Swift Sword

Monday, September 4, 1967.

Marine Lance Corporal Jack Swan crested the face of a bare, rocky knoll in the Que Son Valley of South Vietnam. Following Swan were the 164 Marines of Mike Company, Third Battalion, Fifth Marines, First Marine Division. Their mission was to locate and rescue two understrength and isolated companies of felow Marines who were under attack by the North Vietnamese Army. The sight of a quiet and serene rice paddy and shrub covered valley greeted Swan. Too serene, he thought, as he caught sight of a trembling bush.

"I think I just saw that bush move!" He shouted.

"If it moves again, shoot it!" His squad leader commanded.

Then, hell on Earth broke loose. Rocket-propelled grenades, AK-47 fire, mortars, and machine guns engulfed the exposed Marines. The vaunted Second NVA Division, six thousand, five hundred men strong and expertly camouflaged, had sprung their well-laid trap. Instead of coming to the rescue of their embattled comrades, it was now the men of Mike 3/5 who were about to be annihilated. Burdened with a rifle, the M16, that would often malfunction, how could they hope to beat back a vastly superior foe bent on their destruction?

Outnumbered, out-gunned, and exposed, would any of the men of Mike 3/5 survive?