Would he be a better first sergeant had he not possessed these lingering ties of loyalty to his former commander? Hardly.
My first sergeant and I avoided each other during our brief stay on the bridge, he going about his business—“working piss and vinegar out of his system”—and I going about mine. But that was okay The Bull and I would become close enough, soon enough. And I would soon discover that had I insisted on putting him in charge of our trains, I would have made the first and in all likelihood the biggest mistake of my tenure with the company. Because he was right; the first sergeant’s place is with the troops—always. Moreover, I would find that there were many things I could discuss freely with my first sergeant that I would have felt uncomfortable talking about with my own officers and would certainly have never mentioned to Colonel Lich or any of his minions. And there were many things I could learn from my first sergeant that these others could never teach me.
Looking back on it, company command would have been a lonely and dismal experience indeed had it not been for First Sergeant Sullivan.
4. Payback Time for Charlie Company
“Battalion Three’s on the horn, sir,” Specialist Four Blair, my battalion RTO, said, passing me his radio handset.
“Comanche Six, this is Arizona Three, inbound your location in zero five with four, plus two, plus two. How copy? Over.”
“This is Comanche Six,” I replied. “Roger, that’s a good… copy… uh… we’ll be standing by. Out.”
Our sort-of stand down on Bong Son’s bridge had come to an end. Major Byson, the battalion’s S-3 (Arizona Three), had radioed us a fragmentary order the night before, sending Charlie Company back to the boonies.
DTG 182145L DEC. Frago. Tall comanche conducts air assault on LZ Daisy, point of origin, Right three two, up zero four, at 190900 local DEC, Via four [UH-ID “Iroquois” troop-assault helicopters “slicks”], Plus two [CH-47 “Chinook” troop-transport helicopters “hooks”], Plus two [AH-IG “Cobra” attack helicopters], To seek and destroy enemy in AO Tiger three. blue max [radio call sign for the division’s aerial rocket artillery, or ARAI supports initial assault. DS Arty Provides two-minute LZ Prep and subsequent fires on call. current CEOI ineffective. Acknowledged.
After receiving Byson’s message, I had spent nearly two hours preparing the company’s air-assault order, relying heavily on a pound or more of laminated doctrinal material I’d “liberated” from the Infantry School’s air-operations department before departing Fort Benning. My efforts, I thought, had not been in vain. It was a model air-assault order, written strictly in accordance with the doctrinal requirements of those who teach others how to do such things. It had everything—assembly procedures, load plans, stick orders, helicopter ACLs (allowable cargo loads), contingency considerations en route, and, at the objective, LZ consolidation plans, fires, and on and on.
Having issued this work of art to my platoon leaders late the night before, I’d gone over it with them a second time after the morning log bird departed. Now, with our helicopters only five minutes out, we were once again assembled as I tried for the third time to explain my order to them—and they still couldn’t quite grasp it.
“Sir, I take the slicks, right?”
I turned to Lieutenant MacCarty, 2d Platoon, and somewhat impatiently replied, “Yes, Lieutenant, you take the slicks. I’ve stated that as clearly as I know how under paragraph three, ‘execution,’ subparagraph b, ‘subordinate unit tasks,’ and I quote, ‘2d Platoon conducts initial assault, via four UH-ID helicopters, to secure LZ Daisy. Is that clear?”
“Uh… yes, sir, that’s clear, but somewhere else in there you mentioned something ‘bout the ACL and crossloading.”
“Right,” I quickly responded, “that’s under paragraph three c, ‘coordinating instructions.” As I see it, based on what we know of the LZ’s air density and altitude, coupled with the info Three sent us, the approximate ACL per Huey is eight men. You have a foxhole strength of twenty-eight soldiers; there’s five of us in the command section. That’s a total of thirty-three, which means we exceed our ACL by one person. So you coordinate with Lieutenant Norwalk aboard the first Chinook and…”
Suddenly, I heard the familiar whump, whump, whump sound of inbound helicopters. All heads turned to see four dots on the southern horizon, closing fast.
Oh shit!
“Slicks on final, sir! Two minutes!” Blair yelled from where he stood atop the bridge’s command bunker, his AN/PRC-25 radio at his feet.
Oh, double shit!
I turned to my leaders, who as one looked back at me in total bewilderment.
Sergeant Marvel, Weapons Platoon leader (the platoon had no officer assigned), broke an uneasy silence by somewhat meekly asking, “Sir, where do you want my people to go? I still don’t really understand…”
Fuck! I can’t believe this!
“Sergeant,” I replied as calmly as possible, “you take the second Chinook… or is it the first? No, I think you have to divide your people between… wait a sec, goddamn it, I have the numbers right here under paragraph…”
The whump, whump of the inbound Hueys was noticeably louder when 1st Sgt. Bull Sullivan decided to intervene and save his new commander’s ass.
“Sir, why don’t you let me try to clarify your order?”
“First Sergeant, please be my guest,” I hastily responded, hoping for some small miracle on his part.
“Okay, you want Two Six to conduct the assault and the rest of the company to follow in the hooks, right?”
“You got it, First Sergeant. That’s the order in a nutshell.”
He turned to Lieutenant MacCarty and said, “Sir, you take the slicks and go in hot. Make room for headquarters on number four.”
MacCarty gave a thumbs up and replied, “Right, Top.”
Turning back to me momentarily, Sergeant Sullivan asked, “You did want to go in with the assault, didn’t you, sir?”
“Of course I go in with the assault. See, it’s right here under paragraph five, ‘command and signal,’ “Company headquarters initially accompanies… oh, to hell with it.”
He had already turned to Lieutenant Norwalk, 1st Platoon. “Sir, you take the first hook, okay?”
“Right, Top.”
Then, speaking to Lieutenant Halloway, 3d Platoon, he said, “Three Six, you’ve got the second hook.”
“Right, Top.”
Finally, turning to Sergeant Marvel, “Haden, split your people between the two hooks and consolidate on the LZ.”
“Right, Top.”
“Any questions?”
In unison, “No, Top.”
And they assembled and loaded, quickly and efficiently. The liftoff went like clockwork, letter perfect, smooth as That silk.
On the way to our helicopter, just before taking off, Sergeant Sullivan mentioned that he had normally handled the company’s air movements under the previous commander, and, if I so desired, he would continue to do so during my tenure.
“Gives me something to do, sir, and takes another little piss-ant admin burden off your back. I mean you ain’t got time for this small shit.”
I couldn’t have agreed more and assured him, with perhaps more enthusiasm than I intended to show as his new commander, that henceforth he was the company’s “air-movement officer.”
Before boarding the Huey, I threw my pound or so of laminated air-assault doctrine in the nearest fifty-gallon trash drum, recalling as I did so another of Sergeant Fallow’s military axioms, “There’s the way it’s taught, and the way it’s done, and in combat, any similarity between the two is usually a matter of pure coincidence.”