First of all, Mel Gibson owes a lot of people, including General Moore, a huge apology for his movie version of the book. However, if you have seen the movie, the photo journalist played by Barry Pepper is Joseph Galloway who, like Moore, was there for the first half of the battle. As Gibson saw it, the only people whose lives much mattered were officers. When an officer gets pooped, the scene switches back to Ft. Benning and the sorrow of the officer wives. To be sure, they suffered as much as anyone and deserve our empathy, but in Gibson’s world, enlisted men died anonymously, and their memories aren’t worth spit.
I was afraid the book would be the same, but Moore and Galloway sound a lot like Ernie Pyle in that every man mentioned, enlisted and officer, gets a brief sketch that involves at least his age and hometown. There is a chapter that traces the subsequent histories of a few families of the dead, enlisted and officer as well. The first part of the book is several pages listing all the dead from both halves of the battle, a nice tribute, I thought. The book has ample maps, and, unusual for an eBook edition, they were expandable for more detail.
Early in the Viet Nam war, some military thinkers and President Kennedy endorsed the idea of helicopter borne soldiers who could land right in the middle of the enemy and begin the fight from the get go. Later, the concept was called vertical envelopment, and it was adopted by more than just the First Air Cavalry Division. The 1st Air Cav was the first, however. All the rest of the grunts, including the Marines in the north, were mostly on foot. Choppers were used to ferry them about, but they did not yet attack from the air or land in the face of the enemy. Probably, they should have called them the 1st Air Dragoons. As part of the program, the army resurrected a few old cavalry regiments, including Custer’s 7th. Their song was “The Garry Owen,” and “Garry Owen!” was used as an affirmative, an acknowledgement or a greeting. Other revived regiments adopted black Stetsons and handlebar mustaches. Maybe that part of “Apocalypse Now!” wasn’t far off the mark.
They were a newly created, elite unit, and their swagger announced it. They trained intensively for their mission, were then blindsided by newly inaugurated President Johnson’s reluctance to go completely to war. Before the division deployed to Viet Nam, Johnson declined to extend enlistments for the duration, and the division arrived in country badly under strength as many of these highly trained soldiers were discharged at the end of their enlistments. Later, in the second half of the battle of the Ia Drang, things got worse when these airborne troops were so shorted on their training that they got only one helicopter ride, but never trained in assault from them.
The battle of the Ia Drang is divided neatly into two parts, each named after its primary landing zone, LZ, the first part being X-ray and the second being Albany. Moore was a lieutenant colonel and commander of a battalion. Using aerial reconnaissance, and maps, Moore selected LZ X-ray as the place to assault and to meet the North Vietnamese army who were deeply dug in to the Cho Pong massif, just east of the Cambodian border. Cambodia, of course, was off limits to U. S. and, by extension to ARVN troops as well, and there was no doctrine of hot pursuit. Johnson wanted to keep the fiction of Cambodian neutrality and would not allow pursuit across the border, no matter how hot. NVA and VC could cross the border and thumb their noses. Many in the U. S. high command objected strongly to such restrictions, but, as one administration official, William Bundy I think, rightly pointed out, if we pursued twenty miles into Cambodia, the NVA would withdraw twenty-five, and so on until we needed to conquer the whole country, in which case the NVA might invade Thailand.
Nixon missed the point and both invaded and bombed Cambodia, setting up the appallingly brutal regime of Pol Pot. The 1st Air Cav was eager to attack a much larger NVA force and show what they could do. The NVA, augmented by main force Viet Cong units, were similarly eager to fight the Americans and to discover ways to neutralize their overwhelming advantages in air power and artillery. The 1st Cav, besides inserting troops directly into battle, via Huey’s, would use Chinooks to land 105 howitzers in fire bases a safe distance away to provide pin point artillery. Huey gunships with four, fixed mount M-60’s, pods of 2.75” rockets, two M-60 door gunners and a 40mm cannon brought devastating close air support to troops on the ground. The Air Force provided a fixed wing fighter, the A-1E Skyraider, that was heavily armored and could carry an enormous load of bombs and napalm cannisters, as well as .50 cal. machine guns for strafing.
It was for this reason that Moore’s battalion was confident of victory, despite being criminally short handed. After they landed, the NVA threw everything they had at the Americans. There was no lack of heroism among the NVA, and they kept coming into hellish fire until, after about fifty hours, they were forced to withdraw. Mel Gibson’s heroic, bayonet charge failed to materialize.
The second part of the battle, Albany, took place a day or two later. The ill equipped, ill trained battalion was sent in to replace Moore’s battle worn battalion, and, after policing the battlefield for American bodies and weapons, both NVA and American, they were, for unclear reasons, ordered to march from X-ray to Albany for extraction. They were exhausted from lack of sleep and from working at X-ray, and, not expecting much from a defeated enemy, were strung out in column of march without much in the way of flanking forces or recon. The NVA had two fresh battalions, and they attacked the column, attempting and succeeding in splitting it into isolated islands of defense.
They were so close in, that they neutralized the American superiority in air and artillery fire power, both of which, from an inexcusable, command malfeasance, were late in coming. Eventually, they withdrew, and the Americans, after heavy loss, were able to exfiltrate on helicopters. Americans called it a victory, but I think the greater claim to victory was with the NVA. Their motive in fighting was to learn how to neutralize this new American power, and they did. They also pretty much forced President Johnson to accept a much wider war, one they knew they could probably win the way the beat the French: make battle losses unacceptable to the American electorate. In both halves of the battle, the cowardice of the Medevac choppers whose pilots would not approach a hot LZ was notable. Medevacs were performed mostly by 1st Cav choppers who, under terrific, enemy fire, would first unload supplies and then load bodies and wounded.
In Moore’s analysis, I think he agreed that the war was unwinnable, that it was going to be long and bloody, and that in the end, America would have to declare victory and go home. He ends with a quotation from Clausewitz to the effect that it’s stupid to begin a war if you don’t first define the conditions of victory. I’m not going to analyze the war here, that’s beyond the scope of this essay, but I think our loss is abundantly clear, and it becomes increasingly clear with every new analysis. The valor of the troops didn’t lose the war, but the indecision of the politicians did. Kennedy bears the bulk of the blame for our involvement, and to him much be assigned the burden of the loss. If he had ever read his Clausewitz, he either forgot it or failed to pay attention. What’s even worse is that our current crop of leaders is just as woefully ignorant of the folly of indecisive war as was the last.
I am impressed by General Moore. During the battle, General Westmoreland, commander of U. S. forces in Viet Nam, wanted Moore to leave his troops and fly to Saigon to give a briefing. Moore refused. Later in the war, as a brigade commander, Westmoreland replaced him as commander, because they had a policy of rotating officers on a fixed schedule. Moore, being in the middle of the battle and seeing the insanity of turning over command at that time, didn’t relinquish command until the battle was over, ten days later. He began each chapter with an apt quotation, often from past military leaders, such as W. T. Sherman, or from classical sources, often Shakespeare’s kings. One of them, though, was unattributed, and I hope it was Moore’s own: dulce bellum inexpertis. For that one, he gave the translation: “War is delightful only to those who haven’t experienced it.” I just checked it (should have done that first) and it’s by Pindar, but it was made common by Erasmus. I don’t know how much of the book was written by Moore and how much by Galloway. Galloway was a journalist, so I suppose most of the prose is his, but it’s hard to tell. Excellent book, and much better than I expected. Still waiting, though, for Gibson’s mea culpa. Maybe after the truly godawful “Hacksaw Ridge,” he thinks he’s done damage enough.