Stories Letters and Documents

Everyone who was in Vietnam had different experiences and perspectives about the war in Vietnam, the Army, the indigenous population, and daily living. Because of this, almost every event is remembered differently by each person. The purpose of this page is to provide a to place and examine those recollections. It is also a place where family members and friends of those who did not survive can read first hand accounts of the events that were part of the daily lives of those for whom they mourn. There is a Story Index, Letter Index, and a Document Index that gives a hint about the subject matter for the listing. There is also a Glossary for those who are not familiar with the acronymns, terminology, and slang used by aviators and servicemen in Vietnam. The Story section also includes articles from Army Reporter, Pacific Stars & Stripes, The Falcon, other news publications. The Document section is for interesting military documents. If you have a MIDI player, there is a music selection available on this page so that you can listen while you read. Just click on a midi icon to download and play music. If you have a story, letter, or military document about the 176 AHC that you would like to see on this page, send it to Carl Zipperer.

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Life At The Manor

Story 1 - The following story was contributed by Henry E. Lipscomb. It is a story about an unsecured UH-1 cargo door that fell off during flight in 1970. The story is slightly edited from the original text. Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

I was a gunner in First Flight and my CE was J.R. Richmond, who I have located after 28 years. Our bird was 468, Cheap Thrills, which was blown away by Musket rockets while I was on I&I in Sidney. It seems the crash site was a little hot for a recovery party. Well, the Army, as kind as it was, gave Richmond and I a brand new beat to shit slick to carry on our terrorist campaign, which we proudly painted Means To An End on the nose. Mr. Ott was our main AC but we flew with other great pilots such as Spot, Stump, Penny, Dunn, Gross, and Zipperer to mention a few and we flew with some other guys, who the hell is Fat Five.

One day while Richmond is somewhere other than flying, I am DG with AC Spot (Stan Gray), PP Stump (William Bush) and some CE with Blind Faith painted on his flight helmet.

We started the day west of Tam Ky doing RS for the 196th Infantry Brigade in and out of the mountains around FSB Mary Ann, doing the usual low level tricks on the rivers, spooking every parrot in the jungle, and to this point the day had been fairly uneventful.

Spot gets a call that Uncle Sam is in a jam down around LZ Stinson and our presence was most certainly appreciated. We head south and Spot gets Stinson on the push and discovers they have found a NVA training camp with dinks in the open. At the time there are only two ships inbound to Stinson and they were trying to get a gun team up. We make Stinson and they were right. Two ships, no guns and two platoons of grunts looking like they would rather be elsewhere. We were then informed that we would be inserting the grunts with two ships and making as many sorties as required to make the lift. I hoped the genius that made this call wasn't a West Point grad or our country is in for BIG trouble.

Here we go screaming out of Stinson with five grunts on each ship at low level hell trying to make evening chow at the NVA camp. We are probably five minutes out of Stinson when there was a tremendous explosion on our ship. The tail boom swings hard left, I watch five steel pots float gracefully out of the right cargo doorway, and I'm slammed against the transmission wall. I remember thinking we had probably taken a rocket. As I pulled myself up to look down the tail boom, which I thought didn't exist any longer, every thing looked fine, but wait a minute we didn't have a tail rotor! I then informed Spot of our T/R situation, or lack of, and he responded something like "no shit". Meanwhile, Spot And Stump are certainly earning their flight pay while the ship is doing this crazy left swing thing and acts like it wants to invert. From the sounds over the intercom I know we're going to have a hell of a laundry bill.

Thank God for running landings and semi-wet rice paddies. Spot and Stump performed the most beautiful landing I had ever witnessed and we all sucked face with the ground after that. We checked out the ship to find the left cargo door was missing and CE informed us he had left the pin out of door. At this point the grunts wanted to kill this CE slowly but Spot got things cool and informed us he thought the mayday had gotten out.

I grabbed my free 60 and some ammo and asked Stump if he would like to set up a fighting position about 30 meters from ship. Stump grabbed enough ammo that we could have marched to Hanoi, but I wasn't complaining. As we set up behind a rice dike we could hear other ships searching for us. Then suddenly Stump begins to make strange noises of pain and begins to beat himself upon his chest. Stump is now engaged in fierce hand-to-hand battle with NVA ants.

Stump finally makes about 50 kills and we move out to a new fighting position. I'm beginning to wonder if we are going to be located when a Musket breaks the tree-line. Suddenly, his wing man is doing the same and I'm getting a warm fuzzy feeling, but thinking what took them so long. It's uncanny how 15 minutes on the ground can seem like hours. Well, we all made it to the Manor in time for the movie that night and I'll never forget what great pilots Spot and Stump were that day. Thanks a lot guys!

Lessons Learned:
1. Never fly with a guy who has Blind Faith painted on his flight helmet.
2. If you anticipate any hand-to-hand action, hang with Stump.

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Story 2 -This story about Jerry Penny was contributed by Carl Zipperer.
Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

Jerry Penny was one of the most unique individuals that I knew in the 176th AHC. His radio call sign was Minuteman 23. Jerry and I were room mates when I first got in-country. He was really p-o'd when I moved into the room. He kept the extra bunk in the room made up so that it always looked as if someone was living in the room with him. When Jerry got back from flying that first day that I moved in, it didn't bother him a bit to ask me to find a bunk somewhere else.

He complained loudly and often about how bad it was to have some FNG in the room, and also used the wall over my bunk for target practice with his case knife. He even practiced with the knife a few times while I occupied the bunk. I was an FNG and he didn't want me in the room. Click here for a picture of that bunk. You can see Jerry's knife in the wall a couple of feet above and to the right of my flight helmet sitting on the bunk.Click here for a picture of Jerry.

Jerry moved out eventually, after I would not give in. As soon as he moved out, I took over his bunk. His bunk was made out of 6 pallet mattresses stacked on a plywood sheet resting on the edges of three rocket boxes. My bunk was simply a sheet of plywood nailed to a frame on the wall with one pallet mattress on it.

Despite his unwillingness to live in the same room with me, Jerry and I flew together many times and we eventually became close friends. I remember more specific things about flying with Jerry than any other aircraft commander, probably because of the kinds of things that Jerry would do. Anyone who has ever flown with him understands the meaning of that statement. Even when he was scaring me out of my wits, I enjoyed flying with Jerry. We occasionally flew together on flare missions even after I became an aircraft commander.

One day I remember clearly was the first time he decided that I, an FNG, was going to do all of the flying for the day. We had to re-supply a unit of the 1/52 Battalion that was located to the northwest of FSB Stinson. The unit had chopped out a small hover hole in the trees. As was common, when we called the unit to have them identify their location with smoke, the unit notified us that the LZ was cold, but that they had been in contact earlier in the day. I didn't know it at the time, but we were in the area of a sapper training camp.

I began executing a high overhead approach while Jerry cautioned me to keep the cyclic trim set so that it would raise the nose of the chopper if I got hit and let go of the controls. He told me that he had known of this happening. Of course, I had made approaches like this before, but this was my first time to shoot a high overhead into a very small LZ in definite bad guy country. It did nothing to improve my nerves to hear about his previous experience having the other pilot get shot.

I came in high and hot and botched the final approach. I fully expected Jerry to complain loudly, for I deserved it. I almost hoped that he would take over the landing and save it. I had seen a some experienced ACs perform some unbelievable saves to make an LZ and avoid a go-around. But this would not be the case. Jerry just laughed at me and complained about having to fly with FNG's and told me to go-around. Now, not only was I extremely nervous, but I was embarrassed because I was making targets out of the entire crew.

As I aborted my approach and circled around for another one, I anticipated hearing gunfire. I was low and slow and felt totally exposed. The phrase sitting duck took on a new meaning for me. As I came circling around, not yet used to making low level approaches, I didn't see the LZ until it was too late to make a landing. There was no need for Jerry to say go around. I am certain that Jerry knew exactly where the LZ was located. He just sat there rather calmly, laughing at me, talking about FNGs and what I was doing wrong.

As I nosed the aircraft over and began to circle for the third attempt, I was positive that we would get shot up and I would be the cause. Even Max, the gunner, complained about FNG's this time. I didn't miss the third approach. We got in and out of that LZ and never took fire.

For the rest of the day, I had to listen to Jerry and the crew discuss the shortcomings of all FNG's, particularly the one currently in the right seat. But by the end of the day, Jerry had taught me how to save almost any approach that was too steep on final. On previous days, I had seen Jerry do a lot unnerving things in a helicopter. I began to realize on this day that flying with Jerry Penny was always going to be far different than flying with any of the other aircraft commanders.

Jerry flew aircraft #239 most of the time. Even if 239 had a radio problem or some other minor problem, Jerry would prefer to fly 239 rather than take another aircraft. Max, the gunner on aircraft 239 had an extra M-60 and Jerry would fire it out the left window on hot CA's while I did all the flying. I never was sure if he trusted me that well, or just didn't understand that he was mortal. That is how I learned how to fly formation on a CA, and do it with hot 7.62mm brass bouncing off my helmet and falling down my neck.

I flew with many pilots who taught me a lot during the year that I spent in the 176th AHC. Jerry taught me several different things that the others did not. He taught me how to operate at the extreme edge of many of the limitations of the UH1-H. He frequently operated there. Jerry taught me that he feared death a lot less than I did.

Those of us who were fortunate enough to know Jerry Penny miss him. He died due to injuries suffered in an automobile accident in the U.S.

