It was about 2 AM.  We were all asleep, but you really never slept very heavily because there was always the chance you might be called to rescue a team that has made contact with the Enemy. When I say team, it was 5-12 Rangers heavily armed but almost always greatly outnumbered in any confrontation. If the enemy troops were of any significant numbers the Rangers had very little chance if they did not receive immediate support. This particular night my ear caught the sound of our FM communications radio. Because the Rangers were almost always too far away from their home base to receive direct radio communications, a radio relay was set up using Aloft Pilots in small fixed wing aircraft to provide the vital communications link between the teams in the field and the tactical operations center (TOC). I could faintly hear the Aloft Pilot reporting that one of the teams had movement on their perimeter and very soon he was yelling that the team had made contact with the enemy. This particular team was what we called a heavy (12 men).   It would require two helicopters to remove them from their jungle LZ (landing zone). At the moment a team makes contact with the enemy, an air raid siren would sound and things would start jumping. Within 10 minutes we had 5 helicopters air born and on the way, 2 cobra gun ships, 1 command and control helicopter and the 2 helicopters that would be needed to extract the heavy team this night.

Our normal procedure was if you flew the insertion mission of a team then you would also fly the extraction mission. This was done for some very practical reason; the most important being you had familiarity with the landing zone. Most jungle LZ’s were difficult enough in the day time and almost impossible at night so your chances of succeeding in a night extraction were greatly enhanced if you had familiarity with the LZ. If it was your day off, then the other pilots would draw straws, flip a coin or just volunteer to go get your team. I did not insert this particular team but the second aircraft AC (aircraft commander) was off, so I volunteered to fly the second ship and definitely had no idea know what I just volunteered for.

The LZ we would use for extracting the team this night was particularly difficult; it was very small and surrounded on 3 sides by dense jungle and would only allow 1 helicopter at a time to land. In combat flying in general and recon teams in particular the quicker you got in and got out the better chance you and the team had of surviving. The team’s exact position was quickly located and the cobra gun ships went to work. Our mission this night was to stabilize the situation on the ground using the cobra gun ships so the team could move to the pickup LZ. I was flying trail behind the lead aircraft, waiting to be called in to extract the team. This particular night there was no moon and it was like flying in a barrel with the lid on. It was so black you could not even see the jungle far below. One moment I was focused on the aircraft flying in front of me, the next moment we were enveloped by a deafening sound, our aircraft being tossed about violently. The human mind always has to find an explanation for what has happened and my minds explanation was that we were just shot at by a ground to air missile, I keyed my mike and made a radio call to our command and control aircraft (Iron Mike) that we had just been shot at by a missile. My crew chief brought me back to reality and said “Sir, that was not a missile, it was a jet I saw the pilots face when he went by!”. He missed us not more than 6 feet.  After the mission, Iron Mike said he saw the jet coming, but he was heading towards us so fast there was no time to warn us. He just told the ground commanders in the back of his helicopter that he just lost 2 aircraft. Later we figured out it was one of our air force jets and he thought it was his wing man he was coming up on but because of the blackness of this night and the loss of depth perception in the dark he did not realize it was 2 slow moving helicopter until it was almost to late.

After just surviving a near fatal midair collision it was time to refocus on what we had come out to do; extract a team that was in trouble. The ground situation was somewhat stabilized, and the call came to go get the first half of the team.

The lead ship picked up his 5 men and exited the landing zone and it was now my turn. As we neared the LZ it was obvious we were in for a big challenge. The landing zone was covered in elephant grass, grass that is 10-12 feet tall, and the gun ships had set it on fire, and it was a raging fire. As I approached the tree line the team was hiding. The temperature in the landing zone must have been well over 100 degrees and was making it difficult to breath. The team ran out of the tree line and climbed on board as the gun ships continued their gun runs. I keyed my mike to let them know we were coming out. As we lifted off, the flames of the burning LZ were all around us. I remember hearing my co-pilot calling out power readings saying that we had reached maximum allowable power and we were not going up but were instead headed for some very large trees. I thought to myself, "If I can turn the helicopter sideways, maybe I can maneuver between the 2 large trees," which were now immediately in front of me. If I could get us clear of the flames and heat, then maybe this helicopter would start to fly. I banked hard to clear the first tree and the next thing I knew we were flying I could see the black sky and stars, what a welcome sight it was. We had escaped what could have been a tragic end for the second time in one night. The flight back was uneventful. We dropped off the team, refueled and it was back to bed and soon another day would begin.

by Don Douglas

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Most of us were probably going to Vietnam for the first time, but there were also those going back for their second and third tours too. Because we had been up most of the night waiting to board the plane, the only reaction I remember seeing from any of us, was the look of exhaustion and boredom, as we tried to get comfortable in those airplane seats and get some sleep. And after a while I was finally able to get to sleep, after having mulled over our rather strange departure. I was still puzzled by the non-event of our going off to fight in a war, as the thought slipped from my mind, forgotten in a haze of fatigue and sleep.

I woke up later when the pilot came on the P.A. system and announced that we would soon be landing at Wake Island, a place I had seen many movie war stories about as I was growing up. I guess in my naiveté I was half expecting to see men still in fox-holes, waiting for another Japanese attack to start, or something, but I was surprise by what I did see. After seeing many war pictures about this place and it's battles and the many events that were supposed to have taken place here I was very disappointed and confused.

The island looked nothing like it had been portrayed in the movies. It was crescent shaped much like a horse-shoe, it was very small and so flat that there was barely enough room for the airfield on it. In fact, it looked like one high tide or large wave would wipe the entire island clean. I seem to remember one of the war movies made a big deal over the marines capturing a hill, or some kind of ridge line, on it. But where in the hell the marines could have found a hill to capture on this God forsaken piece of sand was beyond me, unless they brought it with them just to have something to fight over.

It was obvious to me they had no problem with AWOL's around this place, I could see the whole damned island from the second floor of the terminal. I was able to see some damaged and sunken landing craft along one side of the island, that looked like they had been there forever, but that was the full extent of anything that might even suggest that anyone in their right mind would have wanted this damned place bad enough to fight for it.

All in all, what I was able to see just told me Hollywood had spent years and thousands of dollars telling lies about things that could never have happened, at least not here anyway. I couldn't help wondering what else there was that I had been lied to about, by all of those movies.

The plane was on the ground about two hours while being refueled, so we were able to get out and walk around to stretch our legs. I was tempted to walk over to the beach to get a closer look at some of the wrecks, but when I walked outside of the building and found out how hot it was out there I quickly changed my mind. Instead I found a place to sit down so I could read one of the books I had brought with me. Long ago I had got into the habit of carrying some kind of book with me everywhere I went, and this time it proved to be a blessing because there wasn't any place there to buy anything but candy and soft drinks. The other men who hadn't had the foresight to bring something to read with them, had nothing to do but stand around and smoke or talk to whoever would listen to them.

Then it was time to get back on the plane for the next leg of our trip. The plane took-off and once it reached cruise altitude there was nothing to see but clouds under our plane, with an occasional glimpse of the ocean some 34,000 feet below us. Once in a while I would see some type of ship or boat down on the ocean but we were way too high for me to be able to identify it. A few of our brave liars claimed they could, and would challenge anyone else to prove they were wrong. And once again my book came in handy to relieve the boredom of the long flight, in between the so called meals that were served to us during the flight.

What seemed like days later, but was in reality only a couple of hours, the pilot announced that we would soon be landing in Guam, and that we would have to get off the plane in order so that it could be refueled once again. Even though I don't remember seeing any movies about Guam, it still didn't match what I was expecting of it, after seeing Wake Island. As the plane approached Guam, it appeared that the island set high above the ocean with vertical cliffs all the way around it that were anywhere from 50 to 300 feet high, I didn't actually measure them though. I realized if anyone ever tried to attack this island from the sea, they would have one hell of a time

getting past the "Beach" and on to the island proper.

It would make very good sense to stay well away from it unless you were planning an airborne assault of some kind, that's probably the reason why Hollywood or anyone else in their right mind stayed away from making attacks on it. The island appeared to be as flat as a pool table. It was a base for B-52 bombers that I could see as our plane made it's approach to land. We were told our plane would be on the ground for about two hours, and that we should make sure we didn't get lost during that time if we wanted to make sure we made it to Vietnam that day. Especially if we didn't want to answer a lot of embarrassing questions ask by the MP's when we were found after our plane left the island.

At Guam was a PX where a man can buy many of the things we should have brought with us and many things we weren't supposed to have with us. There was duty free liquor selling for prices of $1-$3 a bottle, souvenirs of all kinds, clothing, food, candy, tobacco, cameras, radios and many things normally found in any other PX anywhere else in the world. I bought several more books, a few candy bars for emergency purposes and several post cards to send home to my family. Officers were allowed to go to the Base Officers Club which was nearby, but I stayed in the terminal and read one of my books while waiting to get back on our plane, after mailing my post cards home.

When it was time to get on our plane, nearly everyone who had gone to the Officers Club was at least a little drunk, and nearly everyone of them tried to bring a bottle back to the plane with them. That was stupid because they knew they weren't allowed to drink it on the plane unless they snuck a drink or two when no one was watching and there was no place to stash it for the rest of the trip. Besides that I was willing to bet money the bottles would be confiscated when we got off the plane in Vietnam by MP's or the people running the reception center there.

After our plane took-off we were told by the pilot we should arrive in Vietnam about dusk that day. And as usually happens on a plane when there's nothing going on, we were served a TV dinner. After the meal there was time to try to get some more sleep, or to read and I chose to get some more sleep, and succeeded.

I woke just as the sun was setting behind the far horizon, and was able to see what might have been a distant shore line, but because I was looking into the sun I wasn't sure. The colors created by the clouds and sunset were magnificent to see and I was sorry I hadn't bought a camera in Guam as some of the other men had, but it was too late for that now. Now all I could do was to sit back and enjoy it. Somehow it didn't seem possible to me that somewhere out there, a war was going on and people were killing each other at that very moment.

If there was one thing I had learned in past years, it was appearances could indeed be deceptive and more often then not they were. Then the pilot came on the P.A. system again and told us we would be landing at Cam Ranh Bay Vietnam, in about 20 minutes.

As the plane let down and approached Vietnam, I could vaguely see there was a mountain range just in-shore a few miles from the bay area and that Cam Ranh Bay Air field was on a peninsula that stuck out into the ocean from the mountains and then dog-legged to the south forming a bay between it and the Vietnamese mainland.

