When the controller and his flight made visual contact, the real work began. The TAC(A) made a marking run during which he either fired a smoke rocket or pitched out a colored smoke grenade on the position he wanted hit. Once the attack pilots had the smoke, the TAC(A), and the nearest friendlies in sight, they rolled in on the assigned heading and made dummy passes until the controller was satisfied that the jets were lined up on the right target. He then cleared them in for hot passes. While the jets streaked in, the controller monitored his VHF tactical net to the ground troops and gave short corrections to the attack pilots over his UHF radio. An example of an average commentary follows:

TAC(A): Number One, from my smoke go six o'clock at 100 meters.... PILOT: Roger, One's? in hot.... TAC(A): I have you in sight, you're cleared to fire.... TAC(A): PILOT: Ones off target.... Switches Safe.... TAC(A): Number Two, from One's hits come three o'clock at 50 meters.... PILOT: Roger, Two's in hot ... etc., etc.

The aircraft continued their race track pattern until all ordnance was expended at which time the leader announced that his flight was pulling off "high and dry."[50]

The TAC(A) would then swoop low over the smoke-shrouded target and attempt to record the results of the strike. This Battle Damage Assessment (BDA) was relayed to the departing pilots for their intelligence debriefing back at homeplate. An example of one such transmission would be:

Your BDA follows: 5 KBA (killed by air); two bunkers, 1 automatic weapon, and 50 meters of trenchline destroyed; one secondary explosion. You have been flying in support of the 26th Marines; your controller has been SOUTHERN OSCAR. Good shooting and good afternoon, gentlemen.

While the strike pilots checked out with the Khe Sanh DASC and headed for home, the TAC(A) looked for another target and waited for another flight.(139)

One of the most unusual incidents involving the use of strike aircraft occurred near Hill 881S and the key figure in the episode was a Marine from American Samoa--Lance Corporal Molimao Niuatoa. The corporal was a bull of a man, who because of his origin and wedge-shape physique was nicknamed "Pineapple Chunk." (A second American Samoan in the company of considerably smaller stature was dubbed "Pineapple Tidbit.") But it was not the muscles which distinguished Niuatoa, it was his eyes; the man had absolutely phenomenal vision. During his recruit training, this gift had enabled him to post a score of 241 out of a possible 250 on the rifle range. Besides his vision, the corporal had the patience of Job and a deep power of concentration--qualities which were essential in his job as an artillery spotter.

One day, Corporal Niuatoa, using a pair of 20-power naval binoculars, was scanning in the direction of 305 when he picked up the muzzle flash of an enemy artillery piece; he then saw the gunners hurriedly cover the weapon with a screen. As the round sputtered overhead on its way to Khe Sanh, the corporal noted the position and reported his discovery to the company commander. Referring to a map, Captain Dabney could not get anything other than a general idea of the location because the site was from 12,000 to 13,000 meters away and the terrain in that area was so mountainous that he could not pinpoint the exact contour line. Not so Corporal Niuatoa, he could see exactly where the gun was and kept his eyes glued to the binoculars. Normally, he would have adjusted on the target with marking rounds but the site was beyond the range of friendly artillery. The only way the gun could be taken out was with aircraft.

While Pineapple Chunk maintained his reference point, an O1-E Birddog aircraft arrived on the scene, and was directed to the general area of the artillery position. On the heels of the spotter craft came several flights of Marine A-4 Skyhawks armed with 500-pound bombs. Although the TAC(A) didn't know exactly where the target was, he rolled in and cranked off a smoke rocket. The puff from the 2.75-inch rocket wasn't visible to the Marines on 881S but the billowing clouds left by the 500-pound bombs of the first A-4 were. Using standard artillery terminology, Corporal Niuatoa adjusted: "Left 2,000, add 1,000." The corrections were passed to the TAC(A) who fired another rocket, on which an A-4 pilot placed another string of bombs. Gradually, the bracket was closed until a Skyhawk in the fourth flight scored a direct hit and the gun position erupted in a series of secondary explosions.(140)

The NVA troops, however, were not always on the receiving end; they frequently dished it out. In addition to numerous helicopters shot down around the combat base, several of the speedier jets were also knocked out of the sky. During one close air support mission, an A-4 flown by Major William E. Loftus of Marine Attack Squadron 311 received heavy battle damage and the pilot realized that he could not make it to the coast. Not wanting to end up in "Indian Country," he nursed his crippled Skyhawk toward Khe Sanh and ejected right over the base. As the smoking A-4 knifed into the lush jungle growth and erupted in a brilliant orange fireball, Major Loftus floated down and landed in an outer ring of barbed wire just outside the Company B, 1/26 perimeter. Lieutenant Dillon, the 2d Platoon commander, took several men out and helped extricate the major who had become hopelessly entangled in his parachute shroud lines and the barbed wire. After being freed, Major Loftus grinned and told the lieutenant: "If you weren't so damn ugly, I'd kiss you." After a quick medical check-up, the major climbed aboard a helicopter and returned to his squadron at Chu Lai for another plane and another day.(141)

