From East Texas to Viet Nam and Beyond

By

Bill J. Hampton

(As told to Earl Stubbs)

Introduction

I first met Billy Joe Hampton in September of 1941. We both were members of the first grade class of Mrs. Gladys Martin in Naples, Texas. Bill was thin, a bit pale and had prominent eyes. He was good humored then and now.
We spent the next eight years sharing a classroom in that crumbling, condemned old building under the tutelage of a series of dedicated teachers. While we did not always share a classroom during the four years of high school, we shared the same class, the same hallways, the same teachers, some of the same athletic teams, and the same excitement when Naples and Omaha combined to become Pewitt High School.

We graduated together and then went our separate ways. There was nothing that I saw during the 12-year-association with Bill Hampton to suggest that he would spend his professional life in the military often under extremely hazardous circumstances.

During my 68 years on this planet I have known many people. There has been no one whom I admire and respect more than Bill Hampton. He is truly a treasure to his community and his nation.

This is his story edited by Earl Stubbs.

Earl Stubbs
Classmate and friend


I graduated from Pewitt High School in 1953. Like a lot of small town kids I left Naples, Texas to find work. I moved to Dallas and found a good job for that time. The Republic National Bank employed me for the sum of $175.00 per month. I did not even think about the military until one of my co-workers invited me to join his National Guard unit. In those days a Guardsman did not have to attend active duty basic and advanced individual training so it seemed like a good idea to join. After all, they were going to pay me for being there.

I joined the National Guard in August 1954 and slowly learned how to wear the uniform correctly and how to be a good guardsman. I learned how to take care of various weapons, how to use those weapons, how to march in formations, do guard duty, and yes, even how to do kitchen police which was better known as KP. After a time this "new guy" was assigned to the .81mm mortar platoon as a crewmember.

The first summer camp was a real experience. I was introduced to beautiful Fort Hood, Texas in July 1955, a place famous for it’s dust. The entire 49th Armored Division was there with all of its tanks and other vehicles. During that summer camp, I learned to actually fire the mortar and various individual weapons such as the .45 pistol, M-1 rifle, the Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) and both .30 and .50 caliber machine guns. I had my first experience with mess hall K.P. and grease traps as well.

The grease trap catches all the grease from all the dirty dishes and cooking utensils that is in the dishwater drain and it required cleaning once a day for sanitation purposes. The smell and the slime are unbelievable. Imagine the worst sewer you ever smelled and multiply that by ten. Somehow I survived and was not much the worse for wear. Cleaning the grease trap was the worst job when you pulled K.P. The good jobs were mopping and cleaning the mess hall and peeling potatoes along with various other vegetables.

Another fun job was “latrine orderly”. The latrines were cleaned for inspection every morning and the orderly had to keep it clean all day.

Our home for the Summer Camps was what the army called a GP medium tent. Those tents had room for about 12 people to live with minimum comfort. There was no air conditioning and no privacy. We had to roll the sides up just to breathe at night. We also had to make the beds, clean the tent, and make sure that our footlocker displays were perfect for inspections.

Over the next seven years, my unit and I became very familiar with North Fort Hood. My mortar platoon changed from .81mm mortars to 4.2 inch mechanized mortars. We had a very good bunch of guys in the mortar platoon. The platoon Sergeant was Lee Murrell originally from DeKalb, Texas. Joe Brailey from Sims, Texas, was our fire direction controller. Joe was exceptionally good at his job.

One day, we were firing on the range at Fort Hood when the Post Commander, General Jark, showed up to observe our training. After watching for a while, the General went over to Sergeant Brailey and pointed out a tree down range and said "let me see if you can hit that tree." Joe picked up his field glasses and looked at the target for what seemed like five minutes and did some calculations in his head. Then he called out a fire mission with elevation and deflection corrections and ordered one round for adjustment. There was no need for adjustment because that round landed in the top of that tree and destroyed it. The General was an old artillery man and knew that all artillery fire is considered “area fire” and not precision fire. He just shook his head and walked away. That was, at best, a one in a thousand shot.

Wayne Stewart from Hooks, Texas was our forward observer. Wayne and I became good friends and helped each other a lot as we progressed up the ranks. There were a number of other guys that did outstanding jobs and we, the platoon, became a very close group.

In 1957, our unit was called out by the state to help with the tornado and floods that hit Dallas County during the spring of that year. We helped with the clean up of the industrial district that was hit by the tornado and rescued people trapped in south Dallas by the floods. We also did a lot of sandbagging at Lewisville Dam to keep it intact. We participated in the annual Armed Forces Day parades in downtown Dallas.

By the end of the seventh year, I had been promoted to Sergeant E-5 and squad leader. By this time, I decided that the Guard was somewhat fun and besides the money helped. However, I still intended to get out at the end of my obligation of eight years. Oddly, fate and President Kennedy had other plans. In October 1961, the 49th Division was activated during the Berlin crisis and sent to reopen Fort Polk, Louisiana.

Fort Polk
1961-1962

The activation orders put us on active duty status the 15th of October 1961. We remained at our local armories for about 10 days preparing the unit for movement to Fort Polk. With a well-coordinated effort division wide, the entire division, moved from all over Texas to Fort Polk in two working days. I served as a road guard (traffic cop) for the move. It was a lot of fun to stop civilian traffic at intersections and race around the convoy to the next location and beat them there. I was assigned a jeep that must have really been hopped up. I don't know how fast it would go but it left a number of deep East Texas cops in its wake. This was a lot more fun and interesting than trucking along in the convoy at 40 miles an hour.

There was really no way to be prepared for what met us at Fort Polk. The post had been closed for several years. The barracks buildings were very run down, the heating systems (coal furnaces) and the plumbing did not work. I think that it took about two weeks to get plumbing and about six months to get the heating to work part time. When I walked into my barracks for the first time, I met a cow, yes a bovine, standing in the downstairs squad bay. Then I walked into the latrine to do what comes naturally and the pluming fixtures were all full of dirt and grass, yes real grass, not “wacky weed.” It took some time to get the facilities livable especially with intensified training scheduled at the same time. As a National Guard unit, we were at about half regular army strength so the army in it’s wisdom recalled recently released draftees to reach full strength. These guys had recently completed two years active duty and really didn't appreciate being re-drafted. This created many problems and created friction between them and the National Guard members. Eventually this all worked out and my platoon generally came together as a cohesive unit capable of doing the military mission assigned.

One of the highlights of this year was when our mortar platoon won the 4th Army range firing competition. There were many very good gun crews from all over the 4th Army participating. Our platoon won the overall competition and I like to think that a screw-up by my loader won the competition for us. The loader failed to insert the ignition charge in a round causing a misfire. It gave us the opportunity to handle an emergency procedure for real and I think that it may have impressed the evaluators. This emergency procedure calls for the gunner and gun commander to move everyone else a safe distance from the gun and then unload the gun. If you are familiar with mortars, there is only one way for a round to go in and out of the tube. The gunner had to remove the tube from the base plate and tilt it up until the round inside slides out the muzzle. The gun commander is designated official “catcher” of the round. This round is approximately 25 lbs. of TNT with a very sensitive fuse on the tapered nose. This meant that I had to cup my hands so that I didn't touch the fuse but caught the round on the wider part of the TNT casing. We managed to safely pull this off and, by doing so, impressed the evaluators. I think that was the most nervous I have ever been. The most lonely feeling I have ever had was listening to the sound of metal against metal as that round slowly slid down and out of that tube with me waiting to catch it and not screw up.

Another highlight of that year was when my oldest daughter, Carolyn Kay was born. My wife, Lois, was pregnant when we were activated and Kay was born in late January. Lois stayed in the Dallas area and when I got the call that she went to the hospital, I borrowed Don Hailey's 1957 Chevrolet and set a new speed record from Polk to Dallas. It is just less than 300 miles and I made the run in about three and half hours. There may still be some East Texas small town cops looking for me.

It is strange how life and desires change unexpectedly. The third major highlight of this year was a decision that totally changed my life. One day Wayne Stewart and I were out on a mission. When we returned to the barracks, Sergeant Murrell met us and called us into his room which was also his office. We just knew we were in trouble. After we sat down, he said "Let's go to flight school." Somewhat shocked that we weren't getting chewed out, we both said "yes" and "when do we leave?”

It wasn't really that simple. The three of us worked our tails off and did about three months work in three weeks. We got all the required paperwork, security checks, endorsements, flight physicals, orientation flights, and review board appearances done. Our paper work was on its way to Washington three weeks to the day after that impromptu meeting in Sergeant Murrell's room. To say that the three of us were proud of our accomplishments and all getting accepted for flight school is an understatement. Out of over two hundred applications from the 49th Division, only six were accepted and three were from our platoon, They were Lee Murrell, Wayne Stewart and me.

This story of acceptance doesn't end here. There was still more drama to come. Before the notification of acceptance came back down the chain of command from Washington, Sergeant Murrell’s enlistment was over and he was discharged and sent home. When the Department of the Army Warrant Officer branch notified us of acceptance, we had to contact him and get him to contact branch to let them know if he still wanted the school. He accepted their offer and met Wayne and me at Fort Wolters, Texas. While this was going on, the 49th was released back to state control and sent home. Wayne and I were transferred to the Post Receiving Unit. Since we were experienced 4.2 mortar people, the unit first sergeant said he was assigning us to his mortar training group. We knew that job would require many days on the firing range actually working and really didn’t want that. We talked the personnel office into assigning us to the post swimming pool as life guards until departing for flight school. That first sergeant never did figure out what happened to his mortar instructors. He didn’t see us again until the day we signed out to go on leave enroute to flight school.

Backing up a little, prior to the 49th reverting to state control and after being accepted for flight school, my Company Commander, bless his ever-loving soul, decided that I should go to the post Non-commissioned Officer Academy. He said it would help me get prepared for flight school. What he didn't know was that there were no schools anywhere that could prepare me for life as a Warrant Officer Candidate. I attended the academy, worked my buns off, learned a lot and did well but was still not prepared for what was to come. Incidentally, while at the NCO academy, I played on the softball team as a pitcher. I pitched two games and won both. I have never pitched again. I have a lifetime perfect record of 2-0. I am still waiting for an offer from the pros. I guess the Texas Rangers still haven’t gotten the word.

The Army through a typical S.N.A.F.U(situation normal, all fouled up) failed to realize that my current enlistment had expired and they had not completed the requirements to re-enlist or extend me on active duty but I had orders to flight school. Technically, I arrived at the flight school as a civilian but with all pay and allowances.


WARRANT OFFICER CANDIDATE SCHOOL

Phase 1. Camp Wolters Texas--preflight training

My orders were to report to the Warrant Officer Candidate Company on a Sunday between 1400 hrs. (2pm) and 1700 hrs (5pm). I do not remember the exact date but it was in Oct 1962. I was confident that this school was going to be a snap so on the way to Camp Wolters, near Mineral Wells, Texas, my wife and I stopped by Naples and purchased a new Chevrolet. After all, I would start receiving flight pay in a month and that would take care of the payments. Little did I know.

We went on to Wolters and got Lois and our daughter settled in Base housing and got her aquatinted with the post facilities. I didn't realize that she would be the only one to get to use them for at least four to six weeks. The fateful Sunday finally arrived and thank God we went to church that morning. Before that day was over, I was totally convinced that I had fallen into the hands of Satan and his angels never to be seen again.

I put on my best dress uniform complete with rank and qualification badges to report to the Candidate Company. The Senior Candidate duty officer proceeded not to just chew my rear. He chewed around it and let it fall out on the ground. When he decided that he had had enough fun, he let me sign in, ripped off all my qualification badges and rank stripes and sent me to the building that was to be home for about 24 weeks.

By about 1700 hrs. there were 104 very confused candidates in that building. We knew that we were supposed to have a formation at 1700 but we had no further instructions. The top raking N.C.O.'s in the class tried to assemble us into sort of a Company size unit formation and selected a commander, first Sergeant, platoon leaders and squad leaders. This was wasted effort. When the whistle blew, we assembled in formation and were descended upon by the Tactical Officers and NCO's . These soldiers were know as TACS. None of our leadership positions remained intact for more than two minutes.

These guys were experts on all military drills, ceremonies and harassment. We all were from line units where drill and ceremony is somewhat relaxed. Of course our uniforms, hair cuts, shaves, shoe shines, and shiny brass did not meet school standards. Remember, I had just completed the N.C.O. academy with flying colors. The formation lasted at least two hours while they were correcting our "deficiencies". This "new class" formation was well known locally and people came from as far away as Fort Worth just to watch it. We were yelled at, given pushups, changed formation positions, made to remove all uniform patches, rank and badges. The idea was to see how we could stand up under pressure. A TAC told one candidate he had 5 minutes to get a haircut and be back in formation. The candidate was back in the allotted 5 minutes and had shaved his head with a safety razor. He was bleeding like a stuck hog but he didn't need a haircut. Naturally, he got yelled at for trying to “destroy government property.”

They finally marched us to the school supply building "correcting" us all the way. We were issued bedding, what seemed like a hundred pounds of books, our wall locker stick and our brick. The stick kept the hanging uniforms from flopping out and the brick was to hold our books in the proper order. We finally got back to the barracks about 2100 (9 PM) and were told to take bunks in rooms by alphabetical order starting with room one on the ground floor. By this time our class was down to 96 people. Eight had already quit.

The next four weeks were somewhat of a blur. Everywhere we moved outside the barracks was at a run. We had classes all day ranging from drills and ceremonies to physical training, map reading and constant instruction and correction by the TACS and the Senior Class. We were assigned a subject to teach one evening and expected to teach it the next morning with little or no study time. There was Taxi Time if you got too many demerits and you always did. Taxi Time was marching back and forth across the drill field in full field gear and weapon for the designated amount of time. The time depended on how many demerits you accumulated over the weekly maximum. I think I spent all of my Saturdays on that drill pad. There probably is still a groove in that drill pad that I walked into it.

Slowly but surely, our numbers dwindled. Candidates would either quit or be eliminated. Each time one left, the rest of us had to move to maintain class order by alphabet and room number so we were constantly moving and changing roommates. We were constantly inspected by the TACS and seniors to make sure that everything was in proper order. Even the razor with which we shaved had to be highly shined with no indication that it had ever been used. The floors of our barracks were concrete, but we brought them to a very high shine with many coats of Simonize car wax and wool army blankets under the electric buffer. You could stand on them, look down at the floor and see to comb your hair if you had hair to comb. We didn't.

There were numerous "training sessions" after hours to instill discipline. A couple of
examples were the "Chinese Fire Drill" and the "Water burial of Candidate Smile.”
The military requires that residents of barracks practice the standard fire drill once a month. At flight school this is done without fail. The fire drill is called and if the barracks occupants do not evacuate quick enough to please the TACS, and they never do, then they go back and do it again. Only this time they had to do it in slow motion because "if you want to be slow then this is the way you will do it,” said the TAC in charge. While the slow motion drill is going on, the TACS will select some candidate to be a fire truck and he has to run around the building with his siren going (screaming). Also they will select an ambulance and a police car for the same routine. Those that went too fast had to do slow motion push ups. Many of our career soldiers couldn't take this harassment and quit.

When we were in the barracks and a Senior candidate or a TAC entered our hallway, the first person to see him had to call "ATTENTION IN THE HALL.” This was the signal for all to rush into the hall beside our room door and come to attention with our heels, butts, and shoulders touching the wall. That was called hitting a brace. Generally the visitor would walk up and down the hall inspecting us, pick out one person and try to make him smile. Once the person smiled, the inspector would go into a tirade like "Candidate________ wipe that smile of your face." The candidate would answer "Sir candidate_______, Yes sir" and wipe it off. He would say "Throw it on the floor." he answer was Sir candidate________Yes sir." He would say "Stomp on it." Again the response was "Sir candidate______Yes sir." and stomp the floor. He would then ask "is it dead?" the response was "Sir candidate_______Yes sir." Then comes the indignant outburst about murdering the innocent smile and destroying government property. Then the TAC orders you to "pick it up" which you go to great pains to do. Then he tells you to march the smile to the latrine which you do. Then he instructs you to give that smile a burial at sea and whistle Taps while it is being flushed. You follow instructions and you had better not smile again or you repeat the whole process because you need more training. This is a lesson in discipline.

