I arrived in Vietnam in early May 1969 and was immediately sent to the 101st Airborne Division “Rear” adjacent to Bien Hoa Air Base. The 101st had its Replacement Training School there. Even though I was a pilot and heading for a flight assignment as a “combat arms” commissioned officer, I had to attend their “Combat Leaders Course”. The training was part indoctrination and part acclimatization to living and surviving in Vietnam. We slept on the ground in clay covered huts that resembled dirt colored igloos. A young, fresh out of Ranger School infantry captain was my “hooch” mate for a few days. He left without saying goodbye and so did my folding “survival” knife that I had carried in my flight suits (grey cotton) all the way through flight school. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and on to my unit.
I was assigned to board a C-130 from Bien Hoa to Phu Bai / Hue. I arrived at the 159th Aviation Battalion (Assault Support) 101st Airborne Division (Airmobile) in Northern I Corps, Republic of Vietnam, around May 10th. A Company – “Pachyderms”, and C Company – “Playtex”, were collocated with the battalion headquarters at Phu Bai. I was driven a few miles West of Phu Bai to B Company – “Varsity” located with the Division “main” at Camp Eagle. This was a sprawling complex of tents, “tin” roofed buildings, helicopter revetments and helicopters. I was issued two pairs of too small used Nomex flight suits and a .45 1911 along with a pistol belt and holster.
Before being declared “operational” on May 15, 1969 I had to complete my second flight in country. This was my final “check ride”. CW2 Veryl Reeder was the left seat, SIP (Standardization Instructor Pilot). We had flown together once before, just two days earlier. I had received my initial Area of Operations (AO) orientation flight as we flew “normal” missions such as sling loads of water buffaloes, artillery, and ammunition, all the while conducting reviews of SOP’s (Standard Operating Procedures) and practicing of emergency procedures. This second flight was supposed to have been about two hours to “finish off” going over emergency procedures, “running landings” and “running” take offs. Veryl told our crew members during the pre-flight mission brief that they did not need to have their chicken plates (ceramic armor) on, nor load any extra food, drink or ammo etc, because it would be a local area flight. We were expected to be back home within a couple of hours. We hovered out of our Varsity Valley revetment at Camp Eagle and headed off north to Camp Evans. There were conducted our running landings and take offs utilizing their PSP (Plank Steel Plate) runway.
About an hour later and well into having had a couple running landings and take offs completed, we received a call from our company operations (Ops) that we were being diverted; we had now become “combat support”. A tactical emergency / essential (Tac E) had been declared in our AO and they needed every available helicopter in the air to support the effort. We were sent further North to support the Marines flying CH-46’s out of Quang Tri. They in turn were supporting their Marines in and around Khe Sanh.
Our first sortie out of Quang Tri was a sling load of ammunition. It was my first “real” mission flight. We approached Khe Sahn from the east along a river and sometimes a road. We could see clouds of dust and debris burst out from the ground on the horizon. As we turned a little further to the north approaching Khe Sahn and coming out of partial clouds, the visibility became smoky. Suddenly, an A-4 flew past us from behind and to our right dropping some bombs and then a F-104(?) flew right past us to our left dropping napalm. It was no more than a half mile in front of us. I can still feel the jet blast go past us and the shaking of the Chinook as well as the oscillation of the sling load. Everywhere we looked we saw either artillery or mortar craters as well as bomb and napalm explosions from our fighters. It was a “surreal” feeling and I thought to myself, “What the Hell am I doing here?”
As we made our approach to the east side of the runway, mortar and artillery rounds were fired out by the Marines and mortar and rocket(?) rounds were coming in towards us from the NVA. The base was under attack. We dropped off our load and returned to Quang Tri accompanied by a couple of Marine CH-46’s that had flown in and dropped off their loads, just ahead of us. After the second or third run, one of the CH-46’s reported a chip detector light and both of them aborted their flight and returned to Quang Tri. We never saw or heard from them the rest of the day.
Our return loads from Khe Sahn were internal, consisting primarily of wounded and other casualties. Hours later, we had been released from Quang Tri and were on our way back to Camp Eagle for what we thought a cold beer and some dinner. But about half way back to Varsity Valley, company operations called and said that a TE was declared throughout our entire AO. Fire Support Base (FSB) Rifle was close to being overrun. Only a few combat troops and Pathfinders remained on the LZ and most of the ammunition had already been flown out. We were to pick up the last, a sling load of small arms ammunition and fly it to FSB Eagles Nest, as they too were under attack. Division didn’t want them running out of ammo for the night.
