If I were to say that the Army of the Republic of Vietnam was the most heroic in the world, I am by no means trying to undervalue the armed forces of other nations. The reason I say this is because in the arena of courage, endurance, determination, and fighting skill, the ARVN had no equal. It had the unfortunate opportunity to demonstrate all of these virtues during the twenty years of war and later, during the imprisonment or exile of its members in the twenty following years.

It was the most heroic because it has been the sole competitor, that's all.

I realize now is not the time to discuss heroism or to analyze battles lost or won in regards to the Vietnam War. Twenty years have passed. There have been many wars since, many written about in the Daily Pantagraph. Tales of battle, no matter how dramatic, will always have the same details.

In this letter, I am more interested in telling you about seven unusual words, seven words that are not Vietnamese, that were the last words of an ARVN. He spoke these words with a perfectly clear mind, knowing that in a few minutes, his life would end.

The following is what ex pilot Nhi Xuan Le recalls of the event:

(It happened some time in the early 70's. On that day Nhi and his co pilot, captain Ngoc were assigned surveillance duty. They were flying a Cessna L 19 over an area where there were frequent skirmishes. If an attack against any fort or camp was detected, they were supposed to call for reinforcements and then guide bombers to their target.)

...On the last day of the assignment to this area, we took off for a second flight mission around 3 PM. After circling the area a few times, I asked Ngoc, "How about circling a couple of times more, and if there is nothing happening, we can find some place to ditch our rockets and return to base?"

"No. Let's fly to Dak Pek. I want to survey this area completely before transferring duty to the new flight crew."

There seemed to be something that bothered him, which I could not figure out. After awhile, he said, "Have you noticed how quiet it has been in this area , especially the last few days? In fact, it has been strangely quiet and peaceful."

"Yes, it has been very quiet...you think something's wrong?"

"Usually," Ngoc said, "a few very quiet days are hints that a big battle is coming."

"Well, we'll be reassigned tomorrow, so why worry?"

At about 5 PM, we were flying over a small camp, DakSeang, located south of Dakto City. Ngoc suddenly made a u-turn.

"Let me look this over. It seems the camp is being shelled," Ngoc said. A few seconds later, he screamed, "Damn it! I was right! they are shelling it!"

Ngoc radioed headquarters to report what we were seeing and requested the assigned radio frequencies. Headquarters confirmed that DakSeang had been shelled and that there were signs it will be attacked soon. We were then requested to remain in the area to "work" with the camp.

Contacting the camp by radio, we exchanged code names and then descended in altitude. As we neared the camp, anti-aircraft guns were suddenly shooting at our plane. I heard the sound of some bullets hitting the Cessna. I grumbled, "Nothing happened during the fifteen days of this assignment, and now on the last day, it will be really bad luck if I get a bullet in my butt!"

Unable to fly in any closer, I pulled the plane up and out.

"If the sky is filling up with anti-aircraft shells, it must mean that they really have well prepared their shelling into the camp. We may lose this camp by nightfall."

Ngoc opened the area map. All three frequencies on our radio cracked with voices. We were simultaneously in contact with headquarters, an artillery unit, and the camp below.

The shelling was becoming more and more intense. I climbed to a higher altitude and tried to approach from a different direction. I then realized we were flying at 5000 to 8000 feet into an area covered with numerous clouds. To enter one of these clouds is to become instantly blind. Once you got out, it took awhile to reorient yourself to the area of reconnaissance. Captain Ngoc complained, "Damn! even these clouds are Communist sympathizers. The sky is so vast, why do they have to hang around here?!"

I dropped down below the cloud ceiling a few times but on each occasion we were greeted with anti-aircraft fire.

Even worse, the enemy started to shoot 130 mm shells into the camp. Two howitzers, one from the outskirts of a village 15km away, the other from the opposite direction, were sending shells in, one by one. From above, I could clearly see the shells hitting their target, and following each large explosion were a cacophony of smaller ones from a dozen or so mortar shells.