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Story 3 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

The Bob Hope U.S.O. Christmas Show
Da Nang, So. Viet Nam Dec. 24, 1970

I had just been transferred to my new unit (176 AHC.) in Chu-Lai from An Khe by only two weeks perhaps. The members of our company were asked if anyone would be interested in going to Da Nang and seeing the Bob Hope Christmas show. I spoke up and asked to go, and was told that I could. I was surprised on two points. First, I was a new guy in the company and I figured that I would get bumped. I was then surprised, that out of a couple hundred men, only about a dozen of us were interested in going.
Several day elapsed before going on December 24th. We all loaded up in the back of uncovered 2 1/2 ton trucks and rode in a convoy to Da Nang, that was to our north on Highway 1, about 45 miles away. We wore helmets, flak jackets, and carried canteens of water. I remember feeling uneasy about being attacked by a sniper while in route. What a way to go to a concert I thought.
When our convoy arrived, I couldn't believe the amount of G.I.'s and trucks, in fact I wondered if I could find our truck again when the show was over. There were hundreds of olive drab trucks just like ours from all over So. Viet Nam.
I was then surprised at the size of the amphitheater and the amount of servicemen already sitting there, waiting for the show to start.
When we got seated, the theater was only half full, but continued to fill completely in a couple hours. All the while, sitting in the hot sun, baking with no shade, and only a canteen of water and no food.
Our group sat half way back and to the right of the stage. I wondered about a rocket attack. This place would have been a perfect target for a Viet Cong attack.
Soon we were treated to Les Browns' Band, and a helicopter soon brought Bob Hope in, and the show started. I remember him coming out on stage wearing a cap and swinging his golf club. He told lots of jokes, mostly about Viet Nam and life back in the in the world (U.S.). The show was like I figured it would be, after having watched them so many other Christmases on TV.
I had hoped to be entertained by Joey Heatherton, But Ursula Andress was the beauty for 1970. Of the acts we saw, I liked the Ding-a-Lings, which impressed me the most. They looked great, and looked even better when they danced. I only wished that I had a telephoto lens for my camera, and a pair of binoculars. Other acts were Bobbie Martin, Johnny Bench, Lola Falana, The Golddiggers, Gloria Lorring, and Miss World from Grenada. The show lasted a couple of hours, and then we all headed back to the truck, finding it with no problem.
Just as we pulled away, the truck lurched forward very fast and Sp-5 Brian Elliott, sitting next to me, near the tailgate, fell completely over it violently, and landed head first on his helmet on the hard surfaced road. We all couldn't believe that he was not hurt, because he fell from about five feet and didn't get a scratch. He was shaken up a bit though. We helped him in and yelled at the driver to be more careful and took off, back to Chu-Lai.
Other than being scorched all day, and not having anything to eat, it was enjoyable and I wouldn't have missed it for anything. It was a piece of Americana, that I'll never forget, and feel very lucky to have been able to attend.

Clayton L. Jeter

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Story 4 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

The One and Only Time I Forgot my Chicken Plate, April 7, 1970

Well there I was and this is no shit.
My crew chief (Rick Deems) and gunner (John Kerlin of "Kerlin"s Cannons" fame) had already DEROSed, and by the way my A/C was 510. I was not flying that ship however, and I can't remember which one it was,,,,,,,, nor can I remember the crew chief, and as for the gunner, we had just got in several EM from the 1st Inf. Div. and he was one of those on one of his first missions.

During this time we were only allowed to fly 135 hrs in any given 30 day period of time. Well, if you were a normal pilot you were always banging those hours right at the 135 mark and sometimes you went over and would have to take a day or 2 off to get back under the 135 hr thing. I had gotten to about 143 hrs (don't know why I remember that) and was on a few off days.

Cpt. Lorac Craig was the XO at the time. During lunch (which was rare), he had some paperwork that had to be done, so he asked me if I would fly his mission for him that afternoon. Since I was a "2 digit midget" with about 62 days left I was getting pretty picky about what mission to take,,,,,,, well it seems to me that his was one of those "easier" ones like Div Arty support and Jerry Penny was the PP which probably influenced my decision so I told him that I would, but "if I took his bullet I was going to be pissed" (this was in jest but little did I know what was in store).

Since my routine was different (starting at midday), somehow for the first time in Vietnam and during those 1000+ combat hours I forgot to take my chicken plate,,,,,,,,,, I didn't realize this until we were airborne and going on with the mission. Jerry asked me if I wanted to go back and get it but I declined since 1/2 the day was done and we had an "easy mission".

Some how we were supposed to resupply some unit in the "boonies" about 35 clicks NW of Chu Lai and right about 1/4 the way up the mountains that were there,,,,, can't remember the FSB that was fairly close but LZ Hustler was a 1 ship LZ that we had just put some troops in a few days earlier and we were about 10 clicks west of that so we were fairly well getting to the "bad areas". When I found out where we had to go, I made the comment to Jerry that I didn't believe I was going in there without my chicken plate.

Now then (as was normal procedure) when I found out where we were going I made a call on Victor as to the area we were going in and that I would call when I was "back up",,,,,,,,, MM-0 (John Edwards) answered the call since he was in the area,,,,, OK, I was flying cuz the troops were right on a difficult ridge and the wind was pretty screwy and we were heavy. Jerry had his AC orders temporarily taken away (that's another story) so this was another reason. I made my first approach to the area and had them pop smoke when we were on short final. I noticed that we were coming in with a right quartering tail wind, so I broke off the approach and turned left down the ridge to make another attempt. On the second attempt I had them do the same thing only earlier and as we were on short final the wind switched to our tail again, so I broke off the approach and turned to the right this time (you know, never fly the same pattern twice) well just as we had turned to the right all hell broke loose,,,,,,,,,,,,, it was "never ending fire",,,,,,,, I estimated about 35-45 folks shooting at us with small arms,,,,,,,,,, we were taking so many hits that the ship was getting tossed around,,,,, well my first reaction was to dive for the trees,,,,,,,,,, we were about 50-100 ft off the trees,,,,,,,, during this nose down angle all of a sudden my left arm was knocked off the collective and was laying in my lap with the fingers in this grotesque position,,,,,,,,, I actually thought when I saw my arm that I could pick it up and lay it on the console,,,,,,,,,,,, I yelled at Jerry "you got it, I'm hit, I'm hit I'm hit,,,,,,,,, He took the controls and continued diving for the trees,,,,,,,,,,, all this probably lasted about maybe 30 seconds. I really have know idea,,,,, all I know was that I didn't think the fire was ever going to stop.

Well it finally did. I immediately got on the radio, #3 which was VHF, and called MM-0 (John Edwards) who was about 15 clicks away and told him we were hit and going down,,,,, I couldn't believe that taking as many hits as we did that the ship was going to continue to fly,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Immediately after telling MM-0, I switched to "Guard" on #2 UHF, and gave a perfect mayday call, which was answered first by "Helix 6" who said he was on his way followed by the search and rescue unit with the Jolly Greens out of Danang (can't remember their call sign),,,,,,,,, Jerry wanted to know where to go (back to Chu Lai) or to set it right down at first available. I told him to head for Hustler,,,,,,,,,, About this time I looked at the caution panel and couldn't believe that no lights were on,,,,,,,,,,, Well I kind of took stock of the situation and MM-0 had us in sight so I canceled the mayday call and started talking to John,,,,,,, I believe that the only reason that I didn't go into immediate shock was by me getting on the radios and start talking.

Neither one of the gunners got a shot off. I think the gunner got shot in the hand and the C/E got it in the foot. Don't know about the pax that we had on board. Well MM-0 was now flying formation and giving us the once over visually. He wanted to know how much fuel we had cuz we had a steady stream coming out. Our fuel was at 700 lbs. if I remember correctly. Also wanted to know the extent of injuries to C/E cuz we must of had a gallon of red paint in the C/E compartment which was showing red all over the left side of the belly. I still couldn't believe that this ship was going to fly so we went into LZ Hustler.

Jerry landed and moved over as much as he could to let MM-0 land next to us. I remember screaming at him to land the gd thing before it quit running (probably a small over-reaction on my part). Well you see, like I said,,,, MM-0 flew the CC ship and he was flying some O-6 who was checking on his troops on the ground. Normally he would do his high overhead to the area, land and let the colonel out and then take-off again and stay in the area till the whoever was ready to be picked up. Then he would go back in and retrieve the person and continue on his mission. When I gave the mayday call, the colonel was on the ground so John left him there and came to my rescue. He landed and waited for the ground troops at the LZ to patch me up the best they could, then they loaded me on his ship and took me to Chu Lai and the 91st, I think (the one on the beach). Hell he landed and shut the ship down and came inside to see if I was going to live, since by now I was spitting up blood and all that good stuff.

Guess he really got in trouble for abandoning that colonel on the ground,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, found out later that they slung the ship back to the 176th by Chinook,,,,,,,,,,, heard that there were 37 holes in the ship and that one missed the transmission by a millimeter.

Ran into a guy in Alaska who was in the company and he told me that he had an 8x10 glossy of the bullet hole in the windshield (click for pic) taped to his footlocker. Wish I had that picture. (That guy in Alaska who had the picture was Butch Brant, who has since contributed the picture. Click the hypertext above to see the picture.)

I was in the 91st for 10 days then moved to Japan for another 10 days then sent back to the US and finally to Fitzsimmons Hospital in Denver for about 60 days. After release I was sent to Hunter/Stewart, and stayed there till Aug. 6th '72 when I was discharged.

Don Bueche got ahold of me in the mid to late 70's stating that "he had something that I might want." Well, I knew what it was,,, it was the shoulder harness (click for pic) that held my long nose .38 when I was shot,,,,,,,,,,, They cut it off of me at a makeshift LZ that we landed at (Jerry was flying) and it has a perfect image of an AK-47 round exiting my body where the strap goes under your armpit and up the back of your left shoulder. The bullet came in thru the front windshield into my body in the left shoulder and exited between my shoulderblade and armpit. When the bullet came out it was sideways and you can see that perfectly in the strap,,,,,,,,,,,,,, quite the war relic that only I can fully appreciate.

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Story 5 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

The following report describes a tail rotor failure during a mission involving Philip Richard. Minuteman 29.
Accident report- 031045H August 70, UH-1H, 17458, 176th AHC. Aircraft reached 300 feet and 40 knots during take off when the left pedal malfunctioned followed by a loss of tail rotor control. the aircraft commander executed a power descent to 3 feet where he executed a hovering autorotation. The tail rotor stacked bearing retaining nut had backed off.

Rick Phillips who was CE on 458 remembers, "No damage in fact, it was one hell of a great rice paddy landing. We sunk about 2 feet in muck. The paddy was surrounded by hills, he put it into a depression. Because of the muck it took a lot of pulling from the hook to get it loose. I was told later that a month earlier the area was one of the hottest spots in VN."

After Richard Philip left the 176th AHC to fly OH-6s for Div. Arty., he had a very memorable and unusual shot down incident. While flying an O-4 who was acting as artillery observer in support of a unit in contact northeast of FSB Stinson, Richard was asked by the O-4 to descend to tree-top level in an attempt to get a fix on the enemy position. While near the ground, the aircraft came under small arms fire sustaining 27 hits. Philip Richards was struck in the armored chest protector by 6 of the rounds that hit the aircraft. He suffered no serious injuries, but had a very sore chest for several days.