One of the closest escapes, however, occurred to the southwest of the base. In late January, Lieutenant Colonel Harry T. Hagaman, Commanding Officer of Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 323, and his Radar Intercept Officer, Captain Dennis F. Brandon, were leading a flight of F-4B Phantoms against what the TAC(A) described as a "suspected" antiaircraft position. The enemy gunners confirmed their presence during the first pass. As Lieutenant Colonel Hagaman's F-4B, armed with napalm and 250-pound Snakeyes, skimmed low over the treetops, the North Vietnamese cut loose and laced the belly of his plane with a stitch of 50 caliber shells. The aircraft shuddered under the impact and burst into flames. Captain Brandon, a backseat veteran with over 300 combat missions, knew instantly when he heard the series of ominous "thuds" that the Phantom had been mortally wounded; he quickly pulled his face curtain and ejected. Lieutenant Colonel Hagaman stayed with the bucking Phantom momentarily in a vain effort to stabilize the aircraft by using his rudders. The delay almost cost the pilot his life because the F-4B began to tumble end-over-end barely 100 feet above the ground. Suddenly the world outside became a spinning blur of blue and green. The second time that he saw green--indicating that the aircraft was inverted--Lieutenant Colonel Hagaman started to pull his alternate ejection handle which was located between his knees. In the second that it took the escape mechanism to function, the Phantom flipped upright and the ejection cartridges blasted the pilot from the flaming cockpit. Seconds later, the plane cartwheeled into the ground and exploded. The pilot was so low when he "punched out" that the chute had scarcely deployed when his feet touched the ground. Both crewmen hid in the tall elephant grass within earshot of the North Vietnamese who were searching for them. Within minutes, rescue helicopters lumbered on the scene and, while the downed crew's wingman made dummy passes to discourage the enemy soldiers, the choppers darted in and plucked the shaken, but otherwise uninjured, Marines to safety.[51] (142)

If there was anything that could top that performance, it was the spectacular air shows provided daily by B-52 Stratofortresses of the 4133d Provisional Heavy Bombardment Wing, based at Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, and the 4258th Strategic Bombardment Wing in Thailand. The B-52 pilots did not count on finesse as much as they did on sheer power because each Stratofortress carried a 27-ton payload of 108 mixed 500- and 750-pound bombs. Since these giants had the means to virtually move mountains, the Arc Light strikes were used on area targets such as troop concentrations, marshalling points, supply depots, and bunker sites. The result of the enemy build-up around the base was an enormous number of targets located in dispersed but common areas and such complexes were ideal for heavy bombers. These targets were programmed into computers aboard the aircraft and the strikes were conducted from altitudes above 30,000 feet. To the bomber crews, it was an impersonal type of warfare because, from above the overcast, they rarely even saw their bombs explode. The bombs did not have to be seen to be felt.(143)

When several flights of B-52s worked over a target, the results were awesome. The exploding bombs churned up strips of the terrain several thousand meters long and the ground for miles around literally shook from the blasts. Many enemy casualties were sustained from the concussion alone. One entry from a captured North Vietnamese diary read: "18 February: The heavy bombing of the jets and B-52 explosions are so strong that our lungs hurt." In some instances, NVA soldiers were found after an Arc Light strike wandering around in a daze with blood streaming from their noses and mouths.[52] Often the internal hemorrhaging induced by the concussion was so severe that it resulted in death. Quite understandably, such missions could not be unleashed too close to the Marines.(144)

In the early stages of the conflict, Arc Light strikes were not authorized within a prescribed distance of friendly lines. The same rule had applied during the heavy fighting at Con Thien the year before and the NVA had taken advantage of the buffer zone by moving troops and supplies in as close to the Marine base as possible to avoid the bomber raids. They tried the same thing at Khe Sanh. When American airborne observers noted enemy bunker complexes cropping up near the KSCB, the no-bomb line was moved in to about half of the original distance. At first the regimental commander was afraid that the resulting concussion would collapse his own bunkers and trenches; as it turned out, the enemy fortifications were the only ones which suffered. The first few B-52 raids inside the old line touched off scores of secondary explosions and undoubtedly snapped the North Vietnamese out of their sense of security. The closer strikes also served as a morale booster for the defenders who flocked from their bunkers to watch, what the Marines called, "Number One on the hit parade."(145)

According to the regimental Target Intelligence Officer (TIO), Captain Mirza M. Baig, the B-52 was an accurate weapons system which the FSCC employed around Khe Sanh much the same as the other supporting arms. About 95 percent of the Arc Light missions were targeted at the 26th Marines headquarters.[53] Requests were submitted to the 3d Marine Division Air Officer 15 hours prior to the drop at a rate of 8 strikes every 24 hours. Up to three hours before the strike, the TIO, upon direction, could divert the bombers to new unscheduled targets, but after that the Stratofortresses were restricted to their original target. The response time was later trimmed even more by using cells of three B-52s which left Guam and Thailand every three hours; this put the bombers over Khe Sanh every hour and a half. In spite of this streamlining, the B-52s were never as responsive or flexible as the droves of fighter/bombers which were overhead constantly. Nevertheless, the devastating power and psychological effect produced by the Stratofortresses, coupled with the surprise factor, made them an extremely valuable adjunct.[54] (146)

The type of strike which most impressed the regimental commander, however, was the ground-controlled radar bombing. Although these raids lacked the punch of an Arc Light strike, they were as accurate and flexible as dive-bombing attacks and could be conducted in the worst weather. In fact, the technique was designed especially to cope with the inherent bad weather which accompanied the monsoons in Southeast Asia when attack aircraft could not get below an overcast to hit the target.