Each day "preflight" classes ended at 1645 (4:45pm). As soon as class was out, we had to get in formation, double time back to the barracks, change from work uniform to Class B kackis. Then we would double time to company headquarters to stand the retreat ceremony at 17:00 (5pm). Needless to say, we were pressed for time but we didn't dare be late.

After retreat was played, the TACS would usually inspect us and play their mind games. Once one of the TACS, without telling the others, told a classmate to break ranks and run to the mess hall screaming "I'm hungry" all the way. It took the other TACS by surprise and they went after him. The acting company commander seized the opportunity and dismissed the rest of us. We all charged the mess hall and hid the first one. The other TACS never did find him.

We all had an early dinner that night. The meals at the flight school were very good when we got to eat them. To get into the mess hall, we had to do five chin-ups and 10 push-ups. In the mess hall, we had to eat square meals. That meant sitting on only 6 inches of the chair, and every movement of knife, fork, and spoon had to be in square movements. We had to sit at attention and look straight ahead. When an upper class man or TAC came up to our table and started to talk, we had to stop eating and sit at attention while answering them.

At some point during this "preflight" four weeks, our class came together and really understood the meaning of "COOPERATE AND GRADUATE" which was the school’s motto. We learned to take all the harassment they dished out and started to harass back. This is when they began to slack off and life got slightly better. I believe my class came together when we stole the stuffed tiger mascot from our upper classmen and ran it up the flag pole. Every one on post knew that we did it but no one could prove anything. To this day only the person or persons that did it knows for sure.

During Preflight, we also had to learn how to conduct a proper military funeral. Unfortunately, to do this we needed a body. One sad day during an inspection, the TACS discovered a candidate. A toy alligator, Al E. Gator, was found to be expired in our barracks. Al was about 6 inches long and green in color. I did not know Al personally but it is often said that he would have been the Honor Graduate of the class had he survived. Anyway, we went about the sad task of burying Candidate Gator with full military honors. Class members were appointed as pallbearers, chaplain, honor guard, firing squad and even family members. Since this was really a farce, we could not use proper military uniforms so we dressed as we pleased. We even had some "female" family members there. We even got a real marching band from the local high school. It was a very good learning experience and was done in a lighthearted way. The service gave us a break from the rigid routine.

The following Monday we were back at school routine with one major change. Now we were going to academic classes that pertained to aviation and going to the flight line to actually fly the helicopters. This meant classes for half a day and flying the other half. This was a totally new experience. We attempted to master the checklist, learn the aerodynamics, and fly the crazy machine all at the same time. For the first month, the class struggled. I sat many nights in my room in a chair with a pillow against the wall for pedals, 2 broomsticks for cyclic and collective and talked myself through control movements. An example is when you pull up the collective, you have to add left peddle. When you push down the collective, you add right peddle.

I was a bit of a slow learner and didn't have one of the best instructors so when I hit the school limit without going solo, I was suspended and sent before an elimination board. This board adjourned for Christmas break with no decision. I had to wait through the holidays with no decision as to whether I would be eliminated or retained and given another chance. Upon return from Christmas there was a note on my desk to pack my things and to report to class 63-3W. I had been given another chance. There really was a Santa that year.

In the new class I was assigned, in my opinion, to the finest instructor that the contractor, Southern Airways had to offer. George Duncan took me out for his "dollar" ride that first day and by the end of that ride he had me convinced that the only pilot in the world better than me was him. After about eight flight hours of flying over several days, Mr. Duncan stopped us in the middle of a training period at the heliport, Got out and said "Go fly by yourself. You are scaring the hell out of me." This was my first SOLO flight.

I was the first in my class to solo but that wasn't too important since I had a head start in the previous class. On the way back to the barracks after the days training, the class stopped the bus by a stock tank (pond) and gave me the traditional dunking. There was a small problem. The water was only about 2 feet deep and I hit head first. I think that my head buried about 2 feet in mud. I thought my neck was broken but who cared. I had mastered that infernal beast, the Hiller OH-23, and successfully soloed.

Actually, I had just begun to learn. The next major step was to have my first solo cigarette. I smoked at the time. It took several solo flights to get up the nerve to take one hand off the controls, get out a cigarette, and light it. It required planning to have the cigarettes and lighter in the right pocket so they would be easy to get to while flying. Even though smoking was bad for my health, it was a real accomplishment and status symbol to have that solo cigarette.

As I progressed through the primary phase, I learned normal approaches and takeoffs, steep approaches, maximum performance take offs, and three kinds of autorotations which is a simulated engine failure. They were hovering, straight in and 180 degree turn autorotations. These were emergency procedures that would save my hide later on.

The next major step was to solo in hovering autorotations. That took several more flight hours. Things were going great now and before long I had soloed in straight in autorotations and 180 degree autorotations. All the flying so far was done at the main heliport or the stage fields. As more of the class soloed in autorotations, it became a daily race to the stage field to be first to do an autorotation each day. There is a certain amount of danger in doing an autorotation and it gave us quite a thrill to scare ourselves doing them.

At about fifty hours of flight time my instructor said it was time for my primary phase check ride. I was pumped up and had a good check ride. As they say, any points over 70 were wasted. I wasted a few, but not too many.

After passing the primary phase, the instructor took us out of the stage field environment and taught us some of the practical use of the helicopter. We started to learn how to approach and land in confined areas, on pinnacles, and on sloping terrain with all the techniques of these maneuvers. As we continued to learn the new maneuvers, we also reviewed all the stage field work and emergency procedures. It is rumored that some of our class may have done some of the school NO-NO's like flying under some large power lines in the area, landing on sand bars in the Brazos river and seeking out a rumored nudist camp. During this time we also did our first cross-country flights. It was really funny to see us trying to fly the helicopter and read a map and talk on the radio all at the same time. It took both hands and feet just to fly the aircraft. Somehow, we managed to use one hand to hold the map after we learned to properly fold it and one hand to turn the radio switches. I am still not sure how I found Abilene, Texas, on the first try.

It was then getting close to the advanced phase check ride time and everyone was getting nervous. I guess I got too nervous because I busted my first ride. I was given 5 additional flight hours and a re-check. I passed the re-check and was on my way to Fort Rucker, Alabama.

While all this flying was going on, we still had to contend with academics, the TAC officers, and the senior class men, and still had to run everywhere. The academics involved navigation, aviation weather, both military and civilian aviation regulations, aircraft maintenance and aerodynamics among others. These were new to most of us and required extra study time. The TACS were always around inspecting, correcting, and harassing. The seniors were just harassing.

In our rooms, each candidate had a security locker that could not be inspected by the TACS unless it was inadvertently left unlocked. One day while on our lunch break, Fred Fernitz relaxed in his room and smoked a cigarette. Fred had an ashtray in his security locker that had probably fifty cigarette butts is it. When he finished the cigarette, he put the ashtray back in the security locker, but forgot to lock the door. As usual, the TACS inspected the rooms that afternoon and found the open locker. When we returned from flying that evening, the butts were all out on Fred's desk with a demerit slip under each one. It only took 10 demerits per week before restriction and punishment was handed out. Because of Fred's experience, none of us ever left security lockers open again. I think that some even quit smoking to avoid demerits.

We were still restricted to the barracks and flight line and still could only see wives and family for thirty minutes on Friday. Between the flying activities and non-flying activities, our class ranks continued to dwindle. Some couldn't take the harassment, some simply couldn't learn to fly and some couldn't learn to fly at the Army's prescribed pace. Near the end of our stay at Camp Wolters, it was decided that we must run the army’s confidence course. I don’t remember all the stations on the course, but I do remember very well the low crawl under barbed wire. The whole course was a timed event so we went at top speed through the course. As I approached the low crawl and did a belly flop to start under it, I lost my helmet. I couldn’t stop to pick it up so I went on without it. Under the wire, I got my head too high and cut my scalp. I finished the course bleeding like crazy and the TAC’s gave me permission to go to the hospital emergency room. However, there was one catch. I had to walk and it was about a mile away. By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was a bloody mess. After they got me fixed up, then I had to walk back to our company area. I received numerous demerits for “trying to destroy Government property” and wearing a dirty uniform.

When we left Camp Wolters for Fort Rucker, the cargo section had 44 remaining class members. The Tiger (gunnery) section had 25 members that went to Fort Sill to learn aerial gunnery. The gunnery class continued to fly the OH-13 aircraft and concentrated on learning to fire weapons. The Cargo class went to Fort Rucker, Alabama, and were checked out in the UH-19, CH-34 Sykorsky and the Bell UH-1B helicopters. These were all considered “cargo” helicopters at that time.

Prior to leaving Camp Wolters, we were appointed "Senior Candidates" and started being treated almost human. This was a major milestone in our stay at Wolters. We were allowed to walk when outside buildings for the first time in about twenty weeks. We were also given the responsibility of constructive criticism to the lower class men (harassment). Needless to say, we tried to give the lower class men the benefit of our vast experience gained in the past twenty weeks.

One day while my class was marching to the bus stop to go to the flight line, a lower class man stuck his head out of the window of his barracks and yelled "Get that Mob in step." For a junior class man to talk to his seniors in such a manner was a total lapse in judgment and could not go without correction. We had to continue to the flight line at that time, but when we returned from the day's flying, we had an inspection formation in the perpetrator’s room. I am sure that young candidate has never forgotten his lapse in judgment. When we finished, He had to completely redo his room including waxing the floors again. We really messed up his room. In addition, he walked Taxi time for the next month.

In typical military fashion we received travel orders, advance pay, and were told to report to the Warrant Officer Candidate Company at Fort Rucker on the appointed date. I packed my wife, daughter and all our belongings in our Chevrolet and U-Haul trailer and headed for Rucker.

After all this time at Camp Wolters, Army Personnel still did not catch the fact that I was a civilian and not legally in the Army. I was getting all pay and allowances as if I had completed the proper paperwork. That error would be caught and affect me later.


Phase II, Fort Rucker, Alabama

Our trip to Fort Rucker was uneventful. A couple of classmates traveling together almost got in trouble in Mississippi as one of them, Jim Church, tells it. Jim was driving his car and Freddie Fernitz was riding with him. Now, Freddie was a German that came to the United States, joined the army and thought he was a real "lady killer." Somewhere in Mississippi, Jim pulled up to a stop light. Freddie saw a good looking girl in the next lane. Without thinking, He yelled "Hey Lady, lets have sex." (the cleaned up version) Jim, scared and embarrassed, ran the stop light and got out of there. Then proceeded to really chew Freddie up one side and down the other and explain that you don't do stuff like that in the States, especially in Mississippi. A few miles down the road, Jim stopped at another light and believe it or not that same girl stopped beside them. Freddie seized the opportunity and yelled "Hey Lady I don't want to have sex with you" then turned to Jim and said "Is that O.K. Jim?" Jim Church told this story to be true and a warrant officer candidate would not lie or stretch the truth.

My wife and I found an apartment in Enterprise, Alabama, on Sunday and moved in. Then we drove out to Fort Rucker to find where I was to report the next morning and find the facilities she would need on post such as the Commissary and P.X. After we were all set, I reported in to WOC Company on Monday morning. Fort Rucker was more relaxed than Wolters. Maybe it was because we were seniors now, but that didn't make the training any easier.

I was assigned to the UH-19 flight at Hanchey Army heliport. I was also assigned to my first active army instructor. The instructors at Wolters were contract civilians working for Southern Airways. This instructor, Captain Ted Mathison, guided me and stick buddy, Jessie Hamilton, through the learning process of the UH-19. That aircraft was so much larger than what we flew at Wolters that it really intimidated us. Looking back, the UH-19 was so weak on power and so sensitive on the controls that it made us much better pilots with good control touch but we sure did call it some unflattering names.

We were at Rucker during May, June, July, and part of August. During those hot months when we flew in the afternoon, we would only fill one fuel tank. The stick buddy that was not flying would ride the bus to the stage field. Many times we still had to do running take off procedure to get into the air. This is a procedure that is used when you cannot hover. You run the aircraft along the ground like an airplane until you get the rotor into undisturbed air. This is translational lift/ It gives additional lift for take-off but is considered an emergency procedure. We did this quite often at Hanchey and became very proficient.

Captain Mathison did an outstanding job of teaching me the aircraft about half way through the program at Rucker. I learned first hand why they taught us autorotations. I had two real engine failures in two days. The first was on take-off from the stage field and I was able to successfully land on a road without power and with no damage to the aircraft. The second failure was on the stage field while hovering. I was fortunate enough to land successfully.

As the training progressed we were introduced to cross country flying and instrument flying. We even had a wife and family day where families got to go to the stage field and watch us in training. My wife got some good movie footage of me flying the UH-19 solo.

The big cross-country navigation trip was to Jacksonville, Florida, to tour the FAA air traffic control center and learn how they operate. Everyone that made it to Rucker with the class graduated although I had a few anxious moments leading up to graduation day. I mentioned earlier that through a SNAFU, I had attended flight school as a civilian. The Army finally caught up to me about two weeks before graduation and base administration went totally ballistic. At first, they said that I would have to enlist. I agreed immediately and requested the re-enlistment bonus for my current rank. That really upset personnel because if I were re-enlisted, they would have to pay the bonus and in two weeks discharge me and appoint me to the Warrant Officer rank. The re-enlistment bonus would have been about six thousand dollars which was not much by today's standards but significant in 1963. They finally resolved the situation by getting the Texas Guard to re-enlist me in the Guard retroactive and give the active military permission to discharge me and call me to active duty as a Warrant Officer Aviator. Unfortunately, this authority didn't come through until after the graduation ceremony was over so I did not get to participate in the ceremony with my class. After permission was granted, I received my WINGS and BARS in the personnel office about two hours after the graduation ceremony. I would have liked to participate with the class, but at least I graduated. Now I could truly say that I am "ABOVE THE BEST."

Next, I received orders to report to the 11th Air Assault Division at Fort Benning, Georgia along with 16 of my classmates. The others were scattered to various places. Some went directly to Viet Nam, some went to Korea, and some went to other assignments.

Fort Benning, Georgia
11th Air Assault

My first assignment as an army aviator was to C company, 227th aviation Battalion of the 11th Air Assault Division. This assignment was the first in a long line of forming new units during my active duty career. The 11th was a unit formed to test the theories of the Howze Board. It was designed to use helicopter warfare. As it turned out I was no stranger when I arrived in August 1963. Several of my classmates and of the class ahead of us were assigned to the unit. C company was just being formed along with the battalion when we arrived. This meant procuring everything from aircraft to buildings to mess hall equipment to ping pong balls for the company. Much of the equipment was procured through regular supply channels. What we could not get through channels, we got by "midnight requisition" which is another term for redirecting the intended use of government property through stealing.

Most of the unit level and above commanders in the 11th Division were West Point grads and airborne Rangers known as snake eaters. I thought we had a lot of physical training in flight school but it was nothing compared to this assignment. First thing every morning, we did 12 repetitions of the "Daily Dozen" exercises prescribed by the Army and a 2 mile run. Then we had an hour of "combat rules' volleyball. Combat rules means everything is legal including groin kicking under the net. We had to be very careful or our whole day would be ruined. Also, there was barbed wire strung across the top of the net.

After this training, we had breakfast and went to the flight line or other assigned job. We all had to get qualified in the UH-1B and UH-1D "Huey" helicopters since we didn't fly them in flight school. After flying the UH-19, the Hueys were almost like flying a Rolls Royce. It was powerful and easy to fly. This was my introduction to Turbine powered aircraft which was much different from the reciprocating engines we were used to. After being checked out and qualified in the aircraft, we began to fly and train in the air assault concept. That included becoming very proficient in formation flying and hauling loads, both internal, which was usually troops and external sling, which could be about anything the aircraft would lift. We also became proficient at flying rappelling missions and parachute drops. Rappelling is used to insert troops into areas where helicopters could not land. We would come to a hover at the top of trees, drop out ropes, and let the troops slide down the ropes. It seemed that we stayed out on field test exercises more than we stayed at home base. Actually we spent exactly 100 nights in the field that first year.
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During that year in the 227th Battalion, I learned much about being an officer in the Army. Most of our commanders were West Pointers and I think most of them had at least one screw loose. The Battalion commander was Colonel John B. Stockton and he may have been the craziest of them all. He had a little black dog that joined him every time he flew. That wasn't too bad, but for Colonel Stockton's birthday, some of his fellow Pointers got a pregnant dog from the post dog pound and left it on his front doorstep. He thought that was really great. He brought the dog to his office and made the staff take care of it during the day and the Duty Officer take care of it at night. We had to record in the duty log everything that happened to the dog. Fortunately, I missed delivering the pups by one night.

