Editors’ Note: Four years ago today, the first issue of an awkwardly formatted PDF newlsetter called the The Connecting File stumbled into approximately 600 inboxes from Camp Pendleton to Okinawa. It included this article from a mentor and role model to many of us: Col Michael Wyly. Col Wyly captured a gripping and emotional reflection on his experience as a brand new company commander in Vietnam. Those who are in command or have been in command recognize the incredible bond the young “skipper” has with his Marines. Those preparing for command gain an insight into the immense priviliege and grave responsibility waiting for them when they take the guidon. Col Wyly ends his article with this simple declaration: “We can always do better.”
Doing Better. For four years that is exactly what the Connecting File has been about because in this profession that is exactly what we owe our Marines every single day. To all of our readers: thank you for four years of staying driven, ready, and lethal. Here is to many more!
Semper Fidelis,
The Connecting File
In the two years that transpired before my return to Vietnam for a second tour, I came to presume that if-when I went back, I would command a company. I was a captain, 0302. For about six months I thought I might not go back – resign from the Corps. But every time I thought that my mind sprang back to the same position: I was a veteran. There were some 200 young Marines who would be there for the first time. I had come to know the country, how you fought in paddy land – or elephant grass – or villages – or hills. I got out my “FMFM” on the Rifle Company, and studied it.
On leave, at home with my parents, I read with renewed interest the letters and news clippings about my mother’s uncle, Marine Captain Donald Duncan, Company Commander, killed in action at Belleau Wood. One Marine’s letter, dated 1918 had a line that stuck with me: “...he was like a father to us...” That made me think – and ask myself: “Could I fulfill that roll?” I was 28 and unmarried. It was a role I would have to fulfill, I concluded.
On the plane crossing the Pacific I sat next to a young Marine going over for his first time. In answering his many questions, I practiced for my new role. Upon my arrival, Division personnel was buzzing: An Hoa, Headquarters of 5th Marines had been rocketed. The Personnel Officer said “Skipper of Delta One-five’s been hit and evacuated. You’ll take over Delta Company.”
The “Change of Command” was unceremonious. Darkness was falling. I went from fighting position to fighting position. “I’m your new Company Commander”. How’re you doing? What are we doing right? What are we doing wrong?” Delta had seen a lot of action. They were young and on their first tour. But they were vets. I learned a lot from them. To connect with them is what I wanted most of all. They needed to trust me.
I had been in command less than a week when the call came over the tactical radio that I have never forgotten. It was the Battalion XO. He was angry. The Battalion Commander had been returning to his C.P. by jeep with the re-supply convoy via the road that was the M.S.R. “One of your patrols was crossing the road. “They were in their skivvies – no trousers! What kind of an outfit are you running out there?” I said I would check into it. I got the Patrol Leader to come to the bomb crater I was using as a C.P. He was fully dressed now. “Is this true?” I asked. “Dirty green skivvies blend in as well as anything else,” he said. “This place is full of booby traps. If we fold our boot tops down and don’t wear long trousers, we can feel the trip wires.” I had already been told that casualties from booby traps had been numerous.
I gave it some thought. What was important? Right now, the important element was trust. These young guys needed to know I had their back. “Okay”, I said. “Next time you’re out there, and if you have to cross that road, if you see a convoy coming, you and your guys hit the deck. Take cover. Wait till the convoy and all the heavies are gone. Then cross the road.”
They were a scruffy bunch, but they were in a scruffy situation. They and I were a team. One for all and all for one. They had to know that. We weren’t there to impress the people with how clean and neat we were – especially when some of them were trying to kill us!
We were bonded now. Even today, when “Mac” my former 81’s mm mortar F.O. visits, though he was attached from H&S Company, the license plate on his pick- up reads “D 1 5”. He’s as much a “Delta Marine” as any of them. They were fighters, through and through. If one would get hit – say out in a rice paddy – my first concern often was to tell the Marine ready to run out in the open and help “Let me get you some covering fire, then go”. These Marines would readily commit suicide for one another if I let them. It was instinctive. On reflection, my company command was the highlight of my life. My one regret: if only I had found the wisdom to get them all home again to their moms and dads. I tried. We can always do better.
About Author: Col M.D. Wyly (ret.) is the former head of tactics at the Amphibious Warfare School (AWS) where he, with John Boyd, introduced Maneuver Warfare and co-authored The Maneuver Warfare Handbook.