Collectors.eu: first a small introduction to readers who you are?

I am from St Louis, MO. I graduated from high school in 1966 with a backround in wrestling and weightlifting. I come from a military family so joining the army was the right thing to do. Special Forces was the only thing for me because of the elite unit status and the opportunity to be in the middle of things most people never even hear about.

Terry Cadenbach


Collectors.eu: Can you tell us about your background and military service?

When I joined in Dec 1966 I told the recruiter I wanted to be in Special Forces and when I graduated from basic they sent me to be trained as a supply clerk. It took about 8 months to finally get orders for jump school and Special Forces. I, like many others, sent roses to Billie Alexander at the Pentagon requesting assignment to Vietnam upon graduation from Special Forces training. I was trained a a light and heavy weapons man. I got my wish and after I got there I volunteered for SOG and was sent to Kontum, which was known as FOB 2 and later changed to CCC. I was assigned to Co B of the Hatchet Force where I stayed from Oct 1968 to April 1970. When I returned to the states I was in Co C, 7th Special Forces Group. On Jan 31, 1972, after 3 ½ months in the hospital having my right ankle rebuilt, I was released from the army.

Collectors.eu: What made you join Special Forces and then apply for SOG, did you know what it was before you joined

Special Forces was the best of the best and I wanted to be a part of it. When I was at jump school in Jan 1968 I got to meet John Wayne while he was filming the movie The Green Berets and they used us as background in the movie. During training, SOG was so highly classified that it was only spoken about in very hushed terms and we still didn’t really know what it was all about but we knew it was the most secret of secret. It was not until we processed in to the 5th Group that we were asked if we wanted to volunteer for a secret operation. If we said yes we were not told anything else but were sent to Danang to CCN headquarters where we were briefed and signed our life away. From there I was sent to CCC and then I learned what it was all about.

Collectors.eu: Do you remember your team assignments?

I spent my entire time there as a platoon sergeant in the Co B Hatchet Force.

Dak To Launch site from air.



Collectors.eu: Did you have a weapon choice or preference?

When I first got there we were issued regular M-16s. When I got shot the first time in March 69 my rifle jammed because of what they later learned was bad powder. When I returned from the hospital in Japan a month later I was issued a brand new CAR-15 which was much more suited for what we did because of its smaller size.

Collectors.eu: did you had back up weapon, if so what was this and how did you carry it?

I always carried a Browning .25 automatic in my trousers cargo pocket and a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver in a holster on my belt. Sometimes for ambushes I also carried along a .45 grease gun that I “acquired”. When I first got there a lot of us also sometimes carried 9mm Swedish K.

Collectors.eu: Can you recall any mission that stands out?

When I was shot in March 1969 we overran an NVA bunker complex and truck refuleling stop and we found brightly painted Shell oil company 55 gallon drums of diesel fuel. That was my first realization of the global nature of this war

NVA Bunkers




Collectors.eu: I assume that you got a lot of new friends during the service, have you been in contact with them after the years?

I have not done a good job of keeping in touch with any of the guys I knew over there.

A1E Skyrider over Laos



Collectors.eu: Any interesting stories you would like to share about training, life in SF/SOG, operations, etc.?

There are some stories that are best left untold but we led a very freewheeling lifestyle when we were not in the field. Unfortunately, probably due to the stress of what we did we did a lot of drinking and partying. It was about the only thing to do to numb yourself from the pain of watching your friends dying all around you. I think that to a man we were so intensely proud of what we were doing that stateside duty and civilian life just couldn’t measure up. I am very proud to have served with and known men like Robert Howard and Doug Miller, both of whom were awarded the Medal of Honor. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

The Trail from helicopter


The Trail from ground


Collectors.eu: Anything you want to say...?

Today, 40 years after the fact, it has become fashionable for people to sometimes glorify what we did, but unless you were there and lived it, one can never know what it was really like. We were a brotherhood that survived the war and trancended all walks of life. Even if there were personality conflicts etc, when you went to the field you were all brothers and your life was in each other’s hands and you didn’t think twice about taking lead to save your brother. There is probably no other job in the world where this kind of brotherhood exists.

(I will be adding more pictures incase i receive more...)

(edit: 24.7.2011 / mikko)

Revised edition of Bright Light : Untold Stories of the Secret War in Vietnam mikko @ 27.6.2011

Steve Perry have released revised edition of Bright Light book. 15 new photos and much more...

You can order your copy on the link
here



Download free excerp from my link below (copy % paste to your browser)
Some bug...site allowed to put only 1 link

http://mhk.wippiespace.com/excerp.pdf

(edit: 27.6.2011 / mikko)

Collection page updated 16.3.2011 mikko @ 16.3.2011

A lot of new items added there...

Across The Fence: The Secret War In Vietnam - Expanded Edition mikko @ 11.3.2011

John Stryker Meyer has updated and re-released his book Across The Fence.
First release was out of print a long time



Order directly from author

(edit: 11.3.2011 / mikko)

Interview of SOG veteran Stepher Perry author of Bright Light - Untold Stories of the Secret War in Vietnam mikko @ 7.11.2010

Collectors.eu: At first a small introduction to readers who you are and what SF groups you served?

My name is Stephen Perry and I served with Special Forces during 1966 thru 1968. After completing Medical Training at Ft. Bragg and earning my Special Forces Flash, I was assigned for a short while to the Seventh Special Forces Group at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. I called Mrs Alexander at the Pentagon and requested transfer to the Fifth Group and in December of 1967 I was sent to Vietnam via Ft. Lewis, Washington. After arrival at Fifth Group headquarters at Nha Trang I was sent to Command nad Control North (CCN) MACV SOG and from Danang I was assigned to FOB1 at Phu Bai. During my tour of duty at FOB1 I served as One One on ST Idaho until "promoted" to the position of One Zero of ST New Jersey. I also served as a strap hanger for one bright light mission as One One of ST Oregon.


Collectors.eu: What made you join Special Forces and then how did you end up with SOG?

I enlisted the military as a sense of duty and civic responsibility. I signed up for Special Forces as sort of a personal challenge to myself to earn the right to serve with the best of the US military and to experience the training and excitement that such an assignment would bring.



Collectors.eu: Do you remember your team assignments and team rosters?

At FOB1, I was first assigned as One One on Strike Team Idaho under the able leadership of One Zero SFC Glenn O. Lane. Our One Two was Tim Kirk and Zero one was Mr Tu. Our interperter was Hiep Nugen and our point man was Ha.

In March or 1968 I was reassigned as One Zero of Strike Team New Jersey. The only other team member that I remember from ST New Jersey is One One Ron Zaiss.