Then there was the time that he launched the entire battalion of 60 or more helicopters to Pensacola, Florida, to pick up the red faced ape that he bought as the battalion mascot. Stockton's radio call sign was Bullwhip 6 so the ape was named bullwhip. The ape became another job for the battalion duty officer. Another time, the Colonel had the entire Battalion stand formation while he promoted his dog to sergeant.

Colonel Stockton decided that each company in the battalion should have a mascot that matched their unit radio call-sign. That presented a major problem for my unit. The call-sign was "Cobra." I was given the job of trying to procure a real live cobra for the unit. My wife. Lois. had been employed at the Dallas Parks Department so my commander thought I would be ideal for that job. After numerous letters back and forth to a place in Florida, I was advised that we should forget that idea. I am not aware that we never got a cobra or any other live mascot.

Unfortunately, D company, whose call-sign was "Happy Tiger," did get a mascot. Colonel Stockton found a bobcat at the post pound and managed to get it released to the Happy Tigers. They built a house for the cat and a duty roster for caring and feeding the cat. After a few days, someone reminded Colonel Stockton that all pets on post were required to have rabies shots with no exceptions. That did not present a problem for the Colonel. He ordered the Battalion flight surgeon, who was a medical doctor, to get it done. After consultation with the local veterinarian, the Doctor gave the cat tranquilizers in some meat. The cat went to sleep, was vaccinated, and all was well we thought. Five days later the cat was still asleep and all concerned were worried, especially the doctor. The decision was made to give the cat a stimulant to wake him up. After receiving the shot, the cat shook, jumped straight up about three feet and was dead when it hit the floor. Stockton came completely unglued and had to be talked out of a court martial for the flight surgeon.

Colonel Stockton enjoyed calling his command out on alerts on Sunday mornings. It was rumored that when he and his wife had an argument at Sunday breakfast, he would just call an alert to get out of the house. On one such alert, we departed Fort Benning with our destination unknown to most of us. A 60 aircraft formation arrived, unannounced, at an air force base in South Georgia. Needless to say, the Air Force was not too happy with the Colonel. He convinced them to refuel all of the aircraft and we proceeded to Camp Blanding, Florida. We made a night landing in formation to a field site lighted only by four different colored lights for each platoon of aircraft

When we awoke the next morning, we discovered numerous radio and water towers around us that had been unmarked the night before. It is a miracle that some of us did not hit the towers the night before.

We spent the next week flying out of Camp Blanding and terrorizing the area around Jacksonville, St. Augustan and Lake City. We flew in extremely low ceiling and visibility conditions. We scared cattle, did an assault landing in downtown St. Augustine and flew across Jacksonville Navy Air station completely unannounced with a ceiling of less than 200 feet.

Our first attempt to return to Fort Benning was aborted over the north Florida swamps when the formation went instrument flight conditions in thunderstorms. We managed to survive this situation and return to Navy Cecil for the night. One aircraft landed on the interstate highway between Lake City and Cecil and was found by the Florida State Police. The policeman asked him if he was all right. After an affirmative answer from the pilot, the policeman said that he was illegally parked and asked to see his drivers license. He did not issue a ticket.

The next day we flew N.O.E. (nape of the earth) along the highway to the Valdosta, Georgia, civilian airfield. We arrived, unannounced, in I.F.R. conditions causing commercial airlines to go around or abort landings. After refueling and weather clearing, we departed and returned to Fort Benning. I don't know this for a fact but it was rumored that the F.A.A. wrote Colonel Stockton 187 flight regulation violations for this week. That would have cost the Army a lot of money.

Another of Colonel Stockton's plans was stopped before it happened. He planned to fly the 227th Battalion from Fort Benning to the Island of Trinidad via Florida and the Caribbean islands. Fortunately someone in Washington got wind of this plan and put a stop to it. This was in 1963 and I am sure Castro would have not appreciated more than 60 American helicopters flying that close to Cuba.

The 227th was still in the formation and testing stage. We not only trained our air crews but trained the infantry in the use of the helicopters. On November 22, 1963, the day President Kennedy was shot, I was on a training flight and heard the news on a local radio station in Columbus, Georgia. We were very surprised and almost lost control of the aircraft because we couldn't believe what we had just heard. Obviously, training was suspended and the post went into official mourning.

As luck would have it, a group of pilots, including myself, were on orders to go to the Bell helicopter plant in Fort Worth the next day. We arrived at the Bell plant and checked into our motel just about the same time that Oswald was shot. We spent a couple of days in the area in the event that we might be needed. The group finally signed for our aircraft and set out on our trip back to Fort Benning. That was my first real long flight and I was really hooked on cross-country flying.

During the rest of the year that I was in the 11th Air Assault, we completed company sized tests and battalion sized tests of the air assault concept. We did most of our training in the field at Fort Stewart Georgia. Generally, the tests went well and have been well documented by other writers. We had some crashes, lost some crews, and had a few moments of stark terror. Probably 90% of our flying was in formations of anywhere from 4 to 60+ aircraft. There was supposed to be one to two rotor discs separation between aircraft but, occasionally, some of us intentionally over lapped rotor blades. We became very good at formation flying.

Sometime during this year, there was a change of command for the post and a big parade at the post airfield. The unusual thing about this parade was that not only were all post troops in formation on the airfield but every flight worthy aircraft participated in a formation fly-by. The aircraft included were OH-13's, UH-19"s, UH-1B”s, D"s, CH-47's, CH-34's, L-19's, L20's, OV-1's, CV-7's and a C-47. The coordination and timing required to get over 400 aircraft to fly by the reviewing stand looking like one formation is really unbelievable. We had fixed wing aircraft whose minimum speed was faster than the maximum speed of some of the helicopters and the helicopters led the formation starting with the slowest. I don't know how, but we managed to pull it off without a flaw. There wasn't even any kind of emergency on any of the aircraft which is kind of unusual considering the number of aircraft.

After the company and battalion tests, the division continued to build toward full strength. "C" company of the 227th was re-designated as "C" company of the 229th and became the nucleus of the 229th Battalion. As we continued to train and grow toward the 90 day division test in the Carolinas, unexpected orders came down to form a company size unit and ready it for deployment to Viet Nam. I was one of the lucky or unlucky ones, depending on your point of view, that was assigned to this unit. We were unlucky in that we were going to Viet Nam, but were lucky that we didn’t stay to participate in the division 90 day field problem and still get sent to Nam. The 11th was redisignated as the First Cavalry Division and was sent to Nam the next spring.

We frantically put together the 62nd Aviation Company and prepared it for deployment. We had to acquire, pack, and ship everything that goes in an army aviation unit from mess hall silverware to the aircraft and support equipment. We also managed to beg, borrow, or steal extra comfort and relaxation equipment such as bathroom equipment, air conditioners, and athletic equipment. We even wrote some of the casinos in Las Vegas and they sent us playing cards, dice, and poker chips. Once all the equipment was assembled and packed, it was shipped by surface transportation. We were allowed a few days leave to get families resettled.

My family moved back to the Dallas area. I took the few days to get them as prepared as possible for my absence before reporting back to Fort Benning for deployment. In a goodwill gesture, the division sent its CV-7 Caribou aircraft to several points around the country to provide return transportation for those of us in the company. It was a nice benefit for those of us who had traveled a long distance. They picked me up at Love field and returned me to Fort Benning.

After the unit was reassembled at Fort Benning, we finished individual qualification. On the assigned date, we were bussed to Warner-Robbins AF Base for later air shipment to Viet Nam. As that date approached, the anxiousness and fear of the unknown grew.

When the date arrived for shipment, the aircraft in which we rode were DC-6’s and slower than Christmas. I think some of these aircraft had been used in the Berlin airlift.

It took about five days with stops at Travis AFB, California, Hickham Field, Hawaii, Wake Island, the AFB on Guam, Clark AFB in the Philippines, and finally, Saigon. While the air crews were flying, we were sleeping, reading or playing poker to entertain ourselves.

Air Force regulations required that the air crews take a 17 hour crew rest after so many hours on duty. Our first crew rest on this trip was in Hawaii and while the crew rested, a group of us went to see the sights of Honolulu. We arrived about midnight Hawaii time but we went sightseeing anyway. At that time of night there wasn't much to see so we wandered the streets and finally went wading in the ocean at Wakiki Beach.

After sunrise we visited the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial and I suddenly realized the seriousness of where I was going. It should be a requirement for every American to visit that memorial. It really does something to you.

We returned to base and boarded our aircraft to continue our journey. The next stop was Wake Island. We were there for refueling about one hour. We saw the entire island in five minutes or less. From there we continued to Guam and it was time for another crew rest. Several of my fellow pilots and I rented a taxi for the day and toured the island. I could easily see why the Japanese were able to hold on so long during World War II.

After crew rest and refueling, we continued to Clark AFB Philippines, refueled and continued to Saigon, Viet Nam. The closer we got to Viet Nam, the more anxious and afraid we became. I think that if we had to spend another day in those old slow aircraft we probably would have killed each other. Maybe the trip was just a way to get us all fighting mad for what was to come.





VIET NAM
September 1964 - September 1965

When we arrived in Siagon we were all on pins and needles. It was scary to see all those people with guns and ammo, the sandbagged bunkers and barbed wire. We were even introduced to live combat fire just across the runway from the initial briefing building. You should have seen us scramble.


Siagon
Circa 1964

After about three hours of briefings and after being issued weapons, we were loaded onto aircraft for the trip to our home base. We boarded the C-123 aircraft for the trip. When they took off they climbed and circled around the airfield until the aircraft was out of range of small arms fire and proceeded south to Vinh Long on the Mekong River. At Vinh Long they descended so fast and tight that I just knew we were going to crash. Again, this was to spend minimal time in range of enemy small arms fire. Although the Air Force scared the stuffing out of us, they managed to land us all safely. As the doors opened and we started unloading, the Mekong Delta welcomed us. The heat and humidity was almost unbearable.

The base had been preparing for our arrival and was building new buildings for us. They weren't all complete when we arrived so we camped out in the shells of the buildings. We had no bunkers yet and the buildings weren't sand bagged so when you think about it we were very open to incoming fire by small arms or mortars. I didn't get much sleep the first few nights for fear of an attack and due to the unbearable heat.

When I first arrived in Viet Nam, we supported the Vietnamese Army. At this time, there was only about 25,000 Americans in Viet Nam. They were advisors and support units. Conditions became different as we began supporting American forces later in the war.

We had military advisors at these military outposts scattered throughout the country. The outposts needed supplies almost on a daily basis. Officers at the outposts would send their requests for supplies, such as ammo, food, and equipment, up through the Vietnamese Corp headquarters. The Vietnamese Corp would evaluate the requests then give them to the American Advisors Corp staff . They in turn would decide the priorities and determine which outpost needed the supplies first and fit that to the number of aircraft and pilots available to deliver the supplies.

We were supporting the Vietnamese 21st Division so the American Corp Advisors would send requests for supplies for our division down to our operations center where the trips were coordinated. For instance, Camau served a certain number of outposts some of which could be served by sending out one ship to make a delivery. Only two ships would fly out of Camau all day.

Operations assigned the air crews to certain ships and destinations the night before the mission. We were expected to arrive at our destination at a certain time, so we planned our trip the night before as well. Pilots were assigned according to how much flying time they had accumulated during the month. Operations attempted to spread the missions on a fairly equal basis so as to avoid sending one pilot on significantly more missions than another. They rotated the missions by platoons and the kind of missions. There was quite a bit of planning involved in assigning missions.

The morning of the mission we went by operations and picked up the missions sheets, code books, and a first aid kit. The code books contained radio frequencies, call signs, and codes for the locations. We stopped using the call signs because early in the war, it was easier to just use real names. Actually, we were pretty lax in this area and didn’t figure that Charley was sophisticated enough to use the information. In fact, American news media reported every little situation along with the names of units, places, and personnel.

Our unit had about 25 aircraft including gun ships. We would usually launch about 10 at a time. Two or three would be on standby and the others would be in maintenance. At the end of the day, we had a record of how much cargo we had delivered, passengers we had moved, and where we had gone. We were not supported by gun ships at this time. They were mostly on standby and were called out as needed. It was standard operating procedure that if an American needed help anywhere, we dropped whatever we were doing and went to his aid.

We had some strange loads. It was not unusual for us to deliver people. At this time, many of the Vietnamese military were accompanied by their wives and children at the outposts. We would transport family members back to Camau on shopping expeditions and then return them to camp. Animals were frequent passengers. Family members would go to the market, buy live chickens , and take them back to base camp. The news media considered us their own transportation service. There were other times when we would head out to Siagon for a load of ice cream for our own personnel. It could be said that we were a very flexible taxi and delivery service.

One interesting character was a Vietnamese named Chico. He was known all over the Delta. He would be at first one outpost and then another. We provided much of his transportation. In retrospect, I believe that Chico was VC.

The Vietnamese had strange customs. They used a substance called Nuke Bomb. This an as Americanization of the Vietnamese term. It was a fermented sauce that the Vietnamese loved and the smell was equal to four skunks. When they opened a bottle inside the airship, we had to get out if possible. They used Nuke Bomb like we use Pecante sauce. Beetlenut was another natural substance commonly used by the Vietnamese. Beetlenut users smiled with red teeth.

When we weren’t flying, we had extra duties and some recreation. My job was to supervise ground radio communications. My people ran lines to all the bunkers. In addition, we had a basketball court, an officers club, pool tables, and an ongoing poker game. When we had an emergency, the poker players would drop their cards, report for duty, and take care of the problem. When it was over, the players would head back to the game and pick up their cards.

The officers rented a villa at a French resort at Vung Tau. The beach there was one of the best. We were entitled to three days per month of RR at Vung Tau.

I soon learned that the U.S. forces were not allowed to fly the American flag anywhere in country except at the Embassy. The commander of Vinh Long got flag poles and flags from all the states and flew them as an alternative to the no U.S. flag order. It was a very pretty sight to see the state flags. The reason we couldn't fly the American flag was that we were only in an advisory capacity, and not in combat. "Charlie" never let that bother him though. He shot at advisors as well. I guess he didn't want us to feel left out.

Almost as soon as the 62nd arrived at Vinh Long, it was re-designated as A Company 502nd Aviation and later re-designated as the 175th Assault Helicopter Company. I have no idea why the name was changed. The company nickname became Outlaws and the gun platoon became Mavericks. The 114th AHC was already established at Vinh Long. Their nicknames were Knights and Cobras. The 121st Soc Trang Tigers further south had converted from CH-21 helicopters to UH-1B's. Their nicknames were Tigers and Vikings. Until the arrival of the 175th, the 114th and 121st were the only helicopter units south of Saigon except for the 82nd. Medical (Dustoff) detachment at Soc Trang. Shortly after the arrival of the 175th in country, a large number of the personnel were infused into the other units so that the members would have a scattered DEROS or Date of Expected Return from Overseas. That way we didn't have one entire unit leaving at the same time. After about a week at Vinh Long, I was infused to the Soc Trang Tigers.




There was a number of reasons why I liked Soc Trang better than Vinh Long. One was that we used buildings built by the Japanese during WW II and they afforded more protection than the wood buildings at Vinh Long. They were concrete block and stucco. In the early days of the conflict the Soc Trang unit had acquired a real live Bengal tiger as a baby and had raised it to a full grown Tiger. Unfortunately, as the tiger grew he became harder to handle so a home was found for him in the Toledo, Ohio, zoo. He was sent home before I arrived but I saw plenty of pictures of him. It was rumored that he attacked a Vietnamese worker on the compound and that was why he was sent to the USA. He became one of the best known tigers in the world and sired a very large number of Bengal tigers currently in zoos around the U.S. I assume that "Tuffy" the tiger lived a long and happy life in Toledo.