The controlling agency at Khe Sanh for these strikes was Air Support Radar Team-Bravo (ASRT-B), Marine Air Support Squadron 3 which had moved from Chu Lai on 16 January. The ground controllers operated from a heavily reinforced van which housed their sensitive computer equipment and used the TPQ-10 radar to guide aircraft to their target; thus, the missions were called TPQs.[55] (147) The radar emitted a pencil-shaped beam which detected and locked on to the aircraft. Using target coordinates provided by the FSCC, the controller programmed the enemy position, ballistic characteristics of the bombs, current winds, and other pertinent data into a computer which was connected to the radar. The computer also received inputs from the radar and, in turn, provided corrections in airspeed, altitude, and heading which the operator passed on to the pilot. The controller closely monitored his set and, at a predetermined release point, called a "Mark" to the pilot who "pickled" his bombs.[56] In specially-equipped aircraft, such as the A-4 Skyhawk and the A-6 Intruder, the bombs could be released automatically from the ground. One ground controller could handle a single plane, a section (two planes), or a division (four planes) on the same pass as long as the pilots flew in a tight formation and the radar did not break lock. One of the controllers' favorite aircraft was the A-6 because it packed such a heavy wallop; a single Intruder usually carried 28 500-pounders. Any fighter/bomber, however, could be used as long as it carried low-drag ordnance and the pilot could make a smooth run.(148)

Even though most TPQs were conducted from around 14,000 feet, the accuracy of ASRT-B was phenomenal. When new personnel arrived at Khe Sanh, they were given several check drops on a nearby hill to test their proficiency before the newcomers were allowed to conduct strikes near friendly troops. The first drop was always within 40 meters of the target and, after they adjusted there was virtually no error. Calibration drops were also conducted twice weekly to ensure the accuracy of the equipment. One member of the FSCC stated that, if he were in a foxhole and under attack, he would have no qualms about calling an ASRT-B controlled TPQ within 35 meters of his position. The rule of thumb which the FSCC generally applied when determining a safe distance for normal operations, however, was one meter from the friendlies for every pound of conventional ordnance being delivered. Thus, for TPQs, a 250-pound bomb would not normally be dropped within 250 meters of Allied troops, a 500-pounder within 500 meters, and so on. This criteria was not established because the men on the ground lacked confidence in the system but because of the large fragmentation pattern produced by the bombs. Besides, anything inside the prescribed radius could be handled just as effectively by artillery, mortars, and direct fire weapons. In an emergency, the regimental commander would have undoubtedly lifted the restriction. Concerning the quality of support he received from ASRT-B, Colonel Lownds said, "Anything but the highest praise would not be enough."(149)

In addition to its accuracy, the TPQ system was extremely flexible. A strike could be programmed and executed within 10 or 12 minutes utilizing any available aircraft. Most of the missions were at night when it was inefficient and dangerous to conduct dive-bombing strikes. As a matter of routine, two Marine and three Air Force flights were scheduled every hour unless an emergency developed. On 18 February, ASRT-B set a new squadron record for a single 24-hour period by controlling aircraft which delivered 486 tons of ordnance on 105 separate targets. After that, the record was approached frequently but never broken. During the siege, ASRT-B controlled 4,989 TPQs in support of the 26th Marines.(150)

Beginning on 20 February, ASRT-B also assisted with supply drops whenever the Khe Sanh MATCU was inoperable. Normally, the controllers could have guided the transport pilots to an exact release point but, at Khe Sanh, the C-130s had to fly directly over the station and the TPQ-10 would break lock.[57] (151) Therefore, the ASRT personnel used the same technique as the MATCU controllers and called a "Mark" when the Hercules was over the eastern threshold and the pilots completed the runs with Doppler navigation and stop watches. The only problem was that, when the ASRT conducted supply drops, it was drawn away from the primary mission of handling TPQs.(152)

While air support was vital to the defense of the base, Colonel Lownds felt that his artillery played an equally important role. When the fighting first broke out, the colonel surmised that the side which managed to keep its artillery intact would win the battle. The Marine artillery emerged almost unscathed. Many incoming rounds landed within the battery positions, however, very few actually hit the gun pits and throughout the operation only three artillery pieces at the base were destroyed; one was a 155mm howitzer parked alongside the loading ramp awaiting airlift to Dong Ha.[58] Generally the pieces, were tucked away inside heavily sandbagged revetments and, while the crews were often showered with fragments, it would have taken a direct hit, squarely on top of the weapon, to knock out a howitzer. Fortunately for the Marine gunners, the North Vietnamese scored only one such a hit which led the regimental commander to the conclusion: "Either they were amazingly inaccurate or we were amazingly lucky."(153)

The enemy's failure to silence Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly's batteries was a big point in favor of the Marines. While American news reporters gave wide coverage to the number of shells falling on the base, they frequently neglected to mention that 1/13 answered each enemy round with 10 of its own. Throughout the battle, 1/13 cranked out 158,891 mixed rounds in direct support of the 26th Marines. The methods employed by the FSCC were reminiscent of those used in World War I. Time On Target (TOT) by massed batteries, Harassment and Interdiction (H&I) by battery volley instead of a single piece, artillery boxes, rolling barrages, and battery zones were a few techniques adopted by the FSCC which more than lived up to its motto: "Be Generous."[59] (154)

Since the enemy did most of his maneuvering under the cover of darkness, that was when the Marine and Army batteries were the most active. Captain Baig, who wore one hat--Target Intelligence Officer--in the S-2 section and another--Target Information Officer--in the FSCC later described a good night's work:

