“Badger Six, Chicken-man One-Niner, I have Rosy Red.”
“Chicken-man One-Niner, that’s affirmative. Recommend you land north to south. Over.”
“Badger Six, roger.
Got that, Rick?” I asked.
“Got it.”
And Rick set up his approach to land south to north. The smoke clearly showed a breeze from the south, and the recommendation from the ground unit was land to the south, so why was he setting up for a downwind landing? He was flying, so I kept my mouth shut. I made a note. The LZ was a good long clearing devoid of small trees and brush. Rick made his approach, passing directly over the troops on the ground with plenty of airspeed as the wind was pushing the aircraft along and he was using maximum power to come to a hover. As we had speed coming over the southern end of the clearing, we used the entire clearing to stop the aircraft and turn around. If there were any unfriendly troops on the north end of the LZ, we would have been a tempting target. We hovered back to the troops and unloaded the C-rations and took on empty water cans.
“You have the aircraft,” Rick instructed me. Lovelace and Peters were still in their seats, not helping the grunts load—doing what they had been told. As the unloading of the C-rations was complete and the empty water cans loaded, Rick instructed the crew,
“Close the doors. I don’t want any of the water cans to blow out.” This was unheard of.
“Sir, we close the doors, we can’t fire our guns if we need to,” Lovelace stated, almost pleading.
“I don’t care, I don’t want any of those water cans to blow out.”
I looked at Rick, glad that my sun visor was down so he couldn’t see my eyes, which must have been the size of saucers. I made another note. If the aircraft was properly flown, water cans didn’t blow out of the cargo area.
I flew us back to the log pad and picked up the next load, returning to the LZ and making a north-to-south approach. After we were offloaded, Rick instructed me to take off and return to the log pad while he studied his map. We were halfway back when he put his map on the top of the instrument panel and took the aircraft controls. Maps did not go on top of instrument panels because maps in that location were above the open side window and had a tendency to blow out. Rick’s map was no exception, and out the window it went.
“I have the aircraft,” I stated and turned immediately to keep an eye on the map as it drifted downward.
“Peters, keep an eye on that map. Rick, this ride is over. I’m AC for the rest of the day. We’ll talk when we get to the log pad. Watch that map.” He said nothing and continued to watch. Finally the map landed.
“Mr. Cory, it’s down. There’s a clearing about twenty meters from where it landed,” said Peters.
“Roger. Lovelace, pass up your M-16 to Rick. Here’s the deal, Rick. I’m going to land in that clearing and drop you off. You’re going to retrieve that map and
come back to the clearing, where I am going to pick you up, and you will jump into the cargo area so I’m on the ground for only a few seconds. I’ll orbit low over you and cover you with the guns. Any questions?”
Rick just stared at me like I was nuts. I wasn’t. I was pissed. Stupid to let the map fly out, but what was worse was putting call signs, frequencies and locations on the map. Locations, okay, but not all the other stuff.
We flew around in a circle several times to see if we could spot anyone on the ground. Finally I set up the approach and landed. It was this sort of thing that had gotten Dave killed. Reluctantly, Rick got out with the M-16 and moved away from the aircraft. As soon as he was clear, we were back in the air. As I circled above him, his movements reminded me of Elmer Fudd hunting the elusive Bugs Bunny.
“Damn, sir, why doesn’t he just haul ass over and get it?” Peters asked.
“Because he’s scared, that’s why,” I answered.
Lovelace had moved over to the right side of the aircraft and was holding Peters’s M-16 and searching the brush. Finally Rick got to the map and this time sprinted as fast as his fat little body would carry him to the clearing, waving his arms frantically as we made our approach as if we didn’t see him. The aircraft hadn’t touched the ground, and he was on board and we were coming out. At the log pad, he resumed his position in the right seat.
“Okay, I have the aircraft,” he said, as if he didn’t understand his situation.
“No, Rick. You do not. I am now the AC.” And with that, I put us on private on the intercom.
“Rick, you have bused this check ride. First you left this morning without doing a hydraulics check. That’s a major mistake. If all else had gone well, I would have overlooked that. Getting here, you didn’t know the heading, and yet you’ve been flying for, what, six months now? You still don’t know your way around the AO. You never got us clearance from Arty, another major mistake. Then you plot unit locations, which in itself is okay, but you put the call sign and frequencies on your map, which is a major mistake. And where does your map go? Out the window. A major mistake. Let’s not forget you left your crew chief standing on the ground when you picked up and then nearly set the aircraft back down on him. You instructed the crew to close the doors, which in essence left the aircraft defenseless. Rick, I can’t sign you off for AC. Look, you’re an okay guy and no one has it in for you, but there’s something about you. You aren’t ready for AC. You’re an okay copilot but not thinking like an AC.”
“You going to tell the CO?” was his only response.
“I got to tell him something. He ordered this check ride. I tell you what. I’ll say nothing to the other ACs, and I’ll tell these two not to say anything about this being a check ride. That’s the best I can do, but word will eventually get out, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Rick remained quiet for the rest of the flight and performed his duties in a satisfactory manner. In fact, he was more relaxed and did better. In fairness to him, I told the CO that it may have just been nerves that caused him to make some major mistakes, but the CO didn’t buy it. Plotting frequencies and call signs along with unit locations on your map isn’t nerves, and what would he do under fire?
I was about to find out.
Landing at LZ Snuffy, Rick and I went into the TOC and met with the S-3.