As I mentioned earlier, I served as a strap hanger on ST Oregon on a bright light mission in May of 1968. The One Zero was Mike Tucker and the One Two was George Sternberg. The only indigenous person that I knew on that mission was Ha, the trusted ST Idaho point man.



Collectors.eu: Any interesting stories you would like to share about training, life in SF/SOG, operations, etc?

Lots of stories in my book, "Bright Light."


Collectors.eu: Like/dislike about serving on a SF/SOG?


Like: I got to serve with the bravest, most honorable and talented men that I have ever known. I remain as friends with many of those who survived to this very day.

Dislike: SOG did not have its own air assets. For this reason we would have helicopter pilots rotate in and out to fly us on insertions and extractions. The quality and skill levels of these pilots varied immensely. I had pilots refuse to fly us because of weather or extremely hot targets. I think it would have been better for all concerned to have the stability of our own trusted air crews and aircraft.


Collectors.eu: I assume that you got a lot of new friends during the service, have you been in contact with them after the service?

I am in regular contact with a number of men from FOB1. This includes old team members as well as the medics that I served with in the dispensary and a few of the Vietnamese friends who mad it to the United States after the war. I am a member of a number of veterans orginizations including SOA, SFA, DAV, VVA and the Americal Legion.



Collectors.eu: What kind of equipment you used in missions

We carried a lot of equipment and it varied from mission to mission. I would always carry a CAR 15 with 500 rounds of ammunition loaded in magazines and carried in empty canteen covers. I would also carry a sawed off M79 grenade launcher with 5 to 10 rounds of cannister and HE as well as a side arm, usually a Browning High Power 9mm in a holster on my web gear. We would normally carry about six m14 anti personell mines(toe poppers) as well as a claymore mine and sometimes additional C4 and detonators or a Light Antitank Weapon. For Radios, We always carried a URC-10 each as well as a small squad radio taped to the strap of our web gear. The One two would also carry the heavy PRC 25 for longer range communication. We carried two canteens of water as well as water purification tablets, morphine surettes, battle dressings, small 35mm camera and film and some sort of a knife. I personally carried an indegineous "bananna knife" fixed between my rucksack and my back with the blade extending along my spine and the handle stiching up near the back of my neck. The blade in this position served as a sort of body armor for the spine and was thick enough to stop schrapenel and perhaps even a stray bullet. The knife could be used for fighting and was also quite useful for chopping away bamboo and vines to create a hasty LZ. We also carried a supply of HE M26 grenades and several colors of smoke grenedes, a signal mirror, pen flares and an international orange panel for signaling. On certain missions we also carried "special"items such as "eldest son" ammunition orequipment for wire taps, listening, pow snatches etc. Almost forgot the most important of items, a topo map of the target area, code sheets and a lensatic compass so that we could id our location, call in air striked or direct choppers for extraction.

New SOG book "Bright Light : Untold Stories of the Secret War in Vietnam" from FOB1 medic Stephen Perry mikko @ 16.10.2010

I am a veteran of MACV SOG and the author of "Bright Light" The book is a compilation of true stories of the fearless and heroic men of SOG. These are stories of once Top Secret combat missions behind enemy lines in Laos and North Viet Nam. Photos taken in the camp or in the surrounding villages and countryside can be seen on the Photo pages. If you have already read "Bright Light" you may enjoy seeing some of the faces and places you read about in the book.

Its available as an Ebook or in print version, directly from the publisher at the following link:
http://www.booklocker.com/books/4871.html

(edit: 16.10.2010 / mikko)

Interview coming soon mikko @ 19.5.2010

This time its Cliff Newman.

Wanted: Looking for SOG veteran mikko @ 23.1.2010

I'm looking for veterans to interview. if you are willing to participate just let me know
mikko(at)thecollectors.eu

SOG veteran Interview: Lynne M. Black Jr. mikko @ 2.1.2010

Collectors.eu: At first a small introduction to readers who you are and what SF groups you served?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: I was born April 22, 1945 at 10:00 a.m.; the same hour and day Hitler announced to his General Staff he would be committing suicide, the war was lost; coincidence I’m sure. I voluntarily joined the U.S. Army in June 1963 after graduation from High School. During school I had been working at a local television station art department as an artist. My boss was a World War II veteran who informed me I had a duty to perform for my country, and that the job would be waiting for me when I got back after three years.

I attended basic training at Fort Ord, California; Advanced Leadership School and Armor School at Fort Knox, Kentucky. During Armor School I was recruited into jump school at Fort Benning, Georgia and became a paratrooper assigned to the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I was assigned to a Cavalry Company on special assignment to 612 Quartermaster Arial Supply learning to rig personal parachutes and heavy drops, such as vehicles and ammunition. After six months with the 82nd Airborne I received orders for the 173rd Airborne Brigade (Separate) on Okinawa, Japan. I reported to D Company, 16th Armor sometime in April 1964.

May 12, 1965 we disembarked off the USS Mann in Saigon Harbor, and trucked to Bien Hoa to secure the air base. We had been told this would be a short police action and that we would all be back on Okinawa for Christmas.

One of my two younger brothers, Hugh, was in the 173rd Engineering Company, which was mortared by an unseen enemy. Hugh’s injuries were critical and he was sent back home to Madigan General Hospital in Washington State. He spent several months recovering in the hospital and many more after he was released from military duty.

I spent thirteen months in Vietnam with the 173rd Airborne Brigade and have to say I never once saw the face of the enemy. They had nailed my younger brother and I was mad as hell and wanted revenge.

I got out of the Army July 1966 and moved to Hawaii where I worked in a television station art department watching the war on the nightly news; watching the gun fights from a safe place; watching the bodies coming home in metal boxes; talking with other veterans who said they had never seen the enemy, but had lost buddies to Viet Cong covert jungle tactics.

June 1967, I took and passed the Special Forces examination, and reenlisted reporting in at Fort Bragg, North Carolina to the 82nd Airborne Division. I was on a waiting list for the next Special Warfare School class. I had one goal in mind, to see the face of the enemy as I killed him. I would get even for the mortaring of my brother Hugh.

June 1968, I was back in Vietnam with classified orders for Military Assistance Command Vietnam/Studies and Observations Group (MACV/SOG).


