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)

Although the enemy had scaled down his forces, the heavy incoming continued to plague the Marines. On the average, the base received about 150 rounds a day during March. During the course of a normal day, the preponderance of fire was from the 82mm mortars but on peak days the greatest number of rounds was from the heavier artillery. On 23 March, the KSCB received its heaviest daily saturation of the month--1,109 rounds. Of these, over 30 percent were from the enemy's big guns in Laos. In addition to the indirect fire, the Marines took a sprinkling of recoilless rifle shells; but these weapons were easy to spot because of their large back blast and thus were vulnerable to air attack and counterbattery fire.(194)

During March, the defenders, on order of General Cushman, began to push out from the perimeter. On 8 March, the ARVN Rangers conducted a series of sweeps east of the runway. The first patrol made no contact but the next two became heavily engaged with an NVA force of unknown size. The Rangers attacked and poured into the enemy trenches, got eye-ball to eye-ball with "their brothers from the North" and killed 26. On the 24th, a patrol from Company A, 1/9, made contact with two NVA platoons which were dug in approximately 1,500 meters northwest of Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell's main perimeter. The Marines attacked the enemy emplacements and in a four-hour battle killed 31 North Vietnamese. During the fighting, a UH-1E helicopter of VMO-6 was shot down while supporting the Marines but the crewmen were rescued.[66] Friendly casualties were five killed, four medevaced, and two with minor wounds. The largest encounter, however, came on 30 March when Company B, 1/26, received a chance to settle an old score. The target area was the same complex, approximately 850 meters south of the perimeter, where the B/1/26 patrol had been ambushed on 25 February.(195)

The attack had been planned by the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Frederick J. McEwan (who relieved Lieutenant Colonel Wilkinson on 1 March) and his operations officer, Major Charles E. Davis III, with careful attention to every detail. In fact, the 1/26 staff had been working on this attack for a month. The sweep was also closely coordinated with the FSCC to ensure that the maximum supporting arms were available. To support Company B, Lieutenant Colonel Hennelly's staff worked out a variation of the defensive fire plan with nine batteries participating. Marine artillery (1/13) formed the primary box and rolling barrage while the Army 175mms and TPQ-10 controlled aircraft were responsible for the sides of the secondary box. The latter fell on the high ground adjacent to the objective which might influence the battle. The plan called for Captain Pipes to move his unit into the primary box and follow approximately 75 meters in trace of the rolling barrage. As the company advanced, the entire cylinder also advanced. Outside the primary box, the sides of the secondary would open and close over the terrain like a giant accordion. One extremely important factor was that the artillery fire would not necessarily alert the enemy of the impending attack because the same technique had been used so frequently in that area. The element of surprise still belonged to the Marines.

At 0800, Captain Pipes' men swept out of a draw and, under the cover of heavy fog, crossed the access road which ran from the Route 9 junction to the FOB-3 compound. This jumping off point had been secured by one platoon during the night. To their front and flanks, waves of exploding artillery shells churned up the terrain. At the same time, four 106mm recoilless rifles and six .50 caliber and M-60 machine guns provided overhead fire; a type of support "which would have warmed the heart of 'Manila John' Basilone."[67] The crescent-shaped defenses, manned by an NVA battalion, were roughly 100 meters southeast of the road and extended along a 700 meter front. The enemy troops occupied heavily fortified bunkers, trenches, and fighting holes. Although the objective was indeed formidable, Company B was not to be denied that day.(196)

After about 10 minutes of continuous supporting fire, Company B moved swiftly into final assault positions and Captain Pipes directed the FSCC to collapse the two artillery boxes. The fire was shifted to cut off any enemy reinforcements from reaching the battle area and to suppress NVA artillery and mortars. As if on cue, the dense fog suddenly lifted; the last thing that many enemy soldiers saw that morning was two Marine assault platoons with fixed bayonets only a few yards in front of their positions. The surprise was complete. Pipes' men poured into the trenches and swarmed over the startled defenders before they could react. While one element laid down a base of fire with small arms and machine guns, Marines armed with flame-throwers, grenades, and satchel charges rushed through the trenches to sear and blast enemy emplacements. The men of Company B carried out their grisly work for over three hours and, by noon, the trenchworks had become a smoking tomb for 115 North Vietnamese.

The only effective resistance during the battle was enemy mortar fire. Eventually, the NVA placed about 100 rounds on the attacking force. One of these scored a direct hit on the company CP and killed the radio man, the artillery FO, and the 81mm mortar FO. The company commander was also hit. A mortar fragment passed through Captain Pipes' arm and lodged in the side of his chest about two inches from his heart. Pipes not only survived, he continued to direct the attack.

With the loss of his two forward observers, the captain had to handle the coordination of supporting arms by himself. Fortunately, Lieutenant Colonel McEwan and Major Davis had made allowances for such a possibility. During the planning phase, they plotted general fire zones in the objective area and assigned each one a call sign (e.g. Apples, Oranges, Grapes, etc.) Captain Pipes knew where these zones were located and whenever he wanted to hit a target he simply told the FSCC, "Fire Apples" or "Fire Oranges." In short order, the designated zone was saturated with mortar and artillery rounds. Pipes utilized this technique throughout the rest of the battle.(197)

Once the Marines had consolidated the objective, they collected their casualties which included nine dead and returned to the perimeter. As Company B retired, the primary and secondary boxes closed back in around the Marines and walked them home. During the battle, the raiding force was shielded by some 2,600 artillery shells and 1,000 mortar rounds. On the return trip, NVA artillery tracked the column; ironically, one casualty during the withdrawal was an NVA prisoner who was killed by his own fire. Lieutenant Colonel McEwan later described the operation as a "classic raid." He attributed the success to the detailed planning, the coordination with the FSCC, and Captain Pipes' precise execution which "adhered to the tactical fundamentals and principles of war."[68] For his part, the captain was later awarded the Silver Star and the entire company received a warm congratulatory message from General Westmoreland. The debt had been paid in full.(198)

This purge to the south of the base marked the last significant encounter of SCOTLAND and, at 0800 on 31 March, the operation was officially terminated. The operational control of the 26th Marines was passed to the U. S. Army 1st Air Cavalry Division (1st ACD), commanded by Major General John J. Tolson, III, and Operation PEGASUS commenced. The Army division, along with the 1st Marines and the 3d ARVN Airborne Task Force started the push from Ca Lu to reopen Route 9, relieve the pressure on the KSCB, and destroy remnants of the NVA units in the Khe Sanh TAOR. In effect, the siege was over. Cumulative friendly casualties for SCOTLAND, which began on 1 November 1967 were 205 friendly KIA, 852 medevaced, and 816 minor wounded. The extent of NVA losses was never determined and more than likely never will be. The Marines counted 1,602 enemy bodies along the perimeters but the total number of North Vietnamese dead was probably between 10,000 and 15,000. The enemy always carried off his dead when possible and many others undoubtedly died in the surrounding hills and were not found by anyone. There was little doubt that the heart of two crack NVA divisions had been ripped out at Khe Sanh. The full impact of the suffering endured by the enemy, however, did not become evident until the Marine, Army, and ARVN troops began mopping up operations around the base.[69] (199)