Death in the Jungle
Acting on a gut feeling, I slowly swung Bad Girl’s two barrels to my right. I just knew the enemy was coming.
The silence lasted almost an hour, then it was broken. The culprit was a paddle. About seventy-five feet away I could barely see a sampan with two men.
I slowly pivoted the M-16/XM-148 toward the enemy, but before I got her fully turned around, the sampan turned and its bow ran up on the beach just ten yards from my bugged-out eyeballs. The men remained in the grounded boat and whispered frantically. Believing that they’d seen me and were about to shoot me, I clicked the M-16 from semi- to full automatic. Snatching the moment out from under the gooks, I squeezed the M-16’s trigger, spraying the sampan from end to end with the entire 30-round magazine.…
A Presidio Press Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 1994 by Gary R. Smith and Alan Maki
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Presidio Press, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and distributed in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in slightly different form by Paladin Press in 1994.
PRESIDIO PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-78824-5
www.presidiopress.com
v3.1
This book is dedicated to my mother and dad, my coauthor Alan Maki, my faithful friends Randy and Kathy Bryant and Paul and Helen Martens, and to George A. Maki, who served with the 2nd Division Combat Engineers of the U.S. Army in World War II.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Prologue
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE: Mission One
CHAPTER TWO: Mission Five
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR: Mission Six
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX: Mission Ten
CHAPTER SEVEN: Mission Rehearsal
CHAPTER EIGHT: Mission Eleven
CHAPTER NINE: Mission Seventeen
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Mission Twenty-one
CHAPTER TWELVE: Mission Twenty-seven
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Mission Twenty-eight
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Mission Thirty-four
Epilogue
Glossary
FOREWORD
What makes a man like Gary R. Smith spend twenty years of his life in the United States Armed Forces, fifteen of those years assigned to Naval Special Warfare? Certainly not the money. Was it “free” education, retirement benefits, or devotion to one’s country? Well, one thing I know for sure is that Gary Smith wasn’t looking for a free ride. Any man who is physically and mentally tough enough to endure UDT/SEAL training and survive five Vietnam combat tours in elite units is definitely not taking a free ride and just “putting in his time.” Therefore, Gary can honestly say that his hitch in the military was truly a career of which he is proud. This is not the case with all retirees, but you won’t find many of those types involved with the Naval Special Warfare program.
Gary’s first-person account of his experiences while serving as an enlisted man with SEAL Team 1 in Vietnam is written from the point of view of one who served in the war during 1967 and 1968. He and his coauthor, Alan Maki, have tried to reproduce the mind-set Gary brought into the field, in order to share with the reader an honest view of “the way it was” for Gary, his teammates, and all UDT/SEAL personnel who completed BUDS (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) Team Training and served with a UDT or SEAL team in armed conflict against the NVA and Viet Cong in Southeast Asia.
As you will see in this book, during UDT/SEAL training we were instructed in the techniques used by the NVA and Viet Cong. We knew our enemy very well before we deployed to Vietnam. And we called him many offensive names—names like “gook,” “dink,” “slope,” and “slant-eye” were commonly used by many military personnel who served in the war. Unfortunately, the use of ethnic slurs and stereotyping was also an unofficial part of the training—not only with the Teams, but with all armed forces. Certainly this attempted dehumanization of the enemy was cruel, but with the types of missions UDT/SEALs were involved in, many of us might not have survived combat had we thought of our enemy in a better light. To hide this important fact would give the reader a false representation of war in general, because the technique of dehumanizing the enemy has been used throughout history. The authors of this book do not hide this truth, nor do they hide any others.
One of the main reasons Gary decided to share his story with us is because of the large number of phony SEALs who are surfacing, just as people are claiming to have served in U.S. Army Special Forces who did not. Such people are responsible for spreading false information about UDT/SEALs and giving the Teams a bad name. After all the pain that true SEALs suffered just to complete UDT/SEAL training, the blood we shed in combat, and—most important—the men we lost in Vietnam, no one has the right to claim he was in the Teams unless it is a fact. In my experience, those who boast the most about combat experiences in Vietnam were never even there. But you won’t find a SEAL bragging about his experiences in the line of duty. Anyone who has been in the Teams can tell very quickly when a “wannabe” is trying to impress people. This book is an attempt to present a factual look at the life of a Navy SEAL, minus the braggadocio and the hype.
The truth, however, is this: with his having survived one combat tour with Underwater Demolition Team 12 and four combat tours with SEAL Team 1, Gary Smith can truly be called one of the heroes of the Vietnam War. The medals on his chest give evidence of that fact. You will not hear that from him, however. Instead, you will hear the story about “the way it was” for a SEAL in Vietnam from someone who knows firsthand. I can honestly say that one reason I, myself, am alive today is because of the experienced combat SEALs like Gary who put me through training; their professionalism in training and combat kept many a young SEAL alive.