An average night's pattern of pre-planned fires was as follows: Combined TOTs from 9 batteries (4-6); separate battalion TOTs (Army 4-6, Marine 10-15), battery multiple volley individual missions (40-50); battery H&Is (20-30). Normal 1 gun, 1 round H&Is were not used; this type of fire was of little value. Marine and Army artillery were employed in target areas and at ranges to reduce to a minimum check fires caused by the arrival of TPQ and reconnaissance aircraft. Later, as we learned finesse, air was given the targets south of the base and west of the maximum range of the 175mm guns; 1/13 was given any targets whose range required a maximum ordinate of less than 14,000 feet (altitude of TPQ run); and the 175mm guns were assigned targets to the north, northwest, and east of the base. Such were the pre-planned fires.(155)

In addition to volume, reaction time was a key factor. Unless friendly aircraft in the target area necessitated a check fire, artillery response was immediate--no matter what the weather. To test the proficiency of the Fire Direction Center and the gun crews, Colonel Lownds periodically walked into the FSCC bunker, pointed to a spot on the huge map which adorned the wall and directed Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly to hit it. The coordinates were quickly sent to the FDC where they were either fed into the FADAC computer or worked out manually and the firing data was then passed on to the gun crew. After adjusting the tube, the gunners slammed a round home and sent it on its way. The entire process usually took less than 40 seconds. This "instant artillery" constantly hampered enemy movement within the TAOR and helped break up numerous attacks.(156)

The defensive fire plan adopted by the FSCC was separate from and not to be confused with the final protective fires employed by the defenders who manned the perimeter. The artillery batteries were used to prevent the enemy assault forces from reaching the wire and to cut off the lead elements from reinforcements. The fact that the North Vietnamese usually attacked with their battalions in column made it somewhat easier for the FSCC to isolate the assault elements from the reserves. When the enemy launched his attack, the FSCC placed a three-sided artillery box around the lead battalion; three batteries of 1/13 executed this mission. The fourth battery then closed the remaining side, which faced the friendly positions, with a barrage that rolled from one end of the box to the other--much like a piston within its cylinder. The NVA force in the box could not escape and could not avoid the rolling barrage. Those North Vietnamese who spilled out of the open end of the box were subjected to the final protective fires of the Marines along the perimeter.

At the same time 1/13 worked over the assault force, the FSCC put a secondary box into effect for the benefit of the back-up units. The Army 175mm batteries were responsible for two sides which were about 500 meters outside the primary box. On order, the gunners rolled their barrages in toward the sides of the primary box and back out again. The third side was sealed by continuous flights of aircraft under the control of the TPQ-10 radar. Whenever B-52s could be diverted in time, Arc Light strikes were used to saturate the approach routes to the battle area.(157)

Another key factor in the defense of Khe Sanh was the manner in which Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly's FSCC coordinated their air effort with the artillery so that the two components were complimentary. One prime example was the Mini-Arc Light which was devised by the Assistant Fire Support Coordinator, Captain Kenneth O. W. Steen and the TIO, Captain Baig. As the name implies, this technique was used against an area target the same as a B-52 strike, only the former could be organized and employed much quicker. When intelligence reports indicated that NVA units were in a certain region, the FSCC plotted a 500 by 1,000-meter block in the center of the suspected area or across a likely route of march. Two A-6 Intruders, each armed with 28 500-pound bombs, were called on station for a TPQ and the batteries at Khe Sanh, Camp Carroll, and the Rockpile were alerted for a fire mission. Thirty seconds before the two A-6s dropped, the 175mm batteries, concentrating their fire on one half of the block, salvoed the first of approximately 60 rounds. At the same time the A-6s rippled their load down the middle of the block, the 1/13 batteries opened up on the second half with around 200 155mm, 105mm, and 4.2-inch rounds. The trajectory and flight time of all ordnance were computed so that the bombs and initial artillery shells hit at the same instant. The saturation of the target area was such that any enemy soldiers caught in the zone during the bombardment simply ceased to exist.(158)

During the second week in February, a special Mini-Arc Light was directed against a major NVA headquarters. Two members of the 26th Marines S-2, Majors Robert B. Coolidge and Jerry E. Hudson, learned from their various sources that a force-wide meeting of NVA commanders and their staffs would occur in an abandoned schoolhouse near the Laotian border. A beefed-up Mini was prepared to welcome the delegates. For this strike, the target block was reduced to 500 by 300 meters around the schoolhouse which would take in, as one of the planners stated, "the hangers-on and other idlers who usually congregate around large staffs." Twenty minutes after the meeting was scheduled to start, the trap was sprung. Two Marine A-6 Intruders and four F-4B Phantoms unloaded 152 500-pound bombs into the block in concert with the opening volleys of eight artillery batteries (total of 350 artillery rounds).(159) The target was obliterated, but whether or not this unusual ambush netted any NVA brass-hats was never ascertained.