It was full dark as our plane entered right-hand traffic for the air field, flying south with the airfield off to our right, allowing me to look down at the ocean side of the peninsula. Then we turned right to base leg of the approach and started to descend to the final approach leg of the landing pattern. I was able to see some lights below on the other side of the bay in what I assumed to be a military compound or village along the shore-line.

Suddenly, while the plane was still on it's base leg, I saw a string of reddish-orange lights arch up into the air from across the bay, they seem to move toward our plane. Someone else saw them and said loudly, "We're taking Fire !" That one simple short statement meant we were in deep shit, and it was hated by anyone who ever flew in a combat aircraft. Whether we actually were or not is anyone's guess but the plane made a couple of "S" turns, then turned right again to final approach to Cam Ranh. Seconds later there were squawks and squeals as the wheels of our plane touched the runway, then we were on the ground safe and sound. The plane slowed down, then taxied over to some buildings and then stopped and the engines were shut-down, ending our flight at last.

Then an announcement came over the P.A. telling us to secure our hand-bags and prepare to deplane, Officers first then Senior NCO's, and enlisted last. We were told to get on the buses parked beside the plane and we would be taken to the reception center. As we walked toward the buses I noticed no one seemed particularly interested in the fact we might have been fired on as were landing except the ones of us just getting off the plane, to everyone else it might have been old hat by now. The buses were the typical pug nosed school buses with the exception that there was wire gratings covering the side windows of the bus. I got on the bus first and found a seat right behind the driver and sat down to wait for the bus to take us wherever we were going next. I ask the driver what the wire was for and he told me that it was to keep the dinks from throwing grenades in the windows. That seemed strange to me, I had thought we would be in a friendly area, but I was soon learned from many people, that there were no friendly areas anywhere in all of Vietnam.

While I was sitting there waiting for the bus to startup I realized

that it was hot as hell in this area, and the humidity was even worse. It seemed to be around 200-300% give or take a little. And I felt more like I had been swimming rather then walking to the bus.

Once the buses were loaded we started down the road away from the air field. Along the way there was sand, barbed wire, darkness, faint lights off in the distance, and what appeared to be garbage or trash nearly everywhere I looked. It didn't look like any military post I had ever been on before. I could see people dressed mainly in black trousers, white shirts and conical straw hats along the road. Some were pushing bicycles, some were walking, others were on motorbikes and of course there were military trucks of all sizes. It was one of the strangest sights I had ever seen. The smell was also a lot different then I had expected. Instead of jungle or woodsy smells it was more a cross between garbage can and dead fish, with a touch of salt air thrown in for good measure. The trip took about 20 minutes and we passed many shacks that looked like they had been thrown together from anything available in this garbage dump, which appeared to be the entire area. I just hoped that the rest of the country wasn't this bad, and it turned out I was right, much of it was worse !

When the buses stopped in front of the Replacement Center I could see that the buildings appeared to be typical military style two story wooden buildings with the main difference being these had screens in the windows instead of glass. In the dark they appeared to be made of bare unpainted wood, which I learned in the morning was right, once I got a closer look at them. We were required to sign-in at the orderly room and were then assigned a place to sleep, then we went to the supply room to get our bedding. The bedding consisted of a pillow, pillow case and two sheets, no blankets were issued. During the night I was awakened several times by loud noises, but I wasn't able to find out what caused them.

When I got up to go to breakfast in the morning I discovered that the base, as far as I could see was built on giant sand dunes with very little actually growing anywhere in the area, but the trash piles and sand dunes. Breakfast was in a typical army mess hall and was a typical army breakfast, the main difference being that both the eggs and the milk had started out powdered, that didn't help the flavor very much. After breakfast I started processing in at the Personnel Office. The clerks checked my orders, looked at my records, and then ask if I needed to be paid. I told them yes and was told to go to the Finance Office after lunch. Then I was free to do anything I wanted too, for the rest of my stay at the center as long as I checked-in with the orderly room at least twice a day in the morning and at noon for my orders. The last thing I was told was to be sure to go to Finance at 13:00 hrs to get paid.

I left Personnel and headed for the PX to see what was available. At the PX I learned it wouldn't be open until 11:00 which was about a half an hour away so I sat down next to the building to wait and started reading my book to kill time. I considered going back to the barracks to wait but along time ago I learned not to hang around the company area when I wasn't doing anything, if I didn't want some son-of-a-bitch trying to put me to work, so I stayed at the PX and waited.

(Many years later I would realize what a fool I had been, I had wasted my time hiding-out from work details at the Cam Ranh Replacement Center. I had arrived as an Officer, not an ordinary soldier and could have blatantly fucked-off in front of everybody and no one would have dared to say anything to me about it. It was a waste of my time playing hide and seek from someone who wasn't even looking for me in the first place !)

When the PX opened I learned something else, I still couldn't buy any thing. All I had was "Green Back Dollars", American money and the PX could only accept MPC, Military Payment Certificates, commonly called Script which was used instead of regular money and looked a lot like monopoly money. That let out any attempt I might make to buy anything new or to replace things I had already used-up, at least until I got back from Finance that afternoon.

With that disappointment under my belt, I decided to see what was going on around the rest of the area and what there was to do for entertainment, rather then go back to the company area. I walked over toward the bay and discovered there were speed boats for riding around in, and for water skiing assigned to the R&R, Rest and Recreation Center nearby, but since I wasn't a water skier, even though many years ago back in St Louis I had gone water skiing with Charley Locke several times, I didn't try to find out more about them. Over across the bay I could see the mountains I had noticed the night before. The mountains were covered with jungle growth that looked too damned thick to try to go into with anything smaller then a bulldozer. Also across the bay I could see some kind of airfield or heliport where choppers were landing and taking-off all day long. And every so often I would see someone go zipping by where I was standing, on water skies whooping and hollering like kids anywhere.

There was also a swimming area over by the R&R Center but I didn't feel like going swimming either, so I went back to the PX, just to look around so I would know what was there and decide if it would be worth the trip back in the afternoon when I got paid. The PX had snacks like candy, nuts, crackers and cheese, toilet articles, small appliances such as radios, record players, irons, fans, and a few others items that most combat troops wouldn't have any use for. There were also cameras and photographic equipment, books and magazines, and a lot of other things, including a snack bar. The snack bar had sandwiches, ice cream, sodas, and other snacks, none of which were very good by stateside standards. After looking around for a while, I left and went back to the company area to wait for chow.

Lunch was typical army food the only major difference was the temperature inside the mess hall was hotter then I can remember it ever being unless I was standing beside a stove. And the fact that it was the first time I can recall having to lean back to eat so I wouldn't drip sweat all over my food while trying to eat it. It seemed soggy enough without my help. After lunch was over, I checked in with the orderly room, then headed for Finance to get my pay, and at the same time I was able to exchange the green-backs I had brought with me for script, so I could spend it on something later. And I made out an allotment so the army could send most of my pay-check home to Cathy and the kids every month, so I wouldn't have to worry about doing it myself. Then I went back to the PX to buy a few things, then just wandered around the area the rest of the day to learn the lay of the land, looking for something to do as I stayed out of the way of the powers that be.

That evening I learned there were movies being shown every night at the replacement center and at other places around the area. Once I learned my way around, I would be able to choose which movie to see that evening and I would also be able to see the same movie several times if I chose too, by following the movie as it was sent from one viewing area to the next one. For people who didn't want to go to movies there were Officers, NCO, and Enlisted men's Clubs, and beer halls available for them.

The people running the area tried to keep the officers out of the beer hall, intended for Lowly Enlisted men which was a reason some of the officers went there. Some clubs for officers and NCO's had floor shows and live music nearly every night, and dancers or Would Be Entertainers or Strippers who could be talked into doing nearly anything for the right amount of money. Rumor had it some girls were also prostitutes for higher ranking officers and NCO's, but I wasn't very interested in finding out for sure.

I wasn't interested in the drinking, and most of the singers could just barely speak English, let alone sing it, the music was closer to being noise then anything resembling actual music, and I wasn't the least interested in the strippers and felt more like hollering, "Put it on !", after seeing the first couple of them. I went to the movies most nights, then stopped by one of the beer halls for a coke or Pepsi or two afterward. Then go back to the barracks to read for a while before going to sleep. I also learned that the noises I had heard the first night was artillery across the bay firing at God only knows what, and fighters taking-off at night, on missions.

I stayed at the replacement center for five days and still didn't get orders to leave, even though I had arrived with orders in my hand assigning me to the 161st Assault Helicopter Company. I Spent most of my time at the PX or one of the clubs in the area during the day, then at the movies most evenings, making it a point not to be found by anyone from the center. Then on the sixth day, when the orders finally arrived I was assigned to the 17th Aviation Group, 1st Aviation Brigade at Nha Trang, and was told I would be leaving the next day for Nha Trang.

I spent most of the rest of the day trying to get ready, before realizing I had no idea where I was going, or what I would need when I got there, let alone what I should buy at the PX to take with me, so I went back to my usual routine of staying out of the way.

After supper I went to a movies, about half way through it I realized I had been so busy thinking about tomorrow, that I had no idea what the movie was about, so I left and headed back to the barracks. Once at the barracks I decided the best way to pass time until tomorrow, was to sleep, I just might need it since I had no idea what to expect for tomorrow, so that's what I did.

In the morning I got up early, went to chow, then back to the barracks to pack my things, then turned in my bedding so I would be ready to go when the time came to leave. Then I went to the orderly room to check on transportation and was told that a jeep would be along soon to pick me up at the barracks and take me to the helipad, where I would catch a chopper to Nha Trang. I went back to the barracks to wait for the jeep to arrive and having been in the army long enough to know what to expect, I got out my book and settled down to read while waiting. I knew that, Soon, in the army meant any time between now and next year.

About two hours later "Soon" and the jeep both arrived and I loaded my gear into it and then jumped in for the ride to the helipad. On the way I realized the impression I got the night I arrived was been well founded, the area did look like one huge garbage dump and didn't smell any better after it had been heat treated by the sun for several hours.

When I reached the helipad a chopper was there with it's engine running, waiting to go to Nha Trang, I and several other pilots, including Bill Campbell a classmate of mine from Rucker, climbed in with our baggage. The chopper lifted off the pad, turned north and headed toward a valley laying between two mountains at the north end of the peninsula Cam Ranh occupied. As the chopper neared the valley I could see we were following a road and a railroad track through the valley. Because of clouds, we were staying low to go under them. Near the center of the valley I saw a derailed train laying on it's side along the tracks, but couldn't tell if the train had just been derailed or if it had been there for awhile. As we passed it, I could see some men walking near it, they appeared to be wearing American uniforms, but I wasn't sure if they were Americans or not.

