A hero's welcome...decades later

Lockport veteran and his comrades honored at the White House

Francis "Bud" Smolich endured dangerous Vietnam jungles, exhaustion from sleeplessness, and an intense battle as his outnumbered Army troop rescued fellow soldiers surrounded by the enemy.

Smolich, of Lockport, stood behind President Obama last week at the White House as the troop received the Presidential Unit Citation for heroism in March 1970 during the Vietnam War.

Obama shook Smolich's hand twice, and put his arm around the Crest Hill native, during a day of honors in Washington. Later in the day, at the Pentagon, Smolich and the troop received a ribbon for the citation.

These men saved soldiers from certain destruction or capture by the North Vietnamese Army.

On the morning of March 26, 1970, nobody could have foreseen Smolich being honored at the White House one day.

Soldiers in Smolich's unit thought he was dead.

In the pre-dawn hours, an armored cavalry assault vehicle had exploded in the camp, killing three soldiers. After the blast, Smolich rushed to get other vehicles and their ammunition away from the fire.

He was successful, but fell ill shortly afterward. He spent a sleepless night near another assault vehicle, beyond the view of others in his unit. By the time the sun rose, his fellow soldiers were listing him as killed in action, he said.

When Smolich reported for duty after dawn, the soldiers thought they had seen a ghost.

But Sgt. Francis Smolich was alive and well, and his mortar skills would be needed later that day, as the troop plowed through miles of jungle to arrive at a battle scene and save their surrounded comrades.

All before Smolich got his next wink of sleep in the jungles of South Vietnam.

Smolich was raised in Crest Hill and attended Lockport Township High School, graduating in 1960. Smolich lived in Crest Hill until age 22, when he married his wife, Cheri, a Lockport native. The couple spent the early years of their marriage in Lockport.

After graduation, Smolich twice tried to join the Marines, but was rejected. In 1967, the 25-year-old was drafted into the U.S. Army. He received a deferment for roughly a year because a member of his immediate family was having a critical surgery.

After joining the Army in June 1968, he completed basic training at Fort Leonard Wood, Mo. He went in at 205 pounds, and six weeks later, he was 169.

He completed advanced individual training, including mortar training, at Fort Ord in California. He then taught mortars to a basic training unit at Fort Polk, La.

"I was going on a year in the service, and I didn't think I'd have to go to Vietnam," Smolich said. "I had six days before my year was up. I got notice that I was going home for six days, and I was to go to Fort Ord, in preparation for my trip out to Southeast Asia."

From June 1969 to June 1970, Smolich fought in the Vietnam War, the long struggle between that nation's communist North and the U.S.-backed South.

For almost all of that year, Smolich fought in an area of South Vietnam called War Zone C, in Tay Ninh province, northwest of Saigon.

The battle zone included part of an important supply route used by the North Vietnamese — the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Smolich was a sergeant, commanding mortar vehicles in Alpha Troop, First Squadron, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment.

"We were a go-to unit," Smolich said of the troop's reliability.

At full strength, Alpha Troop had around 154 men. The troop had six to eight large tanks; six to eight Sheridan tanks, which are smaller and faster with a shorter barrel; and several armored cavalry assault vehicles, commonly called "tracks," which carried troops.

Smolich led three mortar tracks, with 17 men under his command.

In March 1970, Alpha Troop was guarding construction workers as they built a path through the thick jungles of Tay Ninh province to an Army camp at the Cambodian border. They essentially were opening up the Ho Chi Minh Trail on the South Vietnam side, for reasons that Smolich did not know at the time.

As the path was being built, soldiers made excursions around the path, engaging the North Vietnamese Army in battles.

"It took us about three weeks to get that road opened up," Smolich said. "And all the time, we had units in front, busting the jungle down and looking for the enemy, and off to both sides. Most of the time, I was behind protecting the rear with some of the headquarters unit.

"It was interesting. We just thought we were opening it up for easier access," Smolich said. "We didn't know at the time they had future plans for it."

Those plans: Use the path in the invasion of Cambodia later that spring. By that time, however, Smolich was headed back home.

In early 1970, in the weeks leading up to the heroic rescue, Alpha Troop endured exhaustion and lack of sleep.

Smolich said the unit had enemy contact for roughly 33 out of 39 days.

