Conspicuous Gallantry Under Fire

On 30 January 1971, six heavily armed members of SEAL Team One’s Zulu Platoon inserted by helicopter into a rice paddy deep inside enemy-held territory on South Vietnam’s Cà Mau Peninsula. Their mission was to search for and destroy Viet Cong (VC) insurgents who had fired on their helicopter in the same area less than an hour before. The VC had seriously wounded First Squad’s radioman, causing the patrol to abort its mission and return to base. The remaining SEALs of Squad One were back to even the score.¹It would not go well.

Within minutes, the VC had commenced firing from concealed positions on a dike some 250 meters away. Then, as the squad approached the dike, the VC opened up from less than 50 meters away with withering fire. Bullets wounded Zulu’s point man, patrol leader, automatic weapons man, and the assistant platoon leader, Lieutenant (junior grade) Thomas Richards, who had volunteered to replace First Squad’s wounded radioman. In that moment of chaos, Richards took charge of what remained of First Squad and a mission gone terribly wrong.² He would later be denied adequate recognition for the conspicuous gallantry he displayed.

‘The Hulk’

Christened “the Hulk” by his fellow SEALs, Tom Richards was well liked and respected, and he enjoyed a reputation as a highly capable operator. He was a native of Brightwaters, New York, and a graduate of Bayshore High School, where he wrestled and played football. Following graduation, he attended Villanova University on a Navy ROTC scholarship. There, he lifted weights and routinely bench pressed 400 pounds. He was commissioned an ensign in the Naval Reserve in 1969.

While still a midshipman at Villanova, Richards was accepted to Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training. When he began the rigorous program with Class 54, the 6-foot-tall Richards weighed 235 pounds. He graduated ten months later with Class 55 at a lean and hard 215 pounds. He was assigned to SEAL Team One in Coronado, California. After further training in weapons and SEAL tactics, he became Zulu Platoon’s assistant commander, under Lieutenant Grant Telfer.

In August 1970, Zulu’s two officers and 12 enlisted sailors deployed to Sea Float, a tactical support base on the Cua Lon River near the tip of the Cà Mau Peninsula. A few weeks later, they moved ashore to nearby Solid Anchor. From there, Zulu conducted more than 50 squad-sized operations. Telfer led First Squad; Richards, Second. During Zulu’s six-month deployment, each squad conducted a range of missions, including reconnaissance, intelligence collection, and direct-action missions throughout VC-held areas.

The Seawolves

The Seawolves of Helicopter Attack (Light) Squadron Three (HA[L]-3) routinely provided insertion, extraction, and close-air support when one of the SEAL squads operated downrange. (See “I Am a Sailor and a Seawolf,” June 2019, pp. 30–35.)

The airmen were an integral part of Navy SEAL and mobile riverine operations, flying critical mission support throughout the jungles, rice paddies, and waterways of the Mekong Delta. As witnessed by Chief Gunner’s Mate Barry Enoch, a revered SEAL Team One “plank owner,” respected SEAL operator, and recipient of the Navy Cross: 

Many a SEAL [owes] his life to the Seawolves. . . . We developed friendships that are still alive today. Operating well outside standard operating procedures, the Seawolves have lifted SEALs out of enemy encirclements, and . . . evacuated our wounded when medevac helicopters weren’t available. . . . They were always there for us, when we were down in the mud and darkness; the night illuminated with red and green tracers; the VC behind every shadow.³

Lieutenant (junior grade) Carl Nelson, a fire-team leader at HA(L)-3 Detachment 1, commanded two Seawolf gunships during Zulu’s last mission. He already had flown more than 600 combat missions. His copilot, Lieutenant (junior grade) Earl Shaut, controlled the M134 miniguns, while Petty Officers Michael Dobson and Tom Klavon fired the left and right (respectively) M-60 machine guns from the doors. Lieutenant (junior grade) Edward Dyer would pilot the UH-1L Sealord transport that would insert and later extract Zulu from a very hot landing zone (LZ).

Enemy Contact

As the end of January approached, Zulu Platoon prepared to wrap up its operations and return to Naval Amphibious Base Coronado—but not before it received a request to conduct one last mission supporting South Vietnam’s resettlement program.⁴

First Squad boarded Dyer’s Sealord in the early afternoon of 30 January intending to search for enemy activity at a suspected VC complex just north of the Cai Ngay River. Approximately 3,000 meters south of the intended LZ, radioman Marcus Arroyo was shot twice in the shoulder from somewhere on the ground. His wounds forced the patrol to abort the mission.

But Telfer was not about to allow the enemy to get away with seriously wounding one of his SEALs or force him to abort his team’s last mission without a decisive response.⁵ First Squad prepared to return to the area, but Second Squad’s radioman, Hospital Corpsman First Class “Doc” Harris, declined to replace the wounded Arroyo, arguing that his first priority was to attend to the SEAL’s wounds. Second Squad’s Richards urged that the return mission, lacking clear tactical intelligence on the enemy’s disposition and firepower, be scratched. When Telfer insisted, Richards agreed to take the wounded radioman’s place, joking “someone has to drag your ass out of that rice paddy.” Richards also added firepower by carrying his Stoner light machine gun and 900 rounds of 5.56-mm ammunition strapped in bandoliers across his chest. And so, a squad of six heavily armed SEALs—Telfer, Richards, and petty officers James Rowland, Donald Futrell, Gary Lawrence, and Wendell Hedge—boarded Dyer’s slick less than an hour after the first mission ended.⁶

Patrol Leader Down

As the SEALs inserted into a rice paddy near where they had taken fire, Nelson’s UH-1B gunship commenced a right turn at 80 feet above the ground to cover them.⁷ Shaut worked the LZ’s edge with his miniguns, while Dobson and Klavon fired their M-60s. The SEALs patrolled northeast and then east on a dike separating two rice paddies, and then moved north on one perpendicular to the first. As they advanced, the enemy began firing from well-concealed and dug-in positions on a dike covered with heavy vegetation. The SEALs and Nelson’s gunship immediately returned fire. As the patrol continued closer toward the tree line, the SEALs took accurate, withering fire from both sides of the dike. Point man Rowland fell, shot through the groin. He was hit again as he crawled for cover. Seconds later, Telfer was shot in both legs. Both SEALs managed to return fire despite their wounds, but the severity of their injuries and the immediate necessity to extract them soon took them out of action.