The commander of the121st was Major Joe Levinson. He was the very best commander I ever served under. He believed that if we had a war to fight, go fight with all you have. If there was no war, then go play just as hard. Captain "big Daddy" Hamner was the gun platoon leader but Jerry Daly really ran the platoon. Jerry's call sigh was Viking 21. We all developed confidence in and respect for Jerry. It seemed that no matter what was happening, when you heard Jerry on the radio, everything was all right and there was no need to worry. There was just something about the confidence and trust that Jerry gave to us that made us feel safe. After three tours in Nam and a full military career, Jerry, the VC’s most hated gun pilot, became a Catholic Priest. Looking back and knowing Jerry, that really wasn’t that much of a stretch. He was sort of like that for us.

Just like every other aviator, I had to take unit training. This usually consisted of one flight. We were then assigned to fly "peter pilot" with more experienced aircraft commanders. My first actual combat flight was with CWO Billy Weeks, an older and crazier warrant officer. We were assigned to be the P.O.W. ship for the combat assault. That meant that we would orbit over the action, pick up any prisoners that were captured and take them back to base for interrogation. We also went in to get crews that were shot down. If any aircraft had to pull out, we replaced it.

Soon, the ground unit captured four V.C. for us to transport. As a test for me, on the way into the LZ, Weeks had the door gunner pull and snap the bungee cord on the back of my seat without me knowing. The snap was very loud and sounded very much like I thought a gunfire hit would sound. I later learned that it sounded nothing like gunfire. Thank God I was already so scared that I didn't even flinch. Weeks said something like "Good. Nerves of steel." Maybe so, but he didn't know what I was really feeling.

The rest of the mission went well. We picked up the prisoners and took them back to base. I managed to get a look back in the cargo compartment at the prisoners. Looking back at me was one of the prisoners. I have never seen such a look of hate in anyone's eyes. The light came on bright and clear. This was war. I was looking into the face of the enemy and he wants to kill me. I will never ever forget that look or that moment.

The months of October and November were relatively uneventful even though my personal log book reflects several days of flying combat assaults. I learned my way around the Mekong Delta flying to places like Bac Leiu, Camau, Toi Bien, Can Tho, Sadec, Chau Duc, and Hai Yen. These were all places containing American advisors based with Vietnamese Military units. They were in the area south of Siagon. That area would become so familiar to me that later we would not even need maps. Landmarks such as the 7 canals intersection, the 5 canals intersection, bends in the Mekong, VC lake and the gulf of Siam would be our means of navigation. We learned areas to avoid such as the U-Minh forest. We also avoided the best routes into and out of all the support locations for obvious reasons. We learned what altitudes to fly and what altitudes to avoid as much as possible. Generally, we tried to avoid the altitude between 50 feet and 1500 feet. That was prime range for small arms fire.

Author on the Right


In early November our base was mortared for the first time since I arrived. I believe that it was the same night that Bien Hoa and Pleiku were hit. It made the headlines back home. Both Pleiku and Bien Hoa received heavy damage. The Air Force lost 3 or 4 B-57's on the ground at Bien Hoa. Soc Trang managed to evacuate all the aircraft and suffered minimal damage. The weird thing was that I actually heard the first mortar rounds being fired as they left the mortar tubes. There was no doubt as to what it was.

I was a little slow getting to my aircraft and the other pilot left without me. There I was standing in the middle of a dark runway with mortar rounds coming in around me with no place to hide. My only option was to begin crawling back to the buildings area and hope that I made it. I was very lucky and made it to the safety of a bunker without getting hit by mortars or being shot by friendlies in the bunker.

Personnel in the command bunker were frantically calling for a pilot to evacuate another aircraft that the crew chief had gotten running but could not fly. I ran down the flight line, found the aircraft and took off. It still amazes me that the aircraft sat there so long running and was not hit. It was really strange, but while this was happening, it seemed as if I was not actually involved but was watching it in a movie. Later, we all joked that the base had forgotten to pay taxes to the VC and they were giving us a friendly reminder
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My log book indicates that the rest of the days in October and November were primarily resupply runs, called “ash and trash.” They were over the Mekong Delta covering from Siagon to the tip of the Camau peninsula to a place called Nam Can and points in between.

In every resupply location we always had to watch for the kids. They didn't have any idea of the danger and would swarm the helicopter even with the blades still turning. We always carried a supply of candy and gum to give them. I would be afraid to estimate how much I gave out, but it wasn't enough to keep many of them from starving. They really had nothing.

Kids
In my spare time one of the guys took me into Soc Trang city and had my picture made for our DEROS wall. All the officers had their picture on the wall of the officers club in the order that they arrived in country and as one would leave, everyone else would move up on the wall. We found a tailor that made name tags, patches, caps with rank, branch, wings and on the back "Tuffy." I still have a shirt with "Tuffy" on it. It is much too small now, but is a nice keepsake.

I guess this was my first up close and personal look at the Vietnamese people and how they lived. To get into town, we walked out to the base gate and got a ride in a cycelo. This is a large tricycle with seats for passengers and a guy that pedaled you around. I remember noting that the flowers along the road were very pretty. The rice paddies came right up to the edge of the road where there were no houses. The architecture was generally French since they had been there so long. Most of the houses outside town were thatch huts. The places we went to get pictures and sewing done had someone that spoke some English. Generally they were friendly to us and tried to please us whenever possible. I have often wondered though how many of them were VC sympathizers. We toured the local market and saw how unbelievably filthy those people lived. The market was open air and had all kinds of vegetables, fish, and meats just laying out in the hot sun. The smell was unbelievable. Everything was covered with flies and other insects. We didn’t stay there long. We caught another cycelo back to the base.

We lived in barracks that we called "hooches." Each hooch had two older Vietnamese women that were hired to clean the rooms, shine our boots and do our laundry. It took quite some time to learn to communicate with them, but they were real nice and patient with us. Eventually we got to understand each other. In a way they became more than just maids. They were more like mothers hence the name "mama son."

Each pilot had an individual cubicle in the hooch with a small desk, army cot and a wooden wall locker. The humidity was so great that the wall locker was heated by a 100 watt light all the time to keep everything from mildewing. We were constantly sweating and had no air conditioning. The Vietnamese made a fortune selling us Japanese-made electric fans.

The Officers of the company rented a house near the beach in Vung Tau, a French resort area. This was part of Major Levinson's play hard plan. It was maintained by the officers as a place for them to go and relax. Each officer was allowed to stay at the house and relax three days a month. There is a nice beach and we really unwound in those three days. For some reason, Vung Tau was not bothered by the war at that time. Maybe the VC also took R&R there. I think we rented this villa for about 150 dollars a month and paid a Vietnamese family a small amount to live there and maintain it for us. They thought we were paying them a lot. We had a couple of bicycles at the villa that we used for transportation around town and out to the military beach. Vung Tau was a lot more modern than Soc Trang but still showed the French influence. The French didn’t teach those people anything about plumbing or sanitation. As a result there was a constant odor everywhere you went.
The beach at Vung Tao

The base had the usual array of local pets such as a couple of monkeys, a chimpanzee, a 25 foot long python and several dogs. American soldiers are suckers for dogs. We also had a multitude of snakes and rodents on the base that were not pets. It was not unusual to go out to my aircraft early in the morning and see cobras crawling on the runway. It was warm to them. They sought heat just like rattlesnakes do in the states.

The Python, known as Susie, was usually kept in a cage by the company headquarters. One morning Susie was gone and no one knew where she was. She was gone for two nights and just as suddenly, returned to her cage. Needless to say we were very careful about where we stepped those two nights.

The chimp didn't like our Air Force Weather Sergeant. One day when the Sergeant came out to read his instruments, the chimp attacked him. This made the Sergeant very mad so he got three weather balloons, tied the chimps feet together, tied the balloons to him and launched him. The last time we saw Charlie the Chimp, he was at about three thousand feet and climbing. No telling where he wound up.

My log book indicates that on 1 Nov, 1964, I took my aircraft commander check ride with Jerry Daly in UH-1B 621944 which was to become my primary aircraft for the remainder of my time in the Tigers. The aircraft was nicknamed "The Tall Texan" with a map of the state on its nose in white paint on the black nose.

Most of our combat assaults during this time turned out to be of very little consequence. Usually we would insert the 42nd or 44th Vietnamese Rangers into a landing zone some time in the morning and go back and pick them up before dark.


Typical LZ

The first real combat assault that I remember after the prisoner escapade was in early October. We assembled the aircraft and the 42nd Rangers on the Bac Lieu airstrip. A scout L-19 went out looking for Charlie. He apparently found some VC because we loaded and launched our formation. He directed us to the area and marked the landing zone with red smoke to indicate that the LZ was hot. This meant that he was receiving fire and we probably would as well. We made a formation approach into the LZ with the Vikings laying suppressive fire. While on the ground, I could see tracer rounds going away from me to my right. I wondered which door gunner had opened fire. Then I turned my attention to the left and could see those tracers coming toward me. Hello dummy! I was receiving fire. We were probably on the ground not more than ten seconds but it seemed like we were there for hours.

After the initial lift we went back in to the LZ two more times with fresh troops and supplies. These troops spent the night and we picked them up the next day. I cannot remember any body count or results so it was not too impressive on paper. However, the flight school training and discipline paid off. We continued to fly the aircraft and do our jobs regardless of what was going on around us.

I do recall a flight to Siagon, probably an Ash and Trash haul, where we returned at night. We made it a habit of flying somewhere above 3000 feet on all cross-country flights. This flight back from Siagon was at night and I was flying at 3500 feet. As we cruised along I remember seeing tracers from small arms coming up toward me and then dying off. All of a sudden there was this basketball size tracer that came up past me and kept climbing. It was a .50 caliber tracer. I immediately climbed to 6000 feet and finished the flight at that altitude.

The month of December, 1964, turned out to be memorable. On the 5th, we staged another operation out of Bac Lieu with the Ranger units. We inserted one of the Ranger Battalions about five miles north of Camau as a blocking force for an operation by the 21st Vietnamese Division coming up a canal from Camau. We were briefed that this was going to be a very hot one and what weapons to expect. We were told that there would be automatic weapons and unfriendly 81 mm mortar fire.

As we waited to start the first lift enroute to the LZ, we used every trick imaginable to take our minds off of what was about to happen. We prayed. We recalled wives, kids, old girlfriends, school-mates and parents. I recall thinking about playing football at the rodeo arena with a bunch of the boys there in Naples. Also, I recalled the times we spent swimming at Glass Club lake and swiping watermelons from various farmers in the area. We drank coffee and smoked more cigarettes than usual. Waiting to launch was always the worst time.

On this particular day, while we were waiting lined up on both sides of the runway, an air force FAC landed his aircraft on the runway and fired a pair or rockets just as he touched down. The rockets came straight up the runway and landed out in the rice paddy. Fortunately, there was no harm to any equipment or personnel except for some very frayed nerves.

When the call came to “wind them up,” everyone turned to business as we prepared for take-off. We loaded the troops and moved to our spot in the formation ready for departure. The Vikings gunships departed first to make the initial strike on the LZ and get into position to escort us in. We departed shortly after and proceeded to the LZ.

The enroute leader was talking to Viking and getting bad reports on the LZ. The closer we got, the more nervous I got. Again I used the recollections and thoughts of people I knew to distract the nervousness and fear. I concentrated on holding my formation position. I prayed that I would be able to perform my job and not let down my comrades and the people who knew me back home. The nervousness remained until we were on the long final approach to the LZ and the first rounds were fired by the Vikings. For some strange reason after the first rounds were fired, I felt an extreme calm inside and was able to fly as if out on a Sunday joy ride. I believe that this was a result of prayers back home and the influence all my friends who had a part in my growing up.

As it turned out, that was by far the hottest action that I had seen. We trapped the VC U-MINH-2 Battalion along that canal. We dropped off our first troops and returned for a second, third, and fourth load of troops. By this time the early troops were running low on supplies so we continued resupplying, reinforcing, and Med-evacing all day and into the night. I participated in all of the lifts and then volunteered to resupply troops on the ground for the rest of the day. There was an Advisor friend of mine on the ground and I wanted to be sure he had all the support needed.

Each time in and out I received moderate to heavy fire but God protected me. My ship did not take one hit during all the flights in or out. We also went back in after dark that night and med-evaced several wounded soldiers who might not have lived to the next day without major medical attention. As we came out of the landing site, it looked like the whole world turned red with tracers nipping at the aircraft skids, but not quite catching up with us.

For this operation, my crew and I were recommended for the Distinguished Flying Cross but the paper pushers in Siagon downgraded it to an Air Medal with "V" device.

The U-MINH-2 Battalion was, at that time, the very best VC unit of that size in their army. The end result of this operation was that the VC unit was totally wiped out and tons of arms and equipment were captured. We never heard anything about that unit again. Among the captured equipment were M-1 rifles, .30 caliber carbines, U.S. .30 caliber machine guns, U.S. radios and various European weapons. We also captured makeshift back packs made out of flour sacks that had the U.S. AID logo on them indicating that the VC were getting the food the US was shipping to the starving Vietnamese.

After the operation was over that night, there was an overwhelming sense of relief and satisfaction for a job done right. My advisor friend on the ground made it out and went home to the States the next day. He later went to flight school. I lost track of him after that.

The next major event that the 121st participated in was just a few days later. That one was the first totally American operation in Viet Nam. Actually, since the U.S. forces were still only in an advisory roll, this operation consisted of approximately 100 Army aviation personnel and Special Forces troops advising one Vietnamese company clerk. This operation was an attempted rescue of Special Forces Lt. Nicholas Rowe who had been captured by the VC about a year earlier. The 121st AVN and the Special Forces staged out of Hai Yen and inserted, one ship at a time, into a very small hole in the jungle very near the southern tip of the Camau peninsula. The Special Forces were in the swamp all day. They were able to move about a quarter mile through the jungle and swamp and had to blow a pick-up hole for us to extract them.

The mission was not a success and Lt. Rowe spent another four years in captivity. He was hauled around the country in a cage like an animal. After his escape in 1968, Lieutenant, now Major Rowe, wrote a book about his five years in captivity. In the book, he described his version of the operation and stated that we were so close that he could almost read the name tags on the shirts of the door gunners. So close and yet so far. Our failure cost him another four years of his life. I highly recommend reading his book. It is called "Five Years to Freedom" by Nick Rowe.


A couple of “slicks.”
(The author is on the left.)

As Christmas approached, I managed to get some presents from the local economy and send them to my wife and kids. We put up what decorations we could find. The Christmas tree was a banana tree. The best music we could find on the radio came from a North Vietnamese station with an English speaking disc jockey that we called "Hanoi Hanna." She was the current version of Tokyo Rose from World War II. Between the music she would call the pilots by name and tell how much bounty for each of them. Jerry Daly was worth 250,000 Piasters. That was about $50,000 dollars. The average "slick" pilot was worth about 25,000 Piasters or $5,000 dollars.

Some time in early December Hanoi Hanna started talking about a particular VC regiment that was going to eat Christmas dinner in the Soc Trang mess hall. Early in the month the 21st Vietnamese Division started tracking our regiment. It seemed that the information received was approximately three days behind the regiment as they moved through the villages of the Mekong Delta. Based on the information, the U.S. intelligence advisory group projected ahead and guessed that on 27 December they would be at "The Horseshoe," about 10 miles north of Soc Trang. That was a tree line that from the air looked just like a horseshoe. They weren't moving as fast as Hanna predicted. Then again maybe they were intentionally late in hopes we would let our guard down if they didn't show for Christmas. That was an old Patton trick.

The intelligence group guessed right and there was one heck of a day and night. We managed to surprise them and had about 300 body count when it was over. We captured a very large amount of weapons and equipment. The most significant of these were the first Chinese Communist SKS rifles and Russian AK-47 automatic weapon ever seen in Vietnam. They were so important that within a few days Robert McNamara was standing in front of the U.S. Congress with the AK-47 telling them that contrary to popular belief we were not fighting a bunch of peasants but a well organized, trained and equipped Army.

Among the other weapons captured were 5 U.S. .50 caliber machine guns lost during the Korean Conflict by the First Calvary Division in about 1952. The serial numbers were traced to find their source. The ammo for the .50’s was linked for any target. They had linked it using ball, tracer, incendiary, armor piercing, and high explosive in that order. They were ready for any target. Other weapons were .81 mm mortars, .60 mm mortars, a German WWII 9 mm water cooled machine gun, 2.37 mm recoilless rifles and many personal weapons such a rifles and pistols.