"We were just totally beat," he said. "We'd move all day. And then if we got hit or got into a fight at night, it wasn't like, 'Stay over and rest the next day.' We moved out again."

All the men were looking for, he added, was a good night's rest. "That's why a lot of us didn't write home as much as we should have. You were just dead tired. You didn't have a chance to be scared or worried."

A day began at 5 a.m., with soldiers packing up equipment and having C-rations for breakfast.

"Then we would start moving out," Smolich said. "Nobody really knew where we were going. We would just start what we call 'busting jungle.'"

That meant clearing vegetation and making trails into the thick, three-canopy jungle of Tay Ninh province. The troops plowed through vegetation with machetes and tanks, looking for enemy bunkers and enemy movement.

They labored in the hot jungle — temperatures could reach into the 100s — until 6 or 7 p.m., while eating lunch on the run. At night, Alpha Troop set up a defensive perimeter, with tanks and assault vehicles in a circle, each vehicle facing outward.

Inside the circle, the "tracks," or assault vehicles, housed headquarters, medics and mortar units. Mortar vehicles were set up for firing illumination rounds and high explosives.

On the perimeter, soldiers in the outside "tracks" set up tripwires and claymores, which shoot out steel pellets with a killing radius of about 100 feet in the event of an attack.

After dinner, the soldiers decided who was pulling guard duty at what times of the night. After 12 or 13 hours of busting jungle — and further work to set up the nighttime perimeter — all soldiers were expected to pull two hours of guard duty.

In theory, this schedule left soldiers with six hours for sleep, which was interrupted if their guard duty was in the middle of the night.

However, six hours of sleep — broken or unbroken — was hard to come by in early 1970.

The North Vietnamese attacked frequently at night, or Alpha Troop would fire at suspected enemy positions in the dark.

"At least four days out of the week, we were up at least half of the time firing. Or we got hit. There were nights where we were up all night," Smolich said.

"They would wait until there was no moon. That's when we knew we weren't going to get much sleep," he said. "They were trying to get us — tired and weary — so we couldn't do what we were supposed to do ... they would drop mortars on us, just to keep us from sleeping."

Tragedy struck near the end of this exhausting stretch of long jungle-busting days and sleepless nights.

In the early morning hours of March 26, 1970, while Smolich slept, one of his mortar "tracks" vehicles exploded within the nighttime perimeter of the camp.

"I woke up to this horrific explosion, and I jumped up. I saw the track burning," Smolich said. "I ran to the back of the track, and there were a couple of guys in there who were literally just cut in half."

It was too late to save them, Smolich said.

"There were rounds lying on the top that they were firing. All I could think of is: 'I've got to get the other two tracks out of there because if they ignite, there are a lot of people who are going to get hurt.'"

Smolich directed his men to move out the assault vehicles. As he desperately tried to move the tracks to a safe place, he saw a medic and someone else approach the back of the burning vehicle.

"I kept yelling as loud as I could: 'They're dead! Get away! You can't do nothing!'"

Just then, more rounds exploded, killing one of the men attempting the rescue.

After the remaining tracks were moved to safety, Smolich went to another vehicle and spent the rest of the night there, sleepless, nauseated and suffering through dry heaves.

"Your mind plays tricks on you. I kept thinking: 'There should have been something I could have done to prevent these guys from getting killed.' It was just a miserable night."

Between 7 and 7:30 a.m., Smolich mustered the strength to go to the command vehicle. His appearance was a surprise.

"The captain and the first sergeant were sitting there, and it looked like they'd seen a ghost," Smolich said. "They thought I burned up in the track."

Eventually, Smolich received a commendation for his heroism in moving the vehicles to safety. It was later determined that the explosion was due to a defective part.

That morning, the unit worked to evacuate the wounded and dead by helicopter. Smolich grieved the loss of life, which included a close friend.

It had been a tragic night, with sleep nowhere to be found. And before night fell again, before the next chance for sleep, the weary Alpha Troop would be pressed into battle.

Later that morning, Alpha Troop learned by radio that another U.S. Army unit had been ambushed by the North Vietnamese around 4.5 kilometers away, at the Vietnam-Cambodia border.

As the day wore on, the fight became more serious and help was needed to save Charlie Company, Second Battalion, 8th Cavalry, 1st Cavalry Division.

Alpha Troop — despite weeks of exhaustion and a tragic explosion the previous night — volunteered to rescue the unit, which was 90 percent surrounded by the enemy.