Collectors.eu : And what units (RT's & Hatchetforce etc.) you served in OP-35 (MACV-SOG)?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: I was initially assigned to Forward Operations Base – 1 (FOB-1) located outside Phu Bai just down the road from the old imperial capital city of Hue. Earlier that year during the Tet Offensive the area in and around Hue had seen a lot of battle. I and one of my classmates were assigned to Recon Team Alabama, which was a Vietnamese mercenary team. It was newly formed as most of the Americans’ and Vietnamese members had either been killed or severely wounded. Our first mission across the fence was October 5, 1968. We were to track a three thousand North Vietnamese Army Regiment down the Ho Chi Minh trail in order to collect intelligence. What we ran into that day was a Division of ten thousand; we inserted by helicopter right into the middle of them.

I have chronicled that day in the first chapter of my book, which is titled Whisky Tango Foxtrot. The History Channel also created a show titled Jungle Ambush, which was one in a series called Heroes Under Fire.

I served with MACV/SOG in the Recon Company for 25 months under the codename of Blackjack before getting out of the Army for the second and last time. As I stated earlier I began with RT Alabama at FOB-1, moved to RT Idaho just before we closed down Phu Bai, FOB-1 and moved to FOB-4 the Danang Command & Control North (CCN) headquarters.



Collectors.eu: Do you remember your team all of your team members? (including montagnards if possible)

Lynne M. Black Jr.: My first recon team assignment was RT Alabama and the second RT Idaho. Generally speaking a team was made up of three Americans and nine mercenaries. The Americans job was to gather intelligence and the mercenaries to provide security. Of the three Americans the first was the team leader, or One-Zero; the second was the assistant team leader, or One-One, while the third was designated as the One-Two, or radio operator. Due to the high mortality rate most teams had only two Americans, and the One-Two position was assumed by the One-One as an additional duty.

The mercenaries were designated from Zero-One through Zero-Nine. The Zero-One was the mercenary team leader; Zero-Two the interpreter, Zero-Three the point man, all others carried CAR-15s or M-79 Grenade Launchers with the exception of the Zero-Nine who was the tail gunner.

October 5, 1968 the RT Alabama One-Zero was James (Bulldog) Stride (deceased 5 Oct 68), One-One Stephen Englke, One-Two Lynne (Blackjack) Black, Zero-One Loc A. Hua, Zero-Two Doan (Cowboy) Khan (lives in California today), Zero-Three Hoa Nguyen (deceased 5 Oct 68), Zero-Four Du Nguyen, Zero-Five Quang T. Do (deceased 2009), Zero-Nine Cuong T. Nguyen (deceased 5 Oct 68).

When I joined RT Idaho as the One-One the team leader was John (Tilt) Meyer. The One-Two radio operator was John (Bubba) Shore. When Tilt went back to the U.S. in April 1969 I became the One-Zero team leader and Doug (The Frenchman) Le Tourneau joined us as the One-One. John Shore rotated back to the U.S. shortly after that. Like RT Alabama, Idaho was a Vietnamese team. Quang T. Do from Alabama and I had become good friends and he transferred to Idaho with me. The Zero-One Vietnamese team leader was Sau, Zero-Two Hiep, Zero-Three Phuoc, and others like my friends Tuan and Quang. These men were the constant for that team; other came and went along the way.


Collectors.eu: Any interesting stories you would like to share about training, life in SF/SOG, operations, etc?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: In addition to the stories in my book Whisky Tango Foxtrot I have drafted two others, which may be included in a second book if I write it. One of them is titled:

BRASS MONKEY WEATHER

One hundred booby-traps; ten men … ten high explosive devices each. “The spray paint camo is wearing off my survival vest. I need to darken it before the mission.” Survival vest … compass, maps, ammunition for the 9mm, URC-10 survival radio and spare battery. “What else? Let’s see …”

Sitting on the worn uneven plywood floor of the hooch; my back up against the steel frame of a bunk I carefully comb through my web gear. It’s funny how we’ve all learned to sit on the floor down below the top of the sandbags surrounding our hooch. Let’s see, survival kit, signal mirror, strobe light, pencil flare gun with flares, waterproof matches, notebook with pencil, leech and insect repellent. Boy Scouts. Ten essentials; what did I miss?” Need more repellent. For sure there’ll be leeches in that river. Check your web gear.” STABO rig web gear packed to the max with CAR-15 ammo, fragmentation grenades, water … “Water, don’t forget purification tablets. Make sure the knife’s secure.” … and extra snap links. “Extra snap links … I hope this works. We haven’t trained for this kind of insertion. Taking his word that it’s there and has been out there undetected for a year … nothing goes undetected across the fence.” Each man will be carrying approximately a sixty pound rucksack. “Man, those things are going to be bursting at the seams with the devices, two changes of clothes, poncho with quilted warm-up liner, high protein rations for a five day stay, two claymores and ten toe poppers.” We’re going to need rope to rappel off the platform and again at the river; five hundred feet ought to do it. What else? Let’s see … medical kit, weapons cleaning equipment, P-38 can opener, jungle sweater, plastic ties for POWs, gas and white phosphorous grenades, gloves, C-4, detonation cord and blasting caps, camera, film, and binoculars.” Checklist complete.
…
Struggling, we heft our gear up into the bed of a deuce and a half and settle down for the ride to Danang airbase. “Wow, look,” Mac Fortenberry the One-One points at the parking pad. Heat waves rise off a black tar sea that was once the aircraft parking area. They distort shapes of planes, vehicles, people, buildings and all other living and inanimate objects. Everything is shimmering, dancing, and carrying the oily scent of the airbase skyward. “Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like this! It’s like we could just step into it and vaporize.” The ten of us leave near-liquid jungle boot tracks in the sticky tarmac, producing suction sounds as we stick’n unstick our way toward the flat-black C-130. A sanding truck is making its way toward us with a steam roller not far behind.

“If yer goin to Udorn git on board,” drawls a Crew Chief. “It’ll be a wonder if we can get the goddam ship outa this shit. What the hell are we doin blacktoppin this fuckin country for anyway?” He spits a wad of chew onto the tarmac where it sizzles as he motions us up the tailgate and into fold down strap seats. We drop our gear, snug in and buckle up. The aluminum floor is covered with tar and embedded sand. There are black sticky finger prints on all latches, knobs, toggles and tie-downs. The Crew Chief’s hands are stained from the tar, “Goddam stuff … goddam war … goddam country. Didja know they’re doin this shit at every base in Southeast Asia?”

One-One throws his rucksack and web gear into a seat and flops down on my right. “Sure ain’t like flying a commercial airliner is it?”

“No kidding, these guys have a much higher weight limit for carry-on baggage,” I reply.

“I was thinking more along the lines of flying the friendly skies,” he laughs.

“I was thinking of a cold drink!” I laugh.