I am proud to have the privilege of knowing Gary and of being his friend. His devotion to duty and country distinguishes him from “lifers,” career servicemen and women who do nothing more than put in their time. Whether it was pulling a teammate out of waist-deep mud on a SEAL operation deep inside enemy territory in the Mekong Delta or comforting a wounded comrade during a firefight, Gary Smith was a man his teammates could trust and count on.
Darryl Young, SEAL Team 1/UDT-11, 1969–72
Author of The Element of Surprise:
Navy SEALs in Vietnam
PROLOGUE
The purpose of this book is to tell a true story about a group of men who loved their country, their command, and, especially, their teammates. Their loyalty to command and teammates was based upon a mutual respect, trust, and dependence upon each other that developed during and after very difficult and dangerous training and combat experiences.
Working as a team required unity, trust, and dependence on each other, and was probably the most important lesson we learned while enduring UDT Training (later changed to BUDS—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL). The old axioms, “You’re only as strong as the weakest man” and “You’re no faster than the slowest man,” are absolutes when working as a team. Each man has his strong and weak points. That’s why there are no true cynics, pessimists, scorners, or complainers in “the Teams.” They simply can’t get through training or exist in a confident, optimistic, positive, unified, team-oriented group of men. Don Sutherland in Kelley’s Heroes said it all: “No negative waves, man.” There are no Rambos in the Teams becau
se our strength lies in our unified teamwork. It’s attitude more than intelligence that shapes character.
Only after our graduation from UDT Training, and our eventual assignment to SEAL Team 1 and an operational platoon, did we begin to understand what unified teamwork, trust, and dependence upon each other truly meant. Also, in order to function as an effective and efficient platoon under all operational conditions, platoon training was designed to expose any shortcomings or deficiencies, whether they be of equipment, training, leadership, or personnel. We were always conscious of the fact that without proper preparation and unified teamwork, few missions could be accomplished.
An old Chinese axiom, “The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war,” was our motto. My good friend Bud Burgess was always quoting this axiom during UDT Training Class 36. Platoon camaraderie, unified teamwork, trust, and confidence are based on mentally and physically difficult and realistic training that is continually being updated and creatively applied. And last, but certainly not least—the men can be no better than their leadership. Another old maxim comes to mind—“Before you can become a good leader you must first learn to be a good follower.”
On the lighter side, we didn’t forget to have fun. When I had worked on the Bridwell Hereford Ranch near Winthorst, Texas, my straw boss, Jack Cheeves, had been very fond of saying, “When you work, you work; when you play, you play.” One thing is for sure, we certainly knew how to have fun in the Teams. Sometimes we had to be creative and throw our Commanding Officer, or the platoon chief, or whoever else was handy, in the “dip tank.” Sometimes everyone got thrown in the tank! Regardless of the motives, we let off a lot of steam, and morale was always high in spite of hard times. When we were training at Camp Kerrey (near Niland) or Camp Billy Machen (near Cuyamaca), we always managed to have a party after a long training spell or a hard training mission. Sometimes it was refreshments under a desert ironwood tree, or a rendezvous at the Past Time, Hi-Ho, or the Silver Dollar in Niland, or Luck O’ the Irish on the north shore of the Salton Sea. If we were having a team parachute jump at Rolls Farm (near San Diego) on a Friday morning, we occasionally took along refreshments to the drop zone. After the last jumper had completed his PLF (parachute landing fall), the festivities began. Everyone was laughing and discussing the day’s evolutions. The continuous joking and teasing always drew everyone closer together. During the ride back to the command, usually in the back of a two-and-a-half-ton truck, we sang old English and Australian ballads. These memories of “the good ole times,” our youthful exuberance, and naivete helped get us through “the hard times.”
In summary, I have to say that I consider my fifteen years in SEAL Team 1 and Underwater Demolition Team 12 a perfect example of job satisfaction. Why? Because we always had a true cause, one with a sense of urgency. Not only did I love the excitement and challenges of my job and profession, but I also worked with some of the toughest and most highly motivated men in the world. They were great friends and comrades. They were always there to encourage or comfort a teammate when in need. And finally, it was a privilege and an honor to have served under the officers and with the men of SEAL Team 1 and Underwater Demolition Team 12.
Gary R. Smith, RMCM ret.
May 1, 1992
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors wish to thank their families for their support; Admiral Elmo Zumwalt for his kind words; LCDR Jerry J. Fletcher; Darryl Young, author of The Element of Surprise; Owen Lock, editor, Ivy Books; and Ethan Ellenberg, literary agent. We’re especially thankful for Al Betters, Robert Schaedler, Art Streeter, Frank Toms, and Jack Lee for helping me collect lists of Kilo, Alpha, Juliett, Bravo, and Delta Platoon personnel and platoon pictures. A big thanks to Dee Daigle, Frank Toms, and Jack Lee for some of the Delta Platoon pictures and the K-bar knife mission.
Special thanks to all of Gary Smith’s UDT/SEAL/EOD teammates, those still alive and those who have passed over the bar.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The combat missions described in this book are real. The people are real. Only one name has been changed, to protect a specific person’s privacy. The conversations, naturally, are not reproduced verbatim, but are representative of the interplay between my teammates and myself.