The Micro-Arc Light was executed in the same manner as the Mini except smaller amounts of ordnance were used and the block was cut down to 500 by 500 meters. Any aircraft on station would suffice, preferably ones armed with 12 to 16 500-pounders. Artillery fire was reduced to 30 rounds from the 175mm guns and 100 mixed rounds from Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly's battalion. The advantage of the Micro was that it could be put into effect within 10 minutes while it took roughly 45 minutes to plan and execute the Mini. On an average night, three to four Minis and six to eight Micros were executed, usually to the south and southeast of the base; both were extremely effective.(160)

The massive firepower supporting the Marines would have been almost useless had they not known where and when to employ it. The 26th Marines intelligence section was responsible for this facet of the operation and these people had more than a passing knowledge of the enemy's past strategy. At Dien Bien Phu and Con Thien, the Communists had followed a fairly predictable pattern--not unlike the classic siege of the 18th Century. There were three distinct phases involved in this type of campaign: arrival on the scene and encirclement of the garrison, construction of siege works and support facilities, T-ing the sapheads and final assault. After investing the base, the North Vietnamese first established numerous forward logistic bases within a few thousand meters of the base. Under the cover of darkness, the enemy soldiers dug a series of shallow trenches, interlaced with supply bunkers, leading from these points toward the American positions. The first trenches began to appear at Khe Sanh around 23 February and the heaviest concentration was to the south and southeast. Once in close, the main trenches branched off into ones which paralleled the Marines lines; these secondary trenches, which from the air looked like long fingers reaching greedily toward the base, were the ones from which the NVA assault troops intended to attack.(161)

At first, the defenders tried to prevent the enemy from moving in too close to the base. The routes into the valley were saturated; artillery H&I fire and frequent air strikes were employed but such tactics only tended to slow down the enemy and force him to bypass certain routes--they did not stop him. Constant, massed artillery would have effectively blocked infiltration but that alternative was, from a logistics standpoint, impossible. The S-2 personnel recommended that the best way to counter the enemy was to allow the North Vietnamese to close and pursue their siege tactics and then, to borrow a phrase used by General "Chesty" Puller (then a colonel) on 28 November 1950 when his regiment was surrounded near the Chosin Reservoir in Korea, "that simplifies our problem of finding these people and killing them."(162)

The S-2 section utilized a multitude of sources to develop an accurate picture of the enemy's activity around the base. While much of this information was self-generated, the 26th Marines received substantial intelligence support from the MACV, III MAF, and 3d Marine Division Headquarters. Ground and aerial observers, photo reconnaissance, infrared imagery, target lists of higher headquarters, crater analysis, shell/flash reports, and agent reports were all tools of the intelligence community at Khe Sanh. By comparing this information with the knowledge of enemy doctrine as applied in past situations, the S-2 staff was able to accurately estimate the intentions of the NVA on a day-to-day basis.

One good example of how this intelligence produced hard results occurred in late February. From their various inputs, the two men who were responsible for the earlier attack on the NVA staff conference, Majors Coolidge and Hudson, pinpointed the exact location of 12 artillery positions and 2 major ammunition depots. These targets were concentrated in two main areas to the south of the base. Air strikes were called in on the enemy positions and, after the planes departed, the whole area erupted in secondary explosions which lasted for the next 40 minutes. Two weeks later, these officers repeated a similar performance in another area.(163)

The activities of the intelligence community at Khe Sanh and higher headquarters were vital to the conduct of the battle. Almost every major attack against the 26th Marines was picked up well in advance by the S-2 section. Whenever enemy activity was detected, the information was passed to the FSCC and this was the signal for Colonel Lownds to put his defensive fire plan into effect. The base was placed on Red Alert, the primary and secondary boxes fired, and saturation air strikes were employed. This method of cutting off the attack force by massed fires, once the S-2 section had provided a warning, proved to be a decisive factor in thwarting the major enemy thrusts which came late in February.(164)

PART VII THE TURNING POINT

While the supporting arms continued to whittle away at the enemy's strength, the defensive posture of the 26th Marines grew more formidable with each passing day. By the end of February, the Americans and South Vietnamese had erected some 510 bunkers, dug miles of trenchline, and laid hundreds of minefields and trip flares. Each sector was guarded by a maze of double-apron, tanglefoot, and concertina barbed wire obstacles.[60] The Marines also had sophisticated anti-infiltration equipment such as the Night Observation Device, the PPS-6 ground-surveillance radar, and the Starlight Scope; all of which could detect infiltrators along the wire during night-time and other periods of reduced visibility.(165) Wherever these apparatus were employed, the number of enemy killed along the perimeters increased and the number of probes decreased.

In addition to the standard issue, the men improvised many of their own jerry-rigged gadgets. Drawing from his childhood experiences on the farm, Colonel Lownds devised a type of electric fence which was employed along some of the company fronts in the main perimeter. The plan was simple; the Marines figured out which strands of barbed wire the enemy would more than likely cut to penetrate those obstacles and they attached trip wire in a circuit. Flashlight batteries were the power source and the network of wires tied into a central switchboard located in each company CP. When a North Vietnamese soldier clipped the barbed wire, he short-circuited the system and one of the warning lights on at the switchboard went out. A few grenades in the right place or a broadside from a Claymore mine and the snooper usually became another grim statistic.

On the hill outposts, the fougasse was used extensively. The Marines dug holes along the slopes which faced the enemy and embedded barrels or cans of mixed gasoline and diesel fuel. The detonator for this volatile concoction was usually a grenade, a blasting cap, or a pound of C-4 plastic explosive taped to the container. The triggering device was a wire leading back up the hill to the Marine positions. When attacked, the defender simply jerked the wire and detonated the lethal munitions. (166)

The Scout Sniper Platoon attached to the 26th Marines provided another kind of deterrent. At least one team of these hand-picked, specially-trained sharpshooters was assigned to each company. Using commercial, bolt-action rifles with high-powered scopes, the snipers preyed on individual NVA soldiers who carelessly exposed themselves around the fringes of the perimeter. Patience was a must in this business and the marksmen often waited for days until their quarry appeared. When the snipers finally got a chance to practice their deadly art, the results were almost unbelievable. As though they were firing for record on a rifle range, they calculated the wind, adjusted their slings, took steady positions, and slowly squeezed off their shots. Many North Vietnamese who felt safe beyond 1,000 meters of the Marine positions never received a chance to ponder their mistake. The psychological impact was also a factor. One can imagine the eerie feeling experienced by an NVA soldier who had just seen a comrade "zapped" and never heard the report of the rifle that did the trick.(167)