A port side engine coughs and turns over. Catching power it starts, then the next and the next. Props feather, causing the ship to lurch then squat low into the tarmac as the brakes are applied, gently rocking. Looking outside, I watch the tarmac distortion effects as the inside of the C-130 fills with the sweet heavy oily smells of fuel. Brakes squeal open, the ship rises like a crouched tiger. Slowly we taxi to release position rocking to a stop on the line, shoulder bumping one another. “Danang tower, Black Bird requesting take-off clearance, over.”

“Black Bird, Danang Tower, clearance granted, begin your departure over.” The engines rev to an earsplitting level. As brakes release, the C-130 rolls down the runway, gathering speed. The ship’s nose rotates skyward … Danang diminishes behind us. As we climb to cruising altitude the fuel smell is sucked from the aircraft.

That’s better. At least we can breathe and hear ourselves talk.

“Where are we going,” yells the Interpreter over the aircraft noise.

“Udorn!”

“What’s in Udorn?” he yells.

“Launch point … another ride.”
…
Landing at Udorn airbase the Black Bird taxis as close as possible to the shadow side of a large hanger. Hidden from view we don our gear and cover ourselves with large green ponchos before quickly moving to waiting Jolly Green Giants. Thailand is a neutral country in this war and does not allow armed combatants on their soil. The doors of both ships are closed immediately as the last man’s onboard.

The Crew Chief puts a helmet on my head and plugs it into the com system. “Goddam it,” complains the Crew Chief. “Look at all this sticky ass tar you all have tracked onto my deck, goddam it.”

“Sorry about that Chief,” I apologize.

“You the team leader,” asks a voice over the com.

“Yes, who’s this,” I ask.

“I’m the Flight Commander. Face the flight deck … I’m the one waving at you.”
I wave back, nodding my head.

“We’ve got perfect brass monkey weather over your LZ.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s a severe storm over the AO; thunder, lighting, heavy winds and rain. The weather will mask your insertion. We’ll get you as close to the LZ as the weather allows, but you’ll have to jump. Due to the nature of the platform LZ we can’t land, and the weather won’t let you rappel. Are you up for this?”

“This is what we do boss. If you can get us there, we’ll get it done.”

“OK then, relax, the flight time is a little under two hours in good weather.”

Brass monkey weather … my grand father used that expression when I was a kid … freeze the balls off a brass monkey he’d say. I always had this image of little cold brass monkeys until he told me it was an archaic naval term. To save space they stacked iron cannon balls alongside each deck gun, arranged in a pyramid on a brass plate called a monkey. In cold weather the brass would shrink unseating the balls which would then roll around the deck of the battle ship causing all kinds of damage … iron and brass don’t shrink at the same rate when cold … freezing the balls off the brass monkey … dangerous weather … brass monkey weather. Hell of an analogy. I close my eyes and lean back.
…
Zolanokus showed up at Danang, FOB-4 in civilian clothes flashing NSA identification. I don’t think spook techies like Zolanokus have two names. Saigon sent him to talk with a few of us about a series of targets we have been running; all of which have the same river running through them. “It’s that same river that supposedly parallels the infamous pipeline no one can seem to find,” he frowns while opening a file folder.

The two of us sit in the Operations Center where he reads to me, verbatim, the After Action Reports of several of our missions. He asks detailed questions about any reference in the reports to crossing or getting up next to the river. He asks if we took pictures or heard unusual sounds. “Why aren’t there pictures in these files? Did your team hear any metallic sounds? Did you smell oil or gas?” He tells me about another recon team that had heard unusual metallic banging noises and then observed 55-gallon drums jostling there way down that river. “The team was drawn down along a granite cliff gorge by metallic sounds of what turned out to be gas and oil drums bumping along river shallows.”

“How did they know they were gas and oil,” I ask.

“Good question, they reported counting hundreds of them.” Zolanokus takes a note on my question. “Their 35mm pictures didn’t turn out. They were in the shadowed low light on the leeside of the ridge, sheltered from the sun. Good for recon, bad for picture taking. They attempted to track the drums journey but ran into natural barriers.”

“How were they geared?”

“They launched their mission traveling heavy, equipped for a cold high mountain trail reconnaissance, not for the terrain and vegetation down in the wet low lit bush.”

“The area you’re talking about demands going in heavy no matter what the mission. It seems like there’s one NVA for every hundred square feet of ground. Any team operating along that river had better have multiple escape routes and be ready for a fight.”

Zolanokus continues briefing me on how the recon team had inserted several miles away from their observation site. They had prepared to stay in the AO five days. He talked about how they had taken a careful two days traversing craggy ridges atop the tree line, finally slipping into their observation site in the shadows next to a high grassy plateau. Diligently they camouflaged their position, set out claymores, toe-poppers along with seismic warning probes. “I don’t use those seismic probes as security devices anymore.”

“Why not?” Zolanokus looks surprised.

“If you insert them into ground that is covered with grass or shallow rooted plants a slight wind will set them off.”

“You have that experience?” He looks amused.

“Yes, we were awake an entire night telling Bat Cat we were surrounded. Unfortunately all that radio traffic gave away our position due to enemy RDF. The next morning, first light, they hit us.”

“No one has ever given us that information. We give you guys those devices but we don’t get any feedback on their viability. Thanks, I’ll note that.”

“We found other uses for them?”

“Like what?”

“O’Byrne came up with a way to attach them to claymores which we use when being tracked or on the run.”

“Who? What did he do?”

“Captain Mike O’Byrne … RSG.”

“What does that mean … RSG?”

“Really Smart Guy.”

“Humorous,” he smiles. “Now what did he do to modify the device?”

“He didn’t modify it; he added a delay mechanism … a chip I think he called it. It delays the signal for several seconds. What we do is attach a probe to a claymore wire and battery pack. The delay allows us to set it up and get away without triggering the device. When the enemy approaches the probe they set off the claymore and we’re long gone. It’s one of the best tracker delay tactics we have.”

“I need to talk with this RSG Captain. Where is he?”

“He has an office in the headquarters building. When we’re finished I’ll introduce you too him. Tell me more about the team discovering drums in the river.”

“During daylight hours, from their position, the team scoped the opposite ridge with binoculars and radio direction finding equipment hoping to catch a clue of troops or trucks moving along the Ho Chi Minh trail. Nothing in the first three days, not a single sighting, no troops, absolutely no trucks or movement, zip radio traffic, just those sounds from below that kept them awake at night. Morning of the fourth day they moved down in the direction of those titillating sounds. All that evening and night 55-gallon oil and gas drums bumped along rocky shallows right in front of them. The morning of the fifth day they climbed back up to a clearing where they were extracted on strings.”

“Good job.”

