Brown Water, Black Berets by Thomas J. Cutler

Author:Thomas J. Cutler
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612511849
Publisher: Naval Institute Press

The USS Colleton, sister ship of the USS Benewah, at anchor as part of the Mobile Riverine Force. These ships, along with several LSTs and APLs, made up the Mobile Riverine Base, which served as a billeting and mooring facility for the Army and Navy men, boats, and equipment that made up the force. (Official U.S. Navy photograph)

The ships of the Mobile Riverine Force were anchoring at the confluence of the Soi Rap and Vam Co rivers so that the Army troops they carried, from the U.S. 9th Infantry Division, could conduct search and destroy operations in the nearby mangrove thickets and rice paddies of the Can Giuoc District of Long An Province. The force had just completed the moderately successful Operation Great Bend in the northern region of the Rung Sat and had moved the eight miles from their Nha Be anchorage to this new site. Hoping for surprise, the force would waste no time: the next assault was to take place the following morning.

Lieutenant Johnson watched the many small craft gradually assembling at the ammi-barge alongside the Benewah. Similar congregations of the dark green assault craft were forming up alongside the Colleton and the LST, the USS Vernon County, amid clouds of blue-hued diesel exhaust. One would never guess that these had all been LCM-6 amphibious landing craft at one time, Johnson thought as he watched them maneuver into their nests. Only the ATCs still retained the ramps on their bows; the monitors and the command communications boats (CCBs) had been redesigned with a tapered spoonlike bow that was more like that of a conventional craft. All carried different combinations of weapons and each had cagelike bar-armor strategically located to detonate rockets and recoilless-rifle shells before they could enter the boats’ vitals. Just days before, the force had returned the last of the craft borrowed from Vietnamese River Assault Groups. All sixty-eight craft of the force were now American.

Several soldiers were walking along the main deck below Johnson; one with bright red hair looked up and saw him. “Hey, Padre. Good service this morning,” the young soldier called, his freckle-peppered face beaming up at Johnson.

“Thanks, Smitty,” Johnson replied.

Ray Johnson had been assigned by the Navy to the Mobile Riverine Force as its chaplain. The Army had not as yet provided its own chaplain, so he had shown his ecumenical spirit by ministering to both Army and Navy alike. He knew every man in the force by name and was popular among the young soldiers and sailors, not only because of his willing ear and helpful advice in times of crisis, but also because he always accompanied the operations, riding in one of the ATCs that had been rigged as a medical aid station. Chaplain Johnson was more than a man of the cloth—he was a man of the battle-dressing, too. He had received formal training as a medical technician and served the force as a field medical officer as well as its chaplain. In the midst of battle

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