An Assault Helicopter Unit in Vietnam (Undaunted Valor 1)

“Everyone will fall in on these four squad leaders on my command. Duffel bags in front of you. Fall in!” They did as instructed and stood in the position of attention. They all knew they were late and this could be trouble for them. Then Mr. Clinton stepped forward.

“You people had a twelve-hundred-hour report time, and you are late by sixty minutes. Evidently you don’t want to be here. I suspect you have been screwing off in Savannah this morning,” he stated as he walked along in front of the formation.

One cadet made the big mistake of offering an excuse. This was not the time to do that.

“Sir, we were all on the same flight and the fog…” He stopped as Mr. Clinton immediately got in his face.

“How dare you address me when you are at the position of attention and I am talking? Who the hell do you think you are? By tonight, Cadet, you will be in the infantry and out of this program. Now get out of this formation and go to the orderly room with your crap. You’re done! Anyone else want to say anything?” Everyone just remained at attention and said nothing as our classmate picked up his bag with a look of shock on his face.

“Cadet Cory is your class commander. Cory, march this bunch of misfits to the orderly room. There you will all sign your Article 15s for missing formation—or, if you are as stupid as I think you all are, you can request a court-martial. I don’t care.” And he turned and walked back to the orderly room.

Everyone was in a state of shock that they were getting Article 15s, which could result in loss of pay and a blemish on their records. Worse, though we didn’t realize it at the moment, this incident would be held against the entire class for some time.

The class cadet commander was responsible for all the class did or didn’t do. If the barracks weren’t cleaned to the standards set by the cadre, I heard about it. If someone failed a test, I heard about it. If the class was late getting someplace, I heard about it. Leadership pos

itions were supposed to rotate after a week. For some reason, they did, but my position did not. After a week of being in this leadership position, I came to realize that I couldn’t be a friend to anyone in the class. I would have to be the hard-ass if I was to get the cadre off my back as well as the class’s. Our cadre consisted of one TAC officer, CWO2 Clinton, and one TAC NCO. The TAC NCO was a large, overweight man with numerous tattoos before tattoos became popular. I don’t recall him ever saying anything. CWO2 Clinton, on the other hand, was quite vocal. Over time, it became obvious to all of us that he had a drinking problem.

The first major phase of our training was instrument training. This was conducted in the Bell TH-13 aircraft with full instrument packages. As in primary flight training, half of the day was spent in the classroom and the other half flying. Once the instructor and cadet were in the aircraft, the cadet would place a hood over his helmet so he couldn’t see outside the aircraft and could only observe the instruments. Initially, the cadet was expected to maintain the aircraft in a level flight attitude, but we quickly transitioned to navigation and instrument approaches. Most of the cadets got through this phase of training, but not unscathed. Only one or two cadets weren’t able to master the aircraft in a safe attitude and were recycled to the next class for additional training. A couple of cadets went on to gain full instrument tickets, which usually destined them for Boeing CH-47 Chinook transition after graduation. This training took approximately two more months. In addition to our instrument classroom instruction, we were taught how to adjust artillery fire and given extensive meteorology instruction.

We were approaching the end of our instrument training when we returned to the barracks from the flight line the night prior to the meteorology exam. Mr. Clinton wasn’t happy with the condition of the barracks and had gone on a rampage, aided by a bottle of Jack Daniels. Beds were turned over; wall locker contents were lying on the floor; the fire hose was spraying water, and the contents of everyone’s footlockers were everywhere except in the footlockers. He was on a tirade. One cadet was singled out. Mr. Clinton was berating him. Evidently the cadet was responsible for his “five-o’clock shadow.” Mr. Clinton told the cadet to get into the pushup position. Once there, he placed a razor on the floor in front of him and told him to shave! The cadet looked scared, and I was mad. I had had enough of Mr. Clinton’s crap! With all the respect for his rank that I could muster, I stepped forward and got in Clinton’s face.

“Sir, you have been drinking and you are drunk. If you do not leave this minute, I am going straight to the company commander and have him resolve this situation. Now leave!” I shouted. There was dead silence. Mr. Clinton just stood there and glared at me with his bloodshot eyes. Everyone was watching. Finally, he laughed, turned and staggered out of the barracks. Everyone, including me, sighed with relief. We spent most of the night getting the barracks back in order, and no one had an opportunity to study for the weather exam. It showed the next day.

The exam was in the morning. When we returned to the barracks after flying in the afternoon, we were immediately informed by the company first sergeant that we were all restricted to the barracks until further notice and I was to report to the company commander’s office. When I arrived, the senior officer from the Weather Committee was present as well. I was told to sit down.

“Cadet Cory, do you know why I have restricted the company and called you here?” the company commander asked. Like I was some clairvoyant and could read his mind. This was the first time I had ever spoken to the man. Again, Dad’s words of wisdom came to mind.

“No, sir,” I replied, knowing this wasn’t the time to be a smart-ass.

“It appears, Cadet Cory, that most of your class failed the weather exam. We need to know why,” he stated. Oh, shit! Most of the class, which includes me too. Again, as class leader, it was my fault.

“Didn’t you people study for the exam last night?” asked the Weather Committee instructor, who didn’t look happy. Why did I suspect that shit rolled downhill here and it was all coming at me? However, I was seeing a U-turn for this shit storm.

“No, sir, we did not study last night. We had a party instead,” I replied. Their eyes bulged, and I thought both men were going to drop dead from heart attacks.

“You did what?” gagged out the company commander. “You had a party the night before one of the most important exams of this course? Do you realize that by having a party and failing that exam, you all could fail flight school and be sent to the infantry immediately?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied as I let them stew on this revelation.

Now the weather instructor had a grin on his face as he turned to the company commander. “Well, I guess the problem wasn’t with the instruction but the discipline of these cadets.”

I was beginning to see what was going on here. Somewhere above their level, the shit had hit the fan, and someone high up was looking for where to lay the blame. The Army needed helicopter pilots and at this point had spent considerable money training eighty cadets. The Army couldn’t afford to wash out eighty cadets at one time. The company commander wasn’t looking too good about now.

“Cadet Cory, why in the hell would you have a party the night before a major exam?” he asked in a dejected and resigned voice.

“Sir, we had no choice,” I answered sheepishly. I was beginning to enjoy this. I had been around the military long enough to know when people were in a state of panic over something that had gone horribly wrong. Oh, Dad, you taught me well.

“What the hell do you mean you had no choice?” The company commander was starting to lose it.

“Sir, when we returned from the flight line last night, Mr. Clinton had torn the barracks apart, to include turning on the fire hose, and told us to get that mess cleaned up before morning. We had a barracks-cleaning party to get it squared away, and that took until midnight. Lights out was at twenty-two hundred hours, but we worked on stuff in the dark until we had it taken care of. Only the married men had a chance to study last night as they were free to leave once we got back from class.” I had just let the cat out of the bag. They both sat in silence, staring at me with their mouths open. That lasted maybe fifteen seconds.

“You’re dismissed, Cadet Cory,” the company commander said, his face showing anger.

“Yes, sir.” I came to attention, saluted smartly and did an about-face out the door. When I got back to the barracks, everyone wanted to know what was going on. When I told them that most of us had failed the weather exam, a quiet state of shock fell over the place. Then the questions started, focusing on whether we would all be washed out and sent to the infantry. About an hour later, I was called back to the company commander’s office and told that the class would be restricted to the barracks but to go to dinner.

The next day appeared normal, until it came time to go to the flight line that afternoon. A clerk from the orderly room met me as we returned from class for lunch. “Cadet Cory.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”