and a half we had humped our butts to the bone. Everyone was tired and a bit edgy. We'd been in daily enemy contact for about a week; nothing major just a lot of small skirmishes. Although our casualties had been light we definitely knew we were in Indian country.

The company's senior combat medic, Garry Bowles, recalls, “It was about 0900 on the morning of February 24th when we air assaulted to the crest of a small mountain. Our mission was to move down a series of spiny little ridges leading to the floor of the valley below. It was just another day in the bush. We'd done it a hundred times before. The company moved down the ridgeline in a two column formation, the point men hacking a path with their machetes for the troops bringing up the rear. We had been beating the bush for about four hours when suddenly automatic weapons fire erupted on our left flank. The 2nd Platoon under the command of Lieutenant Gill Cochran reported making contact with an enemy squad. The 2nd Platoon captured two NVA soldiers along with a carriage mounted machine gun, ammunition, 5 rucksacks and assorted enemy documents and reported they were moving in pursuit of a fleeing enemy soldier. Within minutes of the 2nd Platoon contact, Lieutenant Ed Polonitza, commanding the 3rd Platoon, radioed hearing voices on his left flank and led his men in an assault that killed 5 of the enemy and captured a second carriage mounted machine gun and ammunition along with a cache of 81mm mortar shells plus assorted enemy equipment. It was becoming more and more obvious to everyone that we were nipping at the heels of a significant North Vietnamese infantry outfit. The company moved forward in pursuit of the enemy and immediately was met with intense automatic weapons, machine gun and recoilless rifle fire; the point man and three other A Company troopers were killed instantly. Captain Detrixhe, the company commander, rushed forward in a crouch to the point of contact; Dick Marshall, his radio operator, and I were hot on his heels. I moved forward behind the Captain noticing troopers on both our flanks firing into the jungle.”

As Lieutenant Ed Polonitza remembers, “We approached a small clearing towards our left flank. The front element of our column led by our 'Point Man', Leonard Lawrence, guided our platoon around the side of the clearing. I was near the front of our formation, behind a fire team and a machine gun crew. As we skirted the clearing, all hell broke loose on the lower left flank of our column. The clearing erupted with automatic weapons fire and rocket propelled grenades tearing through our column at very close range. The 2nd Platoon, on our left flank, and the remainder of my 3rd Platoon were immediately pinned down and suffering heavy casualties from the point blank enemy fire. At this point, each of our platoons was fighting for their lives.”

Bowles vividly remembers, “I suddenly found myself along with Marshall and the Captain in front of the column; we had advanced beyond our lines into a small jungle clearing. Everything seemed to happen simultaneously. I couldn't distinguish the blinking muzzle flashes from the growl of automatic weapons fire that was coming at me from the far edge of the clearing. I could hear the screams of men wounded in that initial fusillade. It was as if some great evil beast had reached up from the bowels of the earth to capture everyone in the clearing in its angry grip of terror and fear. The shock of the moment filled every fiber of my being with a paralyzing numbness. It was as if I was one with all that was swirling around me. All that ever was and all that ever would be was happening to me in that split second of time.”

It was February 24, 1966, and somewhere in the An Lao Valley Republic of Vietnam, A Company, 2nd Battalion, 8th Airborne Cavalry had just walked dead into a hornet’s nest of NVA infantry. “As the impact of the initial NVA barrage of fire subsided,” recalls Bowles, “My sense of time and awareness slowly returned. I could hear troopers to my rear return fire into the tree line. I could hear American voices, some barking commands, some crying for help. Directly in front of me, in the small jungle clearing, laid several dead paratroopers. At the edge of the clearing our company commander, Captain Detrixhe, was behind a small knoll firing his M-16 on full automatic into the tree line. His radio operator, Dick Marshall, was hugging the ground about 10 feet to the left of me. Suddenly Marshall sprang to his feet and made a rush to the knoll and safety. The radio on his back, with its big whip antenna sticking a couple of feet in the air, made Dick a perfect target for the NVA gunners. Several bursts hit Dick throwing him to the ground. There was a loud pop and a bright white flame followed by swirling red smoke. An enemy tracer round had ignited a smoke grenade dangling from Dick's web gear. The billowing smoke enveloped the clearing with a dense red fog that was filled with hundreds of small whirlpools caused by the automatic weapons fire coming from both sides of the clearing. I took a deep breath and sprinted into the smoke to where I thought Dick had fallen. I found him lying on his back, shot several times in the chest and stomach. The flame from the exploding grenade had set his uniform on fire burning him severely from the hip down to his knee. I quickly beat the smoldering flames with my left hand as I poured water on him with the canteen in my right hand. Dick had a funny blue pallor to his face; he had swallowed lots of smoke and was having a hard time trying to breath. I crooked his head backward over my left arm and cleared his throat, and then slowly trickled water into his mouth. He coughed up a mouthful of red mucus. I didn't know if it was blood or just red smoke that he had coughed up with the water.”

