Lindgren Family - Robert James Lindgren - My VIet Cong Friend pages 1 and 2

This is a letter from Cousin Robert James Lindgren, 4 November 2021. He titled the email "My Viet Cong Friend." This typed document, written by Gary D. Belden at an unknown date.. This reads as:

     It was a long hot hump to the Tu Cau Bridge, , about two miles from Camp 413. Motor transport had left on high and dry again. Walking on both sides of the dirt road in staggered formation 20 meters between each man, we finally arrived.

     First or Second Platoon was pulling bridge watch. Third Platoon's objective was to be a blocking force for the ARVN. The ARVN were to sweep and drive the enemy to our position between the river and along the main service road.

     I watched Lieutenant Puller and "Red" Watson, the radioman, head for the command bunker. I set my machine gun down facing the open area and sat down myself.

     I yelled at my squad leader, "Hey Gray, I'm going on R&R in three weeks. I'm going to celebrate my nineteenth birthday in Bangkok."

     Our conversation was interrupted by sniper fire from the tree line on the north side of the road. the grunts returned fire at the tree line instantly. With the platoon engaged in a firefight to the north, we'd got ambushed from the village to the south, across the bridge. We had been set up by a few snipers so the main NVA force could get the advantage to our backs. We were pinned down in the open on an elevated road, getting hit from both sides.

     The next words were "guns up." It was time to get with the program. I followed Gray, running with our gun, listening to the AK-rounds zip past me. We reached the generator bunker, and diving in behind me were To Mousel and Joe Oncay. We had made the 100 yards without a scratch. Lt Puller and Watson were in the bunker. Puller told us to fire at will.

     We had plenty of enemy running in the village and the battle was intensifying. Watson yelled, "Jets are up, sir!" In less than a minute a silver Marine F-4 Phantom streaked at  tree-top level. The pilot had the 20-millimeter cannon firing and he released two bombs that hit directly on the village. It was one big explosion. Dirt, smoke, and wood from the buildings filled the air. The opposition from the village was over.

     We left the generator bunker and made our way back to the platoon. We took a few sniper rounds from the tree line on the north from behind some civilian hootches.

     I watched as a Marine raised up and shot as if he had a specific target. At that moment an old man jumped up in the doorway of his hootch. He was screaming and thrashing as if to tear the air down. The old man was pushed aside by a woman carrying her young daughter. The mother and daughter were covered with blood, and as they made their way to us we recognized the young girl.

     She was the young girl Joe Oncay had named Wendy. When we were on bridge watch, this young girl would come to our position each morning to trade fresh fruit for out Korean-vintage cigarettes and leftover chow.

     The Corpsman ran to get Wendy, and she and her mother along with the Marine casualties were medevaced to Da Nang. The word came back that Wendy's right arm had to be amputated, but she would recover.

     Six weeks later we moved to the Tu Cau Bridge to stand watch. The next morning we had a visitor-it was Wendy. She had a hard time keeping her balance as she climbed the five-rung ladder. We took her basket from her left arm to make it easier for her to climb. Her right shirt sleeve was tucked and pinned neatly, two inches below her right shoulder.

     She had a big grin on her face and has happy to see us. Our exchange went as usual, except we gave her more for her fruit.

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