We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young: Ia Drang?The Battle That Changed the War in Vietnam [NOOK Book]

Overview


The New York Times bestseller, hailed as a “powerful and epic story . . . the best account of infantry combat I have ever read, and the most significant book to come out of the Vietnam War” by Col. David Hackworth, author of the bestseller About Face


In November 1965, some 450 men of the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, under the command of Lt. Col. Harold Moore, were dropped into a small clearing in the ...
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We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young: Ia Drang?The Battle That Changed the War in Vietnam

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Overview


The New York Times bestseller, hailed as a “powerful and epic story . . . the best account of infantry combat I have ever read, and the most significant book to come out of the Vietnam War” by Col. David Hackworth, author of the bestseller About Face


In November 1965, some 450 men of the First Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, under the command of Lt. Col. Harold Moore, were dropped into a small clearing in the Ia Drang Valley. They were immediately surrounded by 2,000 North Vietnamese soldiers. Three days later, only two and a half miles away, a sister battalion was brutally slaughtered. Together, these actions at the landing zones X-Ray and Albany constituted one of the most savage and significant battles of the Vietnam War. They were the first major engagements between the US Army and the People’s Army of Vietnam.

How these Americans persevered—sacrificing themselves for their comrades and never giving up—creates a vivid portrait of war at its most devastating and inspiring. Lt. Gen. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway—the only journalist on the ground throughout the fighting—interviewed hundreds of men who fought in the battle, including the North Vietnamese commanders. Their poignant account rises above the ordeal it chronicles to depict men facing the ultimate challenge, dealing with it in ways they would have once found unimaginable. It reveals to us, as rarely before, man’s most heroic and horrendous endeavor.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781453293591
  • Publisher: Open Road Media
  • Publication date: 11/6/2012
  • Sold by: Barnes & Noble
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 453
  • Sales rank: 22,095
  • File size: 3 MB

Meet the Author


Lt. Gen. Harold G. Moore (Ret.) was a master parachutist and Army aviator who commanded two infantry companies in the Korean War and was a battalion and brigade commander in Vietnam. He retired from the Army in 1977 with thirty-two years’ service.
 Joseph L. Galloway is the author of a weekly syndicated column on military and national security affairs. He recently retired as senior military correspondent of Knight-Ridder newspapers. Galloway spent twenty-two years as a foreign and war correspondent and bureau chief for United Press International, and nearly twenty years as a senior editor for U.S. News & World Report
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Read an Excerpt

We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young

Ia Drangâ?"the Battle That Changed the War in Vietnam


By Harold G. Moore, Joseph L. Galloway

OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA

Copyright © 1992 Lt. General H. G. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9359-1



CHAPTER 1

Heat of Battle

You cannot choose your battlefield, God does that for you; But you can plant a standard Where a standard never flew. —STEPHEN CRANE, "The Colors"


The small bloody hole in the ground that was Captain Bob Edwards's Charlie Company command post was crowded with men. Sergeant Hermon R. Hostuttler, twenty-five, from Terra Alta, West Virginia, lay crumpled in the red dirt, dead from an AK-47 round through his throat. Specialist 4 Ernest E. Paolone of Chicago, the radio operator, crouched low, bleeding from a shrapnel wound in his left forearm. Sergeant James P. Castle-berry, the artillery forward observer, and his radio operator, PFC Ervin L. Brown, Jr., hunkered down beside Paolone. Captain Edwards had a bullet hole in his left shoulder and armpit, and was slumped in a contorted sitting position, unable to move and losing blood. He was holding his radio handset to his ear with his one good arm. A North Vietnamese machine gunner atop a huge termite hill no more than thirty feet away had them all in his sights.

"We lay there watching bullets kick dirt off the small parapet around the edge of the hole," Edwards recalls. "I didn't know how badly I had been hurt, only that I couldn't stand up, couldn't do very much. The two platoon leaders I had radio contact with, Lieutenant William W. Franklin on my right and Lieutenant James L. Lane on Franklin's right, continued to report receiving fire, but had not been penetrated. I knew that my other two platoons were in bad shape and the enemy had penetrated to within hand-grenade range of my command post."

The furious assault by more than five hundred North Vietnamese regulars had slammed directly into two of Captain Edwards's platoons, a thin line of fifty Cavalry troopers who were all that stood between the enemy and my battalion command post, situated in a clump of trees in Landing Zone X-Ray, Ia Drang Valley, in the Central Highlands of South Vietnam, early on November 15, 1965.

