1968 article shares Birch Bay vet’s days as point man

Point man: The soldier at the head of a patrol. Often considered the worst position, as it is the most dangerous. The soldier’s job is to walk out in front of the platoon to navigate and watch for enemy soldiers. 

Birch Bay resident and veteran Warner Fosberg learned what it was like three weeks into his tour in Vietnam.

Fosberg was born March 27, 1945 and has lived most of his life in Birch Bay. He was drafted January 24, 1967 and served his two years in the U.S. Army.

Fosberg, speaking in 1968 as a sergeant with Old Ironsides’ Company C in the 5th Battalion, 6th Infantry, told The Armored Sentinel in Fort Hood, Texas his story of being assigned point man in Vietnam for the first time. It was published November 1, 1968 with the headline, “Every Infantryman Fears the Words, ‘Pointman move out.’”

Private first class Fosberg had been in Vietnam three weeks when his squad leader ordered him to lead out. “One of the most feared orders any man can receive in Vietnam,” the article says. He had already seen what Viet Cong booby traps could do and witnessed the accuracy of snipers. He scanned the terrain of rice paddies, jungle and hills, in fear.

“Fear is the natural instinct for anyone who could possibly be ‘the first one to get it,’ but Fosberg found that fear made him more alert,” the article reads.

His squad leader showed him the direction to take and area to sweep. He set his M16 rifle to automatic, “Hurry,” and led his squad down a hill from its night defensive perimeter.

It was a long day for Fosberg. A sound from the jungle was a Viet Cong taking aim at him and every vine could set off a booby trap. He strained to detect every sound and movement from the jungle. He led the platoon through vines and bamboo. He became disoriented and led them almost a kilometer in the wrong direction. But the platoon’s mission for the day was completed and no one had been wounded as they reached the jungles near Tam Ky at sunset. 

Fosberg continued to walk point many times in the following months. He learned the sounds of the jungle and how to distinguish between nature and the enemy. He led his platoon around danger, uncovered punji sticks, a type of booby trap, and detected trip wires. “Point became a challenge of matching skills with his unseen enemy,” according to the article.

The article says no point man can detect everything. The Viet Cong mastered the manufacture and concealment of booby traps. In a few short months, few soldiers became experts at avoiding them all. 

Fosberg remembered when an ammo bearer, walking seventh in line, triggered a booby trap that wounded three men. Six men missed it before “the panting ‘greenie’” was blown off the trail. Fosberg remembered the medical evacuations and gritted teeth of men in pain. Because he remembered, he became a better soldier, according to the article. 

The pressure at times was unbearable. News of point men in every platoon being daily casualties spread during the Americal Division’s Operation Catnip in the hills west of Duc Pho. Fosberg himself saw three friends fall at the lead of his platoon. Then it would be his turn.

Brief glances from friends expressed their sympathy. “He wondered if this was what it might be like to attend his own funeral,” the article reads. But in war, decisions must be made, jobs must be done, the article reads. And his job was to walk point. 

His squad leader nodded and gave him a quick smile. Fosberg started down the jungle path with renewed confidence. He made ground slowly, carefully. He searched every tree and bush while each foot was placed precisely with caution. They inched along the trail as hours passed. Then he heard a metallic click. 

Fosberg dove off the trail, spraying the brush in front of him with his M16. Unseen AK-47s ripped the bark off trees beside him, throwing dirt in his eyes. He kept firing, feeding magazines into his rifle and throwing empties over his shoulder. Then he heard retreating footsteps.

The platoon swept the area and found three spider holes less than 15 feet from where Fosberg was engaged in his one-man firefight. After a brief rest, the platoon moved out with Fosberg at point. 

“Again the thoughts of doom entered his mind. ‘My God, they were only feet away and I never saw them. Now again. How much can I take?’” the article reads.

Time stood still and jungle trails became infinity. It was he and the ever-present enemy. A glance over his shoulder and the familiar nod from the grenadier behind him reaffirmed his faith that he was never completely alone. “Odd that just a nod or a smile could be so important in a war,” the article reads. 

Fosberg’s senses were alerted again. 

He saw movement behind a tree. He crept off the trail and motioned the men behind him to drop down. He saw it again. Something was there. He aimed his rifle at the area as the grenadier crawled forward to join him. Quick figures dashed behind trees, then shots were fired. The M60 gunner maneuvered on one side of the trail and a fire team came forward for more support. 

The fight was over in seconds. The enemy was routed. A platoon member had been killed and the grenadier shot. It could have been worse, but a friend in pain is no consolation for any job done, the article reads. 

The day ended as many in Vietnam. Fosberg was mentally and physically exhausted, but he had survived another day at point. He knew he would be called there again. He would worry about that later. He was thankful he was alive and another day had ended.

After he served, Fosberg worked on the oil pipeline in Alaska and fished here in Blaine. He still lives in Birch Bay.