Typhoon Tess
July 10, 1969
by Glyn Haynie
July 10, 1969
by Glyn Haynie
Lt. Baxter on Hill 4-11 with small shelter to his left
On the night of July 10, around 2230 hours, the tail end of Typhoon Tess slammed into our position on FSB Hill 4-11. More than six inches of rain fell, driven sideways by howling winds that threatened to tear our shelter apart.
John, Mike, and I huddled together in our cramped shelter, each wrapped in a poncho liner with a poncho over it—a futile attempt to stay warm and dry. Mike and I lay back-to-back on the saturated ground, sharing what little body heat we could muster. Rain hammered the canvas above us while water flowed beneath us in a steady stream, turning the shelter floor into a shallow creek. We had nowhere to go. Like trapped rats, we pressed ourselves into the mud and hoped to God the enemy wouldn't choose tonight to attack.
At 0130 hours, our prayers went only half-answered. Four or five RPG rounds shrieked into the perimeter, though mercifully, they hit nothing vital. We stayed put, hunkered down in our flooded shelter. The typhoon proved more dangerous than the incoming fire.
Dawn revealed the full damage. The entire Hill was blanketed in thick, sucking mud. We emerged from our shelter soaked through, shivering, and caked in filth. Later that morning, Second Platoon made their rounds checking the perimeter wire and reported cuts in the line. The NVA had attempted to breach our defenses during the storm—apparently they hadn't gotten the weather warning.
It took days for everything to dry out, but we kept working on the construction. The mission didn't stop for bad weather or enemy sappers.
John, Mike, and I huddled together in our cramped shelter, each wrapped in a poncho liner with a poncho over it—a futile attempt to stay warm and dry. Mike and I lay back-to-back on the saturated ground, sharing what little body heat we could muster. Rain hammered the canvas above us while water flowed beneath us in a steady stream, turning the shelter floor into a shallow creek. We had nowhere to go. Like trapped rats, we pressed ourselves into the mud and hoped to God the enemy wouldn't choose tonight to attack.
At 0130 hours, our prayers went only half-answered. Four or five RPG rounds shrieked into the perimeter, though mercifully, they hit nothing vital. We stayed put, hunkered down in our flooded shelter. The typhoon proved more dangerous than the incoming fire.
Dawn revealed the full damage. The entire Hill was blanketed in thick, sucking mud. We emerged from our shelter soaked through, shivering, and caked in filth. Later that morning, Second Platoon made their rounds checking the perimeter wire and reported cuts in the line. The NVA had attempted to breach our defenses during the storm—apparently they hadn't gotten the weather warning.
It took days for everything to dry out, but we kept working on the construction. The mission didn't stop for bad weather or enemy sappers.