Thanksgiving Day, 1967

875 Meters to Hell: Or Why There Will Always be Infantry.

The holiday we are enjoying today was surely no cause for celebration for the men of the US 173rd Airborne Brigade, fighting in the Central Highlands of Vietnam in the fall of 1967. American ground units had struggled for control of the region since first arriving in country two years earlier, and commanders speculated it was a staging area for People's Army of Vietnam troops arriving from the north. Throughout November, fighting had intensified around the hamlet of Dak To, and would culminate on a wooded hill on the Cambodian border.

Hill 875, designated by its height in meters, was found by the men of the 2nd Battalion of the 503rd Infantry. It's height and strategic position overlooking the Ho Chi Minh Trail made it a prime target for the paratroopers. On Sunday, November 19 they began to probe the slopes of the heavily forested hill. Almost immediately after reaching the top, they ran head long into a complex bunker line and were pinned down. It soon became clear to the paratroopers that this was no ordinary hill.

Paratroopers of the 173rd Airborne Brigade assault up the slopes of Hill 875, Central Highlands, Vietnam.

After units of Delta Company were halted in front of the bunkers, men from Alpha Company began working their way back down the hill to cut a landing zone for helicopter support. With fighting still raging near the crest, the chilling sound of bugles reached the ears of the men of Alpha. Bugles were often used by the PAVN to coordinate attacks, and at times were a normal sound in big engagements early in the war. These bugles, however, were coming from in front of Alpha, at the base of the hill. The battalion was surrounded.

Still in contact with the bunker line and cut off from any additional ground help, the battalion desperately tried to hack an LZ out of the jungle. But the close proximity of the enemy positions made landing a chopper nearly impossible. One ship made it in and evacuated some wounded. Ten others were disabled while trying to land. Not only could ammunition and water not be flown in, but the mounting number of wounded men would be forced to wait on the hill side for death or victory, whichever came first.

Aid was administered to the wounded wherever possible during the fight for Hill 875. Many took days to be evacuated and were killed or re-wounded while awaiting the helicopters.

The problems were exacerbated on Sunday evening, when the men of Delta Company called for close air support near their position. After the sorties, a lone fighter remained with a single 500lb bomb still to be dropped. It swept in low over the trees, and some soldiers noticed this strike came in on a north-south approach, along the crest of the ridge line and not across it as others had all day. It was the first sign that something was amiss.

The men who had been fighting all day below watched with a clear view as the plane descended and loosed its deadly payload smack into the middle of Delta's position. The slopes of the hill were silenced for a few moments as the paratroopers struggled to comprehend what had happened. Then came the screams. Delta's CO was badly wounded, and the battalion chaplain was killed. In all nearly 40 paratroopers were killed by the bomb with more than as many wounded. Among the dead were dozens of men who were already wounded and had been waiting for evacuation. It was the worst friendly fire incident of the Vietnam War.

The battle was far from over. For the next four days, the paratroopers tried to maintain their position, clear whatever bunkers they could, and stay alive. From as close as 25 meters, the heavy mortar and rocket fire of the PAVN kept helicopters, the lifeline of most American units in Vietnam, from landing anywhere. The line of wounded stretched down the hill, and makeshift aid stations became targets for the the enemy. By Wednesday, all the officers in the rifle companies were casualties, and 11 of the 13 medics in the battalion had been killed. A reporter who witnessed the fight later wrote that the only way to tell the living from the dead was to see who moved when the incoming mortar rounds landed.

A relief column was sent to take the pressure off the men of the 2nd Battalion, but brought no extra food, water, ammo, or medical supplies. Hill 875 had been the base camp for several PAVN regiments, and the paratroopers had blindly stumbled right into the thick of it. Further air strikes and artillery barrages had little effect on the well entrenched enemy regulars. By late Wednesday afternoon an LZ was finally cut, and the line of wounded men slowly made their way to the helicopters.

Revitalized by seeing their wounded comrades taken to safety and finally resupplied by the tenuous LZ, the men of the relief column swept the last of resistance from the hill on Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, 1967. The paratroopers of the 2nd Battalion were not able to contribute much to the final assaults. Of the 570 men of the unit who went into action on Sunday, more than half were casualties by the middle of the week.

The fighting on Hill 875 and around Dak To in general was some of the savagest seen during the entire American involvement. The PAVN proved that by maintaining close contact with their Western enemies they could negate their overwhelming fire power and air support. The dense jungle and tangle of hills and ridges also proved how valuable the helicopter was to the American style of fighting. Without the aircraft to resupply them and evacuate the wounded, the paratroopers lost all their advantages over the North Vietnamese.

In the end, it would be the dogged determination of the American infantryman that won through. Facing an experienced and capable enemy, each bunker had to be cleared by hand grenades and small arms fire. No matter how many advantages in fire power and aircraft a nation has, the individual grunt will always be needed to physically clear the enemy away from the battlefield. Infantry is the backbone of any military, and no matter how far technology progresses, always will be. When they were finally pulled off the hill on Thursday afternoon, the men of the 173rd surely had a lot to be thankful for.