On September 20 2004, in a place known as the Valley of Death, in a small clearing about the size of a football field, Lt. Col. Tim "Baron" Matchett and four young troopers from the Slayer's roster were surrounded by five enemy soldiers. The ensuing battle was one of the most savage in Slay history.
This is part of the story of that fateful evening as seen through the eyes of one battle hardened veteran: Major Mark "Ming" Ingram.
"We are moving into the Valley of the Shadow of Death where you will watch the back of the man next to you, as he will watch yours, and you won't care what colour his shirt is, or what team he calls his own. We are going into battle against a tough and determined enemy. I can't promise you that I will bring you all home alive. But this I swear... when we go into battle, I will be the first to step on the field and I will be the last to step off. And I will leave no one behind... dead or alive. We will all come home together."
With these words, in the moments before he was to lead his men on to the pitch, Lieutenant Colonel Tim "Baron" Matchett addressed his soldiers. Before him were young men, still innocent to war, and older men already bearing the scars and decorations of battle.
I will not tell all that happened during the battle. Part of the reason is that I cannot recollect all as I was focused on my own immediate area and part of the reason is that some details would not be sensitive to the families of the men with whom I served that day. It was all happening very fast from the moment the chopper dropped us off. I knew what I had to do...
I kept my eyes open for the enemy and my own crew. Baron was already making progress up the Valley and I knew that it was my job to protect against a retaliatory attack from the flanks. In the distance I could see Captain Paul "Piece" Clarke moving swiftly down the left toward the enemy stronghold. Special had proceeded to charge straight ahead with the passion and vigor of someone who has something (or someone) to fight for. While all this was happening Captain Peter "Little Italy" McCausland and myself remained at the rear with eyes and ears on high alert, anticipating either the call of our comrades to move forward or the unmistakable swish of enemy fire indicating that we are under attack.
It was not long until one passing bullet became two, which rapidly became many more. We did indeed hear the call of our comrades but they were not indicating for us to move forward; they were running back for their lives and shouting for cover. The enemy was moving in...
Baron ordered each of us to our respective positions and there we waited. The enemy, it seemed, had stopped a little away in order to regroup. It was hot. The sun was beating down on us as we lay there in the long grass of the Valley, each of us in full jungle combat gear. Time seemed to stand still. Were we waiting to live or to die?
Little Italy pulled out his binoculars and zoomed in on the line of trees where Special and Piece reported the enemy to have stopped. Whispering to Baron, Little Italy confirmed our deepest fears. We were being hunted down by the Viet Cong's special unit. The name of the unit has no translation that aptly suits but the names of the unit members were well known to intelligence forces and feared by many soldiers around the world. I'll translate the names as best I can:
...
It seemed like hours had passed with no movement from where we thought the enemy still to be waiting. It was getting dark and it was getting cold. Then, we heard it! SNAP! It was from behind us. All five of us turned around to see the first of dozens of tracers heading our way. The enemy were upon us! We turned from where we were lying and opened fire. In all my years of service I have never seen so many rounds of ammunition used in such a short time! But it was necessary. We were fighting for our lives.
Although we were outwitted and out maneuvered, we rose to the occasion and quickly dominated the battle. The enemy moved close enough for us to smell their sweat. They moved so close, in fact, that guns became useless; hand-to-hand combat was the order of the day.
I got double-teamed by Ricochet and the Old Snake early on and was on the floor. From where I fell I saw Deet and Little Italy go at it head-to-head. I never saw who was victorious in that battle. Piece and Snake were going at it hard a few yards to my right. Special and Baron had Memento and Keep cornered.
The fighting was intense but I didn't last... slowly my eyes got heavy and my breathing got difficult. It began to get very dark. The last thing I remember was what I could have sworn was the sound of chopper blades cutting through the air.
...
I didn't die... was just knocked unconscious from the impact of hitting the ground. I awoke in a hospital and was seen to by a very good looking young nurse.
In writing this I hope to preserve the memory of those brave men who I fought along side. I also wish to show the deepest respect, that only those in the service can understand, to the enemy unit whom we battled against. They were a worthy enemy and made us fight hard.
I hope to fully recover from a slight injury to my left knee and eagerly look forward to the next time I get to serve alongside such honourable soldiers. That evening was special. We surpassed the call of men, brothers, fathers and soldiers... We Were Slayers.
Winners (Allied Forces)
The highest honour goes to Lt. Col. Tim "Baron" Matchett for fearlessly leading his Slayers into battle, keeping his composure when the going got tough and keeping his word. He was first on to the pitch and last off. He left no man behind.
We salute you, Sir.