April 19, 1966 (from a letter home to my wife)
I know what I have to say next will shake you somewhat, but I need to put it on paper before I forget all the details. This morning we had an early mission and one of our pilots was having a reaction to the malaria pills. Since it was just a standard infiltration I was asked to take his place. We left the briefing tent and headed for the flight line at 05:20. It was still pitch black outside but the stars were clearly visible above. We preflighted the Huey, everyone checked and double checked their equipment and started engines at 05:45. We were cleared for departure from Chu Lai, and headed south along the coast line at about one hundred feet above the shore with the contrast of the white sandy beach highlighted by the waning moon against the black ocean, both outlined against the dark grey blue of the fading night sky.
Our formation banked to the right and began a slow steady climb to altitude toward the mountains to the west. As we entered the foothills we picked up the silvery outline of the river below contrasting itself with the black-green of the surrounding terrain. Patches of ground fog and low clouds glided beneath us creating a silvery purple cast over the mountains as the sun began its ascent for the long daily cycle behind us.
The minutes wore on and the scene below changed in direct proportion to the angle of the rising sun. The haze and low clouds changed from purple to pink and finally to a pale yellow mist. Everything had assumed a dreamlike quality that made the reality of our situation seem thousands of miles away.
As we approached the landing zone, the first light of day was highlighting the valley below. One single radio command was given and the insertion ships broke left from the formation and began a soaring descent to the valley floor. In two minutes we descended from five thousand feet to five hundred feet skimming the top of the fog layer until we located our touchdown point. Spotting a break in the thin fog, we made our approach to the drop off point. It was near a small stream and was rectangular in shape and about an acre and a half in area. We came to a four foot hover above the elephant grass and descended slowly until the grass was level with the window sills of the cockpit doors. At that point the recon team quickly off loaded themselves and their gear and disappeared in the dense undergrowth.
A quick glance over the area before departure made it seem as if we had entered the twilight zone. The fog still hung over the trees and had a deep golden hue where the sun was penetrating it but the rest of the fog had a mother of pearl appearance. The trees and vegetation had a brilliant deep yellow green to dark green cast but seemed all out of proportion to the team and our Huey. The trees were at least one hundred fifty feet tall with vines and strangely shaped vegetation between them. Once the team cleared the bird, we pulled pitch and climbed through the protective fog and back to assigned altitude for our return to Chu Lai. After we were on the ground and closed out, I decided that my job as the aircraft maintenance man is my first love and it’s one heck of a lot safer . . . or at least I think so, even if the rest of the pilots don’t think so.
April 19, 1966 (continued) …what I didn’t include in the letter
Ok, so much for the beautiful descriptive narrative of the flight. The reality was that we were tasked to perform a mission within three miles (4.8 km) of the Laotian border. Our objective was to place two Special Forces Long Range Recon Patrols (better known as LRRPs or Delta Teams) on the ground in order to do a special recon of one of the exits from the Ho Chi Minh Trail that exited south and west of Danang.
Our briefing took place the night before and we knew that this was not going to be a cake walk. There would be no covering support from artillery should a problem develop and we would be on our own for a minimum of thirty minutes before the earliest Marine response could assist. Air Force and Navy aircraft would be on station and on call but not within the immediate Operational Area. Our location for this mission actually originated from the USMC base at Marble Mountain in I Corps and we would be operating in the Tra Bong River valley. All of our missions were highly classified in 1966 and there was no way I could give any mission specifics at that time.
We did our usual aircraft equipment and radio checks and headed off to work singing “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to war we go!” Once airborne, we received the “Chocolate Report” from the trail ship (all aircraft were at altitude and in the specified flight location). Our unit didn’t use typical assault helicopter formations in order to attract as little attention to ourselves as possible. Like nine Hueys flying in the same area on the same day at the same time was quiet . . . . sort of an oxymoron here!
Only the lead aircraft and the C&C (command and control) ships had reconned the LZ (Landing Zone) the day before so the actual drop aircraft had only their visual assessment of the LZ to go on. We were taking two Delta Teams in on this mission which meant two dropships instead of one and two different LZ’s as well. Timing and radio communication were critical. We reached our RP (report point) and both slicks (troop carrying Hueys) headed for their designated LZs.
All appeared to be going according to Hoyle until we were on short final. The grass in the LZ was about three and a half to four feet tall which meant no drop and run. We had to feel our way to the ground which increased our exposure time and increased the danger factor for our team.
You have no idea of the confidence and security level the Teams placed in and upon their flight crew. They knew we would not leave them behind in case of a real problem. Our team consisted of three US Special Forces troopers and four Montagnards. They quickly exited the bird and headed quickly for the cover of the jungle about 70 yards away. Almost immediately, automatic weapons fire could be heard over the drone of the Huey in what sounded like a major firefight and our FM radio came to life with a whispered “Get the (expletives deleted), out of here! – You’re a damned Charlie magnet and we have work to do!” As we pulled pitch and left the drop area we heard more automatic weapons fire and knew in our hearts that there would probably not be a pickup in five days based on the amount of automatic weapons fire we had heard.
Your heart sinks and you feel sick at your stomach because you know that you have taken seven dedicated people to meet their maker. Within an hour, we knew they were OK from an Air Force Forward Air Controller (FAC) who had established radio contact with both teams. The ending of this story came about thirty six hours later when we picked up our team and we queried them about all the weapons fire in the LZ.
One of the Montagnard members of the team said, “Charlie come out to look and see what is going on. Say Hi Hi. We shoot. No more Hi Hi. We have job to do.”