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Last week, though, ARVN did not quite live up to Defense Secretary Laird's measure of success: winning 75% of its battles. In the very first hours of the offensive, in fact, ARVN suffered only defeat. The big loser was the 3rd Division, whose troops abandoned 14 firebases below the DMZ in five days. The 3rd was a newly formed unit, raised largely by conscription, of local men, including a good many draft dodgers and delinquents. Considering the ferocity of the initial North Vietnamese barrage, retreat made sense. But it was not sensibly executed. Some units quit the field so quickly that they failed to spike their guns. Many 3rd Division soldiers joined the 50,000 refugees who fled south for sanctuary in Quang Tri and Hué.
At Camp Carroll, a former U.S. Marine outpost ten miles south of the DMZ, 3rd Division troopers mutinied. After three days of brutal shelling, their commander ordered a gradual retreat; they wanted to surrender. Luckily for the U.S. adviser, Lieut. Colonel William Camper, a passing helicopter heard his radio call: "They're running up a white flag! I'm leaving!" Camper was picked up, along with a couple of the soldiers who wanted to retreat too. But the unlucky base commander was reportedly tied up by the remaining mutineers and turned over to the NVA.
Single Shot. Inept as the 3rd Division appeared to be, it was a model of discipline by comparison with some of the Regional and Popular Force irregulars in the area, who were little better than gun-happy mobs. South of Quang Tri city, one such mob fired away with giddy abandon for two hours at Communists holding a bridge on Highway 1. When the Communists finally broke and ran, reported TIME Correspondent Rudolph Rauch, "the South Vietnamese ran off after them, hooting in jubilation—until the Communists turned to fire a few sobering rounds at their pursuers. The troops stopped, then fled back to the bridge, where they all crowded together and indulged in a flurry of mutual self-congratulations. There was a wounded prisoner lying on the ground, his face covered with dust and blood oozing from his mouth. Although a medic was present, the prisoner was given no attention. A private raised his M16. 'Don't!' warned a Vietnamese-speaking journalist. Too many Americans.' The soldier put his gun down and the journalist moved off. A few minutes later there was a single shot; the prisoner had a hole between his eyes."
But when ARVN was good, it was very, very good. At Dong Ha, a town of rude wooden shacks and prosperous brick houses ten miles south of the DMZ on the banks of the Cua Viet River, one vital North Vietnamese objective was spiked by the tanks of the tough 20th Armored Squadron. As the Communist spearhead rolled south on Highway 1, the 34-ton M-48s of the 20th sped north. They met—and stopped—the Communist armor a scant 300 yards north of the Cua Viet bridge. The tankers and two companies of South Vietnamese marines held the bridge long enough for it to be blown up by an American adviser. "Those outfits are heroes," said one American who observed the battle. "There hasn't been anyone in the Viet Nam War who fought better."