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)

While trucks and forklifts were not exactly delicate equipment, the base motor transport personnel had their share of problems. These vehicles were used constantly. During the summer and fall of 1967, they were used to haul rock for the repair of the runway. Throughout the siege, the drivers carried ammunition from the berms to the distribution points and supplies from the drop zone to the combat base. Many of the trucks were in bad shape and mechanics worked around the clock to keep them rolling. The biggest headache was caused by flat tires, of which the constant shelling produced an abundance; the drivers became paste and patch experts of the highest order. More often than not, these men were caught out in the open when the enemy decided to pound the base. Since their cargo usually contained high explosives, the drivers had good reason to be apprehensive. Some simply bailed out of the cabs during the attacks and dived for cover; others, performing a wild imitation of the Grand Prix, raced for revetments. Needless to say, the base speed limit of five miles per hour was frequently violated.(174)

When there wasn't any work to do, many Marines created some and the threat of enemy tunnels provided a powerful motivation. When the word spread that the enemy might try to dig under the base, the tunnel ferrets went to work. Many of the defenders became fascinated with the prospects of uncovering a "mole" and their antics were near comical. It was not uncommon to see a man crawling around in front of his position, patting the ground with the flat side of a shovel, and listening for hollow spots. Others drove metal stakes into the ground and listened with stethoscopes by the hour for tell-tale signs of digging. If they heard something, the next step was to dig a large hole in front of the enemy so that he would tunnel himself into a trap. Some self-appointed water witches walked around with divining rods and waited for the downward tug which meant that they had discovered a subterranean intruder. When the news media got into the act and publicized the possibility of tunnels, the regimental commander began receiving scores of letters from around the world with "If I were you" themes. One American planter who lived in Sao Paulo, Brazil, wrote and suggested that the Marines purchase commercial sensors like the ones he used to detect bugs which fed on the roots of his trees. Another suggested that the defenders strap hand grenades onto rats and turn them loose in the tunnels.(175)

Unknown to the Marines at the time, the enemy never tried to tunnel under the base. The KSCB sat atop a plateau, and the slopes were wrinkled with deep ravines. Colonel Lownds later surmised that the enemy would have had to go so deep to keep from breaking the surface that such excavations were impractical. The men of Company K, 3/26 did, however, discover one tunnel leading toward Hill 861 and called in air strikes against it; at the base itself, the North Vietnamese limited their digging to trenches.(176)

Unlike the phantom tunnels, the trenches were very real and served as a constant reminder of the enemy's intentions. These networks were quite understandably a source of concern to the defenders who watched with fascination and no small apprehension as the trenchlines drew closer and closer each day. Working at night or under the cover of fog, the North Vietnamese often moved their lines forward as much as 200-300 meters at a time. There were several methods used to counter the trenches with artillery and tactical air strikes being the most prevalent. Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly's batteries provided constant fires during the night especially to the east and southeast where the heaviest enemy siegeworks were concentrated. The VT-fuzed ammunition with its deadly airbursts no doubt hampered the enemy efforts considerably. During the day, attack aircraft hit the trenches with every type of aerial ordnance from 20mm cannon fire to 2,000-pound bombs. At night, TPQs were run to within about 250 meters of the wire while Mini and Micro Arc Lights were targeted from 500 to 1,500 meters.(177)

In addition, the Marines along the perimeters concocted their own schemes which added to the displeasure of the enemy. During the day, Lieutenant Colonel Wilkinson's men registered on the close-in trenches with their M-79 grenade launchers; these shotgun-like weapons fired a 40mm projectile to a maximum range of about 375 meters and produced a frag pattern approximately 5 to 10 meters in diameter. At night when the North Vietnamese were digging, the Marines periodically lobbed these rounds into the trenches and disrupted the sappers.(178)

In spite of the harassment, the NVA launched several attacks against the base from the trenchlines during the last 10 days in February. At 1245, 21 February, the North Vietnamese fired 350 mortar, rocket, recoilless rifle, and artillery rounds into the eastern sector and followed up with a company-sized probe against the 37th ARVN Ranger Battalion. The enemy troops, however, did not attempt to close with the South Vietnamese and, after a distant fire fight, withdrew at about 1500. Although no body count was ascertained, the Rangers estimated that 1/13 artillery and their own defensive fires had claimed from 20 to 25 of the enemy. Six Marines from 1/26 and 18 Rangers were wounded during the encounter.(179)

On 23 February, the base received the worse shellacking of the siege. In one eight-hour period, the installation was rocked by 1,307 rounds--a total which surpassed the daily high received at Con Thien in 1967. Many of the rounds came from the 130mm and 152mm artillery pieces in Laos. The runway took several hits but the Seabee and Marine working parties filled the craters and quickly replaced the damaged strips of runway matting. At 1600, the barrage touched off a fire at one of the supply points and 1,620 rounds of 90mm and 106mm ammunition were destroyed. Cumulative friendly casualties for the day were 10 killed, 21 medevaced, and 30 wounded but returned to duty.(180)

