Note: The following story was written in 1969 by 1LT Richard Cacioppe, ' Shot Gun' Platoon Leader in 1964 . It describes an operation that took place during the Montagnard/Rhade Rebellion about 28 Sept 1964 near to Ban Me Thout.)

Upon my arrival in Vietnam in September 1964, I was assigned to the 118th Aviation Company, in Bien Hoa, as a door gunner on a "Huey" helicopter. A short time after I arrived, the 118th was ordered to Ban Me Thout, a city in the central highlands, to join other aviation companies in an attempt to extricate some eighty Vietnamese soldiers being held hostage by Montagnard tribesmen.

The long simmering feud between the Vietnamese and these primitive but fierce tribesmen had escalated to the point where it now bordered on open warfare. The Montagnards had executed about twenty Vietnamese soldiers and had threatened to kill all the captured Vietnamese unless their demands for greater autonomy were met.

The Vietnamese government, in response to the executions, had given the Montagnards an ultimatum to release their prisoners or face massive retaliation from the Vietnamese Armed Forces. Vietnamese armor and air force units had moved into position to carry out the destruction of the rebellious villages if the executions continued.

The whole situation presented a serious problem to American authorities since U.S.Army advisors were with both the Montagnards and the Vietnamese units. More importantly, however, open warfare between these two groups could only benefit the Communists who had already made serious inroads into this critical area.

The American military commander, desperately trying to avert a showdown, had asked for one chance to extricate the hostages before the Vietnamese Armed Forces were committed. Grudgingly, the Vietnamese government agreed to hold off any military action until after this U.S. attempt.

On the day of the attempted extraction we were given a briefing outlining the plan. The plan decided upon was simple but very risky. The senior American advisor for the area, a Colonel, was present in the village. He was to attempt to persuade the village chiefs to release the hostages voluntarily Failing this, he was to open the prison forcibly himself and free the Vietnamese. Our helicopter task force would be circling out of sight. The Colonel's radio operator would notify us when and if we should come in to pick up the Vietnamese. We were especially cautioned against taking any action which might be interpreted as being hostile by the Montagnards.

After the briefing, we returned to our helicopters and prepared for the take-off. Shortly afterward we were airborne and heading westward to our rendezvous point to await the Colonel's signal.

As we approached the rendezvous point, I heard a voice over the radio whisper excitedly, "Two Baseball Glove has asked the chiefs, Ikor and 'The Bearded One', to gather the villagers for a meeting." At first I was startled and puzzled by this transmission, than I realized that 'Two Baseball Glove' was the Colonel's code name. Apparently, the pilot had switched our FM radio to the ground frequency and we were monitoring the Colonel's radio operator describing the action at the village.

"The villagers are gathering in the village square," the voice continued. "Two Baseball Glove is asking for an interpreter. No one is moving. The Colonel is asking for an interpreter again." A slight gasp and then, "Ikor and the Bearded One are leaving the circle and moving back to the village." Then silence. I strained to hear the next transmission while my mind raced ahead trying to anticipate what would happen next. It was like listening to a mystery radio show. I could picture exactly in my mind what the village and Ikor and the Bearded One looked like. "An old woman is getting up to translate for the Colonel," the relief was evident in the radio operator's voice. "Two Baseball Glove is warning the villagers that unless they release the captives, they would be attacked by strong Vietnamese forces." I could picture the old woman, the Colonel's only Montagnard ally, pleading with the fierce tribesmen standing before her unmoved and impassive.

"No one is moving," the radio confirmed what my imagination had already told me. "Two Baseball Glove has picked up a crow bar and is holding it up. He's telling the villagers he is going to break the lock of the prison. He's walking to the prison with the crowbar. The voice was getting lower as the drama below built to its climax. "He's breaking the lock. No one is moving. He's warning the Vietnamese captives to follow him slowly. He's saying that under no circumstances should they run since this might set off a reaction amongst the tense Montagnards who were blocking the route they must take."

"OK, here we go," the radio announced. Suddenly, I realized that it was the pilot's voice I had heard and we were going in to pick up the Vietnamese. It took me several seconds to realize that we now were about to become a part of the drama I had been listening to so intently.

As we approached the village, I could see two long rows of Montagnards, each one grasping the trigger of the weapon he held across his body. Between these two lines a straggling mass of men moved uncertainly toward the landing zone outside of the village.

The village looked just like I had pictured it. The Montagnards with their weapons at the ready and bandoleers of ammunition slung across their bodies were even more fierce looking than I had imagined.

I checked to make sure my machine gun was still pointing straight down and put on my friendliest smile so that the Montagnards would have no misunderstanding as to my intentions. The Vietnamese prisoners were just approaching the landing zone as our flight of helicopters settled to the ground. Timing had been perfect, and in just a few minutes we would be out of there.

Suddenly, one of the Vietnamese bolted for the nearest helicopter and instantly the entire group was running across the landing zone. I quickly looked at the long line of Montagnards to determine their reaction. There was none, they stood as impassively as statues, defeated yet still proud.

The Vietnamese scrambled aboard dirty and scared, some still dangling ropes from their hands and feet. We quickly took off and in a few seconds were 2000 feet above the village. The Vietnamese who had been silent, now were jabbering excitedly.

The newspapers at home hardly mentioned the whole incident. Within a few weeks it was all but forgotten even in Vietnam. Because of the implications of the confrontation, it had been hushed by the authorities. But for those of us who had been there, it had been quite an achievement. To proclaim our participation, we had buttons made in Saigon that proudly told the story.