“About midnight, we snuck into the village to kill or capture the chief. I was on point, and just as we reached the first hooch, I spotted a VC with his rifle at sling arms while he smoked a cigarette.

I signaled for the column following me to halt while I inched forward. It was time to put to use all the hand-to-hand training I had suffered in Special Forces and Ranger schools. I silently approached the unsuspecting VC from the rear, grasped him around the neck, and pulled his head rearward with my left arm in order to cut his throat with my Ka-Bar knife.

When I reached around to cut his throat, I realized that my left arm was blocking the way. So I went to option number two, which was to stab him in the temple. I drove the knife almost to the hilt in the side of the man’s head.

Instead of going limp, he struggled even harder and broke my grip. He stared at me for a moment and then went running down the trail into the village, screaming words I could not understand. Dogs barked, lanterns were lit, and I stood there wondering how in the hell the VC could run like that with a knife stuck in his head.

With everyone alert, there was nothing to do but return to our compound. A few of the guys, including the Captain, occasionally asked to borrow my knife. It just did not seem as funny to me as it did to them.”
– Anonymous soldier. 5th Special Forces Group, I Corps, 1966
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As we always say here at Battles and Beers (TM) Every soldier has a story, and every story deserves to be told.