“Dick was badly hurt, and my first thought was to drag him to the safety of the knoll where Captain Detrixhe was firing. I jumped up and grabbed Dick by the back of his shoulder harness and started to drag him backwards to the knoll. It was like a dream, and I was moving in slow motion; no matter how hard or fast I tried to move it seemed like I really wasn't going anywhere. I was literally frozen in time as AK-47 rounds whizzed past my face. The medical bag that was slung over my shoulder dropped to the ground, the straps cut in two by enemy fire. Suddenly I felt my right thigh and it was wet. I looked down to see that my canteen had been shredded by rifle fire. It was water soaking my leg, not blood, thank God! Dick's body convulsed as several more rounds impacted his body. I suddenly fell backwards over the sloping knoll letting go of Dick as I fell. The impact of the fall freed me from my dreamlike state, and I lay flat on my back watching tracer rounds fly over my head. I was safe behind the slope. I quickly rolled over on my belly and crawled forward to grab Dick's shoulder harness in order to pull him to safety. Captain Detrixhe reached over and grabbed Dick's other shoulder harness and together, we pulled him over the edge of the slope. Captain Detrixhe put a fresh magazine into his weapon and lifted to his knee to pour more fire into the tree line. His body suddenly lifted up and spun in mid air. He landed on his back, facing me, but his helmet and the top of his head were both missing. He slumped to one side with blood pumping from what was left of his head spraying my face in a sticky mist. I reached over to Dick's wrist feeling for a pulse, there was none. I lay there between the Captain and Dick trying to stay perfectly still, fearing that any movement I made would attract enemy fire.”

“Over the din of weapons fire, I could hear someone calling out to me,” Bowles recalled, “Doc, Doc!” “It was Lieutenant Erle Taylor, the Company XO. I yelled back to him while trying not to move, “Taylor, you're now 6, you're now 6.” The number 6 was the common radio designation for a company commander. I was trying to tell him that the CO was dead, and he was now in charge of the company. He hollered back “I copy that, hang on.” What else could I do? I continued to hug the ground for dear life. To the left of the clearing a crescendo of weapons fire erupted. It sounded like M-16s. Based on where the firing was coming from I figured it must be Ed Polonitza’s 3rd Platoon flanking the enemy positions in the tree line.”

As Ed Polonitza recalls, “At this point, I was about 10 to 15 meters from the center of the enemy force. I felt the best option was for us to flank the enemy ambush from their rear. A small group of us, including my RTO, Sydney Shearing, Leonard Lawrence, Dave Dement, Jake Townsend and Dwight Lamsom, an M-60 machine gunner, along with Nick Cucci, his assistant gunner, began to crawl around the NVA flank. As we maneuvered forward, we began to receive incoming fire from the rest of A Company, who were firing through the enemy positions. When I felt that we were behind the enemy, Shearing radioed Lieutenant Taylor, who had assumed command after Captain Detrixhe’s death, and requested that the rest of the company hold their fire as we made our assault to eliminate the enemy position. We attacked directly into a small group of NVA infantry, pouring fire into their position. I threw a hand grenade towards the enemy position. The grenade hit a tree limb between our small group and the NVA and exploded harmlessly. At this point we were attacking the enemy from both their front and rear. The NVA, realizing they were being surrounded, fled dropping their equipment as they ran. Unfortunately for them, they ran directly into Charlie Company of our battalion, who was moving to reinforce us. The fight was over. Then began the sad and mournful business of collecting the swollen gray bodies of our dead and carrying them back to that jungle clearing for which they had died. It was a difficult day, a tough day, a day which none who were there will ever forget.”