As the chopper flew out the end of the valley we came to the sea and up ahead on the left I could see a city with a large airfield near it's middle. The city was built right on the coast, there were large buildings right on the beach that might have been hotels. The chopper circled around the air-field and then landed at an area marked with a large white "H" with a white triangle around it, the standard marking for a helipad. A 3/4 ton truck was waiting at the pad for our chopper, we climbed into it for the ride to HQ's.

The trip through Nha Trang proved there was a place that looked worse then the Cam Ranh area. Most of the roads were dirty and dusty, with trash all along them. Most of the buildings I saw were bare wood with corrugated tin roofs that were covered with rust. Small children were running around the streets wearing nothing but oversized shirts and begging for food and cigarettes from passing soldiers and vehicles. As far as I was concerned

this place smelled even worse then Cam Ranh had, if that was even possible. My main thought during the ride was, "God, I hope I don't have to stay here for my full year!". I don't think I would have been able to stand it if I had too. I couldn't understand how the military could allow this place to look like this and with all of the barbed-wire around and the GI's, it had to be a military post of some kind.

Finally the truck arrived at the 17th Grp HQ's, I went inside to sign-in and was told I would be sent to my unit the next day, meanwhile I would stay in one of the nearby buildings. The building was the same kind I had seen on the trip in from the helipad. This time I wasn't issued any bedding, instead I was shown to bunks with bare mattresses on them and told that I would have to make do with that for the night. Then I was shown where to eat, where the club was, and told not to get lost and to be sure and be back at HQ's the first thing in the morning.

The food wasn't too bad, if you could ignore the smell of the surrounding city, and after dinner a movie was scheduled. After the movie was over the club got so noisy and smokey from all of the men and cigarettes that I went back to the barracks to get away from it. There was artillery firing off and on all night long. Looking out the window I was able to see parachute flares floating down out of the sky all around the area. I guess the artillery and flares went on all night long from what I could tell, because every time I woke up during the night, there were flares still floating down out of the sky.

In the morning I got up and went to breakfast, then I went back to HQ's with the other pilots to find out where I would be going now. I was assigned to the 10th Aviation Battalion at some place called Dong Ba Thin, along with a couple of the other pilots. I was told that a 3/4 ton would take us to the pad for our chopper ride to Dong Ba Thin and the 10th Bn's area later that morning. By this time I was beginning to wonder what the hell was going on. My original orders had assigned me to the 161st Assault Helicopter Company, but there had been no mention of the 161st in any of the paperwork I had seen so far.

The truck picked me up and took me to the same pad I had come in on the day before and then I had to sit and wait there for the chopper to come and pick me up, so I got in some more reading while I was waiting. Eventually a chopper arrived and I climbed in it, then it took-off and headed back down south over the same route I had taken the day before when I arrived at Nha. Tang. As we flew through the same valley I saw the same train still laying on it's side, and more then likely the same men still standing beside it. This time the chopper flew down the west side of the bay, and landed across the bay from Cam Ran, at the same airfield I had been watching choppers take-off and land from the previous week. I thought to myself "How funking typical of the army, I had just spent two days and traveled 75-100 miles, just to arrive less then a mile from where I had started out from in the first place ". It was obvious to me the army was in full charge of what was going on around there.

The chopper came to a hover at the pad and then hovered over to an area surrounded on three sides by wooden ammo boxes and metal drums filled with dirt, called Revetments, and used to protect the choppers from shrapnel if a rocket or mortar shell landed nearby, then set down inside the "U" shaped area and the pilot shut down the engine. Once again a 3/4 ton showed up, to take me to 10th Aviation Battalion HQs.

This area looked a hell of a lot better then the others I had seen so far, there wasn't any trash laying around the area and at least the outside of the main building, which if I remember correctly was a two story building was clean and neat and had been painted white even though the rest of them weren't. The other buildings in the area were single story unpainted wood, that had four foot walls, made of ammo boxes and sandbags filled with dirt, surrounding them to protect their occupants from any shrapnel or bullets during attacks.

For once it looked like I was in a real military post in the middle of no where, not like the other "Garbage Dumps" I had been in so far. So I was hoping that this was where I would be staying, instead of moving on to somewhere else worse in a few days.

Inside 10th Aviation Battalion HQs I had to sign-in again in another Officers register just like I had at every other place I had visited so far and I was beginning to get writers cramps from doing it so often. Once again I went through the "In-Processing" procedure, and once again I was told I would spend the night there before being sent to my unit in the morning, but at least this time I didn't mind it too much at least the place didn't smell like it was in a garbage dump and the club was next-door to the barracks.

The food at the club was even half-way decent compared to what I had been eating so far, and it even smelled like food for once. And as usual there was a movie after supper in the club. I sat around the club for after the movies was over, drank a couple of Pepsi's and read my book for a while. Went back to the barracks, read awhile longer, then finally went to sleep.

In the morning I got up, went to chow and then went back to Bn HQ's to find out where I was going to go today. While there I was told our Battalion was one of the oldest ones In-Country and had been there since the start of the fighting. It was known as the "Vagabond" Battalion because it traveled all over Vietnam, and used Vagabond as part of the battalion's radio call sign. Vagabond 6 was the Battalion Commander, Vagabond 5 was the Battalion Executive Officer, and second in command of the battalion. About noon a jeep came to get me, but didn't take me to the helipad this time.

At first I was expecting to head back toward N.A. Tang or some place else God had forgotten, but when the jeep headed toward some buildings on the post, instead of the helipad I wasn't sure what to think. A block from the helipad the jeep turned left off the main road and onto a side street. It drove past half a dozen buildings, then stopped in front of the orderly room of the 117th Assault Helicopter Company. I was finally home, I hoped.

I signed-in as usual then met my new CO, Major David Jayne. Many years ago the Major was in a helicopter accident somewhere in South America and been badly burned, leaving him with bad scars on his face, arms and hands. According to the story I was told by other members of the unit, the Major had been wearing shorts and a short sleeved shirt when he had his accident, and in such bad shape after the accident that he had tried to kill himself several times.

After he started to recover, the story went, he found out his right hand was so badly scarred that he couldn't grip the cyclic control of his chopper so he could fly it, so he had a doctor re-break his hand, then reset it so he would be able to grip the control properly so he would be able to fly again. And that took a lot of guts.

Now he was considered one of the best pilots in the area and one hell of a fine Commanding Officer to be flying for. Everyone in the unit loved him, and would gladly have laid down their lives for him with no questions ask, and they often did too.

The 117th AHC was known as the "Beach Bums" and used that as a part of their radio call sign. Major Jayne was Beach Bum 6. The 1st Platoon's radio call signs began with a "1", so that the platoon leader was Beach Bum 16, pronounced Beach Bum One Six. The 2nd Platoon leader was Beach Bum 26, or Beach Bum Two Six. Our Gun Platoon used the call sign "Side Winder" and had a rattle snake painted on the nose cone of each gun ship. I was assigned to the 2nd Platoon as a "Slick" pilot. A slick is a troop carrying UH-1D helicopter-copter armed with 2 M-60 machineguns, one in each cargo door and manned by the Crew chief and the Door gunner. The gun ships were UH-1B and C models armed with either 4 modified M-60s or 2 mini-guns mounted to fire forward and con-trolled by the pilot. They also had 2 regular M-60s that were manned by the Crew chief and Door gunner, and rocket pods. Some had a belt-fed automatic 40 millimeter grenade launcher. The gun ships were hell in a fire fight. The ships that had the 40 mm were referred to as "Frogs" and the ones that had large rocket pods were called "Hogs".

The slick platoons usually consisted of 8 choppers and 16 to 20 pilots and 20 to 25 enlisted men. Our job was flying troops and supplies to units and bases throughout the area and up into the mountains, as well as any other place someone needed us. Usually we would go out singly or in pairs but, sometimes the whole platoon or company would go on a mass lift or a CA. The re-supply missions we were sent on were called "Ash and Trash" missions. 2nd platoon leader was Captain Britt Knox, his call sign was Beach Bum 26, but we often addressed him simply as 26, instead of by his name and rank.

All of us pilot slept in 2 man rooms called "Hooch's", that we could decorate any way we chose within reason. The buildings were bare rough wood with rusty tin roofs. The top half of the building was open but covered by screen to allow the breeze to blow through them to help keep them cool and still keep some of the bugs out. The bottom halves were wood with a 4 foot high protective wall surrounding them. The latrine and showers were in similar buildings set perpendicular to the barracks buildings and shared by all of the company officers. The mess hall was at the far end of the company area and each platoon had a small Hooch to use as a platoon office and as the platoon club. The enlisted men slept in another part of the company area away from the officers quarters.

I was assigned a room with an Old Timer, Mr. Reese, a Warrant Officer like myself, who's first name slips my mind. Reese was affectionately known as "Magnet Ass" because if any ships were shot at, it would normally be his ship, even though he had never been hit himself. Reese was the happy-go-lucky type, a friend to nearly everyone, in spite of the fact it sometimes seemed dangerous to be around him in the air.

One afternoon shortly after I moved into my hooch I decided to walk out to the compound perimeter and see what the real Vietnam looked like up close and try to get an idea of just how safe I really was living there. I was expecting to see trenches, firing pits and high piles of barbed-wire much like those shown in the many movies I had seen, in a way I was a little disappointed by what was actually there. There were a few bunkers widely spaced, watch towers spaced about 50 yards apart, and what appeared to be a regular barbed wire fence about eight feet high. The one thing that did surprise me was the guards weren't Americans as I had expected, instead I was being guarded by ROK, Republic Of Korea, soldiers. Later when I ask an old timer about the ROKs I was told the ROKs were some of the most feared troops in Nam. The Vietnamese were scared to death of them and didn't screw with them at any time. So what may have seemed like very poor security for our base, was in reality more then adequate. At least that's what I was told.

A day or two later after I was given a chance to get settled-in, I was scheduled to take a check-ride with the Operations Officer Major Spencer. I guess the purpose of the check-ride was to see if I could fly a helicopter. It didn't seem to mean a hell of a lot that I had recently successfully completed flight school, and been awarded my "Wings", they still wanted to see if I knew how to fly. I suppose they could have been checking to see if I was impersonating a pilot or something, God only knows what goes on in the minds of the people who set these things up.