Richard continued flying for Div. Arty. Within weeks after after the shoot down incident, an OH-6 that he was flying had an engine failure on departure from an LZ. Richard attempted a 180 degree autorotation, landed on the toes of the skids, rolled, and burned. He died from burns received immediately following the crash.

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Story 6 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

This story is about events following typhoon Hester in 1971,
As the 176th began to stand down in October 1971, a typhoon named Hester hit Chu Lai and it was a big one. Every hanger on the air base was flattened and all the aircraft that were in those hangers were ruined. Most of the hootches that we lived in were also destroyed. There were sheets of corrugated iron scattered all the way to the Laotian border. All the aircraft that were in the concrete revetments were saved so we were operational once the weather cleared.

One of the funnier stories of my tour came out of that typhoon. As soon as the weather cleared a lot of "Brass" from Danang came and told us that we had to salvage all the spare parts we could and get them to Danang ASAP - with all the paperwork properly filled out in triplicate!

Rumor has it that no sooner did the "Brass" leave than the CO called a meeting and told us to forget "that shit" and we would handle the problem in a different way. According to the rumor, three ships were sent to Danang with orders to appropriate every cargo net they could lay hands on. For the next three nights, every net was loaded to the max, flown out five miles over the South China Sea, and dropped off. The place cleaned up in record time. When the nets finally ran out, they began to bury everything that was left between the runways. That was a good plan except they kept digging up stuff the Marines had buried when they left Chu Lai in 1970. Two F-4 Phantom airframes and a radar set were found, among other things.

It was unbelievable then and even more amazing now.
Craig 'Thor' Thoricht

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Story 7 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.
Article from Southern Cross Vol 2, No. 9 Chu Lai, Vietnam April 27, 1969

Americal Division Front Page Headlines

21 Impact Awards for 176th Chopper Rescue

CHU LAI-- Twenty-one medals for valor, more awards than the Americal Division has ever made for a single action, were presented in ceremonies recently at the 176th Aslt. Hel. Co. ramp here.

BG Wallace L. Clement, deputy division commander, made the impact awards to crew members of 6 helicopters involved in a daring rescue mission near Tien Phuoc.

1LT William D. Bristow (Alhambra, Calif.) commander of the 14th Cbt. Avn. Bn. UH-1 slick was finishing a resupply and Medevac mission at 5:55 p.m. Mar. 19 when the drama unfolded.

As the slick emerged from the remote landing zone, heavy automatic weapons fire was directed at the craft. PFC Robert Wilhelm (Tolley, N.C.) and SP4 Boyd Kettle (Durango, Colo.) crew chief and doorgunner respectively, fired back.

Escape

Pressing for altitude, the slick lurched, and flames spread quickly through the chopper after several hits.

"We continued firing and tried to land as quickly as possible," said 1LT Bristow. Co-pilot WO1 Paul E. Lent (Richmond Springs, N.Y.) radioed two distress calls.

When the ship touched ground, flames were lapping at the cockpit. The Medevac patient, passengers, and crew evacuated as the ship's fuel cells exploded and the slick became an inferno.

"Darkness was approaching so we checked weapons and ammo," said 1LT Bristow. "We had an M-16 with 35 rounds and a .38-cal pistol with 20 rounds."

Bad Outlook

WO1 Lent's mayday call had been monitored by another aircraft, and two 176th "Musket" gunships and two "Minuteman" slicks were diverted to the crash area.

Meanwhile, MAJ. Ronald C. Metcalf (Hickory, N.C.) 176th CO, left company headquarters in a recovery ship with maintenance and medical personnel aboard.

By 6:30, two gunships and three slicks were orbiting the downed aircraft while enemy gunfire increased. Fire became more intense as the rescue choppers inched toward the scene.

"I didn't think anyone could have survived the crash and fire," said MAJ. Metcalf who told pilot WO1 Jerry W. Herman (Wooster, Ohio) to lead his gunship fire team to look for survivors.

(continued on Page 7)

Several passes over the crash site revealed nothing, and the gunships temporarily left to provide cover for a ground patrol ambushed while attempting to secure the downed ship.

Strobe

Hope dwindled when a second gunship search also failed, but one commander, WO1 Richard K. McLean (Miami), suddenly saw a flash of light.

"I thought it was just a muzzle flash," said WO1 McLean. "Then I realized it was actually a strobe light."

Far below on his back in the middle of a rice paddy lay WO1 Lent who had crawled from a hedgerow where the downed fliers were hidden 75 meters from the crash site. WO1 Lent flashed 1LT Bristow's strobe at the gunships.

Fast Work

Hearing the conversation about the strobe, WO1 Bruce W. Shaffer (Washington), and WO1 John M. Blair (Spokane), pilot and co-pilot of a slick, volunteered to extract the crash victims.

"We quickly organized the three slicks and gunship team," said MAJ Metcalf, "and WO1 Shaffer began a high overhead approach."

As he descended through the increasing enemy fire, MAJ Metcalf flew his slick like a gunship, and followed WO1 Shaffer to lend cover. WO1 Gary L. Williams (Phoenix, Ariz.) swooped in as MAJ Metcalf's wingman.

As WO1 Shaffer landed, WO1 Lent and SP4 Kattle hustled the other five survivors into the rescue ship. Lent then darted for the chopper amid a hail of bullets and SP4 Kettle followed.

"Rounds were hitting all around me," WO1 Lent said. "I thought I was a goner."

WO1 Shaffer lifted safely as gunships hovered nearby.

Two Silver Stars, 11 Distinguished Flying Crosses, and eight Air Medals with "V" device were presented a week later.

WO1 Shaffer and Blair received the Silver Stars; MAJ Metcalf, WO1 Williams, WO1 McLean, WO1 Herman, and 1LT Bristow received the DFC.

Winners

Other DFC winners were SP4 Robert O. Allison (St. Helens, Ore.); SP4 Antonio K. Taylor (New York City); 1LT James D. Horton (Troy, Pa.); WO1 Glen E. Goff (Knightstown, Ind.); WO1 Thomas G. Melin (Clyde Park, Mont.); and WO1 Philip S. Lee (Norfolk).

The Air Medal with "V" went to SP4 Steven R. Cundry (Springfield, Mo.); SP4 Phillip R. Varnum (La Crosse, Wis.); SP5 Lawrence J Silva (San Leandro, Calif.); and SP4 Billy L Parsons (Trona, Calif.).

Also AP4 Richard C. Sear (Akron); SP4 Richard R. Cronover (Levisttown, N.Y.); and SP4 John C. Gruidl (Minneapolis); SP4 Jerry L. Mitchell (Reading Pa.).

(16th IO)
---------------------------------End of Article-----------------------------------------

Story #7.1 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

Crew Member Saw the Light - Addendum Story About the 21 Impact Awards for 176th Chopper Rescue.

Although McClean takes credit for spotting the strobe light the facts are otherwise. The sun was setting but there was still indirect lighting in the valley. The gunner or crew chief sitting in the right rear of the gunship I was in (note I was sitting in the copilot's seat) wore thick glasses. As he stared down into the wreckage area, he picked up the weak strobe light which was being intensifed by the magnification of his glasses. He told us he saw the light. And the AC of the aircraft after a time reconfirmed this fact . Soon everyone saw the light. Keep in mind the sun was setting and it was getting darker on the valley floor.

    McClean was flying trail gunship - but he broke off and started a one aircraft attack - probably what was needed at the time. But the fireteam leader was not impressed and had words with him on the ground after the event. 

    I cannot remember the crew chief or gunner's name and I cannot remember which side the crew chief even sat anymore, but he was definitely on the right as I can remember looking over and staring at him as he made the report. And as usual, he probably did not get the credit due him.

Philip S. Lee

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Story #8 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

F-4 Phantom Shoots Up The Manor

My service date was January 1969 to August 1970. One incident that I think happened in 1969 was a Phantom hit by ground fire and the pilot ended up bailing out over the sea but the plane turned and was heading toward our company while another Phantom was trying to shoot it down with 20mm shells spraying the compound. One dud hit our hooch roof and fell in front of the door. One of the pilots got some shrapnel by the laundry hooch. Anyway, the plane ended up in the ammo dump across the road, luckily the dump didn't go up.
Ralph Liening

Story #8.1 Amplification to Story #8- F-4 Phantom Shoots Up The Manor

As I remember it, the aircraft involved were U. S. Navy Corsair IIs that were departing Chu Lai Main northbound when the lead aircraft got a Fire Warning light and the pilot (I hate calling them "Naval Aviators") elected to take the Nylon Approach. The rest of his perfectly fine airplane, except for the malfunctioning Fire Warning System, continued flying in a broad right hand turn out over the bay with his wingman formulating his plan to save the day! He'll just shoot down the airplane and become a hero.

Meanwhile back at the Manor, your's truly, MM29 in 376 (His Lordships) is hot refueling with my CE, SP-4 Hank Stewart doing the honors and my DG, either SP-4 Chris Campbell or SP-4 Don Ramsey doing the safety watch. or watering the PSP. I don't remember who the PP was but nowadays, I'm lucky if I remember my own name!

My first impression that something was amiss was watching cannon shells going off in the company area immediately followed by the Corsair II rolling inverted and crashing at the north end of the bomb dump.

Not ever seeing our hero, Dead Eye Dick, the wingman, my first thoughts were MIGs. We did have a Hawk Missile Battery just on the north side of the Manor and they weren't in Vietnam to catch the sun! I screamed at Hank and the DG loud enough and probably with a convincing scared look on my face, that both tossed the fuel hose, slid open the cargo door and dove into the aircraft. I pulled pitch, crossed the bomb dump, and quite literally headed for the hills west of Chu Lai, front doors flapping in the breeze, and not known at the moment, trailing fuel cause, yes folks, the fuel cap was sitting on the refueling point, sheared off of it's chain by the opening cargo door. The crew finally gets strapped and plugged in and there is a collective "What the F--ck, Over?" on the ICS. I explained what I saw and all eyeballs are now outside looking for Red-Zoomies. We reached the hills and started slowing down to set up a hover down in the trees between two hills. I'm now on the radio trying to find out what is going on when the DG says on the ICS that we have left a trail of white mist all the way from the Manor to where we are "fixin to hide". "So what the hell are we gonna do now?". About this time the word is getting out from Chu Lai Main Tower that the U.S. Navy had exceeded all of our expectations once again, so we decided to quit spraying JP-4 on the mosquitoes and return to the Manor to find the fuel cap, and while we are there, maybe refuel again.