Participating in this operation were both gun platoons from Vinh Long, The Cobras, Mavericks. There was one platoon from UTT in Saigon, the Raiders as well. Our leaders used a lot of common sense and good judgment in planning the battle. We played this operation just like the typical Vietnamese run operation. In the morning we assembled the aircraft and troops on the Soc Trang runway and lifted them to field locations that were south and west of our base. We even sent out empty resupply ships to fool the VC that we knew were spying on us. As with most small operations, we went out to pick up those troops about 2pm. The big difference was that we didn't land them back at Soc Trang. We bypassed home base and flew directly into the horseshoe. We caught the VC taking their afternoon "siesta" and not manning their guns. The first lift was in and out before they could get organized although they did manage to shoot down one of the 114th gun ships. The crew all survived, but the ship was totally destroyed.

An American advisor that landed with the troops took a hit in the middle of his back as he was getting off my aircraft. Fortunately, he was wearing a back-pack radio that absorbed the bullet. The radio was destroyed, but he only had a few bruises and a hurt ego.

We returned to the LZ six or seven times that day resupplying and reinforcing the troops on the ground. The gun platoons rotated over the LZ all day and into the night. On the third lift in, for some reason, the flight leader told us to drop the troops, turn around and get the hell out the way we came in. I picked up the aircraft, spun around and took off. My crew chief was looking back and saw a mortar round explode exactly where the aircraft had been sitting. It missed us by less than 2 seconds. That was another time that God was watching over me.

During the day another gun ship was shot up and had to make an emergency landing about 400 yards from the action. The crew was picked up and the ship was forgotten until about 10 PM. Then someone remembered it and decided that the ship needed to be secured for the night. We loaded up four ships with troops and headed for the action. We came to a hover in the LZ and started looking for the gun ship. As I hovered past it I saw the reflection of one of the fires at the other end of the battlefield. It had to be the downed aircraft. Sure enough, the fire had reflected off the cargo door window and caught my attention. We dropped the security force around the aircraft and were about to depart for base when the American Advisor on the ground contacted us on the radio and asked for med-evac assistance. Lead volunteered us all and ask for directions. The Advisor asked "Do you see the big fire in the tree line?" Lead said “yes” and we turned to hover over to the fire. Unfortunately, there were about two dozen fires in the tree line. I don't know how he did it but Lead picked out the right fire.

The ground troops loaded 19 wounded on the four aircraft and we departed for base 10 miles away. I could see blood running from the back of the aircraft down into the nose. I could feel the floor getting sticky under my feet. I could smell all the awful odors of combat and death. There is no way to describe those smells. It is something you have to experience and I hope that it never has to happen. When we arrived at the base hospital, only nine of the wounded had survived.

For these operations in December the participating units were awarded The Distinguished Unit Citation, The Valorous Unit Award, The Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Palm, and The Fortiguerre of the Cross of Gallantry with Palm. There were numerous individual awards from Air Medals to Purple Hearts to Bronze Stars and on and on. That pretty well concluded the excitement for the month of December. I don’t recall celebrating Christmas though I guess we did. New Years eve and New Years day were just normal work days for us.












The author on the left receives an award.

The months of January and February were relatively uneventful as far as major operations go. There was the daily ash and trash missions and intermittent combat assaults with insignificant results. The base got mortared again but no there was no major damage. I guess we forgot to pay our taxes again. There was nothing comparable to December.

Sometime during this period I was assigned to fly Raymond Burr, who played Perry Mason on TV. We flew around to all the outposts that had American Advisors for a hand shake tour. He was really nice and concerned about our troops. The trip was really a good morale builder.


Raymond Burr
Star of Perry Mason TV Show

During this period on an ash and trash mission out of Camau, I was asked by the advisors to resupply a Vietnamese camp that had been under heavy attack for about ten days and really needed supplies. At one point the enemy had breached the perimeter but were driven back. I agreed to go try if the advisors would get our gunship platoon to escort me in and out. For whatever reason, their headquarters refused to get the guns and sent VNAF fighter-bombers (A1-E’s) instead. The fighter-bombers could bomb the area, but could not help me in the event that I might be shot down. I refused the mission and was released to go back to home base. When I arrived at home base, the gunship platoon was cranking up and our C.O. met me on the runway. He said that I was going back on the mission with him.

I refueled and we took off. The guns had already departed and refueled at Camau. When we arrived to load the supplies, the guns were just taking off for the outpost. Normally Charlie didn't shoot at gunships unless trapped into engaging but this time the VC decided to take on the guns. While the guns were keeping Charlie busy we slipped in two ships of supplies. The Vikings took several hits. One was a round through Jerry Daly's helmet, but it didn't hurt him. We had to fight off the occupants of the outpost because they wanted to leave as well. Upon returning to Camau, the C.O. apologized because he had doubted my judgment about going into that outpost.

One of the regular missions was resupplying the Special Forces outposts along the Cambodian border. As we flew along the border, a Cambodian recon aircraft would suddenly appear and shadow us along the border. We waved at them and they waved at us on a regular basis. At one of the border outposts I discovered a flight school classmate who had washed out and returned to the Special Forces. Since I flew that mission regularly, I asked him if there was anything he needed that we could get for him. He said that he would love some American beer. All that he had to drink out there was “Ba Muy Ba” which was Vietnamese 33 beer that was about 30% formaldehyde. The next time that I got that mission, I picked up a case of Budweiser and a Bottle of Jack Daniels for him. We stopped for lunch at his outpost and I gave him the beer and Jack. He looked at them and said “Who do you want assassinated?” I am not sure if he was serious but it indicated how much he appreciated the drinks. He was later wounded and med-evaced out. I have never heard from him since.


Coffee Break
(The author is second from right.)

On March 21, I was flying with Joe Thibideaux on an ash and trash mission in the Camau area. At the end of the day there were five reporters that needed a ride to an outpost called Vi Thanh. Since that was, more or less, on our way home, we gave them a ride. We dropped them off and headed home. We climbed to a safe altitude and since Joe was flying, I sat back and dozed off. All of a sudden, the engine rpm horn was screaming in my ears. Joe immediately went into autorotation and before I realized what I was doing, I checked the gages to determine what was wrong and called a MAYDAY to the air traffic control. I also set the radar signal to emergency. Air traffic control launched the Vikings before we even got on the ground. When we heard Jerry Daly's voice on the radio, Joe and I both breathed a sigh of relief even though we were still in autorotation. We had a perfect landing spot in front of us and into the wind. It was about four thousand acres of dry rice paddy. Joe, who had only been in country and out of flight school about two months, was flying the aircraft I was checking his every movement and he was doing well so I let him complete the autorotation. The first thing he asked after we landed was "Why the hell didn't you take the controls? You are the aircraft commander." I told him that he was doing a good job and I don't try to fix what ain't broke.

Our wing man came in behind us and picked us up as the Vikings arrived. The guns stayed on station with the aircraft until the maintenance team made some repairs and flew the ship back to base. By the way that was not my usual assigned aircraft. That was another Huey, tail number 62-1901.

During the next few days, I had my first bad experience with the American Red Cross. I had heard bad things about them ever since World War II from relatives who were in the war. My wife's father became very ill and was only expected to live a short time. Her brothers tried to get the Red Cross to send notification and get me home on leave. They refused the request. I got a notification through the civilian telegraph system. I applied and received an emergency leave and came home.

At that point in the conflict, there was only one "Freedom Bird" chartered flight in and out of Viet Nam each day. All Of us who were rotating or going on emergency leave stood in the terminal and watched as the pilot attempted to land. He drug the right outboard engine on the runway. Naturally that grounded the aircraft and about 200 G.I.s had some very unkind words for that pilot. They questioned his ancestry and speculated that he got his training in the Air Force. Those of us going on emergency leave were put on an Air Force C-130 to Japan with a connecting flight on a C-118 to Travis AFB. If we had stayed in Nam and caught the next day’s freedom bird, we would have arrived at Travis about one hour earlier. My wife's father passed away while I was on leave so I was able to be there for her at that time.

On the day prior to leaving on the emergency leave, we had a combat assault in the seven canals area. Not much happened. We put troops on the ground, shot up the surrounding tree lines, and after two or three hours, picked the troops up and took them back to the staging area. The net result of the operation was 0 body count, 0 weapons, and 1 VC bicycle. How did they determined that the bicycle was VC? I don't know. I left that night on leave and arrived in Dallas in time to read about that operation on the front page of the Dallas News. They had a 2 column story with picture and the only way I recognized it was because at that time they were using unit names, dates, and places. That was when I learned how the press used lies and half-truths to sell newspapers.

At one point during the tour, the 121st was sent to Saigon to participate in a very large troop lift. There were more than 100 "slicks" involved and several gun platoons. I don't remember too much about this lift except that it was big. We only carried troops out and did not bring them back so I assume they established a base camp where we dropped them.

Around the first of May, A Company, 101st Aviation Battalion arrived in Soc Trang and I was infused into that unit because I was checked out in UH-1Ds. They brought Ds and became the first D unit in country. The aircraft had been off loaded at the port of Vung Tau and were flown to Soc Trang. Jim Church, a classmate of mine, was flying one of the aircraft and had to land first due to a hydraulics failure. He flew the first D to land in Nam. These aircraft arrived at Soc Trang with no protective armor and no mounts for weapons. When we were flying them, we were almost naked. At least it felt that way.


Huey

On the night of 10 May, I flew the lead UH-1D (6413589) of three Ds attached to the 121st for a night combat assault into the Hai Yen airstrip that was under attack. Hai Yen was a small colony of Chinese loyal to Taiwan and led by Father Hoa, a Catholic Priest. He was a former Red Chinese Army officer who had brought his people to South Vietnam to fight Communism. I resupplied this post several times and took Raymond Burr there to meet Father Hoa. The combat assault was relatively uneventful. The VC were trying to finish destroying an Australian Carabou that had crashed on the runway there. We did receive some sporadic fire going in and out. Since I was flying the lead D with no body armor and only hand held guns, I was extremely concerned. Scared half to death is probably more accurate. We got in and out with no problems. Someone was looking over me again.

This was the first UH-1D to be used in a combat assault and also the first night combat assault in the Viet Nam conflict. The First Calvary Division later claimed that they did the first night combat assault. Of course, they claimed a lot of firsts that had already been done. You see, there really was a war going on in Viet Nam before the First Calvary arrived in 1965 although they don’t want to admit it.

I had a short stay with the 101st Airborne Aviation Company. Around the last part of May, I was selected to go to Can Tho to our battalion headquarters and fly the Corps Senior Advisors ship, "Green Delta 10." I was able to observe many operations throughout the Mekong Delta from a safe altitude and did not participate in the actual assaults any more.

On one of the operations, I saw the introduction of "Puff the Magic Dragon" in the Delta. Puff was an old C-47 that was modified by mounting three 20mm Vulcans sticking out the left side. Each Vulcan fired six thousand rounds per minute giving it a total of eighteen thousand rounds per minute. It is an understatement to say that this weapon was awesome. The first time I saw it work, it destroyed a clump of trees and everything in it . The clump of trees was about 2 acres in size and Puff put one round in every square inch of ground. The later generations of Puff were modified and became a military standard combat aircraft

During this stay at Can Tho, I was introduced to "Colonel Maggie," Martha Raye, and flew her several times. She, like Raymond Burr, was a delight to be around. She was a registered nurse and also an Army Reserve nurse. Numerous times, she pitched in and helped care for the wounded. Once, at Soc Trang, she had to convince the chief doctor there that she was there to help and not do a PR appearance. She remained in country for several months. It is understandable why the Special Forces loved her so much. I really think that they were her favorites. She spent a lot of time with them.

Most of my flying was going where the Senior Advisor or the Vietnamese Commander wanted to go. One regular mission at Corps level was flying to Rach Gia, known as Rock Jaw, every Friday and buying about two kilos of fresh shrimp caught out of the gulf of Siam. The Corps Senior Advisor, a full Colonel, liked to have his Friday "happy hour" and Officers call. This was a milk run but it was kind on fun to go into the town fish market and see the sights.

On another day my aircraft and crew were sent to My Tho to fly the 9th Vietnamese Division Senior Advisor and his replacement on a tour of 9th Division base camps and outposts. As we approached one of the outposts, the outgoing advisor asked me to make a pass at about 500 feet which was definitely NO-NO land. They wanted a really good look at the outpost and its defenses. After much conversation, he finally assured me that the area around the outpost was very friendly and safe. My mistake! I should have known not to listen to a full Colonel. I made the pass from south to north and started a descending turn back toward the camp. As I turned, I looked at the tree line we were over and I think every tree had a foxhole under it. Just then Charlie opened up at us and I took my first and only hit in my aircraft for that tour. I knew that I shouldn't have been flying at that altitude.

When we got on the ground, I had a number of very choice words for that colonel. It's a good thing my mother wasn't around or she would have washed my mouth out with soap for a week. The damage to the aircraft was one bullet hole in one of the main rotor blades. We did the standard field repair which was two wraps of green tape on each blade, one to cover the hole and the other on the other blade for balance and flew the aircraft back to base for a blade change. If not for my stupidity that day, I would have made it through that tour with my "bullet cherry" intact. A standard pilot joke of the day was that because of the "pucker factor" the seat cushion had to be surgically removed from my rear.

Near the end of my tour, I finally got to go on R&R to Hong Kong. The week there was very interesting and relaxing. I really enjoyed it. I wonder if the Hong Kong Tailor that I made rich is still in business. He was very interesting and very pro American. He treated us like royalty and never ask us to buy anything from him. I guess we forced him to sell to us.

My tour came to an end in September and I received orders to return to the "Land of the big P. X." and to Fort Wolters, Texas, as a flight instructor after an appropriate leave. It had been a long year in which I had worked hard and flown a lot. I flew about 800 hours during that tour. The last night in country and until the Freedom Bird reached safe altitude seemed to be the longest part of the tour. I think this was the time that fear took the most control of me. The central thought was wouldn't it be ironic to survive this long and be wiped out at the last second. Fortunately, we departed on schedule and my first "all expense paid extended vacation in beautiful Southeast Asia" was behind me. There is no way to describe the feelings of touching down on U.S. soil again. Upon returning to the states, many soldiers dropped to their knees and kissed the ground at Travis Air Force.

Back to Fort Wolters

I arrived back at Fort Wolters in October 1965. The Army had just contracted to buy the Hughes TH-55 helicopters as the primary trainer and Wolters had taken delivery of about 30 of the new birds. I was assigned to instruct in the TH-55 so I went through qualification and methods of instruction as soon as they could put me through. The Viet Nam conflict was really building up and Army aviation needed more cannon fodder (pilots) to fill the cockpits. The classes were getting larger and the push to get them through more intense. The incentive to get your students trained and properly qualified was that each one you trained and sent through the system was one more between you and another tour in Nam.

After the initial check and instructor rating, I went with a group to Los Angeles to pick up 5 new TH-55's. The trip back was slow because the leader would not fly more than 2 fuel loads on a single day which was about 2 hours each load at 60 to 70 MPH. Part of the time we were chasing rabbits and deer in New Mexico and Arizona. Hugh Bertho even tried to catch a freight train out in the desert and land on a string of flat cars, but we couldn't catch the train. It outran us. Somewhere out in the desert, I started chasing a jackrabbit and came very close to hitting a barbed wire fence. I was flying about 3 feet off the ground and barely saw it in time to avoid it. This probably scared me as much as anything in Nam and it put an end to low flying on that trip. It really reinforced the need to fly safely.

After instructing in several flights and for about a year, I built a good reputation as an instructor and check pilot. I had instructed 22 students and they all passed their check rides on the first try except one and he passed on the second try. He simply got a bad case of check jitters on the first check. For me, it was very rewarding to see a student progress from being totally intimidated by the aircraft to being able to master it and make progress in the program. Because of this reputation, I was selected to transfer to the Flight Evaluation section to give check rides. As a check pilot we could be assigned as many as six check rides a day. Usually, we only got 3 or 4.


The author and his trainer

I spent about a year in Flight Evaluation and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was new to me and very exciting because when you climb into an aircraft with a "checkee," you don't really know what to expect. You knew in advance if the ride was a "PROG" ride which meant that the student was up for elimination or a 1st phase or 2nd phase ride. You could bet that the PROG was going to be a bad ride. The others could be anywhere from real bad to real good. I approached each ride with the idea that the student’s primary goal in life was to kill me and my challenge was to prevent him from succeeding. There were a couple of times when the student almost succeeded.