Unfortunately, war is real. Death is real. This book covers it all by a Navy SEAL who is lucky enough to have survived five tours of Vietnam. Written with my close friend, Alan Maki, this is my first book. There will be others.
INTRODUCTION
I joined the Navy for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, I was bored with college and my sweetheart had dumped me. Second, I had a burning desire for adventure. I just couldn’t bear the thought of living a common, everyday life behind a desk. I had ventured into oil-field work for a couple of years; however, the pay was poor and the hours were long. I had worked on the Bridwell Hereford Ranch Headquarters near Winthorst, Texas, for the ’61 and ’63 cattle sales. The pay was even worse and the hours were even longer. But my stay in the bunkhouse with four other guys was quite an adventure. Saturday nights were usually spent at the JB Corral, in Wichita Falls, dancing to Hank Thompson and other country-and-western bands. We would return to the ranch in time for chores, which began at 0530 hours. Considering I was young and dumb, and full of things I didn’t care to discuss, I was beginning to realize that my life didn’t have any direction or purpose. And third, I wanted to be a member of one of the Navy’s UDT Teams. With that in mind, and full of youthful idealism, I enlisted on 22 January 1964, at twenty-two years of age.
During boot camp, everyone took a variety of aptitude tests. Sometime afterward, each of us was interviewed by a civilian counselor and asked what basic line of work or training we preferred.
I told him that I wanted to be a UDT diver and that I didn’t like anything that had “wires” (electrical) connected to it.
Appearing to ignore me, he looked at my radioman test for copying code (CW or continuous wave). Unfortunately, I had gotten a perfect score. “You’ll make a good radioman,” he commented without looking at me.
“But I hate anything that has wires to it,” I responded.
With a stern look, he stated emphatically, “You’ll make a good radioman.”
I was crushed! I simply couldn’t imagine sitting behind a typewriter and copying code or fiddling with wires for a career.
Prior to boot camp graduation, we had to fill out a “dream sheet” for our first assignment. I doggedly requested UDT Training, Second Class Deep Sea Divers School, and Submariner training.
Upon graduation, I received my orders to Radioman A School at Naval Training Center, San Diego, California. I did well in school, and eventually was able to copy twenty-eight words per minute CW and send twenty words per minute with a standard key; however, I still hated anything that had wires to it.
Again, I was to fill out another dream sheet. Getting wiser, I requested UDT Training, submarine duty, or assignment to any ship in the Pacific fleet. Again I was crushed. I was assigned to the Naval Communications Center of the COMNAVPHIBPAC (Commander Naval Amphibious Pacific) at the Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado, California.
After reporting aboard the ’phib base, I began my short stint as a radioman behind a desk typing messages, monitoring communications nets, maintaining filing records, scrubbing urinals and commodes, and waxing decks. I hadn’t been assigned to the comm center over a week before I found out that the UDT Training Command was also located at the amphib base. Then I found out that the guys who were always running in formation and singing songs while waiting for the chow hall to open were UDT trainees, “tadpoles.” I immediately submitted a request to be transferred to UDT Training in December 1964. By July ’65, I was one of those nuts who were always in a hurry to get somewhere, running in formation, and singing to boot. My life would be forever changed.
The UDT Training area was located at the back end of the base next to the San Diego Bay. The training command office, classrooms, and enlisted barracks were old World War II st
ructures made of plywood. The surrounding grounds were of sand. Every evening we were to rake all trainee boot tracks from it, scrub urinals, et cetera, depending on who was the enlisted duty officer.
There was a two-week pretraining phase for the fortunate trainees who were released early from their previous commands. As it turned out, not all who arrived early would agree that they were fortunate.
Instructor Friendly Frederickson had two weeks to separate the sheep from the goats before Class 36’s training was to officially begin. He must have been trained by the Gestapo. His specialty was torturing us in a variety of ways on our half-day mixes of PT, swimming in the surf, and running on the Silver Strand. Frederickson always started off by having us run out into the surf and lie down in it. Then he had us run into the sand dunes, lie down, and roll in the sand, followed by making us put handfuls of sand down our T-shirts and pants. Even our boots got full of sand. One poor fellow had a terrible case of piles after just two days and was shipped out on the third.
All trainee “brown baggers” (married men) were allowed to go home at night. The rest of us maggots were forced to endure continual harassment and occasional physical abuse, especially from Petty Officer Barney “The Ripper” House, after chow and during our daily field-day duties. Then there were the nightly fire watch patrols.
All UDT trainees were issued one and a half rations per meal, and more if requested. During Hell Week we would be issued four meals a day, with the fourth being served at 2400 hours. Considering I loved to eat and that my personal motto was “quantity, not quality,” I finally knew what happiness was: “Every day is a holiday and every meal is a feast.”
I had finally found “a true cause with a sense of urgency.” The best part was the privilege and honor of serving my country and the promise of retirement, if I survived. I had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my belly, and direction in my life. I was delighted and thrilled that I might possibly become a member of a great organization, the Underwater Demolition Team.