Ed Covill, Minuteman 29, Musket 38

Note: According to sources, the fast mover that accidentally strafed the Manor was flown by the brother of a Warrant Officer who was assigned to the 176th AHC.

Story #8.2 Addendum to Story #8. Navy F8 Crusader Strafes Minuteman Manor

Excerpt of E-mail note from Philip S. Lee.

Dear Carl,

... the event mentioned in your web site concerning the F8 Crusader strafing the camp. That aircraft was definitely a Navy F8. It flew right over my head with the canopy missing. I ran out of the Enlisted Gun hooch as the 20 millimeter round impacted the camp. At the time of the event, the 101st were living in our area during an operation called Operation Batangan?? south of Chu Lai. One of the slick Pilots who is my boss at present was almost killed in my room when the 20mm impacted the wall. You also might note the 20mm started in the 176th Company shower area blowing the wall down, continued parallel to the beach thru the gun hooch, then parallel the walk way over to Battalion causing senior officers to jump in the muddy estuary and ended up blowing up the movie projector in the Battalion Area. As far as I know no one was injured which I always found amazing...

Philip S. Lee

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Story #9 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

a war story,,,,,,, or,,,, "there i was and this is no shit",,,,,,,,

"pick" got ahold of me one afternoon after the day was done,,,,, he wanted me to fly with him while he picked up either a major or a light colonel over at the fsb due west of chu lai,,,,,,,,, i remember that this guy who we named john wayne, reportedly had a "necklace" of vc ears that he wore,,,,,,,,,, well we landed and here comes the dude with 2 cpts (i believe) with him,,,,,,,,,,,,, they were carrying a couple of boxes and when they got in i noticed that the boxes contained,,,,,,,,, 100mph tape,,,about a dozen grenades,,,, some quart cans of motor oil,,,, and some "willie pete",,,,,,,,,,

we took off and headed north from lz stinson and started trying to find a specific hootch that these guys were very interested in,,,, once we located it the fun began,,,, these guys started taping a grenade to one side of the oil can and the willie pete to the other,,,,, we proceeded to make bombing runs on this hootch at 110 kts and 10 ft off the tree line,,,,,,,,,,,, they kept throwing these damn things out the door as we were on our strafing runs,,,,,,, took them about 4 runs to get the timing right,,,, wasn't a problem as far as we were concerned,,,, they'd pull the pin on the grenade and let er rip out the door at the right moment,,,,, talk about a bombing run,,,,,,,,,,,,, those bombs were just the right strength,,,made a nice little explosion and once it hit the target, it was blown to bits,,,,,, and everything close was set on fire,,,

this "john wayne" used to call us several times a month,,,,, usually the same scenario,,, find a specific target and have some fun,,,, those guys would just sit back there and laugh,,,, they were having a ball,,,,,,,,,,,,, isn't war somethin,,,, if you told that to some one who wasn't there, they'd think we really were "baby killers",,,,,,,

pick just loved doin that stuff,,,, he really was "into" the war,,, i ended up taking his r&r to sydney for him,,,, he didn't want to go,,,, i personally think that he didn't want to miss anything,,,

reminds me of the time ed barthell and i were flying down by my lai,,,,,

well "there i was and this is no shit",,,,,,,,

ô¿ô

Engine failure? Taking hits? Tail rotor failure? Tales from the club. Bitten by a rat where?
Have a good story? Your Story goes here!
If you have a good story about 176th AHC or letters that you would like to see it on this page, send them via e-mail Carl Zipperer.

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Story #10 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.
There is one funny story I'd like to tell. It concerns one of the most prolific men I'd ever met, Major Morton. We had an unusually bad week as far as keeping aircraft flying and were forced to borrow a helicopter from another company and they wanted an estimated time the bird would be returned to them. Major Phillips said tell them 1100 hrs, so I relayed that to them. There was a delay and the mission went into plan B. They called back and asked if we had released their bird yet and I replied no, but it would be released shortly. At 1400 hrs they called back and asked if "I" had released their bird yet: now all of a sudden it became my bird. I told them I had not heard from the field for two hours, but as soon as I got word I would call them. Now their calls came every hour, always the same, "did you release our bird yet",. and each time they called the caller's rank increased. It started with a SP4 at 1100 hrs and by 1600 hrs I was talking to a Captain. Captain Woods was standing over my shoulder, and said give yourself a promotion. Don't take their shit, so I became Capt. Hank for a brief time that afternoon, but it took longer than that to live it down.

Finally at 1800 hrs a call came in that their "bird" was shot down and was being lifted out by a hook. I really didn't want to tell them that. I figured by this time I'd be talking to a Colonel or higher, so I waited for Major Phillips to come home. But sure enough they called half an hour later. I think they must have suspected or heard something about it. The next call I got came from a pilot of ours escorting the Chinook carrying the wounded bird home. It seems the cable that was holding up the borrowed bird somehow broke and the Huey fell in the rice paddy below. Major Phillips wasn't there yet but in walks Major Morton just as they called again, asking if we had released their bird yet. The Major said "Tell them we just released it five minutes ago..... from 2000 feet".

Hank Anthony

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Story #11 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

This story is about a series of "Prairie Fire" missions that took place in August 1970. Although it was not commonly known at the time because of their secret nature, these missions were a continuation a long-standing relationship between the 5th Special Forces and the 14th Combat Aviation Battalion, particularly the 176th Aviation Company (Assault Helicopter). At the time that these particular missions occurred, anyone who had previously participated in a Prairie Fire or Oak Circle mission certainly knew the gravity of being assigned to such a mission. However, if you had never participated in one, you had no idea of the concentration of NVA forces and anti-aircraft artillery(AAA) that were across the border in Laos. Only the Air Force, CIA (Air America), and Special Forces operated in Laos and were familiar with the heavy NVA defenses. The only conventional American helicopter units regularly encountering these type of defenses were Marine, Army, and Air Force aviation units operating across the Demilitarized Zone in North Vietnam. It would be six months after these Prairie Fire missions, during Lam Son 719, before hundreds of helicopter aviators would learn about and encounter the concentration of forces and weapons that waited along and across the border between Vietnam and Laos.

I do not claim that this account of those few days in August 1970 is exactly the way that everything happened. The information in this story is based on the best recollection of two individuals who participated in those missions 29 years ago, Rick Reavill and Steve Clark. I am not aware of the existence of and did not have access to any official military documents to support the events in this story. I realize that this is only part of the story about what took place during those last two days. The rest of the story can only be told by other surviving participants. Any other helicopter crew member, Air Force A-l pilot, Air Force forward air controller, or Special Forces member who participated in, or has documentation of the missions that are described in the following story is encouraged to contribute information about what occurred during the missions. If you participated in these particular missions and would like to contribute additional information, please e-mail your information to ctzipp@aol.com.
Carl Zipperer

Rick Reavill, who wrote his parts of this story while off duty and living on an oil rig in the South China Sea, starts the story with some background:
As a group, by the time of this mission, none of us involved in this action were strangers to special types of operations, specifically, LRRP insertions and extractions in mountains and locations with minimal landing zones (LZs), during night and day with our friendly, rowdy, and now famous neighbors from-up-the-beach in Chu Lai, the 75th Rangers. Philip "Gooch" Richards, aircraft commander ( AC) with Tom Reynolds crew chief (CE) and Dusty (last name unknown) as gunner (0) in the UH-lH named "Proud Mary" along with Jerry Penny, Craig "Max" Maxim and myself flew too many of these missions in aircraft 239 to remember. The chance for up close and personal shoot-outs with angry and motivated North Vietnamese Army(NVA) troops was always an immediate possibility on this type of mission, and several times was a reality.

I remember being praised by two of the Ranger team leaders that we had taken on a pre-insertion recon for a landing zone (LZ). We were very low, flying up an offshoot canyon of Happy Valley when we rounded a kind of dog leg and came upon two NVA (pith helmets and that kind of green khaki) walking along a boulder strewn trail. In a reflex action, I opened up with my M60 machine gun, dropping the man in the lead. The second dove behind a large boulder and attempted to return fire, but I was able to use the rock to his left rear to ricochet my rounds into his back and side. We pulled off and the two Ranger team leaders decided that it wasn't too smart to dismount and go wandering just then, so we returned to their pad down on the beach.

There was much back slapping all around when we landed. These were not my first kills and I had already negotiated that turn from my upbringing. I was able to put it away, and the praise felt good coming from these two world class warriors. As a group, I think those of us pulling the LRRP missions felt that we were getting, nay WERE good at what we were doing. Hell, by the summer of seventy we were flat cocky. when the mission orders came down to report Chu Lai Main for a "real special" mission, my ego had been so stroked I figured the powers that be up there in the ivory tower had finally woke up to fact that they had some real Hard Chargers down there on the beach who were combat proven born killers with steely eyed heroes for pilots.

But we were in for a big surprise. As I recall, we landed out just east of the active runway next to the jet revetments. As we strolled into the hanger area with that well rehearsed cool look, wearing knives and carrying guns, we were met by the flat stares of the Hmong tribesmen mercenaries who we knew as Montagnards. They were not impressed, but we were. They carried a whole lot of guns and wore knives that got put to use. We'd never seen them before, but they'd seen a lot of us. They'd seen us come and they'd seen us go down.

Next we got the briefing from the intelligence types. We filled out a form, stating that we would be entering the "Kingdom Of Laos" on our own accord, so don't blame Uncle Sam. If we discussed the mission with anyone outside the mission, ever, we would be reporting to Leavenworth. Hmmmmm, now this was definitely a job for men of our caliber. Naturally we couldn't wait to get back to the Manor (the 176th Assault Helicopter Company area was known as the Manor) and tell EVERY LIVING SOUL that we have just made the VARSITY.