Richards immediately radioed Nelson for fire support as he and Lawrence advanced under fire to assist the two seriously wounded SEALs. As he dragged Rowland to cover, one round passed through Richards’ right hand, hitting the Stoner’s pistol grip. Nevertheless, while Lawrence, Hedge, and Futrell returned fire, Richards continued to expose himself to enemy fire to drag the wounded to cover.

When the automatic weapons man, Futrell, was shot in the chest, he cried out, “I’m hit. I’m hit!” Richards, sensing the rising panic in Futrell’s voice, suspected the man was going into shock. To distract him, Richards ordered Futrell to shut up and return fire. Futrell briefly did so with his M-60 and did not go into shock. As Futrell became semiconscious, Richards pulled him back as well.

When Lawrence and Hedge ran out of ammunition minutes later, Richards passed them the linked 5.56 ammo for his now inoperable Stoner. The squad regrouped behind a dike, and Richards urged the SEALs to keep pouring fire into the enemy as he radioed for emergency extraction.

Getting Out

As the battle raged, extraction became imperative. Including himself, Richards had four wounded men, three of them critical. For Nelson and the Seawolves, there was no hesitation: “My crew knew that leaving anyone behind was not an option.” When Nelson saw Richards dragging the wounded SEALs to cover, he alerted Dyer to get ready for extraction and descended to cover it from an altitude of about 50–70 feet. From the ground, Lawrence and Hedge provided covering fire with their Stoners. Nelson’s gunship hit the enemy with devastating rocket and minigun fire, while Dyer urgently searched for the SEALs’ exact location.

On his second pass, Dyer spotted them huddled next to a dike and came in “hot,” bleeding off airspeed during his approach. As the slick hovered, skids wet in a rice paddy, Richards dragged each of the three wounded SEALs in turn over the dike, then through the rice paddy to the helicopter, lifting each aboard with his one good hand. Richards later wrote: “With one hand, it was probably the heaviest ‘lift’ I have ever made. Best one, too.” Enemy fire intensified during the loading. Lawrence, still providing covering fire, was about to climb aboard when Dyer began to “pull pitch” for liftoff as enemy rounds hit the fuselage. Lawrence grabbed the slick’s skid and held on for dear life—until the Hulk reached down with his uninjured hand and hauled Lawrence aboard.

Earned Recognition Denied

For Richards’ actions and disregard for his personal safety, the officer-in-charge of SEAL Team One Detachment Golf, Telfer’s immediate superior, recommended him for the Silver Star. The award recommendation’s “summary of action” stated: “Without the conspicuous gallantry and cool perseverance of LTJG Richards, it is doubtful that the patrol could have survived.”⁸ The next senior officer in the chain of command, located at Navy Special Warfare Group Vietnam in Saigon, endorsed the recommendation.

Inexplicably, the chief of staff for commander, U.S. Naval Forces Vietnam (ComNavForV), downgraded the award to a Bronze Star. NavForV staff went so far as to change the wording cited in the original summary of action. The citation for the downgraded Bronze Star now read: “Lieutenant (junior grade) Richards’ courage under fire, cool professionalism and devotion to duty were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.”⁹ Such a substantive change in wording undermined the rationale for the higher award. It remains unclear why the chief of staff, located more than 150 miles from the battlefield, made such an unusual decision. No explanation was ever given.

The honor and recognition that were earned but not granted still rankles many of the SEALs and Seawolves who, along with Richards, risked all to save First Squad from certain destruction. Some have even argued that his original award recommendation should have been upgraded to a Navy Cross (Nelson and Dyer were awarded Distinguished Flying Crosses), pointing out that Richards’ extraordinary heroism under fire at great personal risk with total disregard for his own life mirrors that of those recommended for higher awards.

Carl Nelson expresses the sentiments best. Having flown more than 600 combat missions, with scores of those flights in direct support of two SEAL teams, Nelson vividly remembers the scene unfolding below his gunship as the platoon struggled to survive. Nelson recalls “watching a wounded Tom Richards under intense enemy fire drag each of his wounded SEALs to safety, across a series of rice paddy dikes and load them into the Sealord helo. It was the most heroic act that I have ever witnessed. Tom Richards’ heroism rates a Navy Cross at minimum. He directly saved the lives of his platoon” (emphasis in original).¹⁰

Notwithstanding the rear-echelon decision to downgrade Richards’ Silver Star, one thing is clear: Without the close-air support of Carl Nelson and Ed Dyer and the heroic actions of Tom Richards on the ground, NavForV would have lost all six SEALs in that rice paddy. A Bronze Star does not adequately recognize the heroism of that day.

In addition to the notes that follow, the information in this article was drawn from emails and conversations between the author and the SEALs and Seawolves who participated directly or indirectly in the 30 January 1971 operation. They include: Thomas R. Richards, James Rowland, Joseph DeFloria, Edward Dyer, Gordon Peterson, Carl Nelson, Michael Dobson, Dick Couch, and “Doc” Harris.

From the Proceedings Podcast: