1st Issue, 2025
 

Echoes from the Regiment’s Service in Vietnam 1966-1972

Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs) – the backbone of the Army – affected everyone in the 11th Cav during its 5½ years in Vietnam and Cambodia, from the Trooper that just joined the Regiment to Blackhorse 6 (the Regimental Commander). Some of these Blackhorse NCOs came to Regiment with experience to match the number of stripes they wore. Others earned their stripes ‘on the job’.

Sergeant (SGT) Paul Letourneau (B Troop, 1/11, 67-68) had been in country less than 24 hours. Weary from the transPacific plane ride, he was nonetheless keyed up. He’d already learned what FNG meant – the soldiers in the faded fatigues and worn boots boarding the plane he had just gotten off of made sure he and the other 135 in their brand new jungle fatigues and shiny boots knew they were FNGs. By the time he’d gotten to Blackhorse Base Camp, he’d probably heard it a dozen times (it probably seemed like a hundred). So when he met his new Top Sergeant, he asked him for advice. What’s an FNG NCO to do?

‘Good question, son. I’ll answer it and you can take any part of what I’m going to tell you,’ Top said in his deep commanding voice. ‘I don’t care how many NCO academies you’ve been distinguished graduate and other awards you got, like your expert infantry badge. You are now in Vietnam and the decisions you make will be life and death decisions, not only yours but others under you. You are a ‘Fuckin’ NewGuy.’ You don’t know jack shit about the bush or the Cong …Experience isn’t always associated with rank. Use your head, do your job, understand and follow orders, and keep your men and your own stinkin’ ass alive and in one piece. ’FNG Paul Letourneau thought: “Holy shit! Is this really happening?” The short answer was yes. He and the First Sergeant got in the jeep and he was off to a combat tour with the Blackhorse.

NCOs affected everyone, most even before they became Blackhorse Troopers.

Artilleryman ‘Big Jim’ Holt (HOW 1/11, 67-68) remembers two of his Drill Instructors from Basic Training at Ft. Polk: My two drill instructors were Vietnam vets. They had already been to Vietnam … They’d get us aside and say, ‘You screwed up, and here’s what it means; this will get you killed if you do it. This is why we’re teaching you this,’ and I’ll never forget that. I can’t even remember their names, but if I saw either one of them I’d know them and I’d kiss them because they really did, they taught us stuff that probably you remembered later on it helped you and everything like that.

Staff Sergeant (SSG) Grady Cowan (M Company, 3/11, 65-67) was a career soldier, the kind of soldier and leader that was the heart and soul of the Army in the 1950s and 1960s. In 1953, at the age of 17, Grady joined up. The Korean War had just ended, so he didn’t see wartime service there, but he was trained by those who had. By 1965, he was 12 years into his career as a tanker, assigned to the Blackhorse Regiment, where he took his new platoon leader under his wing. That platoon leader, John Casterman (M Company, 3/11, 66-67), described Grady this way: “He was every wild story of every great Sergeant that anyone of us ever served with, all wrapped up in one man. He was a rascal, a nemesis to the Company 1st Sergeant, a subject for the Chaplain’s Sunday sermon, a daily challenge to his Platoon Sergeant, and a ‘god’ to his tank crew. To me, he was just everything a Lieutenant could hope for in a tank commander - intelligent, tenacious, intuitive, and selfless. Grady was the type of tank commander you wanted next to you when you found yourself in the red zone … He was a truly brave and courageous combat soldier.”