In the cockpit, Ngoc and I were practically jumping in our seats with anger and frustration. We were destroying our vocal chords trying to radio in for bombers and reinforcements. Apparently we were all caught by surprise. No bomber showed up for the longest time. Ngoc radioed the nearest artillery base for support. When informed of the coordinates, the response was one of despair.

"It would be a waste . That's too far away. Our shells will never hit them even in a million years!"

"What if you lower your gun barrels and fire directly to get some more distance? Just to scare them off a little?" Ngoc suggested, not wanting to give up.

"OK. We'll try. Here are the coordinates where we will be firing... ready to copy?"

"Who cares about the coordinates? Would you just go ahead and fire ?!"

At about 5:30 PM we heard the nervous voice of the DakSeang commander.

"White bird! This is Blue Lake!"

"Read you five, Blue Lake!," I replied.

"... Let you know we estimate that so far, 500 shells have been dropped on us. Fifty percent of our trenches and bunkers have been destroyed."

I was stunned. 500 shells into such a small area. There could hardly be any trench or bunker left! Ngoc suddenly had a dreadful idea.

"If we keep letting them shell this place, there won't be anything left of our forces down there. We should use some psychological warfare..."

"Since when did you practice psychological warfare...?"

"Let me explain. Psychological warfare means we make the enemy believe we have something that we don't really have. We don't have any bombers at the moment but we can make them think we do. We can circle right above the location of the big canons to make them think the bombers are here. That will shut them up for awhile."

That sounded somewhat feasible. There were still all those anti-aircraft guns to deal with, but in a situation like this, all we could do was hope that the bullets wouldn't hit us rather than trying to dodge them. I let the plane drop in altitude, and headed toward the big guns. Shells were exploding all around us. Ngoc tried to calm me down.

"Have no fear. I've got my wild boar tooth lucky charm with me! Bullets will avoid me."

That really cheered me up! There were only the two of us in this cockpit and if the bullets coming our way were to avoid him, I would supposedly be their remaining target!

Ngoc seemed to suddenly remember something and reached inside his shirt shouting, "Oh my god! I don't have the charm with me! Damn! I must have forgotten it at the water tower when I was taking a shower....but don't you worry! My horoscope said I will have a long life!"

As we got further away from the camp, there were less and less flakes. In a short time, we were right above one of the enemy's howitzers. We descended a little more and circled above the big gun. Just as Ngoc predicted, the "big rooster" stopped crowing... just then, like much needed rain on parched earth, a group of Cobra helicopter descended upon our position. Captain Ngoc established radio contact with the American pilots and briefed them on the situation on the ground. The one word I kept hearing throughout the conversation was "everywhere".

The Cobras started firing as soon as they reached the battlefield. I was a little surprised to see them taking turns shooting so close to the camp's perimeter. This could only mean that Uncle Ho's nephews were following their armored vehicles and were advancing toward the camp. The anti-aircraft guns changed their targets and were trained on the helicopters. The air-ground duel was spectacular but did not last very long. The Cobras seemed to run out of ammunition and had to leave. To make matters worse, even our psychological warfare tactics seemed to lose its effect. The enemy figured out Ngoc and I were bluffing and reactivated their howitzers.

"F... you! ", Ngoc roared, "When our bombers come, I'll tell them to bomb you into Hell!"

We were getting very frustrated in our plane, not being able to do much except throw profanities at the enemy. All we had in the plane were four smoke rockets for pinpointing targets.

A short time later, headquarters informed us that two A-1 Sky Raiders were taking off from Pleiku and would arrive soon. Ngoc happily radioed the camp, "Blue Lake! This is White Bird!"

"Read you five, my friend! We have received thousands of shells! They just launched their first ground attack!"

"Are you guys OK?"

"We're OK for now! Those Cobras came just in time! And my kids are still fighting beautifully. The Cong left about 50 bodies. The American pilots did a great job!"