“Yes … good job. Too bad the pictures didn’t turn out. I need pictures to effectively complete my work.”

Zolanokus briefed me on two other teams that had been inserted above and below the initial sighting point. The first was to search out the point of origin into the river and the other the point of destination or extraction of the drums. Each team had run into enemy patrols and didn’t have the opportunity to achieve their missions. Actually, neither team even got close to the river. “Why are you so interested in pictures of drums floating down a shallow river?”

He leans back in his chair nervously clicking his Parker ball point in and out several times before throwing it on the table. Silently, contemplative he stares at me, searching for the right response. “I don’t … anymore.”

“You don’t … a second ago you said you needed them to complete your work. What is your work?”

“Gas and oil means trucks and trucks mean truck parks. Truck parks mean arms and ammunition caches. If we can get a fix on two of those caches and verify truck traffic between them we can assume concentrations of troops between those two points; possibly a major binh tram; rest area.”

“Arc Lights.” I flatly add.

“Exactly, the B-52’s will have a field day … we’ll significantly slow them down. Look at this map. From here to here, that’s through five areas of operation, we have no knowledge … no intel on binh tram or truck park locations. The NVA walk they don’t ride. They hunt animals and eat plant life. They survive off the land.”

“I know we’ve run into their hunting parties.” I add.
“Trucks are used to transport arms and ammo; not food, not troops. NVA troops move between binh trams, the rest stops located approximately every twenty miles along the Ho Chi Minh trail.”

“Yes, I know. Trucks parks, rest and cache sites are usually kept apart and separate according to the Saigon analysts. They don’t group everything or everybody together to prevent one B-52 raid getting it all.”

“If we can identify POL dumps Saigon can then assess the possible locations of cache sites based on the round trip range of a truck.”

“SOG recon teams can be sent into suspected areas to positively identify cache sites and then Hatchet Force companies can be inserted to conduct search and destroy missions.” I ask.

“Not any more. SOG doesn’t have the assets to support Hatchet Force operations. Two or three years ago there weren’t as many NVA on the trail. The Hatchet Force was a viable tool. Not any longer. I doubt even the Marines or Airborne could handle the job. At best we can be ready for them when they come again. SOG’s job is gathering Intel so we can try and slow them down.”

“If this is the good news I don’t think I want to hear the bad stuff.” I half heartedly joke.

“How about this, POL is usually buried and often heavily guarded. In addition to those guards are the workforce used to maintain the sites and caches as well as the troops in the area at the moment. I don’t think a recon team would have a chance of even getting close to a cache. An extraction from such a place would be impossible,” Zolanokus frowns.

“Suicide missions, we need another approach.”
“Exactly, I agree,” he adds, “… you understand what I’ve been trying to get across to Saigon for weeks. They just don’t seem to grasp the concept of standoff reconnaissance. It’s suicide to send any of you out there for traditional close reconnaissance work.”

“What’s standoff recon? How can we successfully perform our recon role without observing the size of the enemy force first hand? Without getting up close there’s no way we can understand what they’re up too. We need to know which of their units are where at any given time. That’s recon.”

“Those words sound like what I’ve been hearing from The Brass.”

“Exactly what do you want us to do?”

“I want you to sneak into a target, leave something and come back.”

“Is this an Eldest Son operation?”

The spook hesitates on this question. “Yes, but of much greater importance than the usual psychological warfare of the Eldest Son operations.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” I query.

“Your job will be too collect and booby-trap several 55-gallon oil and gas drums then return them to their down-stream journey, all without being detected. It’s part of a much larger operation. If you are successful you will be the trigger for other groups and actions.”

“What groups … what actions?”

“You have no need to know that information. Just do your job and trust the process. Come on, I want to show you something in the supply warehouse.”

“How the hell do you booby-trap a 55-gallon drum floating down a river? Booby-trap it with what? How do you keep it from going off while you’re setting it up? When should it explode? What will cause it to explode? Is it command detonated or on a timed mechanism?” All of those questions got asked as we scuffled through the sand across the FOB-4 compound to S-4. On the concrete floor just inside the big sheet metal doors of the loading dock bay sits a black 55-gallon drum with North Vietnamese markings. On top of the drum are a bung cap wrench and a cylindrical device attached to the bottom of a similar black cap. “These caps are alike,” I observe.

“Photos … that’s why I needed the photos. Actually, what I really needed is one of the bung caps off one of those barrels they spotted. Similar or close just might not be good enough.” Zolanokus picks up the wrench and unscrews the bung cap in the barrel placing it in a Levi pocket. A toe of one of his elephant hide cowboy boots accidentally kicks the drum indicating its emptiness. He laughs at my startled reaction. “Inert training devices, you don’t think I’d work with live explosives in here do you? Don’t answer that, I’ve read your file.” Laying down the wrench he picks up the cylinder handing it too me for examination. “It is an explosive timer that can be adjusted for months, weeks, days, hours, minutes or seconds. There’s a mechanical trigger at the base of the integrated cap that becomes armed once it is screwed into a drum. Anyone attempting to unscrew the cap once it’s in place will trigger the device. Otherwise it will be set off based on the timing programmed into it by the saboteur, in this case you or members of your team.”

“It’s a beautiful piece of work. These combinations of steel and brass fittings are very finely machined. The markings are clear and bold for low light level reading. Everything seems to move easily.” I’m impressed with the ingenious design and workmanship. The next morning as Zolanokus, the NSA techie, is on his way back to wherever he came from I set about training the team on the devices use.
…
A sharp jolt brings me back to the mission. We’ve launched out of Udorn, Thailand riding Jolly Green Giants above the turbulent brass monkey weather. Flashes of lightening expose roiling cumulus clouds as heavy rains provide sight and sound cover for our last light insertion. Sudden wind shear drops and rises, along with heavy winds, relentlessly roll, pitch, and yaw our ships.

“Five minutes,” yells the Crew Chief; holding up five fingers. We put on our web gear, check weapons and position our rucksacks in front of us. “Stand in the door,” yells the Crew Chief.

“Where’s the LZ platform,” I yell. “I can’t see it.”

“It’s down there,” he jabs a finger down into the raging storm. “It’s been there for months. The foliage has grown into it making it invisible. That’s the beauty of this thing. Trust me it’s there. Get ready to jump.”

“You first,” I yell back.

“Not in this lifetime Ground Pounder,” he urgently gestures for us to depart.
We’ve volunteered to jump out of this helicopter in the middle of a raging monsoon two hundred feet above the ground into the top of jungle canopy. Sure why not.

“Who’s first,” yells the Chief.

