Nick Carter

The Cua Viet

In February 1968, I joined Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines. The company had been caught in an ambush, December 26, 1967. Before the ambush, the unit had operated with a full complement of over 200 officers and enlisted men, until that fateful December day.

When I arrived, several days later there were little more than 60 men left. We had boarded choppers to reinforce the unit from the ship, the USS Valley Forge. We did not have a clue as to what we were about to encounter. In our hand, each Marine on the flight deck had a manifest slip or chit. It identified us by name and rank. I later realized that this was a tool for the military to identify us in case we crashed into the ocean.

A painting of a USMC helicopter in the air, flying off at a steep angle.

By Maj Albert “Mike” Leahy, published in "Leatherneck" magazine in 1968.

Upon arriving on a sandy beach area called the Cua Viet, we embarked from the big CH-46 chopper. We immediately formed a defensive maneuver called a hasty defense. A lesson we had learned from our training in California.

We were greeted with loud jeers from the survivors. They were easily identifiable, by their long hair and beards. Definitely not to Marine Corps standards. It sunk in that we were the "boots", the new guys, the cherries.

As 20 of us new Marines, took cover in a nearby trenchline; a young lieutenant approached us with what appeared to be an senior NCO (Sergeant). He preceded to ask what our MOSs were. Our group was mostly represented by your basic 0311 Marine riflemen, which the lieutenant then preceded to assign each 0311 to the different infantry platoons. Next up were 0331, machine gunners, who were also dispatched to the different platoons That left Rene Dold and I as the last new guys in the trench.

A lump in my throat swelled until the sergeant spoke up and told the lieutenant that he would like to keep the mortar gun teams up to strength.

The lieutenant addressed me asking what Dold's and my MOS were. I blurted out "0341, sir, mortarmen". The lieutenant thought for a second or so and said to the sergeant, he needed additional riflemen. A lump in my throat swelled until the sergeant spoke up and told the lieutenant that he would like to keep the mortar gun teams up to strength.

A silent sigh of relief prevailed over me as the lieutenant agreed. We followed the sergeant to the mortar positions. The sergeant later told me that was the first time that the lieutenant had ever agreed with him.

The clincher was that the Jesuit-educated lieutenant became my godfather in Vietnam. He elevated me to a position in support of the headquarters group. Every so often, the guys from Lima get together. I have seen a lot of faces from those 1968 Vietnam years. The lieutenant, now in his middle 70s does not attend the gatherings. However, due to his having me attached to headquarters, I have a better understanding of what happened during those vicious war months in 1968. Memories, good and bad that have stayed with me all these years. I, however, do have a better insight than most of my peers during this vicious time frame.