During the flight, after having performed several standard maneuvers, the Major told me to shoot an auto-rotation to the airstrip at Dong Ba Thin which was made of PSP, Perforated Steel Planking. I approached the strip at the proper height of 500 feet, picked out my touch-down spot on the ground, and then lowered the collective pitch control and rolled off the throttle in a text book entry into auto-rotation. At 75 feet above the ground I flared the chopper to slow it down, as I had been taught to do, and kept it headed down the runway toward my chosen spot to land. At about 10 feet I pulled in the initial pitch to stop my descent, then eased the chopper onto the ground with very little forward movement, and brought the chopper to a stop, right where I had planned to stop, with no problems at all.

The Major started cussing me out for the way I landed, without bothering to explain to me what the problem was. I thought to myself, "What the fuck is your problem Major ?, I did exactly what you told me to do, and now you're pissed about something. You must be a real Ass-Hole!". It had been a perfect landing, just where the Major had told me to land.

The Major flew the chopper back to our pad without bothering to explain what was wrong, got out of the chopper and stormed away. Later, I was told that I would have to take another check-ride the next day.

The next day when I went out with Capt Waddell, he explained that we weren't supposed to auto-rotate to PSP because the ship might catch a skid on the PSP, and cause it to roll over and crash. I made the auto-rotation and landed 10 feet to the right of where I landed the day before, then the Captain congratulated me on a fine job. I wondered why the Ass-Hole from yesterday hadn't explained it to me like a man, instead of acting like the Ass-Hole he was. After all, I had set the ship down safely, and that's what it was supposed to be all about. I may have been wrong about landing on the PSP, but no one ever told me not to land on PSP before, so how was I to know it was wrong ? The Major hadn't acted very much like an officer and gentleman about it. He could have taken the time to explain what I had done that caused him to be so upset, but he hadn't even bothered to do that much. I just hoped that would be the last time I would ever have to fly with that Major. Or anyone else with his attitude for that matter.

For the next couple of days I flew some standard Ash & Trash missions, with a different Aircraft Commander, an old timer called an AC, each time. I was learning about our Area of Operation, AO, so I would be able to find my way around the area. I learned right away that the standard radio procedures I had learned in flight school were seldom if ever used. They reminded me of the guy in flight school who had gotten fucked up and told everyone over the radio. I told the AC about it so he laughed and said to me, "You think this is bad ?, wait till you hear the guys getting shot at or in some kind of trouble, then it really gets bad and this will only seem like normal talk !".

During the evenings, if I wasn't flying somewhere, I went to the "O" Club, Officers Club, for my meals and then stayed and watched the evening movie, even if I had already seen it, and stayed around a little while after ward to drink a couple of cokes while reading, to easy my thirst in the hot and humid climate of our area. Then I went back to my hooch to read some more before going to sleep.

Being an FNG, Fucking New Guy, I didn't know many people in the unit. Most of them were 8 to 10 years younger then me, unmarried, and more interested in drinking, gambling, and partying then I was, so we really didn't travel in the same social circles anyway. They weren't hostile or any thing, we just didn't have very much in common other then doing the same job and being in the same unit. So we went our separate ways once we left the flight line, after our mission was over. Some went to a steam bath house near our compound where they could get a steam bath, massage and a little personal attention from the girls working there, for a few extra dollars. But that wasn't one of my interests either. I was married and wasn't about to cheat on Cathy, even though I could have and she would never have known. But I would have known, regardless of what any of the others might have thought, or done, I knew what was right, and stuck with it. And to hell with what any one else might have thought about it.

It was an interesting time for me I was learning my way around the area and learning who were the good guys to fly with. Some were great and let me fly a lot, they were willing to explain what was going on so I could learn. Others were real Ass-Holes and acted like they had been insulted by having to fly with me, a new man on the job. A couple even acted worse then the IP in flight school who I had refused to fly with. The main difference now was if they pissed me off bad enough I could invite them outside to settle it or tell them to get fucked without having to worry about getting into very much trouble for it.

Just a few of the "Good Guys" were Capt. Knox, Barry Nordlof, Jim Bell, Steve Reising, Bob Rench, Dan Tripp, Reese, Bouchard and Joe McGovern. They were all fine pilots and men I owe a lot to. They taught me what I needed to know to be able to stay alive in a very hairy place called Nam.

On the 29th of October I was scheduled to fly on my very first real CA mission. I would team up with WO Bouchard as the AC, SP-4 Wood as Crew chief and PFC Turner as Door gunner. The whole platoon was taking part in the CA. This is the first time that I would fly with this crew, but I wasn't worried because they knew what they were doing, and I knew they would keep a close eye on me until I had learned the ropes. I heard a lot about CA's in flight school and from the Old Timers in the platoon. Some things I heard were true, others were highly suspect of being Bull-Shit stories or at best, exaggerations of what had really happened when the events originally occurred.

I was expecting all sorts of things that could happen during a CA. From the stories I heard, we might be mortared in the LZ, machine-gunned, run into Booby Traps, or any number of things the old timers claim they had faced in the past. All sorts of ideas, and things flashed through my mind, I found my self asking, "What do I do if - ?", then I would run down all of the stories I had heard plus a few I would invented trying to find a reasonable answer. I began to realize I had no idea of what I would do under any of the circumstances that came to my mind. I knew what I would want to do, but I also knew that what I would want to do, and what I really would do might not come close to being the same thing.

I didn't feel like the "Hero" type but I was also pretty sure I wasn't a coward either, but this was to be my first time in actual combat, and only time would tell. I had seen so many movies about how combat effected people, that while I wasn't really scared I was at least a little worried. Not about the actual combat, but about how I would react to it. I didn't want to be a coward and cause other people to get hurt like had happened so many times in the movies.

We were flying a chopper with tail number 135 as we went into the PZ, Pick-up Zone, early that morning to get our first load of troops who were making the CA that day. Because 135 was a "D" model, we were only able to carry 6 American combat troops at a time. D model Huey’s didn't have enough power to lift the full 10 men they had been designed to carry in the hot, thin air of Vietnam without risking a crash landing on take-off or not being able to get off the ground at all.

Once all of our ships were loaded with troops, the platoon lifted out of the PZ, with 26 in the lead and headed toward the mountains. We climbed as we went, until we were about 2,000 feet above the ground. In a combat zone a chopper was supposed to fly either below 300 feet above the ground or above 1500 feet. The area in between 300 and 1500 feet was the area where you could get your Ass shot-off by just about anybody on the ground, known as the "Dead Mans Zone".

Below 300 ft the enemy wouldn't be able to see you until you are almost directly over them and then chances are he wouldn't have time enough to take aim at you. Above 1500 feet you were normally out of range of most small arms fire such as rifles, pistols, and submachine guns. But if Charlie had a .51 caliber or something bigger, you were in deep shit no matter where you were in the air, the .51 could easily shoot several miles or more.

Our ships orbited over an area away from the LZ for a short time while the artillery fired into the LZ trying to knock out any enemy positions that might be there. Then 26 received the call from the C&C, Command and Control, ship to head for the LZ. As our ships turned toward the LZ the Guns, Gun-ships, came up along side of our flight to escort us to the LZ. Radio calls were exchanged between the flights. "26, this is Sidewinder 1, I have 2 gun teams for your escort, Sidewinder 3 is to your left and I am to your right" called the Guns flight leader as they joined the assault flight. "Roger Side Winder 1, start your LZ prep fire when you're ready" answered 26.

The guns started their runs firing into the trees and bushes surrounding the LZ with their machineguns, rockets and grenade launchers, while 26 and the rest of our flight were approaching the area. As we neared the LZ I could see the rockets exploding in trees at the edge of the LZ, and the dirt being churned by the machinegun bullets as they were hitting in the area. The guns set-up a "Race Track" pattern so there was always one gun ship fly flying toward the LZ, while the other one was flying back out to be in position to come in firing as soon as his wingman was clear of the line of fire.

As we approached the actual LZ, our door gunners started firing at any likely enemy hiding place around the LZ to discourage the enemy soldiers who might be lurking there, making sure in their enthusiasm they didn't shoot at any of the other ships in our flight. The LZ had high trees around it with just room enough for all of our flight to get into it at the same time. As my ship slowed and got close to the ground the troops loaded their weapons and got ready for a hasty exit from the ships. The troops all knew choppers made a great target for any Charlies in the area, as they were coming in low and slow to the LZ, the sooner they got away from the choppers the less chance there was of getting shot, or winding up underneath of one of them if it got shot down.

When our chopper reached about 6 to 8 ft above the ground, the troops started jumping out the doors, or "Un-Assing" the area as it was referred to by them, so that by the time our ship was on the ground, if we ever got that low, we were usually empty anyway. "Chalk 2 is clear !", came the call of the number 2 ship in the flight, and the first ship to be emptied and ready for take-off. The others called in as they too were ready to go. Once all ships had called in, 26 made his call, "Roger flight, lead is pulling pitch in 5 seconds". Looking out my window I could see the troops spreading out in the LZ and running toward the tree line, some were firing, but I couldn't see what they were firing at, besides the trees and bushes. Then 26 started to lift off, with the rest of our flight following him. The next few moments were the most dangerous part of the CA.

When a flight lifts out of an LZ it is going real slow, made a hell of a target for any enemy in the area, and we wouldn't be able to shoot back for fear of hitting our own troops in the LZ. This was when we were the most vulnerable, Charlie seldom passed up a chance to try to shoot a few choppers down. As the flight gained altitude and passed over the trees at the end of the LZ the last ship in the flight, usually called "Trail" called in, "Lead, this is Trail, your flight is up". "Roger Trail, understand flight is up, let's head back to the PZ for another load", answered 26. There would also usually be a call from trail telling lead that his flight was clear of the LZ, and how many ships were still with the flight, in case a ship had been hit or had problems preventing them from continuing the mission.

The rest of the day was spent taking more people into the LZ and then supplies, but on those trips there was normally no firing because the LZ had already been secured by the first lift put into it. In a way it had been a little disappointing to me, after all of the stories I had heard, I had expected a big battle and to see people get shot in the LZ. At the same time I was relieved that nothing had happened, but it really hadn't proved anything to me. I still didn't know how I would act when I was being fired on by the enemy. As I was to learn this flight was typical of most CA's that I would participate in. It wouldn't be my last. That day we flew 9 hours and 40 minutes, carried 89 troops and around 5,050 pounds of cargo, all into the same LZ. It had been a very busy day.

