Late in 1968, Tim Joliet dropped out of college and, lacking any sense of direction in his own words, volunteered for the Army. He left for basic training on April 15, 1969, having signed up for a four-year tour in the Army air defense program. He tested into Officer Candidate School and Special Forces but declined on the advice of his uncle, a retired Command Sergeant Major.
About halfway through basic, fed up with an abusive drill sergeant and platoon leader, he signed up for Artillery OCS. Halfway through that program it was closed, and he transferred to Infantry OCS. He graduated in March 1970 alongside Gary Watrous, completed jump school, and was assigned to the 82nd Airborne, where he spent the summer conducting heavy weapons training for cadets and National Guard soldiers at West Point. Most of the men in his company had just returned from serving with the 101st and had fought at Hamburger Hill.
After Jungle School — where, as he put it, they had to eat their pet spider monkey, which he reported tasted like roast beef — he received orders for the 101st. Having heard all the stories about the A Shau and I Corps, he was, in his own words, suitably apprehensive. He took over 1st Platoon, Alpha Company, 2/506, from Dick Scaglione in October 1969.
Throughout the fall of 1969, 1st Platoon walked the length and width of I Corps. In late December or early January they went into Laos, spending an anxious day or two on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. For reasons Tim no longer remembers, his platoon had to walk back into Vietnam. They were out of radio contact for the first two days.
Their first firefight came in late January or early February. Sent to rescue a soldier who had become separated and then link up with a lost recon platoon near Ripcord, they were hit the next day when a trail watcher used the lost soldier’s abandoned rucksack — which contained a Claymore mine — against them. The point man received serious wounds to his legs; the slack man was hit in both hands. Both were medevaced out.
Later, 1st Platoon was assigned to observe a planned artillery carpet bombing of a valley used by the enemy for infiltration. Spread out on a hilltop watching the artillery walk up the valley, they began receiving incoming 155mm rounds — their own artillery. Rounds exploded everywhere and bounced men down the face of the hill. Tim called in a check fire. Miraculously, no one was hurt. The investigation the next day, attended by what seemed like every general, colonel, and major in the Division, was in his words scarier than the friendly fire itself. It was confirmed that his platoon had done nothing wrong — they were on the wrong hill because the Battalion S-2 had refused to give him the map he needed to triangulate his position.
“I don’t know why the initial assault on Ripcord on March 12 gets so little attention or acknowledgement. That first day was Hell incarnate.”
1st Platoon was originally scheduled to go in first, but the order was changed so they could pick up replacements — they were down to about 15 men. They picked up Tim Evans, on his very first day, and Chris Daffler, who had transferred from the Americal Division. Coming in last, they arrived to pure bedlam. Firebase Ripcord was a bare rock with nowhere to take cover. Tim saw men hiding behind their rucksacks and empty ammunition crates as NVA heavy weapons tore the place apart.
He remembered standing near the perimeter with Captain Burkhardt, who was pointing to a hill he wanted Tim to move to and spot for aerial rocket artillery. He did not learn until later that 3rd Platoon had been virtually wiped out within minutes of landing. Two of its survivors — Orville Koger and Frank Marshall — were transferred to his platoon.
That evening, Tim moved the platoon to an adjoining hill. They spent the day calling in ARA on an enemy mortar crew they could watch firing at Ripcord from a mile away. That night, the hill was infested with poisonous centipedes. Tim put the platoon on full alert and had everyone move to an alternate position after dark, sending his two machine gunners — Tiny Aanonsen and Bobby Young — to the points where he expected any attack to come from.
The next morning, assuming the NVA had set up an ambush on the route back to Ripcord, Tim had the platoon spread out in an assault line. Each man threw a grenade and they took off down the hill at a dead run. There was no ambush — but Tim received considerable heat for not requesting permission to throw the grenades first. Asking permission when he was certain it would be denied had not seemed like a good option.
Tim’s platoon spent one day and the following night alone on Ripcord in two-man positions while the rest of the company withdrew to an alternate location. They received intermittent mortar fire all day, called in ARA when they spotted the enemy’s aiming stakes, and scraped holes in the ground as best they could before dark. Tim ordered no movement for any reason — grenades only if there was movement near a position, and a broken squelch signal on the radio if someone spotted anything.
Late that night, Dick Oxler let out a muffled cry. A large tiger had approached his position. They could see its silhouette as it leaped over Dick in the dark.
Before dawn, there was movement near the same position. Tim called it on the radio — no answer. After several anxious minutes, he concluded it must be the enemy and told Charlie Steffler to fire his M-79 at the figure. At the last second, Steffler aimed short. The round landed in front of the position. Bill Rose, who had left his hole to relieve himself and failed to answer the radio, was seriously wounded and medevaced out after dawn.
On April 15th, 1st Platoon was assigned to pursue an NVA platoon estimated at 40 men. Tim had roughly 17 soldiers. The NVA had set up an observation post overlooking a firebase scheduled to be reopened. When the platoon approached, the enemy evacuated down a steep mountainside — one route, ideal for an ambush. Tim asked permission to conduct a recon by fire. It was denied. He had argued, ignored, and disobeyed orders once too often for Captain Burkhardt’s liking, and did not push further.
Out of water in terrible heat, they climbed down. Tim finally called a halt because Bobby Young was about to pass out. At that moment they were hit by an NVA machine gun and sniper from behind them — from the direction where another friendly platoon was supposed to be. Tim returned fire before confirming it was the enemy. Charlie Steffler found the machine gun position and killed the gunner. He was shot in both legs, both legs broken, losing blood fast. Bobby Young was shot in the forehead. Chris Daffler was shot through the heart.
The first medevac arrived, assessed the situation, and left without picking anyone up. The platoon carried Charlie Steffler all the way back up the mountain. After hours of pleading over the radio, Tim was told a medevac would return if they could reach the LZ. Well after dark, he called for volunteers. The only ones he can still name are Orville Koger and their medic. The three of them walked miles in the dark carrying a stretcher with no way to defend themselves quickly.
They reached the LZ. Set up fuel tab lights. Charlie Steffler stopped breathing while the helicopter was inbound. Tim and the medic took turns giving CPR until the medic told him to stop. The medevac landed and left again without taking anyone.
The next morning, Tim departed on a helicopter with Steffler, Daffler, and Young — exactly six months to the day from when he had first taken command of the platoon. The first person he saw back at Camp Evans was Bobby Lowe, Charlie Steffler’s best friend. Tim told him what happened. Bobby said it was okay because he would see Charlie again soon. Bobby Lowe was killed not long after.
Tim finished his tour as the Brigade Headquarters Company XO and Property Books Officer. Back in the United States he served with the 10th Special Forces in Massachusetts, training for a NATO assignment to Sweden or Greece. He blew his knee out, lost the assignment, and decided to leave the Army.
He visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial often in the years that followed. The first time was the night of its dedication.
“My first impression of the wall was a great black gash in the earth. To me it symbolized the great division the war caused in our country. Now, it is a place of comfort and connection with guys I grew to love and miss very much.”
It was not until just before Alpha Company’s mini-reunion that Tim ever spoke about Ripcord to his wife and son. He closed his account with a thought that stays with anyone who reads it:
“If there is a movie and it doesn’t include the first assault on Ripcord in March, the lives — and deaths — of a lot of good and awesomely brave men will have been wrongly and unfairly minimalized.”