The Blackhorse was blessed to have a long line of veteran NCOs who had seen the elephant before and who helped train the Troopers and junior NCOs. Third Squadron’s command sergeant major in 1968-69, CSM Robert Macon, was just such a man. He fought his way into Bastogne in the winter of 1944 as a member of the famous 4th Armored Division. He fought off the Chinese hordes when they crossed the Yalu River as part of the 6th Medium Tank Battalion in Korea in 1951-52. Yes, Robert Macon had seen the elephant before, and he imparted the wisdom and experience gained from his 24-plus year career in armor to all who would listen. First Lieutenant (1LT) Paul Baerman (C Troop, 1/11, 69-70) also remembers his first platoon sergeant – ‘Big Al’ Littlejohn (C Troop, 1/11, 69). By official organization, a recon platoon was authorized a Sergeant First Class (SFC) who generally had about 15 years in the Army. But by 1969, when Baerman assumed command of his platoon, the war had been going on for four years and combat specialty NCOs who had not been killed or seriously wounded were up for their second or third tour in Vietnam. There was an Army-wide shortage of experienced NCOs (with most of the WWII and many Korean War veterans choosing retirement rather than another combat tour in a war that they weren’t being allowed to win), so many men serving in platoon sergeant positions were Staff Sergeants.

Big Al, with five months in the platoon and 10 years in the Army, was just such an SSG; the fact that he was the Sixth Army boxing champion did nothing to diminish his reputation – or the respect accorded him by the Troopers. He had been around long enough to have been trained by ‘old Army’ NCOs, at least one of whom had shared something with him not found in the field manuals or textbooks. Paul Baerman recalls:

Big Al also taught his new lieutenant an important lesson right off the bat, one that I had never heard discussed in any of my college psychology of leadership classes. After a fight, at his insistence, he and I always made our way through the platoon talking to every soldier and looking them in the eye, followed by a firm grasp of the shoulder. If a soldier shied away from the touch or wouldn’t return your look, it meant leadership had to spend more time with him, talking through the battle. There is something about human touch and a caring face that brings soldiers back to the present and heals the mental wounds in the aftermath of a fight. Al’s wisdom using this technique and imparting it to me kept all of us going.

Bill Gregory was the leader of the 1st Platoon, H Company, 2/11, in early 1970. He was one of the fortunate few; he had an experienced NCO, Platoon Sergeant (PSG) James Morrill (H Company, 2/11, 69-70), as his platoon sergeant. Three decades later he recalled: I was very lucky that I had a really good platoon sergeant when I got there. He had about six months in country and he was a senior, senior E-7 … He’d had a lot of experience. And he and I made a deal when I first got there. I just told him, I said: ‘Sergeant … you know and I know that I don’t know what I’m doing so I need you to teach me.’ And he said: ‘Well, I’ll tell you what, why don’t I run it until I think--until we both think that you’re ready to take over, and then we’ll let you take over.’ So I pretty much watched him for a while… And then one day he said: ‘Do you think you’re ready’, and I said: ‘Yeah’, and he said: ‘Okay, now, we’ll do it this way.’Which was, he ran it when we were inside the perimeter administratively, and I took care of the tactics when we were out in the field … He knew I respected him and what he did, and he tolerated me.

PSG Harry Burton (A Troop, 1/11, 68-69) was a native of New Zealand who became a naturalized American citizen. His professionalism and natural leadership abilities were never more in demand than inside the cauldron that was the ambush site on 11 January 1969. When five of the six ACAVs in the platoon were left burning by multiple rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) hits, PSG Burton joined his platoon leader, 1LT Hal Fritz (A Troop and Headquarters and Headquarters Troop, 1/11, 68-69), on the ground to lead and inspire their fellow Blackhorse Troopers. Harry Burton survived that inferno only to be killed in the awful battle of 13 April 1969.

Top Sergeant Edmond Ellsworth joined Alpha Troop in January 1966 when there were just 30 Troopers assigned. He helped convert the 100-plus new recruits into Cavalrymen, then led them into combat. As he neared his one-year tour end, 1st Sergeant (1SGT) Ellsworth decided that the new crop of Blackhorse Troopers could benefit from his leadership and experience – so he extended. Not once, but twice. Glenn Snodgrass was a platoon leader in 1968 (A Troop and Headquarters and Headquarters Troop, 1/11, 68-69). Four decades later, he vividly remembers the 6’2” tall first sergeant: “He had a well-earned reputation as a gruff man… He was a huge man, gruff voice, on about his fifth extension, [who] always wanted to be in the field.” Ellsworth understood that the 1st SGT needed “to be at the right place at the right time”; the Blackhorse was the right place, and two-plus years was the right time. His first troop commander, CPT John Bailey (A Troop, 1/11, 66-67), called him “the most extraordinary noncommissioned officer I have ever come in contact with.”