A couple of days later two ships were sent to work with a LRRP, Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol, unit in Pleiku. Barry and I flew one of them. Pleiku was located in the central highlands on the west side of a mountain range that lay a few miles inland from the coast. The LRRP's main mission was to sneak into enemy territory in small groups of 4-8 men without getting caught or seen then report on the enemies activities and movement. Occasionally they would be sent in to assassinate the enemies leaders or their tax collectors, or just to snipe at the enemies positions and harass him in his own back yard. But mainly they were told to stay out of trouble and sight, since there weren't enough of them to defend themselves against the larger enemy forces found out in the jungle areas.

Our job was to get the LRRP's in and out of the patrol areas, when they went on missions. We had several ways to do it. The main method was to fly into the area low level and fake landing at several different places. But we would actually drop the patrol off at one LZ, hoping to fool the enemy as to which one was the real one used for the insertion, giving the patrol time to move out of the area before the enemy came looking for them. Another method was for the chopper to hover at tree top level and drop long ropes out each side of it so the troops could rappel down into the jungle in an area not normally kept under surveillance by the enemy. The VC and NVA, Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army, were know to watch many of the areas that were big enough for choppers to land in, just in case a landing was made. Of course the advantage to this method was that we didn't need a large open area for us to land in. The main disadvantage was that we made a big target hovering there above the trees while we waited for the troops to rappel down the rope and hovering there gave away the location of where the troops had gone in and told the enemy where to start looking.

On the other hand there were about four different ways for the LRRP's to get out of the jungle. The 1st being by LPC's, Leather Personnel Carriers, or more commonly called "Boots", in other words they would walk out on their own two feet. The 2nd method of course was to have choppers land and pick them up, and this was the most common method used.

The 3rd method was called a Maguire Rig. In this method 3-4 ropes, with sling seats attached, were lowered out the doors while it hovered above the area. Then 3-4 of troops would sit in the sling seats and hang on while the choppers lifted them out of the area, then fly to a safe area to land and let the troops get in the chopper for the rest of the flight back to a safe area. This method presented several problems. The 1st was the chopper had to fly real slow when it was carrying the troops in the sling seats. The 2nd was that the ropes could get caught in the trees and cause the chopper to crash. The 3rd was that the chopper made a damned good target while it was hovering over the jungle. The 4th was that the trees might be to tall for the ropes to touch the ground so the troops couldn't get into them. The 5th was if the pilot wasn't careful he could windup dragging the troops through the tops of the trees causing injuries or death to the troops. Last but not least, was that the troops had to be able to hold on to the sling seats so they wouldn't fall out of them. The major advantage was that the Maguire rig could be used almost anywhere, providing the patrol was small enough to be picked up by 1-2 choppers, and the ropes were long enough to reach ground.

In the 4th pick-up method, the chopper hovers over the area and a rope ladder is lowered out the doors, and the troops climb up the ladder to get in the chopper. It has the same basic advantages of the Maguire rig, except the troops have to be in good enough physical condition to climb the ladder. Of course in both the ladder and the Maguire rig, an injured man could be tied to them if necessary. It wasn't the best method for getting the LRRP's out of an area, but it beat hell out of them being left there for the enemy to find them.

Our crews were treated like kings by the LRRP's. Nothing was too good for us, the people they would have to rely on to pull their asses out of a tight spot out in the "Bush" some day. We worked with the LRRP's off and on for about 10 days letting the LRRP's practice with the Maguire rigs, rope ladders and rappelling out of our ships while the local Montagnards, the hill people who lived in the area, stood around watching the crazy Americans try trying to kill themselves. When I wasn't flying, I was often taking movies of the goings-on with my camera, to preserve the fine acts of bravery committed by the LRRP's, for future viewers. While I was there I became friendly with most of the LRRP's, and learned a few of their secrets.

For example I learned most of the LRRP's hated their LT Platoon Leader, as much as any man can and still not take any direct action to do something about it. One day while I was visiting their hooch I noticed a coffee can full of money sitting on top of their hooch refrigerator and ask one of the guys if it was safe to leave all of that money where someone could steal it.

The section had put $50 in the can. The money would be there as long as the LT was still in the platoon. One day, hopefully very soon, the LT wouldn't return from a mission and the money would be gone, no questions ask, to who ever made sure the LT didn't return from the mission. According to my LRRP acquaintance, the LT had been responsible on more then one occasion, for the deaths of several of the LRRP's because he had given some bad orders or made some very bad decisions in combat, and had gotten his LRRP's killed. Besides that, the LT was an Ass-Hole in general and didn't know how to treat his men properly or look out for them like he was supposed to.

When I heard this I didn't know whether to believe him or not. But once I got to know the LRRP's and the LT, I realized that it was probably true. The Lt WAS an Ass-Hole from the Get-Go, and even seemed to enjoy being one. He fucked over his troops every time he got a chance, never once cutting them any slack (go easy on them). I realized the LRRP had been serious about the coffee can fund, and I felt that the LT was making his own fate by the way he was treating his men. I didn't even bother to mention the fund to the LT, I figured that the LT would deserve whatever happened to him.

I recall late one night, one of the LRRP's came running into our hooch to wake us up. We were needed for an emergency extraction. One of the teams had gone on a patrol earlier that evening and was now in deep trouble. Both crews got up and headed for our ships to get ready for the mission.

Once our ship was ready, we cranked-up, then lifted off to fly to the general area of where the team was supposed to be, understanding that we would receive more info as we neared the area. It was dark as hell out, but we could see lights from several military posts and villages in the area.

In several areas we could see muzzle flashes as someone on the ground fired their weapons, but couldn't tell who it was or why they were firing. But we assumed it wasn't our LRRP’s.

We flew around out in the dark for a while, waiting for the info we would need to make the extraction. Finally we were told the team was trying to make it's way out of the area and lose the enemy following them, and they would try to find an area suitable to be used for an LZ for extraction. We continued to fly around looking at the ground and wondering if any of the firing we could see, was from our team that was in trouble somewhere down there. It was a frustrating time of us up there, wanting to do something to help, but not being able too because we didn't know where they were.

Finally we got word from LRRP Headquarters we were no longer needed. We were told the team we were waiting to extract, had got safely way from their pursuers, and were now in a safe area. The team had decided to stay in the area and try to complete their mission as best they could, hoping the enemy would think they were long gone by then. So we turned around and headed back to our parking area in the LRRP compound, then shut down for the night, and hit our racks. It had been a long tense night, we were ready for some rest.

On one of the training flights, the LRRP's talked a couple of chopper crew members into taking a ride in a Maguire rig with their LT. I was flying the lift ship, and decided to give them a good ride. After lifting them off the ground I dragged them through the very tops of a bamboo patch where the smallest bamboo saplings could slap them as they were pulled through them. Then flew them through a small rain cloud at about 60 knots. I was supposed to be flying at 40 knots, the pelting 60 knot rain drops took their toll on the guys in the Maguire rig. Lastly I hovered over a small lake, then dipped them into the water, just for good measure. The LRRP's riding in the chopper as safety men thought it was a good joke on their LT, but the LT and crew members weren't too impressed with the ride, and I made it a point to not take a ride in the rig later on that day, or any other time for that matter.

The purpose of the safety men in the chopper during any of this training, or any actual insertion or extraction, was to keep an eye of the troops and let the pilot know if there were any problems, and cut the ropes loose in case the chopper started to crash. The three ropes being used were run across a small log, and the safety men stood by with an axe which was used to cut the ropes if the chopper lost power and had to make a forced landing. It was felt that the men hanging from the ropes had a better chance surviving the fall from the ropes then they did if the chopper landed on them during the crash. I never found out if it was true or not, but the LRRP's seemed to understand what it was all about, and they accepted the risks involved in doing this kind of operations.

On the 9th of November our crew went back to Dong Ba Thin and started flying resupply missions again. A week or so after returning from Pleiku I heard the LRRP LT had been killed while out on a patrol. According to the story I heard, someone dropped a fragmentation grenade called a "Frag", at his feet one night out in the bush. As they say out in the bush, "Pay Back Is A Mother-Fucker !". The day after the patrol got back, the money was gone and no one bothered to ask where it went to, or who got it. It had all been worth the price to the LRRP's, and was part of the deal they had made. The news didn't bother me a bit. I knew how the LRRP's must have felt about it. I might very well have done the same thing myself had I been in a similar situation.

During the second week of November, my platoon was sent south to Phan Rang to work with the 1st Brigade of the 101st Airborne Div. On the 15th, I was flying with 26 as the AC, SP-4 Brothers as Crew chief, and SP-4 Sura as Door gunner. We were scheduled to take supplies into the mountains south east of Phan Rang to a Battalion TOC, Tactical Operations Center, I believe we were working for 1st Bn 327th Inf. that day, set up in a saddle near the top of one of the mountains at map coordinates BN778585. As we were flying up the side of the mountain on our way to the TOC, 26 called the TOC on the radio to get approach and landing info from them. 26 was talking to men on the ground, when suddenly, I heard a loud banging noise echo through the ship. The man talking to 26 on the radio was interrupted by a background voice yelling, "Charlie's shooting at our bird !". About the same time, SP-4 Sura, came on the intercom with, "Sir, we're taking fire from the left !".

I immediately banked the ship away from the mountain, dropped the nose of the ship to gain speed, then head away from the area and back down the side of the mountain to get out of range of the sniper. Over the radio at ground control I could hear someone giving instructions to the grunts on the ground to, "Get somebody after that Damned Bastard, and shut him up so our bird can land !".

I circled a couple of times away from the area waiting for the troops to clear the sniper out of the area. After a short time the TOC called on the radio and informed us that it was now safe to land at the TOC. So I made another approach and was headed for the TOC pad when several more shots were fired at us from the jungle below us. I immediately turned away from the TOC again and dove back down the side of the mountain to gain speed as fast as I could, then I pulled back on the cyclic stick and swooped back up in the air gaining altitude, and then started circling high over the area again.

Again I heard the people at the TOC, over the radio, giving instruct-ions about the sniper. And a little while later there was another call from the TOC saying again that it was now safe to land, but this time I made the approach fully expecting to have to make another dive to safety. Then the TOC called and said, "Sorry about that 26, we thought that we had cleared the area for you, but don't worry, that Bastard won't bother anyone again, ever, we got him this time !". I made one more circle of the area to check the winds, then shot an approach to the saddle between two large humps near the top of the mountain, set the ship down, then shut it down so we could check it over for damages from the hit.