One day on a pre-solo PROG ride, I gave the student a simulated engine failure. His correct response should have been to lower the collective for an autorotative glide, level the aircraft and make a controlled descent. Instead, he turned the helicopter almost completely up side down. That was an absolute NO-NO in those helicopters. Next. he turned loose of the controls. By the time I managed to get the aircraft right side up and flying level, we were about 10 feet off the ground. To express it lightly, the check ride was over and the student was eliminated. I do not know to this day how I got the aircraft flying again. There must have been Someone still looking over me. The only thing I know for sure is that at one point in the descent, I was looking at the ground through the green part of the bubble. That was the top of the cockpit. The student was so dumb that after we got on the ground at the stage field, he asked me if I was going to send him solo. I wanted to hit him.

Another difficult student that I recall was another PROG ride. I met him at the main heliport and he was to fly me to the stage field and perform the required maneuvers. He got lost twice on the way. It was only about 10 miles. After finally finding the field, he entered traffic and all of a sudden looked at me and said “You had better take this thing before I kill you and me and half of the people down there.” Needless to say, he didn’t go solo either. In both cases, the student was recommended for elimination. I really don’t think either of these kids had a sincere desire to fly.

ON the other side of the coin, I gave a check ride to a Captain Japp that was almost perfect. He scored 96 out of a possible 100. That was the highest check ride score ever at Fort Wolters. Captain Japp was the ground advisor that I supported on the Dec 5, 1964 operation described earlier.

After about 2 years at Wolters I received orders to join a CH-47 Chinook unit being formed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma for deployment to Nam. This unit was initially designated the 272nd Assault Support Helicopter Company. I was assigned to another unit in the process of preparing and shipping to an overseas location.

Fort Sill Oklahoma

I arrived at Fort Sill in October, 1967, and began the process of transitioning to the CH-47 helicopter. Up to this point, the largest and most complicated aircraft that I had flown was the UH-1D. The Chinook was about twice as many of everything including engines, rotors, transmissions, hydraulic systems, fuel tanks and cockpit gages as the UH-1D. It also had wheels instead of skids. At first the aircraft was somewhat overwhelming, but before long the aircraft and I decided to get along. I came to dearly love flying the Chinook. It was big, cumbersome, ugly and it was the most satisfying aircraft I ever flew. You could do so much with a Chinook with such great precision.

Since we were forming another new unit, we had to requisition, beg, borrow or steal everything the unit needed or wanted to take with it. Most of us were going back for the second time and had a pretty good idea of what creature comforts we should try to take. For example, on my first tour we didn't take any air conditioning to Nam. This time we managed to acquire about 25 window units with the idea that we would have base camp buildings to use them. As it turned out, the 272nd did wind up in a place where they could use them. As on the first tour, the casinos in Las Vegas were very generous with dice, playing cards, poker chips and such for our recreation. Fort Sill is probably still looking for some of the equipment that went with us to Nam. We managed to acquire several refrigerators and freezers to take with us. The army had electrical generators that can handle such equipment if you get enough of the generators.

After my transition was complete, I was sent to Fort Rucker for the Instrument School. That got me away from the work of organizing the unit. However, the eight weeks of intense training while learning the art of flying by instruments instead of outside references and working with the air traffic control system was harder than if I had stayed with the unit. Flying a helicopter on instruments is much more difficult than flying an airplane on instruments. The airplane is inherently stable where the helicopter is very unstable. After the completion of the instrument course, I returned to Fort Sill around the middle of March and found the unit in the final stages of preparation. The equipment was packaged and shipped. The aircraft were flown to port for shipment, and the individual "preparation for overseas replacement" (POR qualification) was completed. Around the 1st of April, we were allowed to go on leave to return no later than 28 April.

I moved my family back to Fort Wolters where we owned a Mobile Home and got them settled. We made a trip home to visit my Mother and Dad. This was the last time that I would see Dad alive. We had a good visit even though Dad was very ill. We stopped in Dallas and visited my wife's Mother and family on the way back to Fort Wolters. At Wolters, we finished last minute preparation for my departure. On the evening of 29 April, Mom called and said that Daddy was failing fast. We rushed back home but he had passed away before we got there. We managed to have the funeral and get me back to Fort Sill in time for me to make the shipment with the unit.

I had lost the hero of my life and the finest man I would ever know. It is ironic that I was stationed at Fort Sill, the place where Dad went to visit Geronimo when he was in prision there. That was in the very late 1800’s. In a way it was good that I had to rush back to work rather than sitting around grieving. I am secure in the fact that Dad is in a much better place and the rest of us must move on.


Viet Nam
Second Tour
(May, 1968 - April, 1969)

The unit members were loaded on buses and transported to Oklahoma City where we were loaded on airplanes and flown to Oakland California Navy Yard. We were then loaded on the U.S.S. John Pope, a troop transport ship, for the rest of the journey. It was exciting to me because this was my first sea cruise. We sailed out of San Francisco Bay under the Golden Gate Bridge on 1 May, 1968. What an awesome sight and feeling from the deck of the ship! Soon the cruise became very boring. We had fantastic weather and almost calm seas during the entire cruise. The most exciting part of the trip was watching flying fish near the ship and sighting a group of whales as we approached the Philippines. Also, there were several sea gulls that followed the ship all the way across the Pacific. I guess they roosted on the ship at night, but they flew behind us all day looking for garbage that was dumped overboard.

The Navy must have thought that we were undernourished because they served us 4 meals every day. We had breakfast to order, lunch with multiple selections, dinner with multiple selections, and a midnight snack of cold cut sandwiches and trimmings. I managed to gain 20 pounds in 21 days at sea. Good food and no exercise will do it every time. Of course, it didn't take long to drop the weight in the sauna called Viet Nam.

We stopped and spent one night at Subic Bay Naval Base in the Philippines and then sailed on to Viet Nam. Subic was the first land we had seen since leaving San Francisco. On 21 May we dropped anchor in Vung Tau harbor, Viet Nam, and the second tour was officially under way. This unit was initially assigned to the 1st Aviation Brigade but soon was assigned to the 101st Airmobile Division. Almost as soon as the ship stopped that first day officers from the 1st Brigade came on board and infused most of us to other units again splitting up DEROS dates for the unit.

I was assigned to the 205th Assault Support Helicopter Company based at Phu Loi, about 20 miles north of Saigon and 10 miles west of Bien Hoa. The 205th had been in country about 2 years and was pretty well established. They had even built a motel-like building in the shape of a C with two-man rooms for the officers. They had cold running water for the showers that were shared by 2 rooms. There was a lavatory in each room. These facilities were completely built and decorated by the officers that lived in them after having flown missions all day. The other bathroom facility was an outhouse out behind the room we used as an officers club. The outhouse was a four hole bench over 55 gallon drums cut in half that could be pulled out the back and the contents burned. A Vietnamese worker had the job of pulling the barrels out, adding used oil and burning the contents. It was a rather crude sanitation system but it worked.

All in all, I lucked into a pretty nice situation by being infused to Phu Loi. A young Warrant, Mike Patterson, and I were assigned a room together. There were several pilots from the 272nd assigned to the 205th. The 205th had also formed at Fort Sill and had adopted "Geronimo" as the unit call sign. As us "new guys" were settling in, we had an unfortunate tragedy. One of the older Warrants, Bob Hainey, who came over with us from Fort Sill, had a heart attack and died. It was a big loss to us because he was one of the more experienced pilots. With our morbid sense of humor it was said that some people would do anything to get out of a tour in Viet Nam. I guess that was our way of dealing with the loss. Almost immediately, the "new guys" were checked out in country and began flying missions with more experienced pilots.

Since this was my second tour, I thought I would volunteer for an easy extra duty that would cut down my flight time and cut my direct exposure to the enemy. I volunteered to run the company officers club. This meant days off from flying to do the books, inventory stock, and go buy supplies. On the first tour, I had flown about 800 hours with no extra duty so with extra duties, it should cut my flying time. Wrong! On this tour with 21 days on ship, an R&R, and time spent running the club, I managed to fly just over 1000 hours. So much for my bright ideas.


Officer’s Club

As the club officer I had to maintain stock for the club such as beer, hard liquors with all the mixes and snacks that went with the drinks. As a result, I occasionally had to make road trips to the PX in Siagon. This was about 20 miles of narrow highway through less that secure territory. We always had myself, a driver and someone riding shotgun in an open jeep with a trailer. There were usually other US vehicles on the road so we were not completely alone. For whatever reason, we never had any trouble, just a high heart rate from the exposure. Occasionaly, other vehicles were attacked along this road, especially at night, so I always managed to travel it during daylight hours. It was always a relief to be back inside the semi-secure compound when the trip was over. Still, it was worth the risks to provide the relaxation environment for the club members.


Road to Siagon through VC country

The mission of our unit was general support for all of III Corps and part of IV Corps. Resupply to units in the field and/or in small base camps was a major operation. The troops in the field depended on the Chinooks for just about everything. Each day that we flew, each aircraft was assigned specific missions in support. One of the missions that we got on a regular basis was resupplying the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment in their field locations. They would be allocated say 10 sorties out and 10 back hauls. They determined what they sent out. Normally the loads were divided into standard Army class codes. Class V was ammo. Class I was food and water. Other classes included creature comforts such as clean sleeping bags, mail and bunker materials. Generally, ammo was our first priority followed by the rest of the classes. Most of the loads were rigged in slings so that we just hovered over the load, hooked on to it, lifted it out to the receiving unit and set it down where they wanted it. Then we would hook on to their back hauls and return to the original sling out area. These one way trips could be anywhere from 5 minutes to 45 minutes depending on the distance involved.

Of course, the supported units never were assigned as many sorties as they would like and were always asking for more. If at all possible, we would try to help them, after all they were living in deplorable conditions and we aviators were going to sleep on clean sheets each night. This was the normal day to day mission where we just strapped the aircraft on our backs which meant we sat down in the seat, hooked the seat belt/shoulder harness, cranked up and went to work hauling loads. In a way these missions were much more satisfying than the same missions during my first tour because working with the external loads required more precision flying and made aircraft control more challenging. In the Huey, we just plopped down on a helipad. In the Chinook the pilot had to spot the sling loads based only on directions from the crew chief. The pilot was about 30 feet in front of the load and the crew chief, looking out the cargo hole, would give him directions to move the load, like right 5 feet, right one foot, forward 2 feet and down 3 feet. To sit there and move an object 30 feet behind you following those directions really took some practice even with no distractions such as someone shooting at you.

Once, operations decided that a certain area of jungle needed to be burned off. About six Chinooks were loaded with mixtures of oil, jet fuel, and hydraulic fluid. The mixture was dropped on the section of jungle. Afterwards, gunships fired incendiary rounds into the jungle but, unfortunately, they were unable to set the fire. The pollution remains in the ground.

There were a few missions and places that were never routine. There was a Vietnamese Star camp with Special Forces Advisors at Katoum, north of Tay Ninh on the Cambodian border. Every time we landed there, the VC mortared the camp and airstrip. Landing there was sort of like playing Russian Roulette. You never landed the same spot on or near the runway twice in a row. You always tried to out guess the VC mortar crews. I was either very lucky or Someone was watching over me again because I always managed to out guess Charlie's gun crews and was never hit there. Two or three times as we were unloading, Charlie dropped rounds within 100 meters. That was close enough establish a sense of urgency and increase my heart rate but relatively harmless. It was never a good feeling to see the earth erupt in front of you no matter how far it was. One of our aircraft made the mistake of landing on the runway at the intersection of the walkway to the camp. The result was several wounded and a bunch of holes in the aircraft. Fortunately, they were still able to fly and return to Tay Ninh base. The VC had that intersection zeroed in and could hit it immediately.

Tay Ninh mountain was also interesting in that the mountain stuck up about 4000 ft out of the surrounding rice paddies and had a very small pinnacle. As you approached the top of the mountain, the hover reference became non-existent making it hard to hold a hover position. We had friendly troops on top of the mountain and around the bottom, but everything in between belonged to the VC or NVA. We just didn't fly close to the mountain below the peak without receiving fire. For practice, gun ships would get close and pick a fight. Some times they got more than they wanted.

Another mission that I liked was another hilltop about 50 miles east of Saigon called Gia Rae. This hill was about 3000 feet high but larger on top than Tay Ninh. There was a radio relay unit based there and they required a lot of electricity. The electricity was supplied by 100kw generators on the mountain. Once each month, each generator had to be taken back to their main base for servicing and repairs. Each generator was about 4 feet wide and 8 feet long. They were housed in small buildings that were about 10 feet by 6 feet. When we were to take a generator out for maintenance, the ground people would remove the roof of these sheds and rig the generators for sling loads. We would hover over the shed for hookup and then lift the load out without damaging the buildings. We then took it to base camp, picked up the replacement, brought it to the hill and put it back in the shed. This required some precision flying but I really enjoyed working the aircraft like that

Pilots in the know tried to arrive at Gia Rae in time for lunch because this unit had the best chow in our operating area. It was not unusual to see three Chinooks shut down on top of the hill. One day when I stopped for lunch there, the Commander led me down a trail about 100 meters from the top. They had found a Japanese Zero that had crashed into the mountain some time during World War II. When I first saw the remains of the aircraft, natural curiosity took over and I did a walk around inspection. One landing gear was laying just under the wing and it seemed natural to walk up and kick the tire. I nearly broke my foot. The tire was still inflated after all those years. We removed the identification data plate and took it to the Japanese embassy in Saigon. They were pleased to get it. There was no indication of what happened to the pilot. I can only speculate that he bailed out. There was no evidence of human remains at the aircraft

I also seemed to get on the "Recovery Standby" mission quiet regularly. That was a standby mission subject to a scramble launch at any time. We had to be ready to go anytime an aircraft went down anywhere in our area of operation. If the downed aircraft was salvageable, a rigging team would go in and rig the wreck for us to lift out. Most of the time these aircraft had been shot down so you knew you were going into a HOT area. Another standby crew from my unit got shot down while trying to recover a downed Huey. That aircraft was destroyed and one crew member was killed. That was our only loss of life in my unit that year.

One such mission was in the Michelin Rubber Plantation. I was briefed that the only way in and out was landing from south to north and reversing course coming out. There was incoming artillery fire on both the east and west sides within about 100 meters of the downed aircraft. Directly to the north in the tree line, the Vietnamese Air Force was bombing with Napalm. I approached and was just over the load when a Napalm bomb exploded about 75 meters in front of the aircraft The heat from that distance and through the windshield of my aircraft was almost unbearable. Needless to say we hooked onto the load and got out of there in a hurry. I didn't trust VNAF to be that accurate and I didn't want to be around for their next pass. 75 meters is awfully close and there was not much margin for error.

That particular day my aircraft recovered two "C" model Huey gunships, one Huey Cobra gunship, a UH-1D Huey, and an Air Force L-19 observation airplane out of the Michelin Plantation. How we managed to survive that day is a miracle. All of these aircraft had been shot down. Granted this was an unusual day for recovery. Usually we only got one or two recoveries on a 24 hour standby. I flew over eight hours recovering aircraft that day.

Another mission that was somewhat different was the C.S. or gas drops. C. S. is a riot gas commonly used in the states for crowd control or disbursal and was not a deadly gas. We would load 33 55 gallon drums inside the aircraft These drums would be fitted with altitude sensitive delay fuses and detonators. The idea was to fly at an assigned altitude so that when the drums were dropped they would explode at about tree top level. When we arrived in the area and at the altitude, we contacted the Air Force Forward Air Controller and let him know we were available. He would the mark his target with Smoke rockets and we would start our passes. We normally dropped 3 barrels per pass. When they exploded and the enemy came out of their holes to escape the gas, Air Force fighters would strafe them with rockets and 20mm cannon.

On one such mission that I went on about an hour north of Saigon near Song Be, the Air Force knocked down a lot of camouflage and revealed a 2 lane paved highway in the jungle that was not on any maps. This was a very rare look at the Ho Chi Minh trail. On this particular operation, we accounted for 234 confirmed kills.

