John Munnelly – The Father of the 5th – Part Two

The Boys of Battery B

John Munnelly

Part Two

Gun crew on a fire mission

 

I shake hands with Colonel John Munnelly at his front door in Kalamazoo, Michigan. We figure out that we met at the last regimental reunion but never talked. The colonel and I retreat to his office on the lower level. The walls are filled with awards, citations, diplomas and photos from 33 years of active military service and three command positions in two wars.

He pulls out the field maps he used in Vietnam. Unfolded they cover half his desk. At 84 he can still point out the locations of artillery bases and areas of combat operations. As of old he measures distances on the map with the spread between his thumb and pinkie finger, marking the range of a 105 mm howitzer, which was about 7 miles.

He warms easily to the conversation, his voice taking on a forward-march cadence. He picks up his narrative less than two weeks in Vietnam.

 

October, 1965. My batteries were deployed, and I didn’t take orders from anybody. I knew what needed to be done, and I did it. I dealt with the threat.

First Field Force was already in existence, commanded by General Linton S. Boatwright, but in those days we had no structure. I had a only a vague idea I needed to report to them.

My only experience with them was – I never told this to anybody – we were in a big firefight west of Nha Trang with B battery and an attached battery of the 3/18 artillery. I got a call, “Get you ass back here, we want to talk to you.”

So OK, “I’m busy!” Fortunately my executive officer was a guy I had gone through Command General Staff College with, Major Bill Manning. He was a great XO. He usually took care of the housekeeping. I took care of the mission.

I left Manning in charge and got into a jeep with my sergeant major and my driver, and we went back to Nha Trang, headquarters of First Field Forces. As I drove into the concern I hear my name being broadcast on the loudspeaker throughout the area. I reported to Boatwright’s executive officer. He said to me, “Colonel, you got lousy radio security.”

And I thought, We’re busy. Stuff is going on. Fire missions. We got casualties. Busy, busy, busy, busy. But I said, “Yes, sir.”

He said, ‘Straighten it out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Getting back to B Battery we’re going through hostile territory. It was TET and there was a lot of banging going on. And fireworks. And as I am going through a village this kid pulls out a pistol and points it at me. I almost gunned him down, but I didn’t. Couldn’t kill the kid. It turned out it was a toy. These things are close sometimes.

I get back to my command post, which was wherever I laid my helmet at night, and arranged that Nha Trang could never find us again on the radio. I ordered that every 20 minutes we change to a different frequency. We bounced from one frequency to another – bang, bang, bang.  As far as Nha Trang was concerned we were silent from then on.

But that didn’t change a thing regarding security. Hell, the enemy knew we were there. I did not want to curb the freedom the people had to call for help.

The 5th was a big battalion. I had the three batteries of the 5/27 and lots of attached units.  I had 155 mm, 175 mm and 8 inch howitzer batteries, and I had twin 40 mm cannon units. I had a radar attachment later on. At one time I had a battery from the 101st of 105s. I counted a total of 54 guns under my command. It was really a battalion group, but it was one battalion. Now, there was no battalion fire direction center. They were all in the batteries. It was always done that way.

For one time, once only, I had all three batteries of the 5/27 in one place. We did a fall-of-shot calibration in the South China Sea, where you coordinate each gun so that all the rounds fall on the target. From then on we were never together again. I had people in batteries that never saw a guy from another battery. Battery commanders that didn’t know the other battery commanders.

During my command B battery had six guns, and they stayed together the whole time. It went to The Crossroads area west of Tuy Hoa. It was joined there by the 3/18th with its 8 inch and 175 mm howitzers, side by side with B Battery. That was where Bobby Joe Marsh died before I arrived. I know where that happened. It happened just north of The Crossroads. (Goes to map) This was a contested area. I had a battery right there, can’t remember which one. The Crossroads was highway 6B on this map and route 1. I’ve been to The Wall twice and I’ve seen Bobby Joe Marsh. He’s Bobby Joe. I didn’t know that until I saw it on the wall. We named that base camp at Tuy Hoa Camp Marsh after him.

When I left In August of 1967 B Battery was up near Tuy Phouc northwest of Qui Nhon. I know that because the temporary president of Vietnam was visiting Qui Nhan and we were on standby to provide artillery support in case there was an attack while he was there. He was the president prior to Diem. Qui Nhon was in artillery range.