America had drifted slowly but inexorably into war in this far-off place. Until now the dying, on our side at least, had been by ones and twos during the "adviser era" just ended, then by fours and fives as the U.S. Marines took the field earlier this year. Now the dying had begun in earnest, in wholesale lots, here in this eerie forested valley beneath the 2, 401foot-high crest of the Chu Pong massif, which wandered ten miles back into Cambodia. The newly arrived 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) had already interfered with and changed North Vietnamese brigadier general Chu Huy Man's audacious plans to seize the Central Highlands. Now his goal was to draw the Americans into battle—to learn how they fought and teach his men how to kill them.

One understrength battalion had the temerity to land by helicopter right in the heart of General Man's base camp, a historic sanctuary so far from any road that neither the French nor the South Vietnamese army had ever risked penetrating it in the preceding twenty years. My battalion, the 450-man 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry of the U.S. Army, had come looking for trouble in the Ia Drang; we had found all we wanted and more. Two regiments of regulars of the People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN)—more than two thousand men—were resting and regrouping in their sanctuary near here and preparing to resume combat operations, when we dropped in on them the day before. General Man's commanders reacted with speed and fury, and now we were fighting for our lives.

One of Captain Edwards's men, Specialist 4 Arthur Viera, remembers every second of Charlie Company's agony that morning. "The gunfire was very loud. We were getting overrun on the right side. The lieutenant [Neil A. Kroger, twenty-four, a native of Oak Park, Illinois] came up in the open in all this. I thought that was pretty good. He yelled at me. I got up to hear him. He hollered at me to help cover the left sector."

Viera adds, "I ran over to him and by the time I got there he was dead. He had lasted a half-hour. I knelt beside him, took off his dog tags, and put them in my shirt pocket. I went back to firing my M-79 grenade launcher and got shot in my right elbow. The M-79 went flying and I was knocked down and fell back over the lieutenant. I had my .45 and fired it with my left hand. Then I got hit in the neck and the bullet went right through. Now I couldn't talk or make a sound.

"I got up and tried to take charge, and was shot a third time. That one blew up my right leg and put me down. It went in my leg above the ankle, traveled up, came back out, then went into my groin and ended up in my back, close to my spine. Just then two stick grenades blew up right over me and tore up both my legs. I reached down with my left hand and touched grenade fragments on my left leg and it felt like I had touched a red-hot poker. My hand just sizzled."

When Bob Edwards was hit he radioed for his executive officer, Lieutenant John Arrington, a twenty-three-year-old South Carolinian who was over at the battalion command post rounding up supplies, to come forward and take command of Charlie Company. Edwards says, "Arrington made it to my command post and, after a few moments of talking to me while lying down at the edge of the foxhole, was also hit and wounded. He was worried that he had been hurt pretty bad and told me to be sure and tell his wife that he loved her. I thought: 'Doesn't he know I'm badly wounded, too?' He was hit in the arm and the bullet passed into his chest and grazed a lung. He was in pain, suffering silently. He also caught some shrapnel from an M-79 that the North Vietnamese had apparently captured and were firing into the trees above us."

Now the North Vietnamese were closing in on Lieutenant John Lance (Jack) Geoghegan's 2nd Platoon. They were already intermingled with the few survivors of Lieutenant Kroger's 1st Platoon and were maneuvering toward Bob Edwards's foxhole. Clinton S. Poley, twenty-three, six foot three, and the son of an Ackley, Iowa, dirt farmer, was assistant gunner on one of Lieutenant Geoghegan's M-60 machine guns. The gunner was Specialist 4 James C. Comer, a native of Seagrove, North Carolina.

Poley says, "When I got up something hit me real hard on the back of my neck, knocked my head forward and my helmet fell off in the foxhole. I thought a guy had snuck up behind me and hit me with the butt of a weapon, it was such a blow. Wasn't anybody there; it was a bullet from the side or rear. I put my bandage on it and the helmet helped hold it on. I got up and looked again and there were four of them with carbines, off to our right front. I told Comer to aim more to the right. After that I heard a scream and I thought it was Lieutenant Geoghegan."

It wasn't. By now, Lieutenant Jack Geoghegan was already dead. His platoon sergeant, Robert Jemison, Jr., saw him go down trying to help a wounded man. "Willie Godboldt was twenty yards to my right. He was wounded, started hollering: 'Somebody help me!' I yelled: 'I'll go get him!' Lieutenant Geoghegan yelled back: 'No, I will.' He moved out of his position in the foxhole to help Godboldt and was shot." Just five days past his twenty-fourth birthday, John Lance Geoghegan of Pelham, New York, the only child of proud and doting parents, husband of Barbara and father of six-month-old Camille, lay dead, shot through the head and back, in the tall grass and red dirt of the Ia Drang Valley. PFC Willie F. Godboldt of Jacksonville, Florida, also twenty-four years old, died before help ever reached him.