Two days later the Marines suffered one of their most serious setbacks. On the morning of the 25th, the 1st and 3d Squads, 3d Platoon, B/1/26 departed Grey Sector on a patrol to the south of the base; the patrol leader was a second lieutenant. The two squads were reinforced by an 81mm mortar FO, an S-2 representative, a Kit Carson Scout, one rocket team, and a machine gun section (two guns).[65] Each man carried 500 rounds of ammunition and six grenades; each machine gun team had 1,800 rounds. Their mission was to sweep to the south along a well-defined route and attempt to locate an enemy mortar which had been harassing the Marines. The patrol leader was assigned three checkpoints from which he was to radio his position and progress to the company commander, Captain Pipes. The lieutenant was under strict orders to follow the planned route and keep within sight of the base as much as possible.(181)

Around 0900, the two squads reached their first checkpoint; the lieutenant made the required radio report and the Marines started on the second leg of their trek. Unknown to Captain Pipes, the patrol had deviated from course and was actually about 600 meters south of its scheduled route. Shortly after his first transmission, the lieutenant spotted three NVA soldiers walking along a road which branched off Route 9 and ran northwest into the FOB-3 compound. The North Vietnamese were apparently trying to suck the Americans into a trap--a trick as old as war itself. In spite of warnings from the Kit Carson Scout, the young patrol leader took the bait and pursued the three men; the decision was to cost him his life.(182)

The Marines moved south across the road, chased the North Vietnamese and ran head-on into an ambush. A heavily reinforced NVA company was entrenched just south of the road in a crescent-shaped bunker complex, the tips of which curved to the north. When the trap was sprung, the patrol was caught squarely in the center and, in essence, was double-enveloped by stationary positions. At first the Marines opened up and gained the advantage but the enemy fire gradually built to an overwhelming crescendo and the patrol became pinned down. When the lieutenant realized the full implications of his predicament, he dispatched the 1st Squad to flank the NVA emplacements from the west. The maneuver might have worked but the squad leader did not hook out far enough to the west before turning back in on the enemy positions. Instead of hitting the tender flank, the 1st Squad walked into more blistering, frontal fire. When the lieutenant was unable to raise the squad leader on the radio, he sent one of his few unwounded men, Hospitalman 3d Class Frank V. Calzia, a U. S. Navy corpsman, to find out what had happened. The corpsman returned later and reported that every man in the 1st Squad, except one, was dead.(183)

Captain Pipes immediately realized that his men were in trouble and, upon direction of higher authority, sent the 2d Platoon to the aid of the patrol. The cunning North Vietnamese anticipated such a move, however, and positioned a blocking force in the path of the relief column. The two separated Marine units were engaged in heavy fighting for about four hours before the remnants of the patrol could break contact and withdraw through the positions of the 2d Platoon. Marine tanks rumbled into the southern portion of the compound but supporting fires were restricted by ground fog and the proximity of the combatants. As he pulled back, the patrol leader was hit in both femoral arteries and bled to death before reaching the perimeter. His radioman, Corporal Rolland R. Ball, a full-blooded Sioux Indian, carried the lieutenant's body back to the base. Friendly casualties during the day were 1 killed, 25 missing and presumed dead, 13 medevacs, and 8 wounded but returned to duty; the bodies of the missing men were all recovered. Enemy losses were undetermined. The action on the 25th sobered the men of Company B and there was one predominant thought in their minds. Captain Pipes probably understated the feelings of his men when he said: "We are anxious to repay the loss." Before the siege ended, Company B did just that.(184)

The flurry of activity to the east and south of the base led General Tompkins and Colonel Lownds to believe that the major enemy thrust was imminent. Recalling the accuracy of the North Vietnamese lieutenant's previous predictions, they felt sure that the attack would come from the east. From various other reports, they knew that large NVA units were massing around a deserted plantation to the south and an old French fort near the junction of Route 9 and the two roads which tied in with the KSCB. Although the North Vietnamese had not secured the hill outposts according to the first phase of their plan, time was running out. Each day, the skies over Khe Sanh cleared a little more as one of the enemy's greatest allies, the monsoons, slowly abandoned him. If American airpower, unhindered by the weather, were ever fully brought into play, the enemy's task would have been next to impossible. The NVA launched a heavy attack against the base on 29 February; whether it was in fact the main prong of the Communist offensive, historians may never know for sure.(185)

Largely because of the quick response by the FSCC and the overwhelming firepower at its disposal, the enemy attack never got up a full head of steam. Early in the evening of 29 February, current intelligence showed that the enemy was on the move. Each succeeding report indicated that the North Vietnamese were heading toward the eastern perimeter. The FSCC sprang into action and called on all assets to saturate the enemy's route of march. Massed artillery, TPQs, as well as Mini and Micro Arc Lights were targeted in blocks to the east, southeast, and south. Flights of B-52s, diverted from other targets, arrived overhead in two and a half hours and added to the carnage before the enemy troops had moved completely through the killing zone.(186)

At 2130, a battalion from the 304th NVA Division launched the first attack against the 37th ARVN Ranger Battalion. The South Vietnamese responded with their final protective fires; 1/13 contributed thousands of conventional and special artillery rounds while strike aircraft streaked in and raked the attacking force. The enemy pulled back without even breaching the outer defenses. The first assault was followed by one at 2330 and another at 0315 (1 March); both were similarly stifled short of the wire. The North Vietnamese finally called it quits and withdrew with those bodies which they could retrieve. When the Rangers investigated the next morning, they found 78 dead NVA soldiers huddled in three successive assault trenches a few hundred meters from the perimeter. Some were in a kneeling position as if they had been killed just before going over the top. Many had been peppered by the artillery airbursts and were covered with small holes. Crude devices made from bamboo strips and laced with blocks of TNT lay beside many of the bodies. These were obviously to be used as bangalore torpedoes but the sappers never had the chance. The slaughter along the perimeter, however, was nothing compared to the losses sustained by the NVA reserves.(187)

