I Couldn't Find My Arm

Staff Sergeant E6 Stan Dillon was Range Platoon Sergeant, D Company, 2/8 Cavalry, on April 20, 1971. This is his account of that day.

This was to be my first mission back after a week in Hawaii on R&R and a few days R&R on the coast with the company.

In the briefing on 20 April, '71, Intelligence advised us that movement was suspected not far from the new Fire Base and we were to go and check it out. My Platoon "Range" was to be the lead Platoon, with me as Platoon Sgt. And an outstanding and very knowledgeable Platoon Leader Lt Bott. We had, in my opinion, the most experienced men in the company in Dan Drinkard & Jim Cardwell. They could find about anything in the bush and they really didn't seem to mind walking the point. They worked well together and it was rare to see one without the other being around.

It was about lunch time when our Platoon discovered a trotter that paralleled the creek. We sent out patrols along the creek and when they returned we crossed the creek and set up on the other side. We did our usual 360 degree clover leaf scouting around the platoon, set up our guard positions and broke for lunch.

The middle platoon (Cat) was traveling with the Skipper and CP. He sent a squad down the creek and spotted some NVA washing in the creek. The Cat squad didn't fire on the enemy until they were spotted by the NVA and I don't recall that they hit any one of them. The skipper kept asking how many they got and for some time the answer never came back. Finally they answered, reporting none had been hit. I think the skipper was upset because you could hear him on the radio reading someone the riot act. The Skipper called in a Loach Team to scout the area in front and just a few hundred meters to our right and they were firing into the area where Cat platoon reported the enemy position. Range Platoon stood by our guard positions waiting for the NVA or VC to run into us, but they never did.

The Skipper ordered Range Platoon to go down our side of the stream. The Lt. and I figured that the enemy would be long gone and that they had been moving along the trotter and stopped to take a bath; we had caught them before in other locations and took the opportunity to fire them up.

Range 6, Lt. Bott, stayed back with the rest of the platoon. Our usual practice would put the Platoon Sgt. up front with the squad. Lt. Bott was on the radio all the time just in case. He could move the rest of the squads forward if we made contact. Lt. Bott wanted to go with the squad but I talked him out of it that he would be more effective with the rest of the Platoon as we moved down the edge of the stream.

We took our first squad down the creek along with a scout dog and guide, something new in my Platoon. We had never used a scout dog before and were unsure of the proper use and handling. We went about 100 meters down the creek when the dog just took off, running right down the middle of the creek. I remember that Jim Cardwell on point turning back to me and saying, "We need to shoot that dog he's going to give us away and get us all killed."

We were really looking stupid at that moment trying to get the dog's attention and get him under control. We had to get into some cover and away from the open edge of the bank of the creek, so we moved into the thicker under-brush and I sent word to the rear of the squad to get that dog handler up front. When he came up I told him to get that dog under control or my point man was going to shoot him. The trainer was afraid to go after the dog but he was begging us not to shoot his dog, which would have been a stupid way to give away our position anyway. The dog went out of sight and I can't remember ever seeing it again. I swore I'd never use a dog again.

I was 3rd in line followed by my RTO. We were walking about 30 meters in and parallel to the stream when we walked upon a fresh NVA latrine, a hole dug in the ground with bamboo sticks over it and a hole in the middle, just built within the last few days. Uh-oh, we must be on top of a bunker complex and we had to be real quiet and try to back on out without being seen. We had been in this situation before and knew this was bad news.

I reached over and got the receiver from the RTO and called the latrine in. Lt. Bott was on the radio telling me to get the hell out of there now. I could hear him without the radio to fall back now.

The jungle was very dense and visibility was very limited. Then as I handed the receiver back to the RTO the first enemy rounds were fired from the enemy bunker complex hidden from view. One of those first rounds hit under my chin and spun me around and to the ground. The blood from my chin spilled all over me, and I remember thinking it felt like a bee sting. I spread the men out as much as I could and placed the machine gun over to my right and returned fire. Most of the squad had moved up and were now returning fire, when one more round from the enemy bunker knocking me back and on the ground they hit me in the chest but I was still okay. I later learned that the round was stopped by my Gideon's Bible I carried over my heart in my left shirt pocket.