Top Ellsworth was legendary in the 11th Cav. He knew why he was there, and didn’t mince words about it. When the First of the Blackhorse was invaded by a hoard of Annual General Inspection (AGI) REMFs from Headquarters, U.S. Army Vietnam (USARV) in 1968, Paul Renschen (Headquarters and Headquarters Troop and Alpha Troop, 1/11, 68-69) recalls Ellsworth saying “in a very loud voice, ‘What are they going to do if we fail? Declare us ‘not combat ready’ and ship us back to the States?’” That’s the kind of NCO 1SGT Ellsworth was.

First Sergeant Rosalio ‘Monte’ Montelongo (C Troop, 1/11, 66-67 and L Troop, 3/11, 69-70) was typical of the group of professional NCOs assigned to the 11th Cav. Although he did not deploy to Vietnam with the Regiment, Monte joined Charlie Troop in December 1966, just four months after the Blackhorse marched ashore at Vung Tau. He had been drafted in 1942, rising to the rank of platoon sergeant in the 88th Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron, the 8th Armored Division’s eyes and ears during the crucial Bulge, Roer River, and Ruhr Pocket battles in 1945. When the Korean War rolled around, Monte was once again out front, serving in the reconnaissance company of the 3rd Infantry Division for over a year in some of the toughest combat seen by U.S. forces.

Monte did two tours with the Blackhorse in Vietnam, in Charlie Troop until the end of 1967 and then with Lima Troop in 1970, where he was awarded the Silver Star for actions on 10 March. On that date, Lima Troop fought a six-hour battle with a dug-in battalion of the 209th (NVA) Regiment in a rubber plantation southwest of Loc Ninh. The citation for that medal speaks of the kind of leadership the 50-year old Top Soldier provided to the young Blackhorse Troopers. Sergeant Montelongo immediately left the relative safety of the troop’s night defensive position to join the troops in the contact area … He then moved forward, assaulting the enemy positions by placing accurate suppressive fire with his machinegun. Sergeant Montelongo then dismounted his vehicle and crawled from one vehicle to another carrying the wounded personnel to his vehicle and assuring their evacuation. Sergeant Montelongo led a dismounted patrol to the flank of the troop and assaulted the enemy bunkers with hand grenades and his rifle.

There’s one thing left out of this account, however. The 41st Colonel, Donn Starry (RCO, 1969-70), recalled the incident.

I remember one radio transmission where he was talking to the troop commander telling him what was going on, and he says: ‘Excuse me a minute.’ And you hear this ‘blam’ noise in the microphone and he went on with his conversation. Turns out what he had done was he pulled his pistol, turned around and shot a Vietnamese, a North Vietnamese off the back of a track, where the guy was trying to climb up and drop a grenade in the track, and then went on with the conversation. Jack Stoddard (Air Cav Troop, 68-69), who served as an AeroRifleman (ARP) and knows something about courage himself, remembers Monte.

As I watch the news today, they seem to use the word hero, for everything, from NASCAR drivers, basketball players, etc. I do not think any of those people deserve the word hero. Some people call anyone that goes to war a hero. Few are in reality. However, one thing I can say, like so many others have said before, Monty was a True American Hero. He never wanted the title. He earned it because of heroic deeds during many battles, some fought hand-to-hand. I asked him at the Nashville reunion [2002], ‘Monte how did you get thru so many battles, what kept you going?’ Monty told me that he usually worked alone as a recon Scout. He talked about being in the Battle of the Bulge, Korean War and Vietnam War. And he said that he put his faith in God, and that every night when he returned from a mission, he said a little prayer thanking God for another day. Monte never told war stories or even admitted to having any medals other than to say, ‘I have a few.’

