South Viet Nam: The Prospect of Action

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Under slate-grey skies, U.S. Marine landing craft plowed through 5-ft. waves in the Bay of Danang, came to a halt with gravelly crunches, and dropped their ramps. Out poured hundreds of U.S. marines in full battle dress, with M-14 rifles held at high port. They were the vanguard of a 3,500-man force, the first marines since Korea to hit the beaches in a combat zone, and the first U.S. combat—as opposed to "advisory" —troops to arrive in South Viet Nam.

The U.S. decision to send in combat units had been weighed for weeks. Only after it became evident that the big Danang airbase in the northern tier of South Viet Nam was critically threatened, did Defense Secretary Robert McNamara recommend sending in two reinforced Marine battalions and a squadron of 24 helicopters. By then, at least twelve Viet Cong battalions—roughly 6,000 men—were in the Danang area; they launched an attack at Mieubong, only three miles away, the day before the marines landed.

President Johnson quickly approved McNamara's recommendation, and orders crackled to Seventh Fleet head quarters in Hawaii. The marines' role, said the Pentagon, was to be strictly defensive. But nobody doubted for a minute that sooner or later they would clash with the Viet Cong. And, as Secretary of State Dean Rusk crisply informed a television audience, "if they are shot at, they will shoot back."

Off That Ship. The marines were shot at once during the landing operation, when a Viet Cong rifleman hit the wing of a C-130 Hercules transport as it approached Danang with a load of marines from camps on Okinawa. But no real damage was done.

Half of the marines landed by ship. Scarcely 24 hours after the orders to move came from Washington, a Navy destroyer and four transports hove to in the foam-flecked bay half a mile off Nam O Beach north of Danang, renamed "Red Beach Two" by the marines. A dozen LVTs (landing vehicles, tracked) were lowered from the transports and nosed toward the beach carrying 1,400 men of the 9th Marine Expeditionary Brigade. For two months the marines had been floating in the South China Sea, just waiting. "When the temperature went up," said Brigadier General Frederick J. Karch, commander of the brigade, "we got closer."

First to hit the beach was Corporal Garry Parsons, who splashed onto the wet sand and sprinted 50 yards into a stand of pine trees—and a platoon of photographers. Parsons' comment was candid if not immortal. Cried he, "I'm glad to get off that damned ship!"

Girls & Frogmen. Marines are indoctrinated in boot camp that there is no such thing as a "friendly" beach, and as they dashed ashore, they were ready for anything—except perhaps the winsome welcoming committee of Vietnamese girls bearing garlands of yellow dahlias and red gladioli. Even General Karch, 47, and a very tough gent, was hard put to maintain his composure while being festooned with posies.

Peaceful as the reception was, however, nobody was taking any chances, Navy frogmen combed the beach before the marines landed. Two battalions of Vietnamese soldiers patrolled the area while rocket-armed U.S. helicopters skimmed just above the treetops. Marine security squads began digging foxholes and mortar emplacements as soon as they landed.