Sergeant Jemison, who helped fight off five Chinese divisions at Chipyong-ni in the Korean War, now took a single bullet through his stomach but kept on fighting. Twenty minutes later the order came down for every platoon to throw a colored smoke grenade to mark friendly positions for the artillery and air strikes. Jemison got up to throw one and was hit again, this time knocked down by a bullet that struck him in the left shoulder. He got up, more slowly now, and went back to firing his M-16. Jemison fought on until he was hit a third time: "It was an automatic weapon. It hit me in my right arm and tore my weapon all to pieces. All that was left was the plastic stock. Another bullet cut off the metal clamp on my chin strap and knocked off my helmet. It hit so hard I thought my neck was broke. I was thrown to the ground. I got up and there was nothing left. No weapon, no grenades, no nothing."

James Comer and Clinton Poley, thirty feet to Jemison's left, had been firing their M-60 machine gun for almost an hour, an eternity. "A stick-handled potato-masher grenade landed in front of the hole. Comer hollered, 'Get down!' and kicked it away a little bit with his foot. It went off. By then we were close to being out of ammo and the gun had jammed. In that cloud of smoke and dust we started to our left, trying to find other 2nd Platoon positions. That's when I got hit in the chest and I hit the ground pretty hard.

Poley adds, "I got up and then got shot in my hip, and went down again. Comer and I lost contact with each other in the long grass. We'd already lost our ammo bearer [PFC Charley H. Collier from Mount Pleasant, Texas], who had been killed the day before. He was only eighteen and had been in Vietnam just a few days. I managed to run about twenty yards at a time for three times and finally came to part of the mortar platoon. A sergeant had two guys help me across a clearing to the battalion command post by the large anthill. The battalion doctor, a captain, gave me first aid."

Meantime, Specialist Viera was witness to scenes of horror: "The enemy was all over, at least a couple of hundred of them walking around for three or four minutes; it seemed like three or four hours. They were shooting and machine-gunning our wounded and laughing and giggling. I knew they'd kill me if they saw I was alive. When they got near, I played dead. I kept my eyes open and stared at a small tree. I knew that dead men had their eyes open."

Viera continues, "Then one of the North Vietnamese came up, looked at me, then kicked me, and I flopped over. I guess he thought I was dead. There was blood running out of my mouth, my arm, my legs. He took my watch and my .45 pistol and walked on. I watched them strip off all our weapons; then they left, back where they came from. I remember the artillery, the bombs, the napalm everywhere, real close around me. It shook the ground underneath me. But it was coming in on the North Vietnamese soldiers, too."

All this, and much more, took place between 6:50 A.M. and 7:40 A.M. on November 15, 1965. The agonies of Charlie Company occurred over 140 yards of the line. But men were fighting and dying on three sides of our thinly held American perimeter. In the center, I held the lives of all these men in my hands. The badly wounded Captain Bob Edwards was now on the radio, asking for reinforcements. The only reserve I had was the reconnaissance platoon, twenty-two men. Was the attack on Charlie Company the main enemy threat? Delta Company and the combined mortar position were also under attack now. Reluctantly, I told Captain Edwards that his company would have to fight on alone for the time being.

The din of battle was unbelievable. Rifles and machine guns and mortars and grenades rattled, banged, and boomed. Two batteries of 105mm howitzers, twelve big guns located on another landing zone five miles distant, were firing nonstop, their shells exploding no more than fifty yards outside the ring of shallow foxholes.

Beside me in the battalion command post, the Air Force forward air controller, Lieutenant Charlie W. Hastings, twenty-six, from La Mesa, New Mexico, radioed a special code word, "Broken Arrow," meaning "American unit in danger of being overrun," and within a short period of time every available fighter-bomber in South Vietnam was stacked overhead at thousand-foot intervals from seven thousand feet to thirty-five thousand feet, waiting its turn to deliver bombs and napalm to the battlefield.

Among my sergeants there were three-war men—men who parachuted into Normandy on D day and had survived the war in Korea—and those old veterans were shocked by the savagery and hellish noise of this battle. Choking clouds of smoke and dust obscured the killing ground. We were dry-mouthed and our bowels churned with fear, and still the enemy came on in waves.

CHAPTER 2

The Roots of Conflict

There never was a time when, in my opinion, some way could not be found to prevent the drawing of the sword. —GENERAL ULYSSES S. GRANT


One month of maneuver, attack, retreat, bait, trap, ambush, and bloody butchery in the Ia Drang Valley in the fall of 1965 was the Vietnam War's true dawn—a time when two opposing armies took the measure of each other. The North Vietnamese commanders had a deep-rooted fear that the lessons they had learned fighting and defeating the French a decade earlier had been outmoded by the high-tech weaponry and revolutionary airmobile helicopter tactics that the Americans were trying out on them.

