Fifty years ago, the U.S. Marine Corps and Navy were enmeshed in three Far East crises. The Corps was facing its severest tests of the Vietnam War at Khe Sanh and Hue. Meanwhile, North Korea heated up the Cold War by seizing a U.S. Navy ship, the Pueblo (AGER-2), in international waters and imprisoning her crew and other personnel who were on board.
After reading Gregg Jones’ award-winning book Last Stand at Khe Sanh (Da Capo, 2014), I reached out to him to write about the grueling 11-week siege of Khe Sanh Combat Base and the surrounding hills by North Vietnamese Army (NVA) troops. Like his book, Jones’ article, “The Marines’ Tenacious Stand,” relies heavily on the recollections of Leatherneck participants.
Jones also contributed “Tet’s Main Event,” which encapsulates the country-wide effort by Viet Cong guerrillas and NVA troops to overthrow the South Vietnamese government. Most of the article is devoted to the Marines’ role in the Tet offensive’s longest and most brutal battle—the recapture of the former imperial capital of Hue.
This issue’s “Acts of Valor” graphic feature complements the “Main Event” by focusing on Sergeant Alfredo Gonzalez, the only Marine to earn the Medal of Honor (posthumously) for Battle of Hue actions. In recounting Gonzalez’s story, writer Kevin Knodell and artist Kelly Swann mainly relied on his Medal of Honor citation and accounts in Mark Bowden’s gripping new book, Hue 1968 (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2017).
Gonzalez was mortally wounded while his company was operating in support of Lieutenant Colonel Ernest Cheatham’s 2d Battalion, 5th Marines. The Corps hadn’t engaged in large-scale street fighting since the 1950 Battle of Seoul, but Cheatham wisely arrived in Hue with weapons Marines didn’t normally carry in the field in Vietnam—3.5-inch rockets, 106-mm recoilless rifles, 81-mm mortars, and lots of tear gas. These proved instrumental in the campaign to recapture southern Hue. Often after a mortar barrage, gas mask–wearing Marines would rush a tear gas–enveloped building, entering through holes punched by 106 rounds and 3.5-inch rockets. The recoilless rifles had a tremendous back blast, but a 106-mm team nevertheless tried firing one from inside a Hue University classroom. Sergeant Terry Cothran recalled: “Well, we knocked out our objective and kind of knocked out the building that the 106 was in, too. But it didn’t hurt the gun after we dug it out.”
The U.S. Naval Institute, Naval History’s publisher, is a member-driven organization, and our CEO, retired Navy Vice Admiral Peter Daly, makes a point personally to thank those who achieve 50 years of membership for their longtime support. And sometimes what he learns in the process about members’ experiences is surprising. During a conversation with one of these Golden Life Members, Daly asked retired Lieutenant Carl “Skip” Schumacher about his naval service. “Oh, I served in a supply ship making runs into Tonkin Gulf, and then I transferred to a former cargo ship,” he nonchalantly replied. “It was the AGER . . .”
“The AGER-2? The Pueblo?” Daly excitedly asked. Yes, indeed. Schumacher was operations officer on board the spy ship 50 years ago. Follow-up emails and phone calls resulted in “Hell and Back,” the retired lieutenant’s account of the Pueblo’s seizure and his and crewmates torturous 11-month imprisonment in North Korea.
For information about joining the Naval Institute, visit www.usni.org. Naval Institute members who receive Naval History in lieu of Proceedings should have received a 2018 Naval Institute ballot with this issue. Biographies of Board of Directors and Editorial Board candidates appear on pages 58–60. Members who receive Proceedings should get a ballot with their January issue.
Richard G. Latture
Editor-in-Chief