Iron Butterfly

     Everything went well at first. Then, a little over an hour into the ambush, there was a loud explosion. No one knew what it was for sure, but it sounded like a rocket explosion, and it was heard up and down the river by the other patrols. Whatever it was, it grabbed everybody’s attention quickly and sent them all into scramble one: Prepare to get underway. Americans are in trouble.    

     Adrenaline started pumping for the twenty-eight sailors who heard the explosion, followed by AK47 small-arms fire. Then the chilling pleas from a soldier over the radio calling frantically for help were heard by several of the patrol boats. From the tone of his voice, everyone listening knew the soldiers were in deep trouble, and the first few minutes were critical. The soldier sounded desperate as if the LRRPs were caught in brutal combat and about to be annihilated. This was enemy territory and something had to be done and done quickly, or the soldiers would all be dragged away, never to be seen again.

     Although Chief Fletcher did not hear the radio message, he took the helm from newly arrived Mathew Zimmer and moved the boat out of guard post and then slid its bow up onto the beach. Charlie Vance fired up his engines as well to move down river alongside Chief Fletcher’s boat. Chief Fletcher handed the M60 machinegun with several belts of ammo to Gunner’s Mate Third Class David Ray Larsen and said, “Someone needs to go and help.” Then he told Gunner’s Mate Third Class Bill Dunn and Engineman Third Class Claude Phillips, who were both carrying M16s, to go with Larsen.

     Without hesitation or discussion, and with Dunn and Phillips on his heels, David Larsen, twenty year old, six feet and 135 pounds, bravely jumped ashore, leading the small force into the pitch-black night. But each of the three men set out on their own paths through the nipa palms, with Claude Phillips and Bill Dunn heading inland somewhere on David Larsen’s right. It was so dark the three couldn’t see each other and felt as if they were headed into uncertainty alone. Anxiety and the fear of death filled the air as small-arms tracers ricocheted into the night, sending hearts racing. Vance came alongside Fletcher’s boat just in time to see Larsen, Dunn and Phillips go over the side and informed the Chief of the radio call.    

     David Larsen was no stranger to combat and was one of the best gunner’s mates in the Iron Butterfly. He waded through the high grass and thick brush, keeping low, crawling at times, as did Bill Dunn and Claude Phillips. They could all see tracers and shadows of men running through the night close by but held their fire, being careful not to shoot each other. Larsen followed the sound of weapons fire and estimated where he thought the soldiers would be. He was right on the money. The river patrolmen had all been trained to never get off the boat. Still, all the sailors bravely pushed inland through the jungle watching the reflections of green tracers dancing ahead of them with no idea what they were facing. All Larsen, Dunn and Phillips knew for sure was that Fletcher was a good man and would not leave them.

     Back at the boats, Chief Fletcher, Charlie Vance and Mathew Zimmer were popping flares and figured they would run out soon, so Chief Fletcher got on the horn and requested Army artillery flares. A little later, Chief Fletcher would also put in the call to the Army requesting gunships and a dustoff chopper. Chief Johnson’s patrol was across the river close by and was racing to the scene. Within minutes, they ran their boats up on the beach to the left of Fletcher’s boats.

     Deep in the jungle, the sailors continued to press forward, with David Larsen leading the team. Now Bill Dunn could plainly see the enemy to his right and branched off, hiding behind a small tree that he thought would protect him. Thanks to the flares, David Larsen spotted the soldiers and began to fire into the trees, charging to their right. Although some of the soldiers were still fighting back, they were in pretty bad shape, with a few sprawled across the ground moaning in pain. Through the smoke and small clearing, David Larsen could see the shadows of enemy fighters forming up in a strand of trees, about to attack from no more than twelve to fifteen feet away. With this in mind, Larsen again charged forward, diving on the ground firing his M60 back and forth chopping down one man for sure and probably wounding the rest as the enemy retreated back into the darkness of the jungle. Bill Dunn began firing at the enemy fighters he had spotted as well. But he only had two clips and after a short while had expended all his ammo. Feeling around on the ground he found one soldier’s M16, hastily grabbed a clip and began to fire sparingly. The cry for ammo sang out. Charlie Vance back on the boat heard the request, grabbed M60 boxes, bravely jumped over the side and rushed into the jungle to the aid his shipmates.

     With all the soldiers down and out of commission and Dunn and Phillips fighting somewhere on his right flank, David Larsen and his M60 machinegun had turned back an enemy assault, cutting several of the bad guys down, saving the soldiers from being overrun and probably killed or captured, a fate worse than death. But there were still many more enemy fighters back in the trees, and Larsen was thinking they might form up and come at him again.