The first of these Prairie Fire missions went smoothly. They consisted of long flights to Kham Duc, followed by short jabs over the border, dropping and picking up the men of mystery, usually two Americans and four mercenaries. One time, one American, a short, dark-haired green beret, and a Hmong were both dressed in NVA uniforms. It was spooky.

Then the party was most abruptly over. The date of the initial trouble was August 14, 1970. We had previously inserted, I believe, a six man (usual configuration) team of two Americans and four Hmong. The insertion was cold and after waiting the usual period for the team to establish their radio contact we broke for Kham Duc for fuel, then returned to Chu Lai. This was followed by a day hanging around the old Marine jet revetments (was anything American made in RVN really old, or were we just phenomenally young?) eating the rations the Special Forces guys and the Hmong were using. We spent the night at the Manor with no special feelings other than another day gone by. At about 04:00 hrs Sgt. DeDe, our platoon sergeant, rousted us with a blazing flash light to the eyes, his favorite method used to actuate slumbering combatants. Get up you're late already. We hustled out to the aircraft and in short order reported to the hanger that housed the Special Forces Operations people at the Chu Lai Main airport.

Steve Clark describes some of what he remembers from those two days:
We went to the briefing the first morning, I knew this was going to be some kind of John Wayne mission as all the old timers had broken out all the weapons they had stashed under their beds. I recall being given some kind of documents we had to read or sign about the mission and I can't recall what they said. We were given some kind of rescue vests in the event we were shot down. We headed up to Marble Mountain and picked our people up and headed out.

Rick picks up where he left off:
After landing at Chu Lai Main we went inside and were briefed. The team we had inserted had made contact late the previous day. They were on the run and had casualties. We were to pick up a reinforcing team, a ladder system and proceed to Kham Duc, an old French airport and former Special Forces base near the Laotian border. From there, we would refuel and prepare to insert the second team. There was a lot of hustle going on it seemed. In fact we may have gone up to Da Nang, to the Special Forces compound to pick up the second team and ten on to Kham Duc.

Arriving at Kham Duc we are re-briefed. The situation is grim, one American is dead, two Hmong are badly wounded and need to be extracted or they may not survive. The feeling amongst the Minutemen is we've got to get these people out, we always get our people out. To say that the Special Forces people are close to their Hmong mercenaries would be a massive understatement.

The order of the flight of slicks was: Lead insertion bird is aircraft 239, carrying the ladder system and the reinforcement Special Forces team. The crew members on 239 were Jerry Penny- aircraft commander (AC), Steve Clark- pilot (P), Rick Reavill- crew chief (CE), and Walter Ray "Odie"Hall--gunner (G). Chase bird1 was crewed by Marty Ott- AC, Walter Burkhart- , ? Garza- CE, and? Pickett-G. Chase bird2 was commanded by Joe Gross- AC. I do not remember the other crew members on his aircraft. I feel sure that someone else will remember who they were and we can fill in their names in this story. My apologies are offered to anyone whose names I cannot remember. It has been along time and this story needs to be told.

We lifted off from Kham Duc about mid-morning and headed approximately northwest. After the advised flying time, we raised the Air Force forward air controller (FAC) flying the mission and he vectored us to his location. The FAC was working a pair of fixed wing Al Skyraiders. The FAC puts us into an orbit to the east of the LZ at a higher altitude than our usual 1,500' AGL. I commented on this to Jerry and he said it was because of the AAA. Our conversations were clipped and strained. We were very tense. This was not your usual LRRP insertion. There were Al fixed wing fighter-bombers supporting the team on the ground. The Als looked like a World War II news clip, the crunch of their bombs somewhat muted by our distance. They were on a different radio frequency so we missed the conversations, but we could see heavy 12.7 mm automatic weapons fire following them on their pull outs and it didn't appear to be slacking.

We were joined by two AH-lG Cobras. They had bigger and more rocket pods than I'd seen before and also a 20mm Vulcan canon on the left side. Fuel was beginning to concern me. The FAC came up on our frequency as we stretched our orbit out to keep him in sight out the left window (AC's side). He was out of marking smoke and would give us an audible mark on the LZ. He took a run right on top of the trees heading towards the LZ. At the right distance heading east to west he started the count, 10, 9, we could hear the heavy and small arms fire transmitting across his keyed mike, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, the sound was growing to a steady roar, 2, he's really pulling a lot of back pressure to pull the nose level as he skims the top of the LZ. You could hear his engines straining at what must have been lull throttle as well as the incredible volume of weapons fire from individual and crew-served weapons as he says "1, MARK MARK! do you have the LZ in sight?" Jerry rogers in the affirmative, looks back at me, asks me if I have it. I say yeah and he mouths the word FUUUCCK!

The FAC got us set up on the approach. We have one Cobra ahead of us and one Cobra directly behind us. The idea was the Cobras were going to lead and follow us in. As we reach the LZ we will drop out the bottom, pull to a hover, deploy the ladder and drop the team. Fine and dandy on paper. We begin the approach-- Jerry is in his best form. Nobody low levels a UH-1 like Jerry Penny. when the Cobra pilot in the lead tells Jerry to stick to him, Jerry definitely takes it to heart. He tells Steve Clark to stay with him on the controls, be ready to take over. We charge the LZ at as much airspeed 239 is capable of. I am afraid.

Steve relates his memories of the insertion as with the following:
The only thing I recall about the insertion was Jerry telling me to stay on the stick as we flew in. what was going on in back or around me I can not say as I was pretty focused on what was going on in front of me. I remember the weather going to hell on us and not having maps to go anywhere but the way we came in and having the Air Force 02 FAC guiding us north and then into the A Shau Valley or something like that where we landed. I can recall thinking we needed to get those guys out of there and volunteered to go back the next day.

Rick continues with the story:
In the hours prior to arriving in the vicinity I'd had time to psych up for it (this was not my first rodeo and all that other B.S). I realize that I was gripping the fore stock of my M60 like a vise. I thought of my one year old daughter, having only seen her on my leave before coming to Vietnam. I suddenly missed her and asked God to take care of her if I didn't make it. I felt better. We can do this, we must, there is no one else. It boils down to that.

The Cobra swooped up to get into firing position and we were literally on his tail as the Cobra went nose down to fire. We were in a 50 degree (approximate) right hand bank, nose low attitude, and my view of the Cobra was from the mast back. He fired a pair of rockets and the back blast streaked past us. I immediately think, that's too soon! In the next instant I could hear the Special Forces medic/team lead screaming in my headphones "Cease fire! Cease fire! The Cobras are hitting us!" I had a terrible sinking feeling, This is going bad, really bad. We leveled out and the distance to go evaporated. Suddenly there were muzzle flashes all along my side.

Everything I'd learned kicked in. I'm on automatic, shoot the closest ones first, lay down a base of fire , come on 60 don't quit, rockets impact into the tree line from the Cobras, the fire slackens. I worry about "Odie". His gun has fired intermittently, is he okay? We are over the hole in the trees that constitutes the LZ. "Odie"and I are both talking Jerry to it. Attaboy "Odie", don't shout, stay cool, it helps me get a grip.

We hovered down, and I checked and saw the ladder roll out the right door. The Special Forces Master sergeant literally threw his men out the door. We were about 60 ft above the jungle floor, our skids at tree-top level. He followed in an instant and I think FEARLESS! Looking down I saw the Special Forces medic weakly waving for us to come lower, to hover down and get them out. I told Jerry, but he remained coldly professional. Gone is the boisterous prankster. He was staying with the game plan, totally focused. The LZ must be enlarged.

Steve was weathering the storm. With the troops off the ladder Jerry added power for takeoff. Steve seemed cool and detached as he called out the torque gauge readings. I felt the thunk, thunk of airframe hits. Shit! "Odie" was calling Jerry up, "Come on up. Coming up."

The fire started back up from seven o'clock. I opened up on it, Odie called us clear of the trees, Jerry rolled the nose over and we moved ahead. There was kind of a bang-pfft and my 60 stopped. The round just fired failed to eject, the link feeder picked it up another live round and the bolt shoved it into the expended casing, firing the live round. Double feed! This blew off the extractor from the bolt, and it along with the remaining brass from the live round flew into my right arm pit (many crew chiefs and gunners in the 176th used free guns in the slicks) There was a thirty-caliber machine gun firing at us from down slope to the west. Jerry later told me it was so loud he didn't realize my weapon was down and he mistook the NVA's fire for mine. I went into fumbalideze trying to unlimber my M16, and finally got off one magazine basically into empty jungle.

We picked up air speed and I found Odie in an epic struggle with the ladder. I joined him on the cargo floor and together we tried to pull this contraption back inside. Well, they roll up on the ground just peachy. Try that in a 120 knot wind with mad gooners shooting at you. When we had it shortened up to about 30 ft, it started to wave up by the tail rotor. That's all we needed. I plugged my helmet cord back in and told Jerry to SLOW DOWN! He pulled way back and we finally got it in. Odie and I just fell in a heap, gulping for air. With the team inserted, we returned to Kham Duc. By the time we arrived there, all the aircraft were flying on fumes.

After arriving at Kham Duc, it seems like we just basically refueled. Don't know how information was passed to us when we were on the ground there. However when we got the information, we got our orders to return to Chu Lai. The Air Force would be providing the TAC Air necessary for the team's survival overnight. As we took off for Chu Lai, I think we were all relieved to be back over the familiar terrain of South Viet Nam. I believe I was so relieved that I may have fallen asleep. After the rattle and shake of the adrenalin we were plum tuckered out! All you old time vets please forgive my slide from vigilance here.

Steve relates his opinion of the days results:
I think we didn't expect what we (U.S. forces) encountered on that first day and if we could have, we would have pulled those guys out that day. Unfortunately, we were not able to do that and that is why we headed back the next day. These guys were not going to accomplish anything except staying alive with the contact they were in.

Rick continues with the story:
Upon arriving at the Manor, we all shut down and the crews kind of milled around sharing thoughts on the day and comparing notes, so to speak. One thing stood out. We had gotten the team in, by god, and we would get them both out! The airframe mechanic from the Blacksmiths (maintenance platoon) showed up. As he got started repairing the bullet damage to the tail boom and cargo area roof (none structural) Jerry insisted I go to the Battalion dispensary. I replied that it was too piddley, but he said "Go". I went, got a tetanus shot, a band aid and some Darvon. I threw the Darvon in Charlie Brown Creek. The EM club had better stuff for that sort of thing.