“As I lay in the clearing hugging the ground for dear life,” Bowles recalls, “I could hear the roar of gunfire gradually subsiding into the occasional pop, pop of M-16’s firing single shots. I looked to my rear as I heard American voices approaching. Crouching troopers with weapons at the ready were emerging from the jungle into the clearing from all sides. The weapons fire had subsided and had been replaced with the excited chatter of voices all around me. I heard someone say “you all right Doc?” I looked up; it was Lieutenant Taylor, his arm outstretched offering to help me to my feet. I took his hand and grunted as he pulled me upright. My legs were like rubber and I felt sick to my stomach. “Yeah,” I said, “I'm fine.” “A platoon is moving up to secure the clearing. They've got chain saws to knock down some of these trees. We'll be able to bring in some medevacs as soon as they're finished, so have your medics collect all the wounded as close to the edge of the LZ as possible.” “I shook my head in response. He lowered his voice and said, “I'll have a squad start gathering the dead. You can evacuate them after we get the wounded out.” “Yes sir,” I replied, suddenly feeling even sicker to my stomach.”

“Two of the platoon medics, Bobby Elkins and Mike Huggins, appeared from out of the jungle each helping wounded troopers. They were followed by soldiers carrying the seriously wounded in make-shift litters fashioned from ponchos. Elkins, over the grrrrr of the chain saws, hollered to me from the edge of the now expanding LZ, “Where are we setting up the aid station?” “Right where you are,” I hollered back as I walked towards him. Within 10 minutes a half dozen more wounded arrived at the aid station. We patched them up as best we could and filled out medevac tags so the evac hospital would know what treatment we had provided. Several of the troopers died before we heard the whomp, whomp, whomp of the approaching choppers. We rushed to load the most severely wounded onto the first chopper. It no sooner lifted off from the LZ than the second chopper landed and we repeated the process. There wasn't the same sense of urgency for the dead, and since night fall was quickly approaching, it was decided our dead would be lifted out in the morning along with several wounded enemy soldiers captured in our final assault. There was no rush. Just as I had done with the wounded, I made a list of the names of the dead troopers to be evacuated. Many of the names were all too familiar. A platoon sergeant by the name of Carerra walked over and asked me if I had seen Lieutenant Taylor. “Over there,” I said, pointing to the makeshift command post at the other end of the LZ. “Give him this,” I said, “It's the names of the dead and wounded.” “How many?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders, and replied, “Don't know.” He shook his head as if he understood and taking the list from my hand, he strode off towards the CP.”

“I sat down next to Bobby and Mike. None of us spoke. There were no words for how we felt, and we were just too exhausted for idle talk. We sat in silence, with our hands, faces and uniforms covered in the blood of our comrades, each of us replaying the events of the day over and over in our minds.”

“It was just before dusk when we got the word that a re-supply chopper was inbound to our position. The chopper arrived, and hovering about 10 feet off the ground, kicked out its cargo of food, ammo, water and medical supplies. I stood there watching as the chopper started to lift off for its return flight to base camp. The chopper slowly gained altitude as it flew past me, and I saw the door gunner look down and wave. I stood there in that terrible place and waved back, wishing with all my soul that I could leave also.”

Word has been received here that Sergeant Garry O. Bowles, 1st Cavalry Division, (Airborne) U.S. Army has been awarded the Bronze Star Medal with "V" device, for heroism.

Sergeant Bowles is the son of Colonel (Ret.) and Mrs. George M. Bowles. Treasure Island, Florida. He is a graduate of Cony High School and makes his home with his aunt, Miss Ellen Cunningham, 122 Sewall Street. The citation read in part, "Specialist Four Bowles distinguished himself by heroism while serving as a company aid man in the vicinity of the An Lao Valley, Republic of Viet Nam on February 24, 1966. When contact was made with an enemy force the company headquarter group moved to the front near the point of contact. The Commander and one of his radio operators were hit by a sniper at close range. The sniper struck the radio operator's pistol belt causing a smoke grenade to go off and burn him. Specialist Four Bowles rushed from behind his cover to render aid. He succeeded in removing the pistol belt and putting the fire out, and continued treating the radio operator until the smoke lifted and the sniper again shot the radio operator. The last rounds killed this individual and hit Specialist Four Bowle's equipment.