He verifies this on the map with outstretched thumb and pinkie finger.

I had people up on Chap Chai mountain near there. It commanded the whole area. You could see everything from there. I put that mountain to good use with radio relay equipment. I never lost radio contact with all of my firing batteries, to include the attached batteries, because that’s part of command. You have to be able to talk to your people.

Now most of the guys up there ended up with Purple Hearts because they were attacked almost every night. There was a time when a private first class up there controlled the fire of B battery from that mountain top because he could see the enemy and the battery had nobody out there that could see as well.

  On Chop Chai Mountain

One thing I liked about B battery when they were up near Tuy Phuoc is they had a mad minute every night at sunset. Every weapon in the battery would fire announcing our presence to anyone who wanted to attack us.

Paul Marchessault was commanding B battery at that time. He continued the real fine performance of B battery while he was in command. He was offered a regular army commission was debating whether to accept it or not. I did not talk him into it or out of it. I spent a lot of time talking to him about that. He eventually decided not to accept the RA commission and went back and worked for Ross Perot and did a good job, and did alright.

I wanted to visit B Battery up at Tuy Phouc.  I normally had a helicopter, but none was available, so I said to hell with it, I’m going to drive. From Tuy Hoa it was a long reach to Tuy Phouc (70 miles by road) and a hazardous trip.

People said, “You’re nuts.”

But I had to see the battery, do the job, and the job came first. Peter Antonicelli my driver took me up, just the two of us. I didn’t think anything of it, except it made them give me a helicopter from then on.

I used to brag about this. I had a battalion that was doing a good job and we knew it because we saw the results. I used to say, “We never passed an IG inspection. Good!” We had ragged canvas on the trucks. There were bullet holes in truck windshields. That’s my windshield. Don’t change the windshield. The soldier was proud of that. It didn’t hit him. (laughs) The reflectors were cracked. Little things like that. To pass inspection we’d have to get new canvas, fix all the reflectors, get rid of the bullet holes in the windshields. I ran a battalion that put the mission first, and everything else was second.

My motto was, “You don’t have to practice being uncomfortable.” And the Army a lot of times has the men practicing being uncomfortable. Wasted effort. Why are you doing that? A guy’s got his shirt off and it’s 100 degrees outside and he’s feeding a howitzer, you’re worried about him wearing his shirt? Really? How about rounds on target within two minutes day or night?

We had this colonel who came and wants to see the mess hall. The mess hall? He could not stand the food! “You’re cooks aren’t trained properly,” he said.

You know that’s the last thing I was worried about. We had enough food. We weren’t concerned about the taste. This was his big concern. The variety wasn’t right and we didn’t have fresh fruit, or something. He was from a different planet than we were from. He was in the Army, for god sake. He was a full colonel, I was a lieutenant colonel, and he made me feel bad about the food. What are you doing about the food? Well, I wasn’t doing anything about the food. And people leave the Army thinking that’s the Army, and it’s not.

There is one other dimension I have not yet mentioned. I remained a devout Catholic. The question came up about danger. I made a deal with God. I said, It’s up to you. You decide. I’m not going to worry about it. Your decision. I go where you decide. It took away all the fear. I never worried about anything after that.

Except once. About a week before I left I am taking a survey team that is map making and I take them to a peak with a bunch of ARVN soldiers. There was only one flat place to land and we landed there. I got out of the helicopter and looked up and there are all these guys yelling and waving their arms. The message finally gets to me, this place is mined. And I’m standing there. I tiptoed back to the jeep, got to the helicopter, got up and put down someplace else. I thought, My God, I came close that time, didn’t I?

We went in on another assault after that days before I am supposed to leave. I was touchy and fearful. I saw the landing spot and thought it can’t be as good as it looks. So I had the pilot put the helicopter in another spot.

He said, “What, are you nuts?”

I said, “Put it over there.” I’m counting the days now and I never counted days before. But now I know when I’m leaving.

My best day in Vietnam was the day I got on an airplane to go home, I guess at Cam Rahn, and they passed out these cold towels. I put the towel on my head. How could anything be so nice and pleasant? It was heaven.