On these Gas missions it was required that the crew members in the cargo compartment and at least one of the Pilots should wear gas masks at all times. Now being aircraft commander, I really didn't want to wear that hot sweaty thing so I gave my co-pilot the privilege of wearing the mask. After all, he was a new guy and rank has its privileges. After about 3 or 4 bombing runs and in a no wind condition, the gas had drifted back up to our altitude and I gassed myself when we flew through the cloud of gas. I know that my actions were really dumb. From then on I always wore the mask on such operations.

The Chinook, being as versatile as it is, was tested for all kinds of missions. One such test that I was involved in was the fire fighting water buckets. Our unit received a set of buckets that would carry about 700 gallons of water. They were electrically operated and because they were constantly getting wet, they didn't work very well. Our Boeing-Vertol tech support representative figured out how to convert them from electric to hydraulic and we were in big time business.

After I learned to manage the buckets by experimentation, I was assigned as the bucket instructor and trained the other pilots. In our practice area just outside of the base, we would dunk the buckets in the river to fill them, fly low over the target area and drop smoke as our target. Then we would circle back and try to hit the smoke with water. Depending on the type of fire, we scattered the water or came to a high hover and concentrated the water. A building generally required concentration, and a grass fire required scattering.




Fire Fighter


Since I was fire bucket instructor pilot, operations usually sent me on the real fire fighting missions. The first real mission was a grass fire in a mine field at a Vietnamese base camp at about 3:00 am. We scrambled , picked up water from the river enroute and proceeded to the fire. The fire was relatively small in size but in the mine field so we made a pass at about 50 feet altitude and 50 knots airspeed. This gave us a scatter pattern of about 75 feet wide and 200 feet long with a concentration of water equivalent to a moderate rain shower. Fortunately, one load of water was enough to extinguish this blaze. As we made the pass, one claymore mine exploded but didn't do any damage. It just made things a little more interesting. Fortunately, the directional mine was aimed out instead of up.

A few nights later an artillery base near Tay Ninh was attacked and took a direct hit on their ammo bunker. We responded with the water buckets to fight the fire. This time we came to a hover over the bunker to drop the water in one spot. It took several buckets to extinguish the fire. We had to refill the buckets each time by dunking them in a river in hostile territory. To avoid the enemy gunfire, we turned out all the aircraft’s lights and made our approaches almost by feel. I could see a faint horizon but couldn't determine the distance to the water. I would come to a hover and feel my way straight down until I felt the buckets hit the water. The Ammo was exploding in the bunker, so we had to stay at about 200 feet and drop from a hover concentrating the water on the bunker. This was another night of high heart rate and extreme “pucker factor.”

After word got out that we were successful with the fire buckets, we started getting regular calls for any kind of fire. I was sent on a mission to Dalat, a French resort town while they were still there, to put on a demonstration for the Forestry Department of the US Aid Team there. They set the demo fire on a hillside next to a lake making it very easy to drop the water coming down the hill terminating over the lake to refill. We delivered 12 loads of water and put out the fire in 17 minutes even though the Vietnamese fire setters would try to re-light every time we put out some of the fire. That 12 loads was a total of over 8000 gallons of water which pretty well saturated the hillside.

Dalat was in an area where the U.S. Military was procuring a lot of fruit and vegetables from the local economy to help feed the American troops. While I was there, I met the officer in charge of buying and gave him a couple of rides in the helicopter. He repaid us by loading the aircraft with fresh fruits and vegetables for our return trip to home base. We had fresh corn-on-the-cob, lettuce, tomatoes and strawberries. My unit had not had much in the way of fresh veggies since I had been there so this load was very much appreciated by the troops. My crew and I were minor heroes for a few days. It is amazing how simple things such as this become so important to soldiers in the field and how much they appreciate them.


Sleeping Quarters

After the First Calvary moved into our area, a night defensive position came under heavy attack after I had resupplied them that day. They called for reinforcements and resupply. Since I had been in the position that day, I volunteered for the mission. We picked up the troops and supplies at a base called Phouc Vinh. It was very dark over the jungle when we took off but I could still make out roads and rivers from the air. When I arrived in the area, I asked the position for a light marker in the LZ. Apparently the V.C. were monitoring our radios frequency because about 20 lights came on within about 2 miles of the area. Fortunately, since I had been there, I recognized the correct light at the road and river intersection. It could be faintly seen. It is amazing how much you can actually see from altitude even on a moonless night.

When the V.C. realized they hadn't fooled us, they opened fire shooting up in the air. Since we had no lights, they couldn't really see us and just shot at the sound of the aircraft. The sound was always behind us except at a hover.

We got into the position, dropped the troops and ammo and got out without taking any hits. The extra troops and ammo helped prevent the Viet Cong from overrunning the position that night. My entire crew were recommended for the Army Commendation Medal with the Valor Device for Heroism.

Another one time only mission for me that stands out was supporting a unit in the jungle of War Zone D. I had not worked the area very much and was not real familiar with it. We were assigned to pick up a load of both internal troops and external equipment. We were given a set of map coordinates to deliver the load. After plotting the landing zone on my map, we were off and running.

It was about 30 minutes to the LZ. Upon arrival at what we thought were the right location, we could see nothing below except solid jungle. There was no apparent place to land. I contacted the receiving unit and requested smoke to mark the LZ. After what seemed to be several minutes, I spotted red smoke drifting up through the jungle canopy. We made a cautious approach to the smoke and sure enough, there was a hole that really didn’t look big enough for the chinook.

With rotors turning, the aircraft is approximately 100 feet long and about 40 feet wide. I hovered over the hole and let my crew get a good look. Between us, we decided that the hole was just big enough but there was no room for error. As we lowered into the hole below the first canopy, my flight engineer in the back told me to stop the down and hover forward about 10 feet. I determined that there was room to comply so we moved forward and then continued down. Just below the 2nd canopy I saw that I needed to move back about 10 to 15 feet. The flight engineer cleared me for movement back and then down below the 3rd canopy. It was really tight in there. We made it down to a hover, but could not land because of stumps and trash on the ground, so we had to hold a hover while the troops and cargo was off loaded through the bottom hole. This took about 10 minutes but seemed like 10 hours. It was so dark in that hole that I had to use the landing light to see to hover. After the off loading was complete, we had to reverse the process of climbing back up and out of that hole, up, stop, forward, stop, up, stop, back, stop, then up and finally out. One small miscue and my aircraft would have been a pile of burning junk on that jungle floor. I was so wet with sweat that I looked like I had walked into a shower fully dressed. Fortunately, I didn’t get that mission again.

During this tour, I also had my first and only crash. I was on a resupply mission for a couple of Vietnamese outposts with internal loads flying out of An Loc soccer field. We used soccer fields a lot as landing areas. We loaded the aircraft and tried to hover. In the field, the weight and balance of the aircraft was by trial and error. It was obvious that we were overloaded because with 100% of power we could not hover. We sat back down and unloaded about 2000 pounds of the supplies. I picked the aircraft up to a hover and we were able to hover with about 96% of power available. That gave us about 3% of available power for take off and climb. I started the take off and at about 50 knots and 100 feet of altitude. The number one engine decided to quit. When that happened, my available power was cut in half which meant there was no way we were going to continue flying. We were going down and with little choice of where we hit. I did a hard left turn away from some houses into a small fuel dump.

Being overloaded for the power available, we hit very hard and did damage to the belly of the aircraft and one rotor blade connection. Luckily, we avoided hitting any fuel storage tanks. No one was physically hurt. This was my first aircraft damage ever and it really did hurt my ego. My co-pilot and crew tried to console me by talking about what a good job I did flying the aircraft. I really don't think so. I BROKE AN AIRCRAFT!


Broken aircraft after props removed.








Back View of Crash

To all aviators, troops on the ground were the real warriors and deserved any support that we could give them. They were the ones out in the "Boonies" with all the mud, rain and danger while living in misery.

When Thanksgiving came around, several of us volunteered to fly hot Thanksgiving dinner out to troops in the remote outposts and field sites. The supporting units prepared the meals, put them in heat holding containers and we delivered them to the troops. Charlie must have known that it was something special because we received more incoming fire than normal for resupply mission


Making Holiday Deliveries

There is no way to explain the looks on these guy's faces when they found out what our load was. They hadn't had many hot meals lately and especially not hot turkey and dressing with all the trimmings. Their looks of surprise and appreciation are the most valuable awards that I got out of that war. I liked it so much that I volunteered for the same mission on Christmas day with more of the same results. If anything good can happen in war, this was it. Forever burned in my memory are the faces of those soldiers whom I never actually met and I never knew their fate. How many didn't make it back home? How many were scared or crippled for life? They were the heroes one and all. Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty year old kids who would forever be scared by the sights, sounds, and smells of war.

Another day, while flying support for the First Infantry, a light observation helicopter was shot down near one of the field sites that I was resupplying. The pilot managed to get it on the ground even though he was badly wounded. My crew chief and gunner got him out of the L.O.H. and into our aircraft. We med-evaced him to an aid station that was not far away. With the Chinook, we nearly blew the aid station away, but we got him help. I never heard anything more about him. I wonder if he made it. Guess I will never know.

This tour, unlike my first, was not really punctuated by specific dates and operations. It is more filled with support missions and memories such as I have related. About mid-tour I applied for and got an R&R trip to Hawaii for a week. My wife came over from the States and we really had a nice time. It was also a week out of Viet Nam for which we were all grateful. It was much too short and went by much too fast. Then it was back to the fun and games.

Sometime during the latter half of the tour, the VC fired two rockets into our company area. There was minimal damage. It just got our attention. The next morning, we spotted one of the Vietmanese workers (our shit burner) pacing the distance from where the rockets exploded to our aircraft parking area. He was adjusting their aim. He went immediately to a P.O.W. camp and we didn't have any more incoming rockets.


Base employee discovered to be a Viet Cong artillery spotter.

For whatever reason, the First Calvary Division was moved from up North down to our operating area, which was III Corps. They flew all 55 of their Chinooks to Bear Cat, an established base in our area. Upon arrival, they grounded all of their aircraft so local units were tasked with doing their missions along with our own. Our flying time really picked up. Our 30 consecutive day flight limit was 140 hours. We normally only flew about 15 to 20 days in any 30 day period. The most that I ever flew in one 24 hour day was 15.2 hours actual air time not including refueling and maintenance shut downs. When the First Calvary ground troops arrived at Ton Son Nuht, we flew them out to field sites well into the night often landing to a single flashlight.

On daily missions we had to plan our flights around the fuel limitations of our aircraft. This meant that after 2 hours of flight, we had to refuel at one of several refueling points scattered around the Corps area. They were usually in a relatively secure area. We would fly for 2 hours, refuel while the aircraft was running and then fly for 2 more hours. At this time we would shut down to refuel, pull a maintenance check and eat a meal. Meals were usually C-rations heated in the exhaust of the engines. A little heat made the C's almost edible. They were at least better than cold.

One day after having flown several 12 to 14 hour days, I was on a mission with another ship working around Cu Chi. I didn't realize how tired I was until the other aircraft completed his refueling and lifted off. Without thinking, I followed him even though my crew chief and flight engineer were still pumping fuel into the aircraft They managed to duck away from the aircraft and shut off the fuel pumps. I had gone about a quarter of a mile when the Cu Chi tower called me back. It was really embarrassing. I had left my crew and had to go back for them. I really hated to face them because they were not very happy. After a case of beer for their refrigerator and a couple of rounds of drinks that I bought that night, they said that they forgave me, but for the rest of the tour, I kept getting asked "Did you leave any crew members anywhere today?"

Speaking of beer. As club officer I was always on the lookout for good deals for the club. One evening, as we stopped to refuel on the way to home base, we noticed two pallets of Budweiser sitting at the refueling point. They were already rigged with slings and there was no one around. Rather than let the beer stay there and possibly get lost, we assumed responsibility for the load and diverted it to a new destination. Our company thoroughly enjoyed the free beer and the original owners never knew what happened to it.

On this tour, we didn't have as many pets as the first tour. I remember a small monkey that had lost one back leg that we played with and cared for in the officers area. We also had a very pretty big yellow dog that looked like a German shepherd. Since our radio call sigh was Geronimo, the dog’s name was Chief. He would come into the officers club, walk up to the bar, raise up on his back legs, put his front paws on the bar and order a drink by barking. He would stand there until someone gave him a bowl of popcorn or hot links. Chief would drink beer but preferred Coca-Cola. Obviously all of us officers spoiled Chief. He was still there when I left. I wonder what ever happened to him. I know that a couple of guys tried to get permission to bring him home to the states but didn't succeed.









Chief and friend

There was another little black and white dog that stayed around the company area. I think she belonged to some of the enlisted men. Her name was "lady" and she loved to go flying in the Chinooks. Lady was very picky as to who she would fly with and I believe she actually recognized individual pilots. Lady would walk down the flight line in the morning and check out the crew of each aircraft being prepared for flight. After she checked them all, she would select one aircraft and get on board. It was funny to see her walking away from you. She had been injured some time and as she walked or ran. It looked like her back legs tracked about 2 inches to the right of her front legs like a car with a bent frame.

Lady flew on my aircraft regularly until one day I left her in a night defensive position. When lady had to go do her thing, she would hold it until we landed and then quickly get off the aircraft and take care of business and the get back on board, usually by the time we finished unloading. This particular day she jumped off just as we started getting incoming artillery fire. My crew was all on board so we pulled pitch and got out of there. We didn't get back in to that position with internal loads for about three days. Other Chinooks were in and out and the Sergeant told me that lady would check out each Chinook, but refused to get on any aircraft but a "Geronimo." I was the first “Geronimo” back in and she got on the aircraft but would not get off until we were back at home base. That was the last time she ever rode with me. She accepted the ride home and would play with me in the company area but she never would get on my aircraft again. I guess she lost confidence in me.

I mentioned earlier that during my first tour in Nam, I had taken only one hit from enemy fire. I was reasonably lucky again on this second tour. I was getting close to making it through the second tour with no hits. I think I had been there 8 or 9 months before I finally took hits. This was the only time this tour. I was out on a resupply mission flying for the 11th Armored Calvary. One of the outposts that I was supporting was about three miles from their base camp just on the other side of a hill. The proper way to fly the mission was to pick up the load, climb to 3000 feet, go over the hill, and descend into the outpost and reverse the maneuvers on the return trip. After one trip, I decided it would be easier and faster to go low level (tree top) around the north of the hill and back around the south of the hill. This worked absolutely great the first trip so I did it again. That was a big mistake. The VC were waiting for me on the second trip with an automatic weapon and hit the aircraft seven times. He missed my crew chief's head by about three inches and hit the utility hydraulic system knocking it out.

A quick assessment of the situation determined that we could make it back to the 11th A.C.R. base. The utility system controls the cargo hook, main engine starters, and wheel swivel locks. Once we landed and shut down, we couldn't start the main engines again. We safely landed and contacted home base and maintenance brought out another aircraft for us to continue the mission. They repaired the hydraulic system and flew the old aircraft back home.

While waiting for maintenance, the Commander of the 11th A.C.R. arrived in his helicopter and picked me up to show him where I had received fire. He directed ground troops to the location and two V.C. with AK-47's recently fired were taken into custody and questioned. Naturally they knew nothing. I tried to get one of the AK-47’s but was not successful. Incidentally, this Commander of the 11th was Colonel George Patton III, son of the World War II hero, General George S. Patton.

This experience was the only time that my ship took any hits on the second tour. In two tours and about 1800 hours of flying, a total of only eight hits is very lucky. I also had Someone looking over me. Thank you Lord.

During this tour, there was a major effort to destroy or deny the Viet Cong use of the tunnels around Cu Chi. The operation lasted for what seemed like months. Every night I went to bed and was rocked to sleep by the explosions of 500 lb. bombs from B-52 strikes landing about 20 miles from our base in the area of Cu Chi. It was really amazing how much the earth rocked during the B-52 strikes. Each aircraft held about 60 bombs and each wave was three aircraft They would come in wave after wave. The area they hit was basically turned into a moonscape. I am not sure of the results of the strikes. It didn't seem to slow down the N.V.A. use of the area and it was an awfully expensive vibrator.

We also had a D.R.O.S. wall in the club like my first tour unit except that we had unit plaques made rather than pictures. When my plaque finally moved up to "next", I really began to get nervous. During the tour we had gone through several phases of D.R.O.S. countdown. When we first arrived in country, we were all FNG’s. You remained the new guy until someone else arrived in the unit.