“I am,” I yell, grabbing my rucksack; positioning myself in the door. Suddenly the ship drops to tree top level; I stagger forward trying to find my footing, fumble my rucksack and drop it into the trees. A flash of lightning reveals it sitting atop the foliage approximately ten feet away. The pilot is struggling to keep his ship within jumping distance without crashing into the tree tops. There is a platform! As the ship raises gravity increases my body weight and along with the full load of my gear my knees buckle. I fall rather than jump the distance between the door and the unseen platform. The winds roll me over on my back as I descend. This is going to hurt. My fall is cushioned by a steel wire grid laid over the top of canopy foliage. The whole thing is like a circus safety net … circus is right. Shortly there will be ten of us clowns riding the net.

We snap link ourselves to the bucking storm tossed mesh, wrapping ourselves in poncho liners snapped inside ponchos. The ten of us ride out the storm the remainder of that evening and night into the second day and its long night. I’m concerned about a lightening strike on the wire grid. Screw it. I have no control over Mother Nature.

The storm breaks late that second night revealing a full moon and a surrealistic view across the top of miles of glistening canopy. We begin to shiver uncontrollably as the temperature drops. Its cold, we’re all wet and hungry. I need to pee so bad my sides ache. Empty a canteen and pee in it. Otherwise the smell might attract attention to our position. We pass the canteen. A couple hours before first light, dancing, swaying lanterns move in a line below; heading south. A chilling mist is flowing up through the mesh from the jungle drenching us in dew.

At first light a warming sun peeps over the glistening horizon. We eat and then prepare to rappel off the wire to terra firma. Before we vacate the platform I turn over an orange panel to reveal a yellow side indicating we’re OK and have continued with the mission. A Covey, Forward Air Controller, will fly over later in the day to status check the panel color change. Our descent turns more into a climb rather than a rappel. We haven’t been on steady ground ever since we boarded the Jolly Green’s. Ground Pounder is right, glad to be here.

One-One takes pictures of the trail and footprints being careful to cover any sign of our presence. I get out my map and compass, orient myself and order Point to move out.

Slowly, quietly, we’re careful to cover our trail as we move without incident to an obscure observation point suggested by Zolanokus. He had said it was close to the original team’s site. It’s located in difficult terrain next to the river shallows which should minimize our being discovered. He has surprising knowledge of terrain features which don’t appear on the map; almost like he has been here before us. We set up camp on the rocks under a granite overhang in a shallow grotto. We change into dry clothes and hang the wet ones about the cavern to dry. C-4 is used to heat water in the back of the cave where the M-79 man serves a warming ginseng tea. Just inside the rock perimeter of the grotto overhang each of us finds a place to sleep. Wonder if we could stay here until the war ends.
…
“Black … Black … wake up Black,” the Interpreter quietly urges.

“I hear them. I’m awake,” I whisper. A full moon illuminates the vague forms of One-One and three of our mercenaries wrestling drums into the shallows attempting to stand them up on end. The problem is they can’t maintain their footing on the slippery moss covered rocks of the river bed. They and the drums are rolled along the shallows. I motion the bruised four out of the water. “Get the rope. One-One, when we get the rope lengths tied together, you and one of the indig take an end and anchor it upstream on the other side.”

“To what,” One-One asks.

“It will have to be to something as close to water line as possible. We’ll string it across and down to this point at about a forty-five degree angle. That will channel most of the drums to us … understand?”

“Gotcha. Man, that waters cold as hell.”

“I’ll bet, get a move on,” I order, pointing to the other side of the river.

Two Americans and eight Vietnamese mercenaries, the ten of us carry ten booby-traps each. One hundred drums are collected over a period of two days by stretching a rope across the river at a forty-five degree angle forcing the drums to a lower end collection point along the bank.

We soon discover the drums stack up faster than we can fuse them. Only about every fifth drum gets booby-trapped. Initially we work in two man teams with all of us in the bone chilling water at the same time. Quickly we find there can be only one fusing team in the water at a time and that a team needs to be made up of three men. It takes two men to wrestle a drum and the third to remove the bung cap, program and set the booby-trap. The brass timing bezels on the devices shrink tight up next to the steel explosive cores and can’t be moved. Brass Monkey. Goddam Brass Monkey.

“How about if we heat them up and then set the timers,” asks one of our mercenaries.

“You want to apply heat to a high explosive device,” I ask incredulously. “And you guys think I’m nuts with explosives. Not only no, but hell no. Forget the settings, just screw them in. When the NVA try to remove the bung the thing will go off. At least that way we get at least one of the bastards.”

“If that’s all we’re going to do we might get this all finished tonight,” the One-One interjects. “On average, each team of three can fuse three drums before having to exit the freezing water to warm up.”

While the fusing team is at work another is maneuvering the drums across the rope and on their way downstream. We fall into a pattern, driven by the elements, which suits our mission needs. It occurs to me that by fusing every fifth drum and keeping a steady supply going down stream is a good thing. If we were to corral them all and then release them at the same time it might raise NVA eyebrows down the way. The terrain, the weather and the situation are working for us. This brass monkey is frozen solid. Can’t tell the difference between my balls and my tonsils.

Once finished, I fish a couple of caps from the freezing water and throw them in my near empty rucksack. We sanitize the drum collection point and our base camp before hiking unseen for three days across two mountain ranges to a Jolly Green pick up point. Weeks go by before I begin to read in the Saigon analyst reports of POL cache explosions being reported by Air force reconnaissance and other sources along the Ho Chi Minh trail. Trust the process. Life is good. Whisky Tango Foxtrot.


Collectors.eu : Like/dislike about serving on a SF/SOG?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: MACV/SOG was exactly the kind of “in your face” combat unit I was looking for when I reenlisted. I got over that pretty quickly. It became about the mission, staying alive, the men you were with on the ground, and those supporting you in the air and back at camp. This definitely wasn’t the shine your boots and brass, stand guard duty and inspections of my first three years of enlistment. MACV/SOG was about gathering intelligence on the enemy, slowing them down or stopping them when we could. MACV/SOG was an amazing group of people who came together in common cause; to stop the spread of communism in Southeast Asia.

The One-Zero’s ran the show when they were on the ground and were supported by all involved. Due to the quality of the men, all of the men, there was no shortage of leaders; every man there was a volunteer. I was happiest when I was out on a mission or training for one. When I wasn’t … well, I get bored easily and begin getting into trouble pretty quickly. We had complete free reign to get into whatever trouble we could dream up; that can be very good or very bad, depending on your perspective.