Second Squadron Howitzer Battery’s Carl Daschke is a prime example of a ‘home-grown’ Blackhorse NCO. He joined the Regiment as a Specialist 4th Class (SP4) at Camp Pickett just a couple of months before shipping out to Vietnam in 1966, and by the time he returned to The World in August 1967 he was an SSG. You could make rank quickly in the 11th Cav, but the work was hard and the price in blood and sweat was high. Bobby Ray Allen arrived in Vietnam in early 1969 as a just-outof- school Private First Class (PFC). He joined the 3/11 Aviation Section and was assigned as a Huey crew chief. Over the next 20 months, PFC Allen was successively promoted to become SSG Allen. His final assignment was as the section sergeant – a position usually reserved for a much longer-serving and more experienced NCO. When Bobby Ray died in 2014, his honorary pallbearers included one colonel, four captains, four warrant officers, and four fellow NCOs, all of whom had served with Bobby Ray Allen in combat.

Ollie Pickral (K Troop, 3/11, 68-69) recalls how he became a Blackhorse NCO. “After my first 3 months driving a 4-deuce mortar track (M106), I was sent to the F.O. [Forward Observer] track, as the Track Commander [TC] was headed home in a short while. I was promoted from PFC to Corporal [CPL] and given ‘acting jack’ Sgt. stripes. I was the TC of the F.O. for 9 months and wore Sgt. stripes. My official rank was Corporal but in reality, I was a Sgt.”

PSG Francisco Cantu (E Troop, 2/11, 69-70) was an acting platoon leader in Echo Troop. Sewall Menzel (G Troop, 2/11, 1970) remembers that it was Cantu “who figured out how to rig a Claymore anti-personnel mine tripwire ambush that just drove the dinks nuts along the Cambodian border trail networks.” Whether it was his many years of experience, his previous combat tours, or a sixth sense that some people develop on the battlefield, PSG Cantu saved lives one evening in western Tay Ninh Province.

Echo Troop had just occupied its night defensive position (NDP), and Cantu’s 1st Platoon was tasked to do a last-light recon around the perimeter. Tay Ninh Province was “a surreal place” by early 1970, with “smashed tree trunks, shattered tree limbs, hundreds of bomb craters and a dozen or so knocked out tanks, artillery pieces and other vehicles” littering the area. The terrain around the NDP was fairly flat, strewn with scrub bushes rather than the heavy jungle and rubber plantations that 2/11 Troopers had gotten used to near Loc Ninh.

But Francisco Cantu seemed to sense the presence of the enemy. He warned his Troopers to be alert. His platoon’s lead Sheridan wasn’t more than 30 seconds outside the perimeter when the TC opened up with his caliber .50. Skittering between and hiding behind the scrub bushes were about two dozen enemy soldiers – the leadership of a company from the 7th (NVA) Divisions sapper battalion – conducting a reconnaissance of the NDP in preparation for an attack later that night. PSG Cantu reported what he’d found, then brought his ACAVs and Sheridans on line. The dismounted NVA recon team didn’t stand a chance. Although many of them were carrying RPGs, with the massed firepower of an armored cavalry platoon raining down on them, few if any escaped. The RPGs that were fired slammed into the ground in front of the vehicles or sailed over the NDP to crash harmlessly in the jungle.

This victory over the 7th (NVA) Division was particularly sweet. Good tactics – and the combat experience of a professional NCO – deterred an attack on Echo Troop. But even better news came the following morning. As the Troopers searched the battlefield, they found the corpses of about two dozen NVA soldiers. Many of these soldiers had recently been awarded Tank Destroyer First Class medals; each medal was engraved with the date 26 November 1969. CPT Menzel reviewed the diary notes and other documents found on the dead NVA soldiers and determined that these were the same sappers who had attacked the 3/11 Command Post (CP) during Operation Texas Traveler on 26 November 1969. Pay back is, well, sweet.

(Part II will appear in the next issue of Thunder Run)

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