Jim Cardwell was just to the right of me and Dan Drinkard to the front and left of me within a few meters. Joe Hall came up from the rear and asked me, "Where do you want me to go, Sgt. Dillon?"

I placed him to the left of me about 10 meters. As I look back on it I think those brave young men would have followed me and Lt. Bill Bott anywhere. I yelled back for someone to bring up a M72 LAW (Light Antitank Weapon) so I could clear out some of the brush so we could see the enemy.

Then, a few seconds later I thought I heard the enemy fire a RPG rocket, but I later learned the explosion was caused by a Chinese mine like a Claymore. Sometimes you don't see the one that hits you. I remember a ringing in my ears and feeling a hot flash rush through my body. I yelled out for everyone to get back and reached over to Dan Drinkard and looked to my left for Joe Hall. I noticed they were not moving and saw Jim Cardwell motionless also. The M-60 and the rest of the squad were still firing and rest of the squad was trying to withdraw. Range Platoon was terribly shot up but we were still returning the enemy fire with ferocity. It was dog eat dog and we were fighting for our lives.

I got up and fell flat on my face and rolled over. I couldn't find my arm and I thought I had lost it but found that it was under my back broken and shattered at the collar bone. I remember after rolling over I pulled my arm out and placed it on my chest and stomach. I tried to get up and walk again but couldn't.

I later found that my knee cap was blown out. I couldn't breathe and could hardly hear, since as I discovered later my lung was punctured and my ear drum had ruptured from the explosion. I just knew that if I didn't get back to some cover I wasn't going to make it.

The Medic finally got to me and I remember screaming over the gunfire in pain and holding up my hand and noticing my little finger on my left hand was just dangling by the skin. I told the medic, "I think I've lost my finger Doc." At that time I see Lt. Bott getting the men out of there pulling back the squad and the wounded. I later learned he was the last to leave the area.

Doc Harvey Brothers wrapped me up and I can still remember the rush of pain. The men filed by me getting back, most of them wounded. I was laying there by the stream and one of the men, an American Indian from North Carolina, PFC Gary "Indian" Collins called to a Grunt I will leave nameless to help carry me across the creek. The grunt was frozen in a state of shock and could not move. The Indian kept telling him to move and then he said, "Listen if you don't help me carry Sargent Dillon across the creek, I'm going to shoot you myself!"

The grunt got up and helped him carry me across the creek. I remember looking down at the rocks searching for a large one to crawl behind if the soldiers carrying me should be shot. I remember saying out loud to my wife, as if she could hear me, "Oh God, Gail. Gail I'm not going to make it!"

We made it to the other side and I told the Skipper, Capt. Neal, "Skipper you have to get me out of here I'm hurt really bad!" He told me I was second in line for the medevac, that he had to get a priority one with a severe head wound out first. I remember the lift support they wrapped me up in had the straps missing and one of the guys, Tom Vollmar, took off his belt to strap me in. On the way up as the medic chopper raised the hoist cable I remember sliding out of the rig and holding on to the cable to keep from falling to the jungle floor. The chopper was taking small arms fire from the enemy, the AK rounds singing as they tore through the trees, but it stayed in its still hover, waiting for me. I made it. The chopper was loaded down with wounded guys and lying beside me was Stan Sargent.

They took us to some firebase aid station where they stripped me of all my clothes and put my arm in a balloon cast and cut off my wedding ring among other things. I guess when they got us stable they were running with us on stretchers back to the chopper where they airlifted us to the rear Hospital. I'm lucky to have lived through that day.

I also learned later that Lt. Bott never received a medal for his heroic leadership that day. Bill Bott is deserving of the Silver Star that day. Knowing him he probably blames it all on him. I always said that he hid his leadership and talents in the bosom of his modesty.