An Assault Helicopter Unit in Vietnam (Undaunted Valor 1)

Lou gave the aircraft back to me and we had an uneventful flight back to the refuel point at Bien Hoa. Well, uneventful for Lou and the crew. I was still trying to get this formation flying thing. Lou was still in instructor mode.

“In a staggered formation, a good way to hold your position off the other aircraft is to line up his navigation light with the towel rack on top. That’ll position you so you’re actually looking across the pilot’s shoulder at the oil pressure gauges in his cockpit.” The towel rack was a UHF antenna on top of the aircraft that looked like a towel rack in a bathroom. On top of the aircraft and slightly behind the towel rack on each side of the aircraft were navigation lights. Oil pressure gauges were located in the center of the instrument panel, so looking over a pilot’s shoulder from a position slightly behind and above would show those instruments.

I was

attempting to process all this. Maintain one-rotor-blade distance; stay slightly above the aircraft in front of me; avoid rotor wash; line up towel rack with pilot’s shoulder—no, no, with navigation lights; don’t over-torque engine. Oh, yeah, and breathe!

After all the birds were refueled, we hovered to a parking area and shut down while the aircraft commanders went for their briefing for the next mission. Bennett and Brown right away went to cleaning the guns and checking the fluid levels on the aircraft. I sat in my seat and breathed.

I sensed someone was beside me. “Mr. Cory, you look dehydrated,” said Bennett as he handed me a frosty cold soda.

“Thanks, Bennett. Where’d you get this?” I asked.

“We keep half a dozen in the marmite can under Brown’s seat. Got water too. Mr. Price buys it and we pack it. Just don’t make it too obvious, especially if some RLO comes around. We don’t share.”

“I fully understand.” I closed my eyes and relaxed for a minute.

After about twenty minutes, I saw Lou walking back and he did not look happy, talking to himself and shaking his head. “Hey, Bennett, here comes Mr. Price,” I said.

Bennett jumped up and retrieved a cold soda for Lou. After a long pull, Lou briefed us on the next mission.

“Okay, we’re going to start extracting units to come back here. We are Chalk Six of a six-ship flight and will be making three turns on this first mission. It’s a rifle company located here”—he pointed to the map—“and we’re bringing them back to here. Flight leader will be Captain Bullock.” The name Bullock did not flow from Lou’s lips easily. Bennett groaned; Brown cussed. I had met Captain Bullock, as he was a platoon leader in another platoon. Seemed like a nice guy.

“What’s so bad about Captain Bullock being flight leader?” I asked.

“Watch and learn,” Lou responded.

Something told me this wasn’t going to be fun. We started getting ready, donning our chicken plates and flight helmets once seated. Doors were closed and secured and engine was cranked. Lou took the controls. By now all six aircraft were turning blades. Other aircraft from the original eighteen were also cranking but going to other locations in flights of six to extract rifle companies as well. Our original flight leader was taking one of those groups. Lou was not happy.

“Flight, this is Lead. We will come up echelon right on departure. Chalk Three, get us departure clearance. Chalk Two, arty clearance.”

“He doesn’t need to tell Two and Three to get clearances. It’s SOP for them to do that, and they’ve probably already done it,” Lou grumbled. I kept quiet.

Yellow One received clearance from Chalk Three, and Chalk Two told him we were cleared of arty fire. The rest of the aircraft were to our left as we joined the end of the formation on the far-right side and staggered back, creating half of a V with Flight Lead at the front. We climbed to about one thousand feet.

“Bennett, Brown, stay alert. He’s going to fly it at a thousand feet so every damn kid with a gun can get some practice,” Lou said.

Bennett and Brown already had their guns up and were scanning the ground for possible fire. The vegetation we were passing over was mostly low brush and bamboo about ten to fifteen feet high with the occasional taller hardwood tree. As we passed over the Song Dong Nai River, Yellow One began a descent to the PZ, which was a small meadow off in the distance. At about a quarter mile from the PZ, Yellow One began a deceleration, slowing the flight from ninety knots and holding at an altitude of three hundred feet as we continued to the PZ.

“Perfect damn targets, you asshole!” came over the radio. Someone was not happy.

“Flight, this is One. Come up staggered left.” As it was obvious that a right echelon formation wouldn’t fit in the PZ and the troops were lined up for a staggered left formation, several disparaging remarks were made on the radio as six slow-moving, very low aircraft switched formation right over the approach into the PZ.

“This is why you don’t want Captain Bullock to be flight leader. We’re sitting ducks right now. If some gook opened fire on us, this would turn into a real goat rope,” Lou grumbled as we passed over the last trees and lowered into the PZ to a ground guide waiting for us. As soon as the skids touched, the six grunts were on board and ready to go. And we sat and we sat.

“What the hell are we doing?” Lou growled. “Yellow One, this is Six. All aircraft are loaded,” Lou said on the UHF frequency.

“Roger. Wait one,” came back from Flight Lead.

“Wait one! We’ve been waiting for two already,” Lou screamed at no one. “This is another reason why you don’t want him as lead. You get into a PZ fast and out fast. Sitting here does only one thing, and that’s drawing mortar fire as Charlie has time to locate you and set his guns.”

Flight Lead must have heard him and started moving forward and up, and we all followed. Once we reached Bien Hoa, the troops got out and Lou turned the controls over to me. Flight Lead didn’t change the formation, but we still came into the PZ slow and low. Our ground time was less but still too long for Lou’s liking. Lou took us into the PZ on the third turn and nothing changed. Coming out, all door gunners opened fire on the tree line, as Charlie was known to wait for the last flight out before opening fire on the last aircraft, which in this case was us. We took no fire on this day, however, and returned to Bien Hoa, only to shut down and wait for another mission. After sitting for three hours, we were released to return to the Chicken Coop, but some of the other aircraft were sent on log missions.

“Take us home, Dan,” Lou said.

That night, sitting in our tent along with Mr. Toliver, an old guy, and Mr. Jones, I asked who the designated flight leaders were.

Mr. Spivey answered that one. “Captain Goodnight, Captain Pierre and Captain Bullock.”