There was a hole about 6 inches aft of the left door, that came out in the crew compartment and went through the firewall about a foot to the right of where SP-4 Sura had been sitting. The only damage was the wear and tear on the nerves of Sura and the rest of us in the ship from getting shot at, and few minor hole in the ship. While we were checking over the ship, some troops from the TOC came and unloaded the supplies we had brought with us. After SP-5 Brothers finished checking the ship, I cranked it up and we went on with our resupply mission.

Later that afternoon as we were getting ready to call it a day the CO ask if we could hang around a little while longer, he had a LRRP patrol out and had just gotten word they were in contact with the enemy and we might have to make an emergency extraction of them real soon. 26 told the CO we could stay, but we didn't have a lot of fuel left so we wouldn't be able to do very much flying.

A few minutes later the CO jumped in the ship and told us, "Let's go, I'll show you where they are". I cranked up the ship and lifted off while 26 and the CO gave instruction on where to go. We headed across the mountains toward the ocean, while the CO got on the radio to his LRRP's on the ground. As we neared the area where the LRRP's reported they were the CO called them on his radio again. A man on the ground started to give us more directions, but suddenly in the middle of his directions he stopped talking to us. The CO called him back, but got no answer.

While I circled the area the CO tried to called his LRRP's several more times, but still got no answer. We were about to give up the search and go back when suddenly the LRRP's came back up on the air with the instructions we had requested earlier. The CO got on the radio to ask, "Where the Hell've you been?, we've been worried sick and were about to give you up as lost!". The man on the ground answered back, "I was trying to call you back, but one of the Dinks was standing on my antenna, and I was afraid he would hear me talking to you !".

The CO couldn't argue with that kind of logic and didn't even bother to try. I turned the ship toward a clearing as directed by LRRP on the ground and shot an approach into it. As I was touching down the LRRP's came running out of the jungle, shooting back into it. They jumped into the ship screaming "GO, GO, Get the fuck out of here!". I pulled maximum pitch to get out of there as quick as possible, then headed back toward Phan Rang as fast as the ship would go. The LRRP's were sitting in the back of the ship laughing and slapping each other on the back, glad they had gotten out of there in one piece.

Dark had arrived as we were lifting out of the clearing where we had picked up the LRRP team. I knew all along we were low on fuel, on the way back to Phan Rang I found out just how low we really were. While the LRRP's were in the back celebrating their survival, I was up front starting to sweat. First the 20 minute Fuel Warning Light and then Fuel Low Level Light had just came on, and according to my calculations we were about 20-30 minutes flight time from the nearest refueling point back at Phan Rang.

And as usual, when one warning light comes on, a large bright one that says, "MASTER CAUTION", came on and started flashing right in the middle of the instrument panel, at the same time a loud beeper started going off over the intercom. I shut-off the light, I already knew we were in trouble, and I didn't need some damned flashing lights to remind me of it. A few minutes later the Master Caution light was back on, with it was the Right Fuel Boost Warning light, telling me the fuel level was so low the fuel was no longer being picked up by the boost pump. Once again I shutoff the Master Caution Light, thinking to myself, "Christ, when it rains it pours!". Having no real choice I gritted my teeth, leaned forward in my seat in hopes of seeing Phan Rang make a magical appearance right in front of us, and uttered a silent prayer that all of those flashing lights were wrong.

A few minutes later the Master Caution light was back on again but this time I just said, "Fuck It !" I didn't need anymore bad news right now so I didn't even bother to see what else was going wrong. As it was, the whole instrument panel was lit up like a Christmas tree already. Just as I started looking for a place to land, which wasn't easy since it was pitch dark out side, the refueling point at Phan Rang came into view. I ignored all of the normal procedures for entering a refueling point and headed for the nearest refueling pad. I had just brought the ship to a hover over the pad and was starting to lower the collective to land when the engine quit on me. So I eased the ship to the ground in a near perfect hovering auto-rotation.

While the rotor blades were still turning, I started shutting down what little there was that was still working in the ship and then climbed out of it and joined the LRRP's over at the side of the pad. They had already dismounted-mounted from the ship, and were there shaking hands with the rest of the crew and thanking them for getting them out of the jungle in one piece.

While Bothers was refueling the ship I talked to the LRRP's at the side of the pad. I ask what in hell they had been doing out there and one of them said they had been watching an NVA Battalion CP up in the mountains. When all of the soldiers left on some kind of mission. The LRRP's waited until they thought the soldiers were far enough away, then went into the CP and killed everyone left behind. They also killed 2 doctors and 3 nurses they found there, and stuffed 101st patches in their mouths. One LRRP showed us a ring that he had taken off the finger of one nurse. He said he had to cut her finger off to get the ring as a souvenir of the mission. Then just as the LRRP's were leaving the area, some NVA soldiers had returned and had spotted them and started chasing them. The LRRP said they had been running and hiding from the NVA for the past 2 days and almost been caught several times. If 26 and I hadn't come when we did, it would have been all over for them by now.

I was glad we had been there when it counted and had helped them out but I wasn't sure how to feel about what the LRRP's said they had done. I had heard many stories about the things the enemy did in the past, but I wasn't sure it could justify American Soldiers doing the same sort of things to them.

Once the ship was refueled, I climbed back into the ship and started it up again and then the LRRP's and their CO jumped back in. Then I took-off from the pad and flew to the Brigade CP pad at Phan Rang and dropped off the LRRP's and their CO, then headed for the pad where we were staying during the missions. It had been one hell of a day for all of us but it could have been a lot worse. We could still be out there somewhere beyond the barbed-wire trying to walk back to Phan Rang with an empty gas can right then after we ran out of fuel but we weren't, THANK GOD !

Two days later I was assigned to an Ash & Trash mission with McGovern as the AC, using ship number 671, with SP-4 Turner as Crew chief, and PFC O'Malley as Door gunner. We were flying for a MAAG Detachment at Than Hai a short distance from Plan Rang. It was S.O.S., the Same Old Shit, take someone somewhere and someone else somewhere else, no one usually told us who or why, and we couldn't have cared less. We were just passing the time logging flight hours toward the end of our tour in Nam.

When we arrived at the village we landed in a soccer field across from the detachment HQ and then shut down the engine to await the start of the days business or at least for someone to come tell us what they wanted us to do. Finally Mac went to HQ to get briefed on the mission while I waited at the ship with the rest of the crew. When Mac returned we set about getting the engine started again.

Instead of a normal start as we expected, we got what's known as a "Hot Start". The exhaust temperature gauge jumped up way above normal level, requiring us to abort the start and shut down the engine to prevent damaging it from the excessively high temperatures.

I immediately rolled off the throttle and turned the engine fuel off expecting to hear the engine shut down. This just wasn't my day. Instead, the engine continued to run, just as if I hadn't done anything to it only moments before. Despite all of my efforts to shut the engine down it continued to run, unhindered. Soon the exhaust temperature dropped back to normal operating range and stayed there. Looking over at Mac, I ask him, "Now what do we do ?".

Mac replied, "Fuck it, we can't shut it down, we might as well fly it". So I completed the "Run Up" and then pulled pitch, and headed back to Dong Ba Thin to get the ship checked over by the maintenance people. Just to make sure that nothing was wrong with it after that hot start. Since Mac was the AC, it was his job to decide what to do about it. It was either fly it back, or leave it there where we had the trouble and have someone else come out to get it, and there's no telling how long that would have taken.

Mac made the wise choice in my opinion, we went home for lunch, and a maintenance check-up of the ship on the side. After lunch we got ship number 680, with Martin as Crew chief and Tennison as Door gunner, and finished the day's mission.

One day 2nd platoon decided we wanted to have our own identity that would be unique and easily recognizable from "Common" chopper units flying around Nam. Not that we didn't like being "Beach Bums", we were proud of the call sign, but Beach Bums was the whole company and we wanted to let everyone know who WE were.

After a discussing it, we chose "The Pink Panthers", I volunteered to paint the nose cones of our ships with a picture of the Pink Panther so we would be easily recognized when we went somewhere. When I wasn't flying I would worked on the paintings and drafted a couple Crew chiefs and door gun- gunners to help me with the art work.

After seeing the results of the first few paint jobs I had done, the 1st Platoon decided to get a name for their platoon too. Their choice was the cartoon character from Play Boy magazine, "Little Annie Fannie". And the painting they chose for their nose cones showed the Lady in question with a head and shoulders portrait, I guess it would be more appropriately called "A Head and Bust" portrait because the picture did in fact show her tits, nipples and all.

The unveiling and the painting was quite spectacular, and so was the attention it drew. Everyone in the 1st Platoon loved it, it became the pride and joy of the platoon. 1st Platoon's ships drew lots of attention wherever they went.

The joy wasn't to last very long because a few months later they were ordered to cover up Annie's tits or paint over the whole picture. It seems that some General, or some other Ass-Hole, decided the picture of Annie was bad for the troops morale, and sent down the order. Whoever it was that made the asinine decision, never bothered to ask the troops their opinion of how their morale was effected by the pictures. When the order came down, and the dastardly deed was completed, the morale of the troops in 1st Platoon really went down hill.

Instead of painting over the whole thing, several inventive Crew chief made small bikini bra's for Annie out of army green tape others just painted over enough of the picture to cover her nipples. In my opinion the idea that the original pictures did anything to hurt moral was worse then asinine and the effect was the opposite for everyone I talked to about it.

Both platoons started using their new names as their call signs when they were out flying as individual platoons or on single ship missions, but when we were working on company size flights we still used Beach Bum. And Major Jayne pretended he didn't know we were using unauthorized call signs when he wasn't around, and he made it a point not to notice them being used when he was around.

On the 19th of November our platoon moved to Qui Nhon to make that our base of operations for a while, and relieve 1st Platoon so they could return to Dong Ba Thin and work out of our home base. At Qui Nhon we were assigned a parking area for our choppers at Lane Heliport, which is northwest of Qui Nhon, about 5 miles up a valley and connected by a road that lead into the city of Qui Nhon. When someone from our platoon would approach Lane for a landing the radio calls would go something like this. "Lane tower, this is Panther 22". "Panther 22, this is Lane, go ahead with your traffic". "Roger Lane, Panther 22 is 2 miles east, in-bound for landing at the Pussy Pad". "Panther 22, this is Lane, you are cleared to land Pussy Pad, number two in traffic, check final with gear down and locked". "Roger Lane, this Panther 22, number two in traffic, - on final, - gear down and welded". Of course, there were many variations of this call, depending on the humor of the tower operator and the pilot calling in, but it was all in good fun and few people ever objected to it.