"We have two Sky Raiders on the way, my friend."

"Try your best. Our trenches and bunkers are just about gone!"

"Roger and out!"

The enemy's howitzers were still continuously spurting out puffs of black smoke.

"Let me fire one of our smoke rockets on one of the big guns. It might do some good.." I said.

Ngoc agreed, "Yeah! who knows..."

I maneuvered the plane into firing position, aimed and pulled the trigger. The rocket exploded near the gun. It was a good shot but you can hardly hurt a fly with smoke! Still we did manage to silence the gun once more. I planned to shoot again after awhile to buy us some more time till the Sky Raiders came.

Then the radio began crackling with the sound of wave interference as the Sky Raiders contacted us. I had to say that those interference noises were like music to my ears. They were the sound of hope, of faith, and of solidarity. Ngoc exchanged some communications with the pilots and then radioed the ground forces.

"Blue Lake! This is White Bird!"

"Read you five, White Bird!"

"Iron birds are here. Where do you want them first?"

"Have them take care of the big roosters on the double, my friend!"

"Roger!"

The sky became a sea of explosions and fire as soon as the bombers arrived. I had no idea how many anti-aircraft guns the enemy had but there were explosions in every direction. With the evening well on the way, the dark sky formed an impressive backdrop for all the tracer bullets raining fire upward.

The first Sky Raider flew up and down several times but failed to destroy the howitzers it was aiming for. The stupid clouds were still all over the area. It was with great difficulty that the pilot found an opening in the cloud banks, facing all those flakes, to guide his bombs toward the target. In the end, he managed to drop his last two bombs right on top of the big gun. A big explosion was followed by a series of smaller ones. One down, one more to go! Ngoc guided the second plane to the other big gun. While it was bombing the area, our radio went on.

"White Bird! This is Blue Lake!"

"Read you five, Blue Lake"

"My commanding bunker has collapsed. I am moving out to the trenches with my boys."

"Stay on the air, my friend..."

There was no response. I was getting very nervous. "To move to the trenches with the boys" certainly meant the situation was getting desperate. Ngoc turned to me and said, "I'll be guiding these Sky Raiders. Use the FM frequency to request headquarters to send at least two more bombers immediately. If we don't act fast, this camp will be overrun in half an hour."

I switched my radio to FM frequencies. Ngoc added, "Make sure you scream and whine as if some jerk is squeezing you by the balls, otherwise they won't act quickly!"

That cracked me up. Even in this situation, the captain was still able to joke. He must have known that screaming and whining are my forte. I can do that even when nobody is squeezing me anywhere. I made the request and got an immediate response. Ngoc jumped with joy when we received word that a squadron of F-4s was on the way from the US Navy carrier.

Ground communications were becoming more and more frantic however.

"White Bird! this is Blue Lake"

"Read you five, Blue Lake"

"Please have Iron Birds bomb in the vicinity of the camp. They are mounting their assault."

Ngoc shouted into his radio, re-directing the Sky Raiders. They abandoned the big gun area and hurried toward the camp perimeter. Then they emptied their guns around the fence of the camp. One pilot screamed into the radio as he came up from a dive, "They are like ants down there! They're all over the place!"

"Well, that shouldn't be a surprise!"

The Sky Raiders were using their 20mm cannons, spraying the enemy with their deadly rounds. But still, the situation was getting worse. Enemy forces kept up their assault. Blue Lake informed us that part of their defense line had collapsed and that they were having hand to hand combat. At the same time, headquarters radioed us that three other camps in the region were attacked simultaneously.

"I know this ploy," Ngoc said, "They're trying to distract us away so they can take DakSeang."

On the radio, voices were sent back and forth between pilots, ground forces and headquarters, causing a barrage of communications. Then, amid all that confusion, came the messages from the American F-4 pilots.