The North Vietnamese wanted their foot soldiers to taste the sting of those weapons and find ways to neutralize them. Their orders were to draw the newly arrived Americans into battle and search for the flaws in their thinking that would allow a Third World army of peasant soldiers who traveled by foot and fought at the distant end of a two-month-long supply line of porters not only to survive and persevere, but ultimately to prevail in the war—which was, for them, entering a new phase.

The 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) was born of President John F. Kennedy's determination that the U.S. Army, which for a decade had focused exclusively on training and arming itself to fight World War III on the plains of Europe, prepare to fight a series of small, dirty wars on the world's frontiers. Toward that end Kennedy gave the U.S. Special Forces their head—and a distinctive green beret to wear. The Special Forces were good at what they did, counterguerrilla warfare, but clearly they were not the force needed to deal with battalions and regiments of regular soldiers in the Communist armies of liberation. For that matter, neither were the regular infantry divisions of the U.S. Army—hidebound, road-bound, and focused on war in Germany. Something new and totally different had to be created to meet the challenge of the jungles of Indochina.

What would that something be? No one was absolutely certain, but a coterie of young colonels and brigadier generals hiding out in the bowels of the Army's research-and-development division in the Pentagon had an idea, a dream, and they had been tinkering with it for years.

In the summer of 1957, Lieutenant General James M. Gavin, who won early fame and swift promotion with the 82nd Airborne Division in World War II, was chief of research and development for the Army. He had a vision of a new fighting force, something that he described in a seminal article as "Cavalry—And I Don't Mean Horses." His vision centered on the helicopter, that ungainly bumblebee, which made a very limited combat debut in Korea, principally hauling wounded to the rear two at a time.

Jim Gavin's dream was that someday bigger, faster, and better helicopters would carry the infantry into battle, forever freeing it of the tyranny of terrain and permitting war to proceed at a pace considerably faster than that of a man walking. The helicopter, Gavin believed, held the possibility of making the battlefield truly a three-dimensional nightmare for an enemy commander.

Gavin's dream was enthusiastically shared by Brigadier General Hamilton W. Howze, chief of Army Aviation, and other pioneers like Colonel John Norton, Colonel George P. (Phip) Seneff, Colonel John J. (Jack) Tolson, Colonel Bob Williams, and Colonel Harry W. O. Kinnard. World War II had proved there were shortcomings and limitations in the practice of airborne warfare; but airmobile warfare could address most, if not all, of those limitations.

By mid-1962, Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara, pursuing President Kennedy's vision, seized on the airmobility idea. McNamara ordered the Army to determine if the new UH-1 Huey helicopter, the big CH-47 Chinook transport helicopter, and their sisters in rotary-wing aviation made sense on the battlefield of the future.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from We Were Soldiers Once ... and Young by Harold G. Moore, Joseph L. Galloway. Copyright © 1992 Lt. General H. G. Moore and Joseph L. Galloway. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Maps,
Prologue,
GOING TO WAR,
1. Heat of Battle,
2. The Roots of Conflict,
3. Boots and Saddles,
4. The Land and the Enemy,
X-RAY,
5. Into the Valley,
6. The Battle Begins,
7. Closing with the Enemy,
8. The Storm of Battle,
9. Brave Aviators,
10. Fix Bayonets!,
11. Night Falls,
12. A Dawn Attack,
13. Friendly Fire,
14. Rescuing the Lost Platoon,
15. Night Fighters,
16. Policing the Battlefield,
17. It Ain't Over Till It's Over,
ALBANY,
18. A Walk in the Sun,
19. Hell in a Very Small Place,
20. Death in the Tall Grass,
21. Escape and Evade,
22. Night Without End,
23. The Sergeant and the Ghost,
AFTERMATH,
24. Mentioned in Dispatches,
25. "The Secretary of the Army Regrets ...",
26. Reflections and Perceptions,
Epilogue,
Image Gallery,
Appendix: Where Have All the Young Men Gone?,
Acknowledgments,
Interviews and Statements,
Chapter Notes,
Selected Bibliography,
Index,

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Sort by: Showing all of 17 Customer Reviews
  • Posted May 31, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    American Courage at its Most Poignant