Collectors.eu : I assume that you got a lot of new friends during the service, have you been in contact with them after the service?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: Today I’m a lifetime member of an organization called Special Operations Association. Every year we have a reunion in Las Vegas, Nevada that includes all the MACV/SOG guys still alive as well as those who supported us. When I walk into the room I know I’m with a bunch of people who will go anywhere, anytime, and do anything they are asked without hesitation.


Collectors.eu : This is an ambiguous thing among collectors, whether you have available ERDL/Tiger stripe costumes?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: We had tiger uniforms available at FOB-1 (Phu Bai) until they were taken out of our supply chain around the end of the year 1968. There was a new set of command officers that took over in Saigon who demanded all armed services standardize on one uniform type. Other SOG men I have talked with about this have laid that decision on General Creighton Abrams who didn't particularly appreciate Special Forces, or any other special operations organization. We continued to use what we had until they were rags.

Collectors.eu : Many long time SOG collectors says that the only OD green uniform (with spraypaint also) and CISO manufactured NVA uniform copy were used in missions. Is it true?

Lynne M. Black Jr.: No that is not true. There were times when we went across the fence wearing NVA uniforms and carrying AK-47’s and other enemy weapons. I also went out several times on short one day missions wearing a sweatshirt and Levis and jungle boots.


Collectors.eu : What kind of equipment & guns you guys were wearing/using when your mission started

Lynne M. Black Jr.: Wow, there’s no short answer to this question. Equipment and clothes depended on the type and length of a mission. If we were going in on a purely intelligence mission we packed enough food for at least five days. If we were on a Bright Light or know we were going to make enemy contact we went in heavy. Heavy means little food and a heck of a lot more ammunition. By the way, a Bright Light was a rescue mission. I think David Kirschbaum gives a pretty good description of the standard equipment available to choose from; depending on the mission.

RT Alabama's steak night


RT Idaho


Colonel Jack Warren is awarding the Silver Star to Lynne M. Black Jr.


"Blackjack" was being awarded the Reconnaissance Team Leader Special Recognition Award called the Silver Pistol; a boxed presentation Browning Hi-Power.


Feedback related to this interview should send to mikko[at]thecollectors.eu

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED TO GET LYNNE BLACK'S WTF (Whisky Tango Foxtrot) JUST LET ME KNOW

(edit: 22.1.2010 / mikko)

SOG veteran interview: David P Kirschbaum mikko @ 9.11.2009

Collectors.eu : At first a small introduction to readers who you are and what SF groups you served?

David Kirschbaum : After 5 years in the 82d Airborne Division (infantry), I went to SF Training Group in Dec 65. Completed training in Aug 66, first SF assignment was to 8th SF Group, Fort Gulick Panama. 2 1/2 years there, finally had to volunteer for Vietnam, Feb 69 went to 5th SF Group Vietnam, with assignment to CCC, MACV (SOG). Returned in Feb '70, assigned to 6th SF Group, Fort Bragg NC (which then changed to 5th SFG when the colors came home a couple of years later). Went to Army ROTC, Univ of Mass, 1974 or so, 4 years there. Then to the SF Europe, which included part of the 10th SF Group. There until 1980, when I was sent to Sergeant Majors Academy. That was the end of my SF assignments; they sent me to 82d Airborne after that (SF was way overstrength, couldn't get an assignment). From there to XVIII Airborne Corps for my last year or so before retirement in 1984 after 23 years active service.



Collectors.eu : And what units (RT's & Hatchetforce etc.) you served in OP-35 (MACV-SOG)?

David Kirschbaum : Initial assignment as 11, RT KENTUCKY (Team Leader CPT Yeager). After a month or so, took over RT KENTUCKY as 10. About 3 months later, took over RT MAINE as 10. Personal problems, got too distracting, asked for and got relief from RTs, worked as S2 NCO at CCC HQ for a month to get my head together. Then Co A Hatchet Force got shot up pretty badly, needed reinforcements. I volunteered there (especially since a good friend from 8th SFG was the CO), was Hatchet Force platoon sergeant for the rest of my tour (about 5 months).


Collectors.eu: Do you remember your team all of your team members? (including montagnards if possible)

David Kirschbaum (RT Kentucky): SGT Gravett 11, got picture but can't remember name 12, can't remember Montagnard names
(RT Maine): SSG David Baker 11, SP4 Sherman Miller 12, SP4 Mike Buckland 13 (yeah, a little unusual). KEP point man, NOCH M79 gunner, Andre interpreter, can't remember the others.
(Hatchet force): CPT Ron Goulet CO, 1LT can't remember name XO. My squad leaders: SGT Bartlett, can't remember other 3. Got picture of Hispanic Plt Ldr, can't remember name (something Spanish): good man, got blown up with booby trap but lived, medevac'ed.


Collectors.eu : Any intersting stories you would like to share about training, life in SF/SOG, operations, etc?

David Kirschbaum: Heh, yeah. I'm writing a book Even As We Speak. They can buy it :-)


Collectors.eu : Like/dislike about serving on a SF/SOG?

David Kirschbaum: (like): Independence. Commanders pretty much let you run your own show, usually. Top quality brave men (Americans and Montagnards alike). Great support from aviation assets (Army and Air Force). Very important mission, meaningful. Not made to do too many really stupid or useless things. Lots of freedom and casual feel around camp when not operational; when you were off, you were off.

(dislike): Mission was madly suicidal, horrific casualty rates. No biggie: we were all immortal after all. The occasional commander flying overhead, insisting on talking to the team (which meant we had to lug heavy encryption equipment for their convenience). Occasional conflict of interests (command maximizing teams on ground, hard to justify to the team who's been in a dangerous area for a weak, exhausted, out of everything including radio batteries, and really wanting to get extracted). Biggest concern: on an RT it was highly likely you'd die alone (or all together). That got to me after a while. The NVA took no POWs from RT's, you know, none at all. Not enough formal training, passing on lessons learned: most of what I had to know, I learned across drinks at the club listening to other RT members. Everything was hugely classified (TOP SECRET). Stupid: the NVA knew damned well we were out there. All politics, stupid really. Of course it made us all feel very special and spookish and all, so I guess that wasn't so bad. Just silly.


Collectors.eu : I assume that you got a lot of new friends during the service, have you been in contact with them after the service?