On the 21st of November, a two ship mission was scheduled to work Ash & Trash for a MAAG Detachment in the Qui Nhon area, I was assigned as pilot of ship number 747 and 26 was the AC, SP-4 Povey was crew-chief and PFC Ballard was Door gunner. There wasn't a lot of flying on the mission, but during the afternoon we received a radio call from a FAC (Forward Air Control) ship on Guard (the emergency radio frequency for all aircraft in Nam, 243.00 MHz).

The FAC pilot was trying to locate a chopper in the area to give him a hand with something. 26 answered the FAC's call to find out what he wanted. The FAC told us he had spotted a man with a weapon in a clearing and was keeping him pinned down, and could 26 come and assist in the capture ?

26 called the MAAG people and got permission for us and the other ship to go help out, and the MAAG people sent some of their people along with us to act as a ground party if we needed help to make the capture. The FAC gave 26 the directions to the area and I flew our ship, leading the way. When we arrived over the area we found the FAC circling low over a clearing. We could-ld barely see a figure dressed in black trying to hide in the grass near the middle of the clearing.

We alerted our gunners to watch for the man and not to shoot him unless he tried to get away. I brought our ship to a hover in the clearing and then started to hover toward the man. Suddenly a man carrying an AK-47 jumped up and tried to run away from our chopper toward the jungle crouching low to the ground. Our left Door gunner fired at him and knocked him down, but he jumped right back up and started running again. This time the machine gun jammed, so the gunner grabbed my M-16 and started firing with it, knocking the man back down again. Seconds later he was back up and running away again so the gunner fired my M-16 again, it jammed after firing about three more shots.

Angry and frustrated by our bad luck with our weapons, 26 called the other ship and had them fire on the man. Again he was knocked down but once again he jumped back up and tried to run away. By this time our door-gunner had his machinegun working again, and both machineguns opened up at the same time hitting him once more. But this time he didn't get up and run.

After waiting a few seconds to see what would happen, 3 of the MAAG people jumped out of the other ship and went over to the man laying in the grass. Once they were close enough to see the man clearly, they stopped and watched him for a minute or so. When they felt sure that he wasn't going to get up again, they walked over to him. One man pointed his weapon at the man on the ground, another one picked-up the fallen AK-47 while the third walked to the man laying in the grass and rolled him over with his foot and then bent down to check if the man was still alive or not.

Then the bending man stood up and signaled our choppers that everything was all clear, and that the man was dead. Then 2 of the men picked up the body and carried it over to the second chopper and threw it in, then the man with the AK-47 and another man jumped in the chopper and the 3rd man came and climbed in ours. Once the second chopper called that it was ready to go, I took-off out of the clearing and headed back to the MAG compound.

When we landed at the compound the body was dumped out on the ground and the MAAG troops climbed out of both choppers and were greeted by many other members of their detachment. Then they called us on the radio and told 26 we were free to leave anytime we wanted too. I suggested to 26 that we shut down and look over the captured trophies, but 26 decided that we should head for home.

Until this time I hadn't seen a man get killed before. It was nothing like the way it happened in the movies. Before this, I hadn't realized just how difficult it could be to kill a man with a gun. Maybe I should have felt a little more then the excitement of the moment, but it had been just like watching it all happening in a movie to me. There were no feelings of guilt or horror at the event I had witnessed. It was like watching John Wayne or someone getting shot during a Saturday Matinee and knowing after the screen went black the man would get up and walk away, just to do the same thing again next weekend in another movie.

On the way back I heard 26 complain over the intercom, "Damn, I should have taken some pictures of that!". And I thought to myself "Yeah, right, that's what I wanted to do, but you wouldn't listen to me, NOW you finally think of it, big Funking Deal".

When we got back to Lane, I learned the whole platoon was scheduled for a mission the next day at Ninh Hoa and we would be leaving before dawn with 26 as AC and Povey and Ballard as our crew again, in good old 747. So I made it an early evening and turned in to get some sleep to be ready for the next days flying.

On the morning of November 22nd the whole platoon was awaken at 03:00 hrs and we were at the flight line by 03:30 hrs to prepare for the mission. At 04:00 hrs our flight lifted off of Lane and headed south out of Qui Nhon flying around the mountains at the south end of Qui Nhon bay and down the coast. Our mission for the day was to fly lifts for the ROK soldiers in the Ninh Hoa area which was about 10-12 miles north of N.A. Tang. We were about 15 minutes out of Qui Nhon and climbing toward 5,000 feet in order to avoid running into the mountains in the area, with me at the controls.

Suddenly, looking out through my windshield I saw what appeared to be clouds or a fog bank that I hadn't noticed moments before, so I pointed it out to 26. He immediately grabbed the controls while saying to me "I have the aircraft!". Then he called over the radio to our flight, "Flight, this is Lead, we just ran into a cloud bank, Lead is doing a 180 to the left!". Then 26 started his left turn, flying right back through the rest of the platoon which had been flying right behind us. The trail ship later told us that it looked like a covey of quail scattering before a hunter as 26 and I, in the Lead ship, came back through the center of our own platoon.

As 26 turned the ship to the left I noticed something funny about the clouds. They didn't move as our ship turned away from them like they should have so I reached up and touched the windshield and discovered the inside of our windshield was fogged over. I grabbed the controls then told 26, "I have the aircraft, the inside of the windshield is fogged over you'll have to clean off your side of it, so you can see where we're going !" Then I stuck my head out my side window so I could see where we were going and flew the ship like that while 26 was cleaning his side of the windshield.

After cleaning his side, 26 took over the controls while I cleaned my side, then he had the platoon re-form in a normal formation once more, then we headed back towards Ninh Hoa. What must have happened was that the warm air that was trapped inside of our ship while we were on the ground because we were flying with the windows and doors closed, had condensed when we made the climb up into the cooler air to our en route altitude, and formed a fog on our windshield without any of us noticing it until we weren't able to see through the windshield. And that made both 26 and me think we had flown into a cloud bank.

As far as I know our's was the only ship to have this happen to it. In a way it was kind of funny, but the rest of the platoon wouldn't let 26 for-get it anytime soon. But at the same time, if the rest of the flight hadn't been able to get out of our way, someone, more then likely several of them, would have been killed that early November morning, in a mid-air collision when my ship ran into one of the other ships. It's a lesson worth remembering and passing on to others and another very good reason to Thank God. He had to have been looking out for us, and all of the rest of the platoon that morning. Once our flight was reformed, we headed for Ninh Hoa and arrived with out any further problems. Later on that morning an enemy soldier was captured by the ROK's and was brought to the pad, where we were picking up supplies for the ROK units. 26 and I were sitting in our ship taking a break at the time. I watched as the enemy soldier was being questioned by several ROK soldiers and every time the ROK's got an answer they didn't like one of them would hit the captive on the head with a steel helmet. After watching for a few minutes, I walked over to an American Advisor to the ROK's, who was standing there watching, and ask why he wasn't doing something about the way the captive was being treated. The Advisor told me there was nothing he could do about it, that the prisoner had been lucky so far. Normally, the Advisor told me, the ROK's treated their prisoners much worse then that. Then he went on to tell me about an incident that had occurred earlier that year.

It seems that one day, the ROK CG, Commanding General, wanted to take a drive through his AO, to visit some of his troops in the field. As he was passing a certain village, someone fired a couple of shots at him from near the village without hitting him or his jeep. The next day, before daylight, a ROK Battalion moved into position surrounding the village so no one could enter or leave. After the sun came up the ROK's moved into the village and took everyone in it prisoner. They went through the village and killed every animal in it while the villagers stood by and watched. Next the ROK soldiers set fires and burned down every structure in the village, making sure that all of the villagers were watching.

After that they started killing every man woman and child and made them all watch as their families and friends were being killed off, until their turns came. Finally the ROK's hung the bodies of all of the dead villagers over the fences around the village as a warning to the rest of the people in the area of what would happen if the ROK CG was ever fired on again.

According to the Advisor, the warning had it's intended effect, no one has ever fired at the ROK CG since and he drives through the area in his jeep almost daily. According to the Advisor that was the only thing Vietnamese could understand. You show them what will happen if they don't do what they are told to do, then tell them what you want them to do and what will happen if they break your rules, then you won't have any trouble from them after that. That was the way the ROK's did it and it worked every time.

I had to admit that the Advisor had a point, it seems that the nicer you treated the Vietnamese, the worse they treated you. I have heard many stories about GI's giving candy and food to the Vietnamese, then getting shot at when the GI's turned their backs toward the same Vietnamese to go somewhere. It shouldn't have been that way but it sure as hell was and there seemed to be nothing we could do about it. It was no wonder to me that most GI's serving in Vietnam refused to place any trust in any Vietnamese they came across, including those wearing "Friendly" uniforms.

During another mission a few days later I was flying up the coast, at low level, which was the way I liked to go whenever I had the chance, it was a lot more fun then flying up high. I don't recall what the mission was, or where we were going, just the incident. I was screaming along about 10-20 ft above a large area of rice-paddies. Up a head I saw birds in the paddies and continued along knowing they would clear out of the area at my approach, as they always did. As I passed over the area where the birds had been, a duck that hadn't left with the rest of them flew up in front the ship just as I was passing over it. It happened too fast to do anything about it in order to avoid the duck, I just saw it then I hit with the left Homing Antenna mounted on the front of the ship. The next thing I heard was the Crew chief cussing as he started to clean the duck guts off of his machinegun where the duck wound up after splattering on the front of the ship. All I could do was laugh, I knew damned well I couldn't have done that again no matter how hard I tried. I guess the duck was just suicidal that day.

Several days later, on my day off, I went into Qui Nhon to the PX to look around and get a few things I needed. While I was wandering around the PX I heard someone call my nick-name and turned around to see who it was and to make sure they were calling me and not someone else. I didn't see anyone I could immediately recognize, but I did see a tall slim Army Spec 5, with glass, walking towards me. When he was close enough to talk without shouting he said, "Excuse me Sir, but isn't your name Duke?". I answered by saying, "Yes, it is, you look familiar, but I don't remember your name or where I know you from".