    I was not even alive during the Vietnam war and the only feelings I gather that were prevalent at the time are old news clips of anti-war protests and movies like "Platoon" and "Full Metal Jacket" that painted the war as disturbing; what war isn't disturbing? "We Were Soldiers Once...and Young" gave me a detailed, realistic account not of the politics of the war but of the essence of war itself.
    Too often we find ourselves so wrapped up in the politics of war that we forget the most important aspect of the discussion which is the valor, courage, and life of our soldiers. The book highlights these redeeming qualities of war time virtues and sets soldiers in the context of a battle with bullets, blood, and brutality. It allows us a glance and a vicarious interaction with the men of the Air Cav as well as the men in the tan uniforms on the other side.
    We are reminded what war is really about, for those of us who have not experienced it and who may not know, it is about the man next to you in battle. It is about the man or the men who have been cut off from the rest of the group whose lives are being held on a very thin and quickly deteriorating string. It is about the guy who operates the artillery pieces five miles away who does not see the carnage or the faces of death but who through his efforts saves countless lives and prevents more carnage and death.
    I fully agree with General H.Norman Schwarzkopf, that this "should be 'must' reading for all Americans, especially those who have been led to believe that war is some kind of Nintendo game." You become absorbed in the death as well as the brotherhood of battle. You learn such virtues as "heroism and sacrifice." If you want to know the raw essence of war, read this book. It is raw, realistic, and unscathed by the body of politics; an instant classic in the genre of military non-fiction and epic.

    6 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 13, 2011

    Amazing Story

    Written by the most important man in the battle and a reporter. This book goes great with the movie. Once you read the book, the movie makes much more sense. One of my favorites.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 7, 2013

    Poignant, brutally honest, and heartbreaking recollections of ou

    Poignant, brutally honest, and heartbreaking recollections of our heroes in Vietnam. H
    Help honor these men and their loved ones by reading this book.  

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted May 2, 2014

    Great Book!!!

    I now understand a little bit of what the Vietnam War means to the soldiers who were there and the families who lived through this war.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted February 11, 2014

       We Were Soldiers Once¿ And Young narrates the gripping story

       We Were Soldiers Once… And Young narrates the gripping story of the first major battles in the Vietnam War: LZ X-Ray and LZ Albany. This book masterfully recreates every element of both battles; it makes you feel like you were really there. You fly in with every soldier, fight with every soldier, and watch as your brothers in arms die beside you. The book leaves you with an incredible sense of loss at the numerous American soldiers dead before their time and with a strong feeling of thanks for those who continue to fight for the United States of America.
       Landing Zone X-Ray is the main focus of the book, as General (then Colonel) Hal Moore commands the battalion that landed here, the 1st Battalion of the 7th Cavalry. Nothing is left out; the entire harrowing account of the actions at LZ X-Ray is vividly recreated in the words of this book. Every moment of the battle is described, from the initial landing to the loss of Lt. Henry Herrick’s 2nd platoon, Bravo Company to the final policing of the battlefield. In addition to the heroic events that took place at LZ X-Ray, the book also describes the battle at Landing Zone Albany only some miles away where the 2nd Battalion of the 7th Cavalry was nearly destroyed. Unlike X-Ray, Gen. Hal Moore was not present at LZ Albany, but there is no loss of detail or story. The joy, suspense, and grief of the tale at LZ Albany is conveyed masterfully.
       This is not the type of book that spends half of its words setting up the scene; it throws you right into the action. However, this does not mean to say that there is no element of set-up to the story as the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th chapters provide significant background information. Although this background information is more than sufficient to provide background to the story, it was difficult to visualize the structure of the army (Platoon-Company-Battalion-Division) during the first chapters without previously knowing it. Additionally, in order to fully understand the story as well as the people and groups within the battle at X-Ray, you need to know the geography of LZ X-Ray and where each platoon was positioned as well as the dates they were positioned there (don’t worry, there are multiple maps in the front of the book that illustrate these subjects).
       We Were Soldiers Once… And Young led me on an emotional and philosophical rollercoaster. It made me question why the US went to Vietnam and what the results were. It made me laugh, bite my nails, smile, and cry (the last portion of the book describes the aftermath and the reception back in America), and I loved it. While the sometimes purely factual writing style may not appeal to some, the message of heroism, selflessness, loyalty, and sacrifice had me immersed in the story of the battle at Ia Drang from page one.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 26, 2013

    Great

    Grear

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 20, 2011

    best book i ever read- and i read a lot

    on a pace scale from 1-10, 10 being maximum ride, this book is a 15. don't start it unless you have time because it is extreamly hard to put down. you have to know more than the average joe about war to read it though. i recomend reading it while listening to music

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  • Posted April 24, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Way better than the movie, with Mel Gibson & Barry Pepper

    good book

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