David Kirschbaum: 1970 - 1972, around Fort Bragg: old hands would run into one another, and it was pretty much all "whatever happened to ...", and discovering half the people you knew are dead now. That put a damper on reunions. I'm not much of a joiner; found I didn't care to hang around the SF Association meetings, clubhouse, etc. SF Schools brought a bunch of the old SOG guys together a few years ago at Fort Bragg, to pick our brains, let the new generation of students and instructors question us, etc. Very interesting, hadn't seen most of those guys since 1969 or early 70's. No, I'm not in touch with anyone regularly. There was an SF newsgroup for a while, got too overflowing with messages, dropped that. Exchanged a couple letters with Mike Buckland (who ended up a professor at Univ of Alaska of all things!). Not much with anyone else, really. Went to Martha Ray's funeral at Fort Bragg, met some old hands there, that was nice. Also to a Unit Citation award at Fort Bragg, met a bunch of guys there. Nothing lately.


Collectors.eu : This is an ambiguous thing among collectors, whether you have available ERDL/Tiger stripe costumes?

David Kirschbaum: We didn't wear tiger stripes. Some of the guys could get them (from Mike Force mostly), but we didn't wear them. We all wore standard (albeit sterilized) jungle fatigues. Some guys had WW II era canvas leggings over their boots. Some guys spray painted their jungle fatigues with black paint to break up the outline a little. But no tigers.


Collectors.eu : Many long time SOG collectors says that the only OD green uniform (with spraypaint also) and CISO manufactured NVA uniform copy were used in missions. Is it true?

David Kirschbaum: Yes. But no "US ARMY", no nametags, no stripes, no patches. Sterile. And regular jungle boots (although once Yeager had us wear Ho Chi Minh sandals beneath our boots to try to hide our trail; didn't work all that hot, kept slipping off). Rarely the NVA uniform, not at CCC. We didn't do any serious "trail walking" like that usually. And too likely to get shot at by your own supporting aircraft, evac helicopters, etc.


Collectors.eu : What kind of equipment & guns you guys were wearing/using when your mission started

David Kirschbaum: M-16 rifles, M-79 40mm grenade launchers. Rifle ammo: usually 20-25 20-round magazines each. Don't remember how many 40mm rounds; mix of HE, shotgun, maybe a couple of smoke rounds just in case. Hand grenades: M-26 usually, 2-6 each; I liked and carried some M-33 grenades myself). White phosphorus grenades (1 or 2 per American). Smoke grenades (everyone, assorted colors). Claymore mine (1 per individual; I carried time fuze and fuze lighters for mine, sometimes carried bags of micropulverized CS1 powder to add to the Claymore when used in boobytrap mode. Standard Load Bearing Equipment (LBE) with ammo pouches, plastic one quart canteens (on web gear and on rucksack), canteen covers (multiple, to carry magazines, grenades, etc.) First aid pouch (although I carried a bigger first aid kit with more stuff, extra bandages in my pockets). "Indigenous" rucksack, a canvas thing came from Okinawa I think. Americans had no suitable pack or rucksack for what we had to carry. Length of rope (mostly for use as a "McGuire Rig" for rope extraction. Serum Albumin (sp?) blood expansion kit (for hasty transfusion). Emergency rescue strobe light with infrared filter (in nylon case taped to upper left web harness). Malaria tablets (1 a day, take the other weekly one before we leave). Every American had (right leg pocket): aircraft signal banner ("the rag"), emergency rescue reflector mirror ("shiney"), penlight flare gun w/multiple flares, CAC (encryption pad for radio messages), one URC-10 emergency radio (same one USAF pilots used). One American (my 12) was radio man, carried AN/PRC-77 FM radio. All Americans carried extra batteries. One set of binoculars (although I quit taking them after a couple operations, waste of weight). One camera per team (Olympic automatic 35mm) for possible intel shots. "Indigenous sleeping bag" (small blanket, felt on one side, nylon on the other, maybe 3x4 feet rectangle ; it got cold at night). 2 or 3 packs of cigarettes (American, NOT Vietnamese Ruby Queens, they stunk too badly) (yeah, I know, bad to smoke on operation, but we did). Rations: Americans: 1 LRRP per day, enough PIR (indigeous ration) dehydrated rice for maybe a half sack a day (8 ounces maybe?) with maybe some PIR dried fish or jerky. Montagnards carried PIRs, 1 per day. Tropical Chocolate bars (maybe 6). No C-rations, too heavy. Everyone carried and took daily a special "no shit pill" (don't know what its formal name was) that inhibited bowel movements. (Very very dangerous to have to drop your drawers when on a recon operation.) I had lung problems, subject to coughs, usually carried cough syrup. Americans each carried morphine syrettes and benzedrine tablets ("Green Hornets"), emergency use only of course. Many carried mosquito repellent; we didn't usually use it (too smelly), ignored the mosquitos. Squirted repellent around top of boots, bottom of trousers, to inhibit leeches a little. Special mission equipment which might include: wire tap equipment and recorder, antipersonnel or antivehicular mines, propaganda leaflets or radios to leave behind; maybe a 1KG block of C-4 plastic explosive each w/blasting caps, time fuze, lighter. When they first came out, I got a STABO rig (extraction harness that replaced part of my LBE), very nice, hugely superior to McGuire Rig for extractions. (Don't think many others had one.) I also carried a Benson Gyrojet 13mm rocket pistol as a sidearm (and for possibly taking prisoners). (No one else had one.) Other teams usually had a Colt Hi-Power silenced .22 pistol for the same purpose. One team (considered a "heavy" RT) carried a 60mm mortar (hand held or slung fire only). One RT carried a sawed-off Chinese RPD company machinegun (useful for immediate action on contact): shoot off the circular drum at full auto, drop the gun, break contact :-) A very few carried AK-47's; my teams never did.

I weighed myself once just prior to going on an operation: My regular weight (fatigues and boots: 165 lbs. Mission weight: 235 pounds.

No: entrenching tools. Flashlights. Spare socks (we never ever took our boots off, for anything). (And yes, we had problems with immersion foot during rainy season.) Weapon cleaning kits. (No way would we disassemble our rifle. Everyone had a cleaning rod though, in case of a failure to extract, to knock out the stuck cartridge: mine was taped to the handguard.) Dog tags. ID Cards. (Sterilized, remember?)

David Kirschbaum



David Kirschbaum and some of RT MAINE 'yards



Bob Howard didn't want anything to happen to POW, so he gave David Kirschbaum (ready for BRIGHT LIGHT duties) a job to guard him. Full auto, finger on trigger


David Kirschbaum reserves/keeps all rights to pictures

Feedback related to this interview should send to mikko[at]thecollectors.eu

(edit: 22.1.2010 / mikko)

2 Items added to sale section mikko @ 3.6.2009

Added 2 nice special forces jacket

Site up and running mikko @ 25.5.2009

The purpose to this site is keep SOG traditions alive and for striving to make it historically accurate
[edit] Interviews coming in a future (If im able to get...)

(edit: 24.10.2009 / mikko)