Led by Capt. John Poindexter, Alpha Troop raced through 4.5 kilometers of jungle to arrive at the battle scene while there was still daylight. After nightfall, Charlie Company would have faced certain destruction or capture by the North Vietnamese.

Breaking through jungle at a kilometer per hour, Alpha Troop reached the battle site in time to engage the North Vietnamese and save Charlie Company.

Smolich commanded a single mortar track during the battle. He had decided to leave the other remaining track behind at Alpha Troop's camp.

He believed that those men were not capable of handling another firefight. But he had equipped the mortar track he left behind, not knowing exactly why he did it.

On the track bound for battle, Smolich didn't have a soldier for one of the .60-caliber guns.

"I looked at the field cook, and I asked him, 'Do you know how to use a .60-caliber machine gun?' And he said, 'You betcha.' And I said: 'Grab you hardhat and your fight jacket. You're my gunner.'"

Plowing through the jungle toward the battle, "I had some flashbacks of the night before, but I was concentrating on what was ahead of us," he said. "Your training is there. You know you got a job to do."

As Alpha Troop entered the battle site, Poindexter moved his tanks and tracks into position on the front line against the North Vietnamese. Smolich was behind the front line, in charge of mortar fire and the medical unit.

Outnumbered, Alpha Troop blasted away at the North Vietnamese with tank and machine gun fire, eventually moving over a portion of the enemy bunker.

The battle raged on as the sun set and darkness approached. The outnumbered Alpha Troop and Charlie Company had to withdraw.

However, the units were fearful of an enemy ambush on the way back to camp.

Another moonless night was upon them.

"We didn't get very far at all, and the head tanks said they couldn't see anything. They can't see a map. They can't see where to go," Smolich said. "They knew that if the enemy came around and attacked us, we'd be sitting ducks."

At that crucial moment, Smolich thought of the men and the mortar track he had left behind at camp.

He knew that those men could perform a "fire mission" — a burst of illumination mortars in the sky — to light the way back home for the weary soldiers.

He radioed the men back at camp and gave orders for a fire mission.

"The guy said: 'I can't! I can't!' I said: 'I'll give you everything: the deflection, the elevation. I'll tell you how many charges — the time."

"He said, 'I could do that.'"

"So I told him everything to put on it. I told him, 'Put a minute and eight seconds, and let me know as soon as you're ready to drop it.'"

When the soldier was ready, Smolich gave the order to begin the fire mission. Smolich also stayed in touch with Poindexter, who was the "Six," or commanding officer.

"It was set to go off at a minute and eight seconds. So I counted, and I called the Six, and I said, 'Five seconds to splash.'"

"I counted four, three, two, one …"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing!"

Smolich was exasperated. He wondered if the men had fired the wrong way.

Suddenly, a burst lit up the sky — perfectly.

"I heard all the guys on the other tracks: 'Way to go, Smo!' It was a good feeling," Smolich said.

Not knowing why, Smolich had equipped those men he left behind.

Those same men followed Smolich's lead at a crucial moment — lighing the way home.

Alpha Troop and Charlie Company safely returned to camp. The dead and wounded from the battle were evacuated by helicopter. For Smolich and the other soldiers, sleep did not come until much later.

The rescue was successful. Charlie Company had been plucked from the hands of the North Vietnamese Army at the edge of darkness.

Smolich's tour of duty ended in June 1970.

He returned to Fort Ord in California and was honorably discharged. He has worked at Rovanco Piping Systems in Joliet ever since returning from Vietnam.

Years later, Poindexter wrote "The Anonymous Battle," a book about the heroic rescue by Alpha Troop. The book, published in 2004, includes several references to Smolich's contributions.

At last week's ceremony in Washington, Obama referred to the battle's anonymity as he honored Alpha Troop.

"As these men will tell you themselves, this isn't the story of a battle that changed the course of a war. It never had a name, like Tet or Hue or Khe Sanh. It never made the papers back home. But like countless battles, known and unknown, it is a proud chapter in the story of the American soldier," Obama said.

"I cannot imagine a more fitting tribute to these men, who fought in what came to be called The Anonymous Battle," the president added. "Troopers, you are not anonymous anymore. And with America's overdue recognition also comes responsibility — our responsibility as citizens and as a nation, to always remain worthy of your service."