It seemed that the conversation always turned to "How long have you got to go?" Any answer over 150 days always brought responses like "Damn! If I had that long to go, I would just go ahead and shoot myself and end the misery" or "with that much time to go, you ought to go run through the mine fields wearing snow shoes" or "Carry a big sign saying Charlie shoot here." When you went below 100 days you immediately got a severe case of "double digit fidgets." You started using sayings like " Don't talk to me. I am so short I don't have time for a long conversation" or "I am so short I have to watch out not to get stepped on by ants." By this time you learned to fly your missions while making yourself small enough to hide behind your directional control stick.

We also started trying to avoid certain aircraft that had the reputation of being large lead magnets. One aircraft in our unit picked up the nickname "Old Patches." The last count that I had was it had almost 300 patches on the right side and about 150 patches on the left side. Old Patches was tail number 19028 and was always getting into trouble. Needless to say, the short timers avoided it like the plague.




“Old Patches”

Generally, when you went under 30 days, the unit tried to cut back your flying to limit last minute exposure. However, anytime there was a need to fly, we flew. When you went under 10 days, the "single digit fidgets" set in and you quit going to the club because you were too short to reach your drink. You started sleeping in the bunker for obvious reasons. The thinking was that no mortar or rocket attack is going to get me now! Any time you went outside the bunker, you wore your steel pot and flack vest or any other armor you could find. That last night before going to the placement center known as the Repo Depot, you simply could not sleep so you sipped on drinks all night and played solitaire or some other card game. That last day you were flown to the Repo Depot, processed and loaded on that big "Freedom Bird" for the trip to the USA or "The land of the big P.X."
New Cumberland Depot Pennsylvania

Departing Nam, I received orders to New Cumberland depot just outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Upon arrival in the states, I made a quick trip back to Texas and made arrangements to move the mobile home and family to the Harrisburg area. Little did I know that even finding a place to park the mobile home was going to be a problem. We arrived in Pennsylvania before the mobile home and started looking for a place to park. There were lots of mobile home parks but very few spaces. Finally, we got settled in and I reported for duty. My job at the depot was to command a detachment of eight Warrant Officers assigned to fly new Chinook helicopters to Sharp Depot, California, for shipment to Viet Nam. All eight of us loved to fly and really enjoyed the trips.

I probably had more fun flying Chinooks to Sharp than any other mission in the military. Each trip, we rigged the aircraft with extra internal fuel tanks giving us 5 to 6 hours range.
Velocity never exceed or V.N.E. was 172 knots, but we normally cruised at about 150 knots. The only requirement on each flight was to have the aircraft at Sharp in 4 days after departing baring maintenance problems.

We could fly any route we wanted to and stop anywhere we wished. My first flight was across Pennsylvania to Pittsburgh, then down to Evansville, Indiana, Oklahoma City, El Paso, Phoenix, Palm Springs, Bakersfield and Sharp. After having weather trouble in Western Pennsylvania, most of the flights left New Cumberland going south which was east of the mountain chain that runs from NY state almost all the way to Atlanta, Georgia. We would then turn west across Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas to El Paso and join the other route. Several times, I even had time and fuel to buzz Naples and Omaha, Texas, my home area. I even got pictures of my Mother's house. I was tempted to land right in the middle of downtown Naples but thought better of it. I guess I will always regret not landing at Pewitt High where I graduated. There was plenty of open space around the campus. I just didn't do it. Such a stunt would have probably ruined school for the day but might have been fun for everyone.

During the year at New Cumberland, I probably made that trip 30 times and enjoyed every one of them. We generally flew below 1000 feet and got great views of all the country we crossed. The Mississippi River, Grand Canyon, the Rockies and California deserts were awesome sights as was Guadeloupe Pass and the Dallas Metroplex at night. These trips really gave me a new sense of the meaning of America the Beautiful.

When not on delivery flights, we were running back and forth to the Boeing-Vertol factory picking up new Chinooks and doing acceptance test flights on them. To qualify for this, I went to the CH-47 Test Pilot Course at Fort Eustice, Virginia.

The job at New Cumberland was enjoyable. Unfortunately, the natives and local government were unbearable. Pennsylvania had many laws and rules that did not win friends. If you lived in one town and worked in another, you paid a "right to work" tax in the town you worked in and an "employment tax" in the town where you lived. The locals were unfriendly and very rude especially if they found out we were Texans.

After less than a year of this experience, I made a trip down to Washington D.C. to talk to my Branch Career Management Office. I was seriously considering volunteering to go back to Nam on a third tour to get out of Pennsylvania. At Branch, there was a friend of mine, Cleveland Valrey, who offered me a tour in Germany if I would go to Fort Rucker and pass the Instrument Examiner course. I hesitated and thought about it for almost a millisecond before I accepted the offer.

We moved the mobile home back to Fort Wolters in Texas, where it was rented out, and we headed back to Fort Rucker. We got to Rucker, settled in and I reported to school for the Instrument Examiners Course.

The course was six weeks of the most intensive training, both ground and flying, that I had ever experienced. During the first three weeks I flew on instruments while being graded by an upper class student in the other seat and both of us being graded by the instructor in the jump seat. These flights consisted of trying to pass an initial instrument check ride on each flight. The school setting was strictly by the book and left no room for error. The instructor was extremely picky on minor details. The pilot had to operate the radios, both communication and navigation, and fly the aircraft strictly by instruments including a take off from the ground. The flights had to be within school limits such as plus or minus 100 ft altitude, plus or minus 5 degrees of assigned heading and making checkpoints within plus or minus 3 minutes. A lot of planning had to go into each flight under the watchful eye of the instructor. During the first three flights a pilot was extremely fortunate to have a flight that wasn't a pink slip which was unsatisfactory. If all three flights were pink slips, the student was eliminated from the program. If a student survived the first week, he learned a lot but still had a long way to go.

After three weeks I moved to the other seat and became the grader of the new pilot. The instructor was still grading me. On the ground we had to learn many new regulations. The Examiner Course has been called the most mentally and physically demanding formal course in the Army.

Upon completion of the course, it would become my job to fly with and evaluate pilots as to their proficiency. I gave initial check rides and annual evaluations. I literally held their careers in my hands and, more importantly, the lives of their future passengers.

My final check ride lasted all day long as we went from Rucker to Fort Benning Georgia to Valdosta, Georgia, and back to Rucker. By the time we finished, I was soaking wet from nervous sweat and completely drained. We left that night for Charleston, South Carolina, to catch our flight to Germany.
Assignment Germany

We arrived in Germany without incident and checked into the guest house at Rhine-Main Air Base. I had instructions to call the assigned unit and the next day they sent transportation to pick us up. The assigned base, Schwabisch Hall, was about 2 hours driving time so we got our first exposure to the German Autobahn. With no speed limit, it was strange to be running 80 to 90 mph and be passed by Porsches, Mercedes, and even V. W. Super Beetles.

There were no family quarters available at Schwabisch Hall, so we were assigned quarters at an infantry base, Crailshiem, about 20 minutes away. Until my car arrived, I had to bum rides back and forth. I think it was about a month before the car arrived at the port of Bremen. Another Warrant, Curt Berger, and I got notification at the same time and went to the port by train. We learned that when the schedule for German trains says it is leaving at a certain time, it will be rolling at that time. It took all night to go from near Stuttgart in the south to Bremen in the north. We picked up our cars and hit the autobahn heading home. I don't remember how long it took us to drive back, but it would have taken at least twice as long in the States. There is no speed limit on the autobahn and we ran about 90 just to keep up with slow traffic.

I arrived in Germany just as the 4th Aviation Company was converting from CH-37 helicopters to CH-47 Chinooks. The 4th's primary mission was support, training support, and a mission for nuclear weapons command which was classified at that time. We participated in all major training exercises, supported small units in training and transported Nike-Hercules missiles between the Depot and outlying field sights.

Compared to previous assignments, the three year tour in Germany was pretty much a vacation. I did have one nuclear command mission that got a bit exciting. We picked up the warheads at the depot near the French border to fly to north Germany. We planned to refuel at a British base north of Frankfort called Gutersloh and continue north. When we arrived, the Brits were on full alert with live ammunition and were not in the mood for any games. They surrounded us when we landed with weapons loaded and pointing at us. The only thing I could think of was "Hell, two tours in Nam and I am going to get shot by some mad Brit". We didn't dare get off the aircraft until our lead got matters settled via radio.

We spent the night as guests of the British and continued on our mission the next day. We exchanged new for old warheads and started back toward the depot. About an hour north of Gutersloh, I lost an oil line to the #1 engine and had to make an emergency landing. Landing nuclear weapons in a non secure area really gets everyone's attention. We landed safely along with the other ships and escort team. They checked us out, made sure we were OK and decided to continue with the other weapons. Within an hour, we were surrounded by three battalions of troops. One was German, one was American and one was Belgian. They off loaded the weapons and moved them by truck to a secure site not far from us. As soon as the weapons were gone the troops left leaving the aircraft and crew alone in the middle of nowhere.

We were told that maintenance could not get to us until the next day. Fortunately, we landed about one quarter mile from a German gausthaus. We locked up the helicopter and walked to the gausthaus for dinner and rooms. The German owners were very nice and took good care of us. They produced plenty of food, beer for those who drank and very comfortable rooms. The next morning, maintenance arrived with the parts we needed. They repaired the aircraft and we headed home.

After about six months in country, we finally got quarters in Schwabisch Hall. That eliminated the long daily drive to and from Craielsime. For the most part, this tour was rather routine. My family got to travel and see much of Europe. We visited England, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Monte Carlo, France, Spain, Belgium, Holland and Luxomberg. Germany is a fascinating and beautiful place. I hope someday to go back and explore more.

In Nuremberg we saw Hitler's world congress building and watched an American high school football game in the stadium that Hitler used for his great rallies. Many historical pictures of this place are recorded. Many include the Waffen SS headquarters.

Rothenburg is a very old beautiful city that was built about 1100 A. D. and has been untouched by the wars of the 20th century even though Nuremberg, only 20 miles away, was almost totally destroyed by Allied bombing.

While visiting Paris we went to the Paris Air show. We visited the Louve, Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph.

We visited the German POW camps at Dacau and Antwerp, both stark examples of man's inhumanity to man. Waterloo was interesting for the detail of Napoleon's defeat.

In Bastogne, Belgium, an American in uniform is still the hero of the town. The city has built a monument listing all units that participated in the battle of Bastogne. I had never realized the vastness of this operation. There were 13 American armored divisions among many other units. That number of people and the amount of equipment is staggering. The total number of soldiers in the battle is beyond my comprehension.

I felt great pride visiting the sight of this very important battlefield. From Bastogne we went to Luxembourg to visit the American Military Cemetery there. This is where Gen. George Patton is buried along with thousands of U.S. soldiers who gave it all for this country. Many will never be known this side of Heaven. It shocked me to see the number of crosses inscribed "KNOWN ONLY TO GOD." I cannot express the feeling that rushed over me, while standing in the middle of these true heroes who gave their lives for our right to be free of oppression.
By the end of this tour in 1973, the Vietnam involvement was ending and the Army started reducing the size of it's forces. Many very good officers were released to civilian life by being unceremoniously kicked out. Some were glad to get out while other dedicated career people were devastated that they were not allowed to stay. From my perspective it always seemed that the Army released the good officers and kept the bad ones.

Upon completion of this tour, the Army sent me to my third cold climate assignment in a row, Fort Lewis, Washington. It was another Chinook unit.

Fort Lewis, Washington
(1973-1975)

Before leaving Germany we purchased a new car through the PX overseas sales system to be picked up in the USA upon arrival. We managed to sell the old car to another GI and didn't have to ship it back. We arrived back in Dallas, visited friends and relatives, picked up the new car along with our pop up camper and headed for Fort Lewis. This was unexplored country for us, so we enjoyed seeing new country and new sights.

At Fort Lewis I was assigned to the CH-47 Unit. Generally, our mission was training and training support. The unit had fire buckets and we did a lot of fire fighting. As with most state-side units, we had several field training exercises where we went out and practiced being miserable by playing war. That is the Army way. After about a year, I was assigned to Airfield Operations as assistant operations officer. From this office, we controlled the airfield tower, fire department, all flights in and out and search and rescue missions. S&R was a very big part of our mission at Fort Lewis because of the mountains and forest.

On one occasion some climbers had a problem on top of Mount Ranier and one fell to his death. The med-evac UH1H tried to go up and rescue the climbers but was overloaded for the altitude and crashed. The Chinook unit had to go up to the top of the mountain to rescue the people and clean up the crash site. The view from the top of Ranier is unbelievably awesome. It is over 14,000 feet up and the surrounding terrain tops out at about 7,000 feet.

There was also a mission out on the Olympic peninsula where the Tacoma Fire Chief and his son were lost. We coordinated the search for them and were successful in rescuing them.

An airforce C-141 crashed out in the Olympic National Forrest near Port Angeles and we were in charge of that operation. There were numerous cases of light civilian aircraft going down and we were called on to run the search missions, some were successful and others were not.

Once, we searched for a doctor for about two weeks before we found him. Our only clue was that he was in a light twin engine aircraft that was full of fuel and had a range of about 900 miles. We finally found him about one mile from the runway from where he took off.

In 1975, the American involvement in Viet Nam was over and the military was cutting back on personnel. I was released from active duty in Sept 1975, and almost immediately returned to the Texas National Guard. I was fortunate enough to get a slot in the Texas Guard Chinook unit in Grand Prairie, Texas. Major Chuck Taylor, an old friend from my original Guard unit, was Commander. We were Sp-4's together in the First Medium Tank Battalion.

At that time I was a fairly high time Chinook pilot and an Instrument Examiner. Major Taylor needed that combination in his unit. Being a part of that unit just confirmed what I had believed for a long time. I believed that the National Guard, as a rule, is better trained and more professional than any active duty unit of the same size. In the nine years that I was in the unit, we participated in search and rescue missions, fire fighting missions, combat training exercises and summer camps at Fort Chaffie Arkansas and Fort Hood Texas. We supported the Forestry Service by hauling bridging material to places where they were building foot bridges but was not accessible to ground transportation. We used slings to load and deliver brush bundles to sites in lakes to use as nesting spots for fish.


The author instructed Ross Perot Jr., in this aircraft
before his record flight around the world.

Unexpectedly, I met another “old friend" when I arrived at the guard unit. Chinook 66-19028, known as “Old Patches,” was assigned to this unit. I had flown the unit during my second tour in Nam. It had been overhauled and all the skin patches had been repaired, but it was the same basic air frame. She had been a good aircraft to me and I was happy to see and fly her again.

In September, 1983, I suffered a light heart attack and that was the end of my military flying. It took a year for the official paperwork to make its way through channels and back to officially ground me. I was released from the unit and transferred to the retired reserve at the end of August 1984. That gave me 30 years and 27 days as a member of the Military. I do not now or have I ever regretted any part of my military service. If I could do it over, I probably would not change a single thing. The military was good for and to me and gave many varied experiences that I could never have gotten elsewhere.


Schools attended:

Non Commissioned Officers Academy
Warrant Officer Rotary Wing Aviator Course-Phase I
Warrant Officer Rotary Wing Aviator Course-Phase II
Flight Instructor Qualification Course
Instrument Flight Qualification Course
Aircraft Maintenance Officer Course
Instrument Flight Examiner Course
Aviation Safety Course
Aircraft Qualification Courses in UH-1B, D, and H and CH-47A, B, and C models

Awards and Decorations:

The Bronze Star for Meritorious service
The Air Medal with V device for valor and 37 oak leaf clusters
The Army Commendation with V device for valor and one oak leaf cluster
The Good Conduct Medal
The Reserve Forces Achievement Medal with one oak leaf cluster
The National Defense Service Medal
The Viet Nam Service Medal with silver star (5 additional awards)
The Reserve Forces Service Medal with 2 hour glass devices
The Vietnamese Honor Medal, 1st Class (Vietnamese award)
The Vietnamese Service Medal (Vietnamese award)
The Texas Medal of Merit (2 awards)
The Texas Faithful Service Medal.
The Presidential Unit Citation (2 awards)
Valorous Unit Award
Vietmanese Cross of Gallantry with Palm (2nd highest award)
Fortegeree To The Cross of Gallantry (highest award)
Several Weapons qualification badges
Air Assault qualification badge
Master Army Aviator Badge