The soldier smiled and said, "I'm not surprised I had almost forgotten who you were too !". Then said "I'm Don Free, we were friends when you lived in St Louis 6 years ago". Then I remembered Don from when I was stationed at Lambert Field in St Louis with the aviation section, back before going over to Germany in 1962. Don had been with me when I had met Suzanne, back when Candy was in Colorado. I grabbed Don's hand and shook it and said, "God, it's good to see you again Don, what the hell are you doing in Vietnam ?". Don said he had joined the army a little while after I left St Louis, he had been in the Naval Reserve at the time, the army had trained him as a radio repairman. Now Don was working on a floating repair depot called the FAMF, out in Qui Nhon harbor and was doing aircraft avionics repair work. Years ago when I had left St Louis, I had never expected to see any of the people from there again, so I hadn't tried to keep in touch with any of them, and now seeing my old friend Don again, especially here in Vietnam, it was like a miracle or something. Don and I had some great times together around the St Louis and St John area when I was there.

During that week it was like old home week for me, having Don around. We tried catching up on what we had been doing since then. Don told me that not long after I left the area Suzanne had gotten married to some guy in the Air Force. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. Candy had left me and gone home to her parents before I met Suzanne. And at one point I had been on the verge of making the separation permanent so I could stay with Suzanne, but had eventually changed my mind. Not that I didn't want to be with Suzanne, because that was what I really wanted, but Candy had my son, and I didn't feel right about leaving him behind, which is what I would have had to do to stay with Suzanne. And that choice I still regret, considering the way our marriage turned out later on.

Every time I got a day off that week, Don and I would get together and find something to do. Several times we got ammo and took my guns out and had some target practice outside the wire around Lane. We took turns firing and used my camera to take movies of each other firing my M-16. Don was able to capture some embarrassing movie footage of me nearly getting knocked on my Ass when I was showing-off while I was firing that damned rifle. We went in to town a couple of times, but stayed out of trouble and seldom stayed in any of the bars more then a couple of minutes, just long enough to realize they weren't decent places to be.

At the end of that week my platoon went back down to Dong Ba Thin, and that was the last time I saw my friend Don, even though I have tried to con-tact him several times in recent years, without any success. Don my friend, where in the hell are you now ?, I could sure use your friendship again.

We were in Dong Ba Thin long enough to clean our gear and get ready to go somewhere else. Then we were sent back down to Plan Rang to work with the 1st Brigade of the 101st Airborne once more. On December 1st our mission was a CA into the mountains near the town of Boa Loc. The crew was Mac as AC, myself as Pilot, SP-4 Pribble as Crew chief and last but not least, PFC Good-rum as our Door gunner. We were flying ship 800, and were to land two ships at a time, on a mountain top LZ, and insert the 101st troops there.

As we were making our approach to the LZ the Lead ship discovered that the LZ wasn't big enough to hold two ships at a time, it was a small saddle between two hills covered with trees right down to the edge of the intended LZ. Lead called us on the radio and told us to make a go-around, then make another approach once he had cleared out of the LZ. But Mac had spotted an-other area nearby that he thought we could get into, so he called Lead and told him "Lead this Chalk 2, there's another open area to the right about 100 yards short of the LZ, I'm going to try for it !". Then Mac headed for the opening he had spotted in the trees. It looked fairly clear to us, from about a quarter of a mile out, but there were what looked like small trees in the area.

From our position on the approach path it didn't look like there would be any problem getting into it, so Mac continued his approach. As we got lower into the clearing we discovered that the "Small Trees" we had seen from the air were actually burnt off trees that were between 15-25 feet tall. Mac tried to bring the ship to a hover to stop it's descent into the burnt off trees but he discovered that the air was too thin to hover in, and with the load we had on board, we were too heavy to hover anyway.

The ship started to settle into the trees that were in the would-be LZ, and the main rotor blades started hitting the tops of the taller trees. Mac hollered for the troops to jump out of the ship since we were too heavy and we were going to crash in the LZ if they didn't. He was hoping their exit would lighten us enough to stay in the air and hover. The troops immediately started jumping out of the ship, even though we were still about 15 feet in the air. And as the last grunts jumped from our ship, it continued to settle into the trees and finally hit the ground. Meanwhile, the grunts had been heading for edge of the area as fast as possible so they would be out of the way, incase we crashed there.

The ship sat there shaking and vibrating really bad as the rotor blades continued to chop at the trees around the ship. Not really sure of what to do in that situation, I was ready to roll off the throttle to shut-down the engine. But Mac decided that he didn't want to stay there with the grunts, and that the ship would probably still fly good enough to get us back to a safer area. So he tried picking it up to a hover. Finding it would hover now, when it was too damned late, he flew it out of what had turned out to be a shell hole cause by artillery fire, or a bomb being dropped into the area, and headed toward Boa Loc.

As we gained altitude away from the mountain and over the nearby valley another of our ships radioed that they were coming up a long side of us to look our ship over for damage. Our ship was shaking so badly, it felt like it was about to shake itself to pieces. The other ship then called us on the radio, "Mac you're trailing smoke, it looks like you might have a fire on board !".

A thought flashed through my mind "FIRE?, Jesus Christ, Holy Shit, Now what do we do ?". Then another ship came up along side of us called, "Mac you're not on fire, you just busted a hole in your belly, that's fuel spray-spraying out of there". This time I thought, "SHIT, this could be even worse then a fire, if that fuel blows up into our hot exhaust it could ignite like gas-gasoline, and we would blowup in mid-air !". Mac was on the radio to the other ship, "I'm going to set this damned thing down in the first open area I can find !".

Up ahead of us was a jungle clearing and Mac headed straight for it. It was the exact kind of area the VC liked to set up with an ambush. As we came into the clearing we saw the ground was all covered by tall elephant grass, but we couldn't have cared less. Mac set the ship down in the grass and started to shut it down as fast as he could.

While Mac was shutting down the engine, our crew looked over the ship for damage, then started unloading the ship. They were unloading our personal gear, machineguns and ammo, the aircraft's radios and anything else they could take out of it. Meanwhile, I grabbed my M-16 and ran out past the ship toward the jungle to stand guard, while they did the unloading, hoping that my damned M-1 6 would work a lot better this time, if I needed it, then it had the last time we tried to use it. I wanted to be able to protect our crew until someone came to rescue us from our predicament.

As I ran past the ship I noticed the landing had jammed the tail-boom between two stumps that had been hidden by the grass and another stump was jammed up through the belly of the ship where it had originally been damaged in the shell crater. The last 3 ft or so of the main rotor blades had also been chopped off when they hit the trees in the shell crater. It's no wonder that 800 was vibrating as bad as it had, during the short flight to where it was now, we were lucky it had been able to fly at all.

The wait in the clearing wasn't long, before the ship that had been looking us over landed nearby, and our crew started loading our gear into it. I stayed in position between our ship and the jungle to guard both ships from a surprise attack by any nearby enemy.

Once all the gear was loaded into the other ship the rest of my crew climbed on board it, then they shouted for me to hurry and get in. I turned and ran toward the ship, trying to keep my eye on it, and the jungle over my shoulder, at the same time, half expecting to be shot in the back as I ran. When I reached the ship I threw my rifle in it and jumped in just as it was lifting off the ground, and then turned to look back at the clearing, still expecting to see VC running toward us out of the bush, firing their rifles.

But no one was there. We lifted off without any more problems and head ed for Boa Loc. At Boa Loc we got our equipment out of the rescue ship and then sat down to wait for a replacement ship to arrive from Dong Ba Thin. I tried to smoke my first cigarette in over 3 years to calm my nerves, but I nearly choked to death on it and put it out. When the replacement ship number 099, finally arrived, we flew a couple of resupply flights, and then went back to Plan Rang for the night.

On the way back I was cussing myself for not having had my camera out and been taking pictures that day. Something I had been doing on some of our other flights. It seemed like I was always missing all of the good action shots.

A day or so later I heard one of the CH-47 Chinooks commonly called "Shit Hooks" with the unit call sign "Freight Train" went in shortly after we left the area to sling load our downed ship out of the area and take it back for repairs. And on the way back to the maintenance shop, according to the reports we got, 800 started swinging back and forth under the Shit Hook causing the pilot to have problems keeping his ship under control. And that resulted in 800 being dropped from about 2,000 feet in the air and landing upside down and being completely destroyed. I was able to fly over it a few days later and take some movies of it laying there. Whether 800 broke loose and fell on it's own, or the pilot of the Shit Hook deliberately punched it off I never learned, but it had been a good flying ship until Mac introduced it to that mountain top shell crater.

A couple of days later we went down to Plan Thiet and worked that area for a little while. We were always able to tell when we were near Plan Thiet because there was a factory there that made Nuc Mom. An oily fish sauce used on most of the food the Vietnamese ate, made of fermented rotting fish. We could smell the place any time we were down wind of it.

One day I was sitting with some of the enlisted crewmen while they were working on their gear. I was talking to Danny Asmus, the Crew chief on ship number 789. What we were talking about wasn't very important, he was calling me "Sir", and I was calling him by his first name. While we were talking, 26 walked up and stood there listening to us for a short time, then he told me he wanted to talk to me so I got up and went with him a little way away from the men.

26 gave me hell for using Danny's first name when I was talking to him, he said it was bad for morale and not to do it anymore, then he walked away. I didn't try to explain to 26 that I felt a lot more comfortable being there and talking with Danny and the other Crew chief, then I did when I was with 26 and the other officers. At least the crew chiefs and door gunners weren't stuck-up and snobbish like some of the officers were. And having spent most of my twelve years in the army as a Crew chief, I felt a lot more comfortable with them, then any one else.

On the 4th of December, my birthday, there was no day off for me. What the hell did the army care that I had just turned 30 years old, it was my problem, not the army's. I was scheduled to fly on a CA mission and wound up flying two of them. The first was in chopper 877 with WO Arann as AC, SP-4 Hulshoff as Crew chief, and PFC Bynum as gunner. The flight was uneventful and lasted about an hour. A little later in the day I changed AC's and wound up flying with Major Gower the new Operations Officer for the unit. We put in another 2 ½ hours on another CA mission and then called it a day. A CA Day wasn't exactly the birthday present I was hoping for but since nothing exciting happened it was a lot better then a "Hot LZ Day". But what the hell made me think I could get a special favor from the army in the first place ?

On one flight I was flying down south of Plan Thiet over the salt flats when I noticed something going on down on the road that headed south along a narrow st