They arrived armed to the teeth. Two F-4 Phantoms, each carrying eighteen 500 pound bombs, circled at 20,000 feet waiting for the command to drop them. Ngoc quickly detailed the situation to the pilots. There was a succession of "Roger!" and "Sir!" and they went off to work. From 15,000 feet, they dived down under the cloud ceiling and delivered their charges with deadly accuracy. The anti-aircraft guns seemed to have no effect on them.

"White Bird! this is Blue Lake"

The voice on the radio seemed strangely calm, no longer frantic as it had been earlier.

"Read you five, Blue Lake. How's the situation down there?"

"Request that you have the bombs dropped right on our heads!"

Ngoc and I were both stunned. We hoped that we heard wrong. Neither of us could speak. The ground commander radioed again, "White Bird! I re-affirm my request for you to have bombs dropped directly into the camp!"

"You want us to bomb the camp?" Ngoc asked.

"You heard me loud and clear. There is no more hope, my friend."

"Are you sure? "

"There is no other choice, my friend. Please act quickly. `Co lai chinh chien ky nhan hoi', you know?... good luck to all of you!"

Those were the last words I heard from DakSeang Camp-Co lai chinh chien ky nhan hoi.

Ngoc hastily radioed headquarters to request instructions. We were to contact the base again and report back. But it would be a futile effort. Nothing came back from Blue Lake.

From headquarters, Blue Lake's request was granted. We were to proceed with caution.

"Caution my ass!" Ngoc mumbled to himself. Then he contacted the American pilots to instruct them of the decision. One of the US Navy pilots, pulling up from an attack dive, sounded dumbfounded, "Roger! Sir...did you say...right on it? Over."

"Yes sir! It's all over! I said you salvo right on it! over. "

"Roger! Sir. I understand, sir. Over. "

And that was it. After two bombing rounds of the F-4 Phantoms, Camp DakSeang was bombed into oblivion. I was witness to a scene that was to remain with me for the rest of my life. What is there for me to say about those soldiers of the ARVN? All words became meaningless in the face of the heroic tragedy that had happened below me. Even at 5,000 feet and at 5 km away, our plane was shook up by the explosions of all those 500 pound bombs. How could there be any survivors after such destruction?

The remains of those brave DakSeang Camp heroes would settle down among rocks, dirt, pieces of metal to lay quietly on the surface of this earth. And somewhere, on this same earth that is my country, wives, sons and daughters, and the relatives of these men would never know of this great sacrifice. In the words of their commander, they had done just that- Co lai chinh chien ky nhan hoi.

With tears streaming down my face, I maneuvered the plane back over the camp. There was nothing but black smoke rising from the camp... The two F-4 Phantoms were circling the area in formation, maybe to survey the battleground, maybe to send their salute to the ARVN martyrs below. Against the sky of a setting sun, they looked like two giant birds flying sorrowfully over their deceased friends.

After receiving the report from Ngoc, the leader of the squadron said emotionally, "Sir. May I reach out accross the fires and destruction of today to tell you this: Those people down there have fought like men and died great heroes."

"Yes sir. They have died with great honor," Ngoc replied.

"That was an Alamo by all means, sir. An even greater Alamo than ours. Over."

Tears were streaming from Ngoc's eyes.

"Roger! We have thousands of Alamos like that in our country."

"Roger! I believe that, sir. God bless you all. Over."

With that, the two Phantoms waved their wings and sped off into the somber evening sky.

"Co lai chinh chien ky nhan hoi. The loose translation is "From battlefields, since ancient past, few warriors expect to ever return".), those seven words in the last message from the DakSeang soldier make up the phonetic translation of a verse from a Chinese poem. He had recited this verse to comfort and encourage the two stunned comrades in arms flying above after he put in the fatal request for the American pilots to bomb the camp.

In that agonizing moment, there was no time for argument. The two pilots, however, could not carry through with this heartbreaking order unless given words to fortify their resolve. And so, the soldier on the ground decided on an ancient verse.

• Chapter 7

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