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Into the Muck. "We're going to the boondocks," the boots muttered to each other in the darkness. The column snaked in a northerly direction across Rifle Range Baker toward Ribbon Creek, a murky, treacherous tidal stream that ranges from 100 ft. wide and 4 ft. deep at low tide to 250 ft. wide and 12 ft. deep at high tide. To reach the stream, McKeon had to lead his men across a 100 ft. border of deep black mud carpeted by yard-high swamp grass. He did not hesitate, although he later admitted that he had "never been in the area before," a tragic lapse from the basic rule that a troop leader must know his ground. Behind McKeon, the recruits sank deep in the mud, slipping and sliding and clutching each other for support.
McKeon reached the edge of Ribbon Creek—some 3,700 ft. from the platoon's barracks—shortly after 8:30 p.m. The tide, with its strong current, was rising. McKeon stepped from the mudbank into the chill (58°) water and turned upstream, hugging the shoreline. Turning, he called out: "Everybody O.K.?" Behind him, the marching column was floundering. Again he shouted: "Everybody O.K.?" The answer came loud: "No!" Men were deep in the mud; Recruit Raymond Delgado yelled that he was up to his chest in the muck. McKeon turned to Recruit John Michael Maloof and ordered: "Go help them out." Replied Maloof: "O.K., but let me have your stick." Using McKeon's broomstick, Maloof pulled Delgado on his way.
"Watch the Snake!" Moments later, McKeon took the occasion for a lecture. "Here's something to remember," he sang out. "When you're in water in combat never go out in the middle. You make a perfect target, especially on a moonlight night. Keep close to the shore. Keep moving or you will bog down." Not everyone heard him; there was too much confusion. Some of the boots tried to joke. One yelled: "Hey, something just swam between my legs!" Another found a short piece of rope and waved it, shouting: "Watch the snake! Watch the snake!"
McKeon turned left, away from the mudbank, then another left, downstream. Here the current was swift, and the column became a mass of bobbing men struggling desperately to keep their heads above water. Someone screamed for help. Then, in complete panic, there was a mad, clawing rush for the mudbank. Recruit Lew Brewer saw that big (6 ft. 3 in.) Norman Wood was in trouble. Brewer went to help, found himself pulled under water and fighting for his life against Wood's frenzied embrace. Brewer freed himself and surfaced; Wood was nowhere to be seen. Recruit Thomas Doorhy dragged Donald O'Shea to sounder footing, then left to help others. That was the last time anybody saw O'Shea alive. Recruit John Edward Martinez pulled Charles Reilly shoreward to chest-deep water. Reilly gasped: "I'm O.K." Martinez left him—and Reilly disappeared. Recruit Joseph Anthony Moran (son of Actress Thelma Ritter) brought Leroy Thompson to relative safety and went out again. Thompson went under. So did little Jerry Thomas. So did Tom Hardeman, the platoon's best swimmer, who had been helping others.
The Squads Report. Out of the darkness came the shout of Recruit Melvin Barber: "Form a chain! Form a chain!"