This article is based on and heavily quoted from an article written by Charles W. Sasser for the June 2013 edition of Vietnam Magazine.  I had known about this battle when I was in Vietnam. It was legend among the Marines.  The article brought the memory back and I found it very moving.   So, I thought I would share some of the main elements of it with readers of this blog. 

In June of 1966 a platoon of Marines from 1st Recon Battalion, 1st Marine Division were sent to occupy the top of Hill 488, known locally as Nui Vu Hill and to scout out recent movements by combined Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army troops into the Hiep Duc Valley.  It would turn into one of the fiercest, and desperate Marine engagements of the war. 

On June 13, the 1st Platoon of 1st Recon Bn. was assigned the job of occupying this highest and most isolated point in the area, Hill 488.  They were 16 Marines and 2 Navy Corpsmen, most of them 19 year-olds.  The hilltop was no wider than 75 feet at its widest point.  It was covered over with knee-high grass. The only real cover at the peak was a Volkswagen-sized boulder on the north end of it.  They could look down on the whole area from there and beyond their tiny purchase on that hill lay nothing but unfriendly territory, all the way to Laos. 

When they arrived they did what they were so well trained to do; they set up a defensive perimeter, designated fields of fire and zones of responsibility and assigned fire teams.  There were two artillery units, one at either end of the valley, that were assigned to provide cover fire for them if they came under attack. 

The Viet Cong and NVA had combined their efforts and were working their way through the valley to attack the coastal cities of South Vietnam.  They discovered the 1st platoon's position on hill 488 and the NVA commander in the area was given orders to "wipe out the the U.S. Marine recon post on Nui VVu Hill, no matter the cost."  His superiors told him the fight would be over quickly.

The Marines on Hill 488 had received some advance warning from a U.S. Special Forces unit that had seen a force of hundreds moving in their direction looking like they meant business.  The Marines had the high ground advantage, but the enemy had the advantages of darkness, more firepower and vastly superior numbers. 

At around 2200 hours, one of the 19 year-old Marines became aware of a suspicious "bush" that kept moving incrementally up the slop.  He fired two quick rounds into it and watched as it tumbled, flailing, down the hill.  Then, all hell broke loose.  The NVA and Viet Cong forces, about 300 of them began firing heavy machine guns and tossing grenades in among the Marines.  They would probe for weak points, rushing forward, only to be forced back by the accurate fire of the Marines. 

All night this went on.  The Marines were taking heavy casualties.  One of the two corpsmen was hit in the jaw by a grenade while trying to get to one of the wounded.    But they were causing even heavier losses on those forces charging at them from every side.  The Marine artillery units feared firing rounds too close to the defenders on top of hill 488, so started lighting the night sky with flares.  The Marines could then see their targets and were able to keep enough accurate and disciplined fire on them to keep them at bey.  They had to keep falling back, drawing their defensive perimeter tighter and tighter, until most of them were around the boulder at the north end of the peak.  Every time the flares went out the enemy opened up with everything they could bring to bear. 

Deep into the night air support finally started arriving and the Marines on Hill 488 told the A-4 Skyhawk pilots and the Huey gunships  to give them everything they could and to bring it within 20 yards of their position on the hilltop.  The Skyhawks and Hueys coordinated their attacks perfectly.  The only problem was that the enemy forces were moving into that 20 yard perimeter to get out of the intense and direct fire.

The NVA and Viet Cong had been using whistles, shouts and trumpets all night to psychologically intimidate the Marines.  At this point they started shouting from the darkness, "Marine, you die tonight."  "You die one hour."  The Marine Sergeant saw an opportunity for some psychological tricks of his own.  He said to his Marines, "Alright, Marines, give 'em the old horse laugh.  All together now..."  It was audacious.  A handful of badly wounded and beleaguered, seemingly trapped Marines began to laugh.  It caught on. Even the badly wounded started to laugh.  it was genuine and contagious.  The enemy commander reported that this action stunned his troops.  They thought the Marines were insane.  

Things got even crazier.  The enemy was firing on full automatic, the Marines answered with single shots, well aimed.  By this time the Marines were low on ammunition and out of grenades.  The Sergeant in charge ordered them to throw rocks at the enemy, make them think and react as if they were grenades.  It worked to great effect.  When the rocks landed near them the enemy troops they would react and try to get away from the 'thump' of a potential grenade and the Marines got clear shots at them. 

At dawn, around 0600, the Sergeant pulled off yet another "psyops" ploy of his own.  He shouted, "Reveille! Reveille! Drop your..., grab your socks..."  The commander of the enemy forces said at that "We were demoralized.  Never had we heard anything like it.  We were dying and yet you on the hill were laughing.  We greatly underestimated the Marines on the hill."

This Marine unit became the most highly decorated small unit in the war.  Of the 18 defenders on that lonely hill six were killed in the action.  All the others were wounded.  Only three were able to walk off the hill under their own power.  The Sergeant in command of that unit, Staff Sergeant Jimmie Howard received the Medal of Honor.  Four were awarded the Navy Cross, the second highest award for valor for a member of the Marine Corps.  The rest, the dead and alive, were given Silver Stars.  All of them were awarded Purple Hearts.   Semper Fi, Marines!  That is one hell of a story.