The 3rd Brigade Ammo Dump was blown up by a VC rocket attack on 22 Dec. '67. This photo was taken by (then) Lt. David Peart, whose photo of a 122mm rocket is also in this gallery.
I was visiting with friends from my old platoon with Bravo Co. 2/2nd Inf. (Mech), when the dump exploded in mid-afternoon. I had left some belongings on one of the tracks when I transferred to 2/28th Inf. in late September. Both units were in the field most of the time after that and it was my first opportunity to try to connect. My friend Matt Malczynski, who took my place as the platoon medic, had kept my stuff for me.
The initial blast came from a pallet of 8 inch artillery rounds. It was very powerful and sent shrapnel into the air for quite a distance, causing a number of casualties. The airstrip took a lot of hits. After a long while, the words came down that I always dreaded hearing when all Hell was breaking loose, "Saddle up, we're moving out". Bravo Co. had been given the task of moving into the ammo dump to survey the damage and look for casualties. I was only visiting, but Matt asked me, "Why don't you come along, Dave? We might need extra hands.". There were a lot of reasons not to go along - being blown to bits is the first one that comes to mind - but impulse-control and thinking "what could go wrong?" were not my strong points at that point in my life. So I said "Sure", borrowed a spare aid bag from the Senior Aidman, picked a track, and hopped on.
When we went into the dump we did so "buttoned up", inside with the cargo doors closed, which was not how we usually rode. I don't remember when we got inside the tracks, but I know that we were close to the ammo dump when we did. Before we went inside I saw a sight that has stayed with me. On the side of the road was an American Deuce and a Half truck, which had run off the road and been abandoned, probably when the initial blast went off. Behind the truck were the bodies of two young Vietnamese women. I'm guessing that the truck driver lost control and hit them. They were both dressed in very pretty traditional Ao Dais, rather than work clothing. They looked like two broken dolls, discarded by the side of the road.
When we got into the dump it was hot and miserable inside those personnel carriers. We could hear small arms rounds cooking off, but pretty much only the driver could see outside, so that he could maneuver. I got a very brief feel for what it must have been like in a WWII submarine when expecting depth charges to drop down at any time. I don't know how long we spent in in there, but it seemed like forever, with nothing to do but wait and listen. Unfortunately, we didn't find any casualties to help. After checking out the grounds for awhile, we pulled back out because of the continued danger.
When we got back to the unit I needed to leave and get back to my own company area. I said my goodbyes and told Matt that I'd try to get back over for a longer visit in a few days if they didn't go out before then. I did return on the 28th or 29th and found out that they had been sent back out and that Matt Malczynski was killed and 7 other soldiers (a quarter of the platoon) were wounded on 26 December, the day after Christmas.
At that point in my tour I had just finally gotten off line about a week before and was assigned to the Battalion Aid Station, which would mean that I would still go to the field, but would stay in the perimeter, helping with sick call and other duties. I would not go on daily patrols or ambush patrols with the rifle companies. I had spent 7 months on line as a platoon medic and Senior Aidman with 2/2nd Inf. (Mech.) and 2/28th Inf. The units usually tried to limit medics' time on line to 6 months, because of the responsibility and stress. Matt wasn't the first, or last, close friend who was KIA, but his death hit me hard. I decided that I couldn't stay in basecamp or the perimeter while my friends were in harm's way. I was offered an R&R to Hawaii in a week and decided take it and to sneak home to California from there for a few days, which was against regulations (what could they do - send me to Vietnam?). The battalion needed a replacement medic for Recon Platoon and I volunteered to take that position when I got back. I stayed in that job until March, '68.