Returning to the aircraft, I found some of my fellow crew chiefs had already pitched in and were helping out the airframe guy The air frame guy was a short, dark-haired guy from Seattle, Washington who was quiet but very friendly. He and I had arrived in-country together and left on the same freedom bird out of Cam Ranh Bay. He had worked every day all year except for one R&R. He had put up with rocket attacks, heat, dust, and broken birds night and day without one bitch. When we left for home, I remember he wouldn't wear the Army Commendation Medal he had received at the end of his tour. He didn't think he deserved it. Hopefully he'll read this and we can straighten him out on that score. After we had finished up fixing the aircraft, I reneged on the beer I'd promised everybody so we could try to get some rest.

About this time gunner Craig "Max" Maxim approached me and drew me to one side. It's been my experience that true brothers tend to argue strongly when they are concerned for the other's well -being, Max argued that he should replace Odie due to his being pretty green. Max and I could read each other like a book by this time and I admitted that he may be right. However, call it combat intuition/superstition or whatever, I turned down the offer. I did mention the offer to Odie. He stopped, turned to me and said, "Rick, I've got to go, I've got to be there when we get them out."

We retired to the hootch. There we worked on the M60 machine guns. Going over the day again, I asked Odie if his gun had jammed or misfired, as I'd only heard him get off a couple of bursts. He calmly replied no, he'd only actually SEEN a couple of NVA in the open. He had, however, seen a strange sight. It looked to him to be flashbulbs, like a whole lot of people taking our picture. Well, we got that straight in a hurry, making it clear that we were not in the least bit famous and there was no one in Laos who wanted a signed 8x10 glossy of our sorry asses. It was, however, our JOB to KILL EVERY SON OF A BITCH MEMBER OF THE NORTH VIETNAMESE ARMY OUT THERE OLD ENOUGH TO DIE!

It was also relayed to me that a couple of Musket crew chiefs, (gun ship platoon) I believe it was Rocky Wells and Jessup, had volunteered their services as gunners. My friend Walter Ray "Odie" Hall would prove himself to be more than adequate to the task the following day. He would be instrumental in the recovery of the wounded Special Forces troops and the crew of Marty Ott's shot down helicopter.

As we sat around chattering in the post mission let down, Jerry Penny, our AC, stopped in, pulled up an ammo can seat, and shared a can of coke. We spoke of the mission and all the usual things. He seemed ill at ease. Relationships between members of a regular flight crews were always pretty relaxed. We could always speak fight out without too many inhibitions. I asked Jerry what was up. He came out with the fact that he was up on his flight hours for the month and that Gordon "Butch" Sears was scheduled to be our AC for the mission the next morning, which was rapidly approaching. Some background here is appropriate. Read the story on this web page about Capt. John Longstreet's damn near shoot down and wounding. He wasn't scheduled to fly that day either. What I referred to earlier as combat intuition/superstition has a base right there in that story. After flying months of combat missions, pilots and crew members subconsciously fall into patterns of behavior that they may or may not recognize. I had some personal rules, I never flew as an extra gun, ever. If you were on the mission board, you flew, if you weren't on the board and you flew, it could be bad karma baby. We knew the struggle Jerry was going through, the three of us just kind of sat there taking turns looking at each other. Odie finally piped up and said "Hey, Butch is cool. We'll be fine." With that, Jerry left to go crash and we never discussed it again, but I could tell it bothered him. I had no problem with his decision then and I don't now.

I finally rolled up in my poncho liner about 01:30 hours August 15th 1970. It would be a big day, the results of which would reverberate all the way to the Paris Peace talks. As wrung out as I was, sleep was elusive. I couldn't shake the vision of the Special Forces medic laying sprawled in the LZ clutching at his mangled legs with one band and trying to wave us down with the other while laying beside the body of his comrade. I couldn't forget the sound of his voice after the Cobras' rockets exploded right on the edge of the LZ as he was pleading for us to come lower so they could get out of that hell hole, which at that very moment was being blasted and strafed by Air Force tactical aircraft to keep the encroaching NVA at bay. Before I could dream, it was time to go.

Odie and I arrived at the aircraft in time to see Steve Clark, the same pilot we'd had the day before, finishing his walk-around pre-flight. ALL RIGHT! Three quarters of the team still good to go! Butch showed up shortly. To say that we thought highly of Butch wouldn't even come close. He WAS cool. I'd been on innumerable combat assaults and LRRP insertions and extractions with Butch and I'd never seen him sweat. He was always calm and very smooth on the controls. He didn't have the razzle dazzle style that Jerry possessed_, but I had no doubt in his ability to pull us through what was promising to be a very tight spot.

Before Odie and I had gone out to the aircraft we had gone to the bunker between the 2nd Flight Platoon hootches and perused the illicit weaponry there. We had, as a group, amassed plenty of what we all considered essential to combat operations, and plenty of what wasn't. There were even a couple of Communist made rocket propelled grenade launchers with the grenades. I figured they might be awkward if not flat dangerous to fire from the helicopter. That morning along with our usual load of two M60s complete with 2,800 rounds of linked ammo each and our individual M16 rifles with 18 magazines of 18 rounds, or 324 bullets, Odie and I hung smoke grenades on the seat pole just ahead of our bench seats in our gunnels (the passenger seats had, of course, been removed) and stuffed fragmentation grenades in our ammo boxes and under our seats. We carried along lull canteens with spares.

We were outfitted with our chicken plates (body armor) and had dug around for extra butt plates (armored seat pads) as well. And we had adjusted the extraction harness (basically a parachute-type harness) to fit something we had been lax about previously. Butch commented that "Gee you guys are taking this pretty seriously, looks like you're loaded for BEAR." Odie said, "WE ARE."

I asked Butch if he had bullets enough for the big .45 automatic he always wore right in front of his crotch even when not seated in the aircraft. He always joked that those puny little .38s weren't large enough to cover the territory. He kind of grinned until he realized I wasn't joking at all. We boarded the aircraft and swung around the pattern to the familiar landing spot for the Special Forces hanger area. We went in to be briefed (this is very early morning- 0:dark thirty). Some Special Forces guys mission loaded the birds while we were inside. Arriving back at the aircraft, I was concerned to find the ladder system has been loaded on my bird. This bothered me A LOT. It was not just because after the previous day's experience that I had a tremendous urge to never see one of the friggin things again. It was also because this denoted us as a chase bird for the one actually going into the LZ. This was a last minute change and definitely rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe that's why actual combat (as opposed to the zoomin-around, shootin-guns fill' kind) never really agreed with me. You had to stay flexible, not my most solid trait. But what's done is done and we are going to be the chase bird.

Marty Ott, Wally Burkhart, Garza, and Pickett would be in the first extraction bird, with 239- Butch Sears, Steve Clark, Rick Reavill and Odie Hall first chase bird. Joe Gross would pilot the second extraction bird with his crew. I believe this is where the Rattler bird (71st Assault Helicopter Company) makes its appearance, as second chase bird. Two of this Rattler bird's crew would never return from Laos.

Before boarding our helicopter, we are joined by a Special Forces Medic and a Special Forces Colonel! Now looking back, from the vantage point of years and the seasoning of a small portion of maturity, I realize that this Colonel was undoubtably a consummate warrior who was highly skilled in special ops/small unit tactics etc., and had a very high stake, i.e. his people on the ground, in this mission. However, at the ripe old age of 19 whatever tact I could muster was invariably masked by a severe case of chronic smart ass. I assumed that our two add-on pacs had overlooked the obvious. "Say SIR, you know if this bird is put to it's intended use, that is picking up the crew of the bird we're chasm, when they get shot down, plus whoever else they're lucky enough to get on board, it's going to get real FUCKIN CROWDED in here not including any extra individuals we have to take along." He looks at me for half a second and says "Crank It. " I'm not sure how he means that, but it's readily apparent that he and the Medic will accompany us. Fair enough. The Colonel is carrying the Car-15 (a carbine similar to an M16) I wind up using later that day. We lifted off and followed the now familiar route to Kham Duc, performed the ritual refuel, then continued on to the battleground.

It was still early morning when we arrived in the vicinity. With the dawn, the NVA had renewed their assaults on the beleaguered teams. Bravo Tango, the Air Force FAC has the Al Skyraiders working out and dropping their bombs danger close to the LZ. At one point I heard the Master sergeant that we had inserted yesterday, whose call sign was One Zero, shouting on FM radio. "GOOD! GOOD! YOU'RE KILLING 'EM NOW, THEY'RE CHOPPIN' GOD DAMN WOOD NOW!" I'd heard from the G Co. Rangers that you could tell when you put the hurt on the enemy because they'd be chopping tree limbs for litters for their wounded. No matter what is said about the North Vietnamese, they were as professionally opposed to leaving their dead and wounded as we were.

Now it's time to extract. The approach route for Marty Ott and crew will be the same as the previous day with a Cobra lead and a Cobra trail. Butch will take us in 239 roughly astern of the trailing Cobra at his 5 o'clock position (right rear quarter). This position enables us to view Marty all the way to the LZ and then we move into a racetrack pattern that we can stretch out as need be in order to be on time to pick him up as he comes out. We are on a westerly heading and then turn abruptly right to the final approach. We are well behind the trail Cobra, but hauling ass. Odie gets reintroduced to his photographer buddies. He gives them a very warm greeting to be sure, one continuous burst from the first flash he sees until we turn right (east). This brings the friendlies on to his side of the aircraft, he shuts his M60 down. I see no direct fire on my side but fire on likely looking defenses and tree line. I shut my M60 down as we near the LZ. My view of Marty is unobstructed. It is a chilling view as we sweep past. Marty has just flared to a stop and is hovering down into the trees. The tree tops are blowing back but the LZ is still incredibly small-- there's no way he'll make it. I think, please God help him, Garza and Pickett. They are both leaned out of the helicopter going hot and talking Marty down.

We broke night and started around again. As we traveled away, the sound of firing dropped and we were out of it. It shouldn't take long but we had no way of knowing the depth of hell our fellow Minutemen were in. We later learned that Garza spent his time outside the helicopter in the LZ running around picking up and carrying the wounded aboard. He is wounded by gunfire during this endeavor but carries on, boards the aircraft and continues to fire his M60 in defense of his pilots and aircraft.