While the S-2 personnel could never ascertain the exact number of enemy killed, they felt reasonably certain that an entire NVA regiment had been virtually wiped out. The eastern approach was saturated with tons of high explosives; the road junction, the plantation, the old French Fort, and all bottlenecks along the enemy's route were heavily hit. Montagnard tribesmen, who inhabit the surrounding hills, later reported finding from 200 to 500 North Vietnamese bodies at a time stacked in rows along the trails and roads leading to the base. It was obvious that they had been caught while on the march and mangled by air raids and piston-like artillery concentrations. While many of the defenders at the KSCB never fired a shot, what was believed to be the long-awaited enemy onslaught came and passed with a whimper instead of a roar.(188)

Even though the North Vietnamese continued to probe throughout March, it was obvious that they had shot their bolt on the night of 29 February/1 March. The NVA never mustered another large ground attack against the base; the battle had reached a turning point. Having had their fingers burned too often, the North Vietnamese settled into a wait-and-see strategy. They continued to pound the base with artillery but exerted no major ground effort; instead they lurked in the hills and waited for patrols which ventured too far from the perimeter.(189)

The waiting game proved to be just as disastrous for the enemy as had his previous strategy. The month of March was marked by clear skies over Khe Sanh and there were only five days during which weather hampered flight operations. While the overcast had never interfered with Arc Light strikes or TPQs, the retreat of the monsoons was a blessing for the attack pilots and fighter/bombers swarmed into the valley like locusts. The number of close air support sorties in March almost doubled the amount flown the previous month. Any enemy movement within the TAOR during the day invariably drew a flight of sleek jets, prop-driven A-1 Skyraiders, or helicopter gunships within minutes. The trenches and bunker complexes inside the B-52 line were also worked over daily to insure that the NVA stayed at arm's length. What's more, the unrestricted visibility enabled the TAC(A)s and airborne observers to ferret out and call in artillery on the enemy gun positions which had been hammering the base. For the most part, 1/13 had been limited to intelligence-generated concentrations during February, but the good weather in March provided Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly's men with something they could sink their teeth into--observed targets. Enemy gunners no longer enjoyed a reprieve and each round they fired was an invitation to instant retaliation. With Birddogs or Hueys overhead, the enemy seldom even fired and this was no small consolation to the men at the base. The clear skies and accurate supporting fires were a potent combination and the number of confirmed enemy dead recorded in March increased approximately 80 percent over February.(190)

The enemy's plight at Khe Sanh was echoed, albeit in veiled terms by his propaganda broadcasts. The Radio Hanoi, English-speaking announcer, Hanoi Hanna--the Communist's anemic version of Tokyo Rose--gradually shifted her theme from, "We will crush Khe Sanh" to "Ho Chi Minh would be unhappy if we wasted our time on only 6,000 Marines." The Communists also attempted to sell the line that 20,000 North Vietnamese had "tied down" the 26th Marines. Such rationale smacked of sour grapes. This illogical reasoning would be similar to a defeated football coach saying that he didn't really want to win the game, only keep the other team "tied down" for an hour or so. At the KSCB itself, there were a few feeble attempts to sway the defenders. On 10 March, an incoming mortar round released about 200 propaganda leaflets. The following day, an NVA loudspeaker blared a message to the 37th ARVN Ranger Battalion which invited the South Vietnamese to "join their brothers from the North in driving out the Americans." There were no takers. The psychological effort was just one more indication that the enemy was hurting.(191)

About mid-March, the 26th Marines S-2 began noting an exodus of major NVA units from the Khe Sanh TAOR. Most of these reports came from mountain tribesmen who provided valuable information on enemy troop dispositions throughout the siege. The 325C NVA Division Headquarters was one of the first to pull out toward Laos, followed by elements of the 95C and 101D Regiments which also relocated to the west. About the same time, the 304th NVA Division withdrew several thousand meters to the southwest. The enemy still retained enough troops around the base to maintain pressure and thus the shelling and probes continued.(192)

Closely correlated with the enemy's retrograde movement was another large influx of refugees into the KSCB. Most were Montagnards who had inhabited the smaller villages surrounding the base and unfortunately had become the pawns of war. When the fighting first broke out, the Allies advised them to evacuate their homes and move overland to Cam Lo or else they would be exposed to fire from both sides. During the period 23-28 January, 1,050 Vietnamese and tribesmen with their families were air evacuated to Da Nang and then on to Quang Tri City. About the same time, some 1,800 tribesmen completed an overland trek from Khe Sanh to Cam Lo by way of the the Ba Long Valley. Later an additional 3,000 or more attempted to reach Cam Lo, but during the journey, the North Vietnamese intercepted this group and directed them back into the Khe Sanh area. Presumably, the NVA used the Montagnards to screen troop movements and confuse American intelligence. The next surge of refugees into the combat base occurred in early February following the attack on Lang Vei. On 7 March, the tribesmen again started to filter into the base. They were screened, interrogated, and processed for evacuation in the FOB-3 compound. As many as 661 were airlifted to eastern Quang Tri Province in a single day and the total for March was 1,432.(193)