THE LONGEST MARCH
By VL Stevenson, Cpl. USMC, Vietnam
There was no moon; it was the darkest of nights. Each step forward was unsure and treacherous. If the Marine in front of you gained more than a body length of separation, he would disappear into the darkness. It would be a never-forgotten march. It was my first operation—a baptism by fire!
I was a Field Radio Operator with the 2nd Battalion 9th Marines, an infantry battalion. In mid-April of 1967, we participated in Operation Big Horn. It was a multi-battalion sweep in the Co Bi-Thanh Tan Valley of South Vietnam coordinated with the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN). Before it ever started, I disliked the operation’s name— made me think of Custer!
On this operation, Major Sheridan, the battalion S3 operations officer, requested me and McNeal as his personal radio operators. I had been in Vietnam for four months, and this would be my first time outside the perimeter wire except for a one week stint on Hill 180 radio relay station near Phu Bai.
I was apprehensive about my first outing, but with 700 other Marines traveling with me, I felt safer. My fear was never a head-on enemy confrontation but the ever-presence of snipers and booby traps. But I had another fear lurking deeper inside—the fear of failing. I was still unsure how I would react under pressure.
On the first day, helicopters landed the battalion in an open field. As the forward company entered the treeline some distance away, I could hear gunfire. A Viet Cong (VC) was spotted and shot but didn’t die immediately. We called in a medevac chopper, but he died minutes before it landed. Our S2 intelligence officer was upset he died and could not interrogate. The incident prompted him to devise an incentive plan to offer a 3-day in-country R&R for anyone who could deliver a live VC. However, the plan proved unsuccessful during this operation.
By late afternoon, we had completed the initial sweep, arriving at the location where helicopters would take us back to Camp Evans, our home base. However, because of unfavorable weather, the choppers could not fly and were canceled. We were supposed to be on the other side of the valley by the next morning to start another sweep with the ARVNs.
The only way to move the battalion and reach the destination by morning would be a forced march through the night. It was a pitch-black night of trudging 14 hours non-stop through jungles, rivers, and rice paddies. It’s difficult enough moving through jungles in daylight, but in darkness, it was tenfold. We employed the artillery base fire illumination flares in front of us just to find our way! It was critical to keep in contact with the Marine in front of you. Losing sight meant splitting the column, which could result in getting lost.
The first obstacle was a river crossing near dusk. The water was waist deep, cold, and swift. This is where I made my first rookie mistake. My cargo pockets were stuffed with toilet paper rolls and cigarettes. As I crossed, I noticed my cigarettes floating out of my pockets into the river. The TP turned to mush and remained in the bottom of my pockets. When I finally exited the river, I had to remove the mushy TP.
As we marched on through the night, I kept feeling pain on my shoulders and back near my waist. I knew something was wrong and tried to readjust my radio backpack many times, but nothing helped. I wanted to take my pack off to find the problem, but I wasn’t able to stop long enough.
The next morning we reached our destination. Along with the rest of the battalion, I had survived my first test—endurance! Finally, I was able to take off my radio backpack, and that’s when I discovered 2nd-degree abrasions on my shoulders and waistline on both sides. The Navy Corpsman said it appeared as if someone had taken sandpaper to my shoulders and back. The Corpsman disinfected, bandaged, and patched me with a material called Moleskin. He also treated both feet with Moleskin, but my shoulders were the most painful.
When I put the radio backpack on my shoulders, the pain was still present, but the Moleskin stopped the abrading. I never considered being medevaced; it was the fear of failing that kept me going seven more days. Also, I felt guilty letting it happen. But the Corpsman and Moleskin worked a miracle and allowed me to continue. Marines have always asserted that Corpsmen are their guardian angels!
Even though we had just completed an all-night marathon march, we only rested for a few hours then continued with the sweep. We didn’t stop until later that evening. We completed a forced march and a sweep in 24 hours—on no sleep, little rest, and minimal food. It would be the longest single march our battalion would ever endure.
Things I learned as a first-timer: use plastic bags to keep stuff dry; store socks in your helmet liner to keep dry; button your pockets; take things you need, not want; clean your M16 first; and most importantly, when you start thinking about quitting, don’t…you’ll always regret it!
VL Stevenson – Corporal, USMC - Vietnam 1966 – 1968