Our first word (I have no idea how long they were down in there, but a half century sounds about right) was when Marty keyed his mike, barely audible over the roar of gunfire, he simply says, "Comin' Out." We do an abrupt 180 degree turn and re-enter the approach from a little different angle, although trying to fool the gooners at this juncture is a rather moot point. We are greeted by a terrifying sight, the tops of the trees have sucked BACK IN! as soon as Marty pulled power. The main rotor looks like a giant rotary mower, the blades visibly slowing. Just when it looks like all is lost HE'S FREE! JESUS!

Okay here we go. We angle away from Marty, still keeping him in sight until he builds air speed and then close on him. What we see is a mess. The wounded are in a heap in the cargo area and Garza is slumped but manning the fire extinguisher. We do a pass underneath to check out the severity of the damage. It is obvious that the chin bubbles and cockpit plexiglass are shot out. In addition, Odie and I are treated to a JP-4 (fuel) shower mixed with a large quantity of hydraulic fluid. We are at approximately 1,500 to 2,000 feet above ground level in high mountains, over a solid cloud deck. The strain of the moment is unreal as we continue to perform our jobs. This is no time to break down into the 'woe is us' mode. It is out of our hands, our friends are going to go down. Marty is the extract bird and has done his job. We are the chase bird and now we are going to do ours.

We continued heading east in an attempt to reach the comparative safety of the border. After an undeterminable length of time, we came to a break in the clouds. It was a hard fought salvation. We followed Marty on his right wing as he descended through the cloud cover, he informed us that his hydraulics are totally out. It took Marty and Wally on the controls to fly the machine. And they were not sure how long the engine would keep running.

We entered a long narrow valley. As we got lower, I realized I was looking at cultivated fields of corn. This was bad. When inside Vietnam, way out in the boondocks you come across crops and no people, h meant the people using the crops didn't want to be observed. When they were observed, those being observed felt a strong need to kill the observers. We needed to get in and get out rapidly.

Marty and Wally flew a fairly straight course to a small knob hill pretty much in the center of this valley. Things were looking pretty good until the flare. It steepened drastically and the aircraft began to settle with a considerable amount forward airspeed. The tail made contact first. The aircraft bounded up violently until the main rotor contacted the ground. In one motion the main rotor blades flew off; the top of the main transmission exploded, the fuselage snap-spun 90 degrees right and the aircraft impacted to a crashing halt on the left side, folding the left skid underneath. The body of the aircraft rocked back upright. Wounded were thrown everywhere.

This is where time sped up for me rather than slowing down. As we overfly the crash at about 15' altitude above it, I look down and see Marty Ott slumped over the controls. Now, you guys may recall, I don't know if it was written or just accepted policy that at a crash sight the crew chief of the recovery aircraft would dismount and assist in removing radios (the holy grail of which being the KY-28 encoding radio) and provide whatever assistance the crew chief of the downed aircraft might need. This has been on my mind since we left the LZ. I knew Garza was wounded and now it appears Marty is also, and we gotta GET OUT OF HERE!

In some kind of spasm, the squirrels inside me break loose all at once. I judge the speed and height of my not-yet hovering helicopter to be satisfactory. I jump. This becomes my first lesson in non-parachute-equipped bomb trajectory. My entrance to the scene takes place somewhat east of my planned arrival spot, at a lower altitude, and with considerably more airspeed. It is an unglamourous feet, butt, head son of arrival, best replicated on WWF Wrestling. The Medic and Colonel later undoubtably laughed their asses off over that one. By the time I get back to where I'm supposed to be, said Colonel and Medic are efficiently loading wounded. I come face to face with Marty, standing fully erect outside the aircraft. He had actually been busy collecting his maps out of the chin bubble when I saw him "slumped over". He looks at me kind of baffled and said "Where've you been?" I don't reply.

Butch is hovering as low as he can-- there is no room to land on this small hilltop. The crash uses it all up. We help Garza and Pickett to my bird. Somehow we get them up and they kind of pile up m my gunnel. They are both shocky and appear stunned. Unfortunately, they are sitting on top of my M60 and microphone cord. Wally Burkhart has been boarded by the Special Forces guys along with the other wounded. As the Special Forces guys help carry him with an arm around each of their necks, Wally appears to be grinning. I can't tell if its a grimace from the pain or if he's just been knocked slap- happy from the tremendous impact of the crash. Marty and I turn our attention to the crashed UH-! H. I retrieve the VHF radio from the right rear.

As I'm working at that, Odie opens up with a long burst into the tree line bordering the base of the low hills to our south. This causes me to take a look around. Is that movement I see to the north, or the squirrels again? This causes the "Where's your M16, numb nuts?" question to come up. We gotta get out of here. I rip around the front of the crash and fling the low value VHF radio into the hovering helicopter. I believe Marty got the KY-28 out. Marty then draws his .38 and starts putting the radios in the console out of their misery, one shot at a time. I've got a better idea, I pull Garza's M60 out of the wreckage, yell at Marty to "Git Back" and prepare to do real battle with the radio stack. Three rounds and the M60 jams. With the shrapnel that thing was blowing off, I'm damn lucky Marty didn't get hurt. Marty makes kind of a 'screw it' wave with his left hand, holsters the .38. Fine by me pardner, we got to GET OUT OF HERE! I throw Garza's M60 back where I'd found it (so much for depriving the enemy, hey, we were in a hurry!)

We get to the helicopter still hovering over our heads. Marty and I face each other, then we each interlace our fingers and stoop over to give the other a foot up. Seeing this, we drop our hands in unison and raise one foot. This is ridiculous, we both just jump up and clamber aboard. Marty pulls himself into a ball facing outward on the cargo floor next to Garza in my gunnel There is literally no more room. I'm forced to stand bent over just behind Steve Clark, who is flying in the left seat. Butch had Steve flying from that side because Steve was about to make aircraft commander. I'm straddling the leg of one of the wounded Hmong, which is encased in one of those blowup plastic splints, I can see the femur, he has 4 morphine syrettes stuck in his collar and the leg reeks of gangrene. Every time I try to move to a better position he screams in agony. I stop. Damn! I can't talk on the intercom so I lean over and give Butch the thumbs up, we begin taking fire from 9 o'clock, literally at my "rear". Steve Clark is on the controls. Butch appears to be very calmly talking on the radio and to Steve like he's sitting back at the Manor or something. I finally see the Colonel's Car-15 piled amongst all the other gear. I grab it, pushing my helmet against the cabin roof to steady myself, and trying not to point it directly at anyone in the cram packed cabin, rack back the charging handle. Okay, now we are not nude.

Steve coaxes the grossly overloaded aircraft through translational lift. Looking over my right shoulder I catch a glimpse of movement, then the underbrush below us literally explodes with AK47 and .30 caliber RPD machine gun fire. Instinctively, I flinch. Buffeted by the wind, I manage to switch the Car-l 5 off safe, but not all the way around to full auto, and answer this fusillade with single shots, tracers to boot (lighter, don't hit as hard). At this point I think we are past fear and on to some new plateau. It's been a long day. I feel foolishly helpless. They are going to shoot us down. Suddenly there is a tremendous series of explosions directly on the NVA's positions. THE COBRAS! I guess they had previously gone after Joe Gross and his crew and had now returned to give us cover. Sorry Joe, I got caught up telling our end of it.

After Marty came out of the LZ, it was Joe's turn. He suffered the same fate as Marty. I forgot to mention that the last thing we heard from Joe as we followed Marty, was that he had smoke in the cockpit and was going down west of the LZ. If it were not for those Cobras, we would have definitely not pulled any of this off.

Steve relates how he remembers the extraction:
I remember Joe getting shot down and flying overhead as he was getting picked up. I remember taking fire unlike anything I had experienced before. We had Cobras on station and those old WW2 looking fighter planes. I recall following Ott. He had taken some rounds in the fuel cell and fuel was pouring out like some kind of faucet had been turned on. The idea was to head west and get in some kind of friendly territory if that was possible. I think his hydraulics were also gone. As we headed east the terrain became more mountainous and there was no level spot for him to put down. He lined up with a small hill and drove her in. At first glance everything looked as though it was going to go well but as they made contact the aircraft flipped. I can remember everybody standing on top of the aircraft as we picked them up. As we lifted out of there I could swear I saw a puff of smoke in front of us in the air but at that point I was so scared the clouds could have looked like and-aircraft fire.

Rick continues with his story:
he ride to Kham Duc entailed trying not to move and flapping in the breeze. Oh yeah, the Colonel jerked the Car-l5 out of my hand as soon as we were clear of the enemy fire. I think he was afraid I'd drop it. We were hardly elated when we reach Kham Duc, but felt as though we had accomplished something very positive. One more lift out and we would have a successful rescue pulled off. A medivac Huey from Chu Lai took the wounded team members and our friends away.

At Kham Duc, Butch and Steve were in one of the commo bunkers somewhere we assume, keeping up with the score. After checking out our helicopter we found one bullet graze on the avionics door in the nose, one 30 caliber size hole at a 45 degree angle up through the gunners gun mount, and one through the left side horizontal stabilizer. The main and tail rotor blades were OK. We were so lucky it was spooky. We plopped down and practiced what soldiers have been doing since day one on this orb. We waited.

After asking Odie about the firing on his side during the extraction at the crash sight, he stated that he fired at two individuals moving from west to east along a narrow trail partially obscured by brush, one of whom dropped from sight and the other retreated to the west. This would indicate to me that they were moving towards the group that engaged us with heavy automatic weapons fire as we took off to the east. Man I loved this guy. Two days of this crap and he's a no hesitatin' combat veteran! With the stress off at least for a while, we fell into that dreamless sleep of men in combat. The kind you can fall into instantly as a refuge from what's going on around you, and you're guaranteed no rest from.