As we got closer to FSB Rifle it was pretty dark. We had identified where FSB Rifle was and were in radio contact with the Pathfinders. Veryl was making calls and changing frequencies on the radios while I was on the controls. The closer we got, the brighter the night sky appeared periodically from flares and tracer fire. To my “novice” (and FNG) interest, I noticed all the green flashes flying every which way. I said, “oh there’s some green lights flashing down there, I wonder what that’s all about?” Veryl clicked on the floor intercom button and said, “Those are green tracers, you dumb shit, and they’re coming at us!” He then took the controls. We reconfirmed with the Pathfinders that they were still expecting us and followed their directions to the sling load. Everything was now happening fast and I felt as if I was trying to “catch up”. I was glad Veryl was on the controls, and again, I thought to myself, “What the hell am I doing here!”
We picked up the load, pulled pitch and proceeded to make a high climbing right turn towards the mountains to the west. We had been directed to drop off our sling load at FSB Eagles Nest, a sliver of a flat spot that sat high overlooking the A Shau Valley at about some 4500 – 5000 feet of elevation. We were in a mountainous area with low cloud ceiling and with a pitch-black sky and no horizon to get our bearings. We contacted the Eagles Nest Pathfinder radio operator told him our approximate location and the heading we were flying. He acknowledged us and gave us a “short count” so that we could home in on him via our ADF needle and secured a pretty strong signal. He advised us that their location was currently under constant “probe” (by NVA) and that the FSB was “practicing” complete light discipline. We agreed that we’d call him back when we thought we were getting “close” and then he’d “flash” a pen light. A short time later, I told Veryl that by my calculation we were “close” so we called the Pathfinder. He began a “short count”; 5,4,3,2,1 over his radio and then clicked his pen light on and off. In that completely dark night, that light jumped out brightly right in front of us. I responded, “we have the light” and then he said he could hear us (rotor blades).
We made the approach to a “pen light” with Veryl on the controls. As we pulled up into a high hover to stabilize and set down our load, our rotor wash set off a number of trip flares. Veryl immediately lost his “night vision” and the Flight Engineer hollered over the intercom that we were drifting and in danger of either snagging the load on the ground or injuring some of our troops. I grabbed the controls and announced, “I have the controls”, without waiting for Veryl to confirm the transfer. We were hovering at the edge of a 5000 feet-high mountain. Through my chin bubble I could see the flickering (NVA) shadows down the steep side of that mountain side created by the flares. Yup, the Pathfinder was right, they were under attack.
I somehow managed to get control of our impending “crash”. I stabilized the Chinook as best I could, all the while pulling pitch. At the same time, I began inching the aircraft forward gaining airspeed over altitude for I quickly realized I had plenty of room below. I began a slow right-hand climb back above the mountain ridge. I stopped the turn after we were heading towards “home” in an easterly heading. We were in the clouds with a dark night. We had no “horizon”, no radar and no instruments except for needle, ball/artificial horizon, altimeter and compass to help navigate. A long period of silence followed. I was concentrating on keeping the Chinook straight and level, climbing and keeping the instruments in the green. Veryl was a “wreck”. He was physically exhausted and had a hard time re-focusing his eyes and getting his night vision back. I really didn’t know where we were and I didn’t really know how to get us back home. I couldn’t even call company operations for help because the frequency codes were in a booklet tied around Veryl’s neck. Even if I had or knew the correct frequency, I couldn’t take my hands off the flight controls to tune the radio(s).
For the third time that day I began thinking to myself, “What the Hell am I doing here”! My basic flight training skills began to take hold, and I calmed down a bit. Finally, I spotted three red lights; the “Three Sisters”. These lights were the tops of three commercial radio antennas located between Phu Bai and Hue. I began heading right for them. Veryl began regaining his night vision and having had a cigarette or two, switched radio frequencies, called our company ops and gave them a quick rundown on where we were and what had happened. We passed the three sisters and turned a little more to the East (and to the coast), and punched the clock to record how far out from the antennas we were heading. After five minutes we surmised we were far enough out to not hit anything and began a descent through the clouds. We finally broke out of the clouds over the South China Sea.
We began a turn heading back to shore and looked for familiar land marks and lights to help guide us back. We called our company operations and gave them our location. We also told them we still had a sling load of ammo that we had to drop off before we could refuel and get back home and park our AC in its revetment. “What, you still have that GD #&@! load on!?” was the response. We dropped off the sling load of ammunition at the ammo dump and hovered over to the refuel depot to fill up. Finally, we headed back into Varsity Valley, pulled a quick post flight and checked into company “Ops”.
All was quiet as Veryl and I made our way back to the Officers Quarters. “I think we need to have a drink”, Veryl said. But the door to our little company “O” club was locked. With a little bit of gentle persuasion, the door cooperated. We located a bottle of Jack Black behind the bar. While in flight school, I had determined to get myself in better shape. I stopped smoking cigarettes and also limited my alcohol consumption to beer. But that night Veryl and I had plenty of both!