We awoke stiff and gravel eyed from the sound of Butch and Steve strapping into their seats. We got our gear back on as Butch told us the news. The Air Force had been really laying it on the enemy and this is it. We will be the last train out of town. The Rattler bird becomes Nat 3, we are Nat 4. That means the Rattler crew will extract, we will chase. I wonder about that. Are we drawing friggin straws or what? We've been in and over the LZ more than any of the other chopper crews. How come we're not extracting? My mouth for once stayed shut. I seemed to have found a new sense of tactfulness. We lifted off and the sense of impending doom was so familiar now that I felt as though I would never lose it. In fact there are days now 29 years since that I know I never have. We are flying in a loose staggered right formation. I waved at the Rattler door gunner. He gave me the thumbs up and I flash him the "peace sign". He grinned broadly and nodded up and down vigorously. One more time, Lord just one more time. I didn't know the gunner's name then, but I now know that his name was Peter Schmidt and the pilot in the right seat was 1^st Lt. James Becker.

Like any thing dreaded we were there very soon. The FAC with call sign Bravo Tango is still working (I can't recall the call sign of the other FAC that relieved Bravo Tango for his fuel breaks). We can now plainly see the brown smoky scar of the LZ. High frees still stand to the north along the spine of the ridge, which runs north west to south east, the LZ being just at the military crest of the ridge line. There's no need for a smoke mark, lets just get it over with. We are on a common radio frequency with Bravo Tango and the team leader on the ground whose call sign is One Zero. The Al Skyraiders are still on another frequency. Bravo Tango informs One Zero that we are about to begin our approach to which One Zero shouts "You promised me Jolly Greens! You promised!" (Jolly's being Air Force CH-53 rescue helicopters that were much heavier armed than our Hueys). I feel stung but fully understand. Bravo Tango soothes him telling him he'll be out in just a minute, "Just hold on buddy." One Zero's voice is raw. He sounds like what he is, a man who has survived 30 hours of constant, barely survivable combat. He has rescued his comrades, loaded them on a helicopter to safety, stayed behind and continued to fight on so that his team, his five Hmong warriors can also be pulled to safety. It is a desperate situation now and we are his last hope.

We are as a group yearning for this to be over. Bravo Tango wastes no time setting us up on the approach. For what ever reason we lack the Cobras this time. We follow Nat 3 in and watch as he comes to a hover. The only trees to worry about are at his twelve o'clock, dead ahead. It looks good. The constant pounding is having the desired effect on the NVA. That's right, we're back and you little NVA bastards had better keep your heads down if you want to keep em. We roll around for the down wind leg of the race track.

Suddenly we hear One Zero yelling "He dropped a ladder! He dropped the fucking ladder! What the HELL? Bravo Tango tells them to "Get on It" A moment later he screams, clearly out of control "He's crashing!" static -- CRASHED! CRASHED! MY TEAM!

We are shocked and stunned. Our crew intercom erupts.. Oh NO! Oh Jesus CHRIST NO! NOT NOW! Was it me that said those words? I don't know, I just remember the words. We wrench around and Butch asks if I can see the wreckage. All I can see is just the trees. It is like the helicopter was swallowed whole, totally devoured. Bravo Tango attempts the impossible, to console One Zero and get him focused back on getting out. We stand by in orbit to the east. We are numb, distraught, horrified, grief-stricken. No one emotion stands out long enough to grab on to. It is an utter disaster.

I can't remember whether we made a fuel run and returned or if we went right in to pick up the downed helicopter crew and surviving Special Forces. My memory just fast cuts to the final approach. It is eerily quiet as we make a nearly flat run to the LZ. With no trees to worry about now we hover down the last few feet. As soon as Butch touched the toes of the skids to the slope, the men stumbled aboard helped by the Master sergeant. On board are the Rattler aircraft commander, who was Nat 3, his face a blood mask, and his crew chief who is not only in pain and shock, but in an agony of the mind that no one should ever be forced to live with. They were the only two who had been able to get out of the aircraft. The aircraft had crashed on it's right side, the side with the ladder, the side with the pilot and gunner who were unable to get out. The Special Forces Master sergeant just sat stoically in the cargo compartment, a figure of abject exhaustion.

There are only two men from the 71st Assault Helicopter Company aircraft going home today. We lift off and head east with neither Odie nor I firing a shot. It is over. The sergeant turned to me and I raised my visor so we could look at each other directly. The look in his eye's still haunts me, he is trembling, he says above the roar of the wind,"My team is dead." With my right hand on his shoulder I try to tell him we tried our best. He wept openly.

In memory of those Special Forces who gave their lives and were left in Laos on August 15, 1970, who remain unknown to us. In memory of those aviators who gave their lives and were left in Laos on August 15, 1970.

1st Lt. James Becker 26 years old Killed In Action - Body Not Recovered
August 15th 1970 Panel 8W Row 113

Sp/4 Peter Schmidt 20 years old Killed In Action - Body Not Recovered
August 15th 1970 Panel 8W Row 115

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Story #12 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

Ed Covill's Story behind Disconnected Pitch Tube

Near sunset the Primary Team was scrambled for a heavy contact mission down near one of the OPs vicinity of Stinson; I think the OP (note: either OP 1 or OP George) near the Son Tra Bong. I was flying FTL of the Primary. When we got there, we were greeted by a full fledged firefight and our support was helping but the dinks were not about to break contact yet. I got a radio message back to the Manor to scramble the Secondary Team and also the flareship as it was starting to get dark. It seemed that the dinks were not going to go away without a couple of more doses of Musket persuasion or for that matter anybody else that wanted to join in. I established contact with the Secondary Team and briefed them in on the situation. We broke for home upon expending and passed the Secondary (now primary) on the way back to the Manor. They said that the flareship had to be loaded yet and would probably fly out with you after you refueled and rearmed. I said okay and I would brief them on the ramp and you guys can update us when we come back out.

Meanwhile back at the ramp - The designated flareship usually was assigned at the end of the day after a maintenance determination of available aircraft. The assigned aircrew would then preflight, runup the aircraft and move it to the flare revetment for loading. If memory serves me correctly, this is what happened except upon shutdown for loading the AC (I can picture him but I don't remember his name) had asked maintenance to check the play in the scissors assembly as it seemed real sloppy.

At that time the Secondary scramble had not happened yet. The crew left the aircraft for whatever reason and maintenance came out, inspected the scissors assembly, found it out of limits and removed it. No entry was made in the logbook. When the Secondary Team was scrambled and it looked like we were going to need the flareship already, the Flareship Crew returned to load with flares in preparation to go out with my team after I rearmed. The AC did check the logbook, found no new entries and planned to start as soon as the flares were loaded.

As I came up the ramp after refueling, the flareship was already running in the revetment. We pulled into rearm and I instructed my PP to brief in the Flareship Crew while we rearm and also have him give me a commo check on Uniform and Fox Mike. (Sorry Guys, I don't remember his name either but if he surfaces, HE WILL TELL you about!) My PP was standing on the right skid toe briefing the AC (a lot of ACs preferred right seat for the flare mission in case of inadvertent IMC) when one blade went to full pitch. The aircraft jumped about 10 feet in the air and then came down. It repeated that cycle a few more times while starting to spin in the revetment. My PP had a bird's eye view of all of this when he was thrown off. He got up and ran towards the armament storage berm and stated later that the vertical fin passed him as he dove over the berm.

If I recall correctly, nobody was hurt by this incident, but a few shorts had to get some serious laundering!

Ed Covill, Minuteman 29, Musket 38

Someone from maintenance came out and disconnected the push pull tubes from the swash plate to the head, without making the proper entry in the aircraft log. While this/those unknown person(s) were away from the aircraft a scramble was called.

When the crew got to the bird it was dark, and since they had already pre-flighted they strapped in and began to crank. WO Mike " Purple Seal " Fuson, fire team lead for the escort flight was standing on the skid briefing the slick AC when the aircraft began to self destruct.

Needless to say pieces of Huey flew all over he ramp with some parts being thrown over the berm and into the ammo dump. Somehow no one was hurt and no other aircraft were damaged. I was attending the movie at Battalion when I heard the crash of the rotor impacting the tail boom.

Tom " Bone " Herrington, Musket 35 69'-70'

Click HERE to view image of the damaged aircraft.

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Story #13 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

The Army Reporter Vol. 3, No. 38 Long Binh, Vietnam Sept. 30, 1967

They Don't Monkey Around
CHU LAI, (101st ABN-IO) A squad of rock-throwing monkeys attacked a platoon of 101st Airborne Division near here recently but retreated in haste.

The 1st Platoon of Company B, 2nd Battalion, 327th Infantry thought enemy soldiers were ahead when they saw bushes moving. A rock fell into the paratrooper's position.

The Americans hesitated a moment to consider how to combat the monkeys. Then Sp4 Rodney M. Ward and PFC John Files took action, counter-attacking with rocks.

The monkeys found the Screaming Eagles' aim too accurate and beat a hasty retreat.

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Story #14 Explanations of abbreviations, slang, and terminology can be found near the end of this document.

THE FALCON Vol 1 No 14 16th Combat Aviation Group, Chu Lai, RVN
PAGE 5 DECEMBER 22, 1968

AVIATOR FLIES BEAUCOUP HOURS
Chief Warrant Officer Two Albert C. Cerullo, 23, of Elmont, N.Y. is completing his tour in Vietnam, having flown 1605 combat hours in 241 flying days.

CW2 Cerullo came to the 176th Assault Helicopter Company on Nov. 19,1967 and flew his last day on Nov. 9, 1968. He became aircraft commander after slightly more than two months and 200 hours in country. Mr. Cerullo,"Minuteman 12", has not had an accident charged against his record since he began flying.

That doesn^'t mean his tour went without incident. He has had two engine failures, one while sitting in a landing zone west of Chu Lai and one at 1600 feet above ground level. On the second occurrence, Mr. Cerullo landed his UH-1H "Huey" in the only partially clear area available. The only damage done was to the rotor blades by trees in the area which could not be avoided because of the small LZ. No one was injured.

Mr. Cerullo mentioned other exciting moments like west of LZ Center when his helicopter received 32 hits in a LZ on a combat assault. Twelve of the rounds went through the cockpit. With severed tail rotor control cables, two crewmen and two passengers wounded, Mr. Cerullo took off and returned the crippled aircraft to the nearest hospital. He landed in a nearby rice paddy with-out further damage. The engine had taken a round and there were powder burns on the bottom of the aircraft, from enemy weapons, where they were dug in on the LZ.

Mr. Cerullo has been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medal with numerous clusters, and the Purple Heart, with several other, valor awards pending.

He plans to continue his training at Hunter Army Air Base, Ga., upon his return to"the world" and hopes to earn the rating of instrument instruct