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Saturday, 5:30 a.m., June 1969
B Company: “Killer Spades” 229 Aviation Battalion
“Stacked Deck” 1st Cavalry Division, Quan Loi, Vietnam
CW3 MICHAEL BARKLEY ARRIVED AT the darkest part of the parking area to brief his flight crew on the day’s mission, copilot CW2 Jeff Larson, crew chief SP4 Roy Barnes, and door gunner Charlie Jones.
“Chief, why did you let your pilot put you here, in this position?”
“He knew this was not his bird today so he didn’t look for a better location.”
“I’ll do better tonight. This has got to be the worst place on the airfield. You can’t get here without wadding mud holes. It’s so quiet it makes me feel like I’m in a graveyard.”
“It does feel weird. Why don’t you give us the briefing so we can leave.”
“Roger that — Barkley said — it looks like we’ll get some sun today. Our mission for the next few days is to fly to Nancy and be on call for COL Gray. We’re stuck with the commo bird. Chief, you and Jonsey need to take your tools.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“I thought you could take care of the scheduled inspection while we wait. Or do you want to do them after we get back at night?”
“Thanks, sir. Were you a crew chief before you went to flight school?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because the other pilots wouldn’t care if Jonsey and I work late or not. Thanks.”
Jeff asked: “Why don’t we just standby here and save flight hours?”
“It’s a status thing. COL Gray likes having his own helicopter ready in case he needs it.”
“What an asshole. All I can say is 21 and a wakeup!”
“Jeff, did you take care of the preflight?”
“It’s done. What about all of that radio equipment at the back?”
“It’s okay. We won’t be using it today.”
“It sure takes up a lot of room. How did we get stuck with it?”
“Battalion has a big mission near Cambodia and they need all the birds they can get.”
“Yeah, you sure can’t haul troops in Old Paint.”
“Watch it or you’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Yeah. She can’t help it they put that big radio console on her.”
“She can handle a brigade exercise with all those radios back there.”
“Jonsey get those C-rations loaded — Barkley said — we can’t be late to our first day of leisure. Chief, untie the rotor blade!”
“Roger that!”
“All clear?”
“Clear!”
“Coming hot.”
“Everything looks good. Let’s go to Nancy!”
“Tower, this is Army 685. Request hover and departure to the south.”
“Good morning, 685. No other traffic. You are cleared direct.”
“Thanks much! On the go!”
“God, I love to fly this time of the day. The air is so smooth.”
“Me, too. Bet we won’t fly this early in The States.”
“I’m sure. Chief, hand Jeff the logbook and let’s get the DER (an in-flight check on the engine; the maintenance officer would plot the engine temperature looking for a rise; in 1969 a helicopter’s engine life was about five hundred hours; usually the temperature would start creeping up just before engine failure) check out of the way.”
“You got a pencil?”
“Gee whiz! You’re the only pilot I know that doesn’t carry a pencil! Give me the book. You fly. I’ll write.”
“I’ve got the bird.”
“You’ve got it.”
“It’s looking like I really need to slow the airspeed down to hold the altitude.”
“That’s okay, just another 30 seconds and I’ll have it. I got it.”
“Good. Let’s get down to fifty feet where it’s safe.”
“Is that a short-timer talking?”
“No reason to do dumb things now.”
“I guess. Come up on Victor (VHF Radio) and let’s see if any other killer spades are out there.”
“On Victor. Good Morning, Vietnam!”
“Hey, is that the short-timer bird talking?”
“That’s me.”
“How many ‘til you get on the freedom bird?”
“Seventeen and wake up.”
“Where are you going?”
“Firebase Nancy.”
“Oh. Looks like CPT Wright is taking care of his pets.”
“Yeah. He wants us to get good tans before we leave the country. Where are you guys going?”
“Savage and I are re-supplying the reconnaissance team we dropped in three days ago.”
“Dennis, ask Savage if he’s shot any more holes in the water tank.”
“Go to hell, Michael! You know Panther bet me that my .357 couldn’t make a hole in that steel. I showed him!”
“Yeah. We didn’t have water for two days! Boy, the old man was pissed about that! Dennis, the DER done yet?”
“Oh my, God no! CPT White told me if I missed it one more time he would kick my ass! I think he meant it, too. Talk to you when we finish. Out.”
“Mayday, Mayday! This is Army copter 781 going down, grid 6434, grid 6434!”
“Jeff, that sounds like Dennis. Come up on Victor and find out.
“Savage, is that you with the Mayday?”
“Yeah, Dennis is on guard.”
“What happened?”
“When we were doing our check, a Quad 50 put a round through our engine. Dennis is trying to make the only clearing we can see.”
“Come up on Company FOX MIKE radio and we’ll home in on you.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Jeff, give COL Gray a call at Nancy and tell him we’re assisting a bird down.”
“Roger that.”
“Savage, how many on board, over?”
“Eight, counting crew.”
“Mike, COL Gray wants to know why Med Evac can’t handle it? He wants his aircraft. He might want to go somewhere later.”
“Tell him it’ll take Med Evac thirty minutes before they get here. It’s a hot LZ and they need help now.”
“I’ll tell him, but he won’t be happy. You know what I mean.”
“Who cares? If we don’t go get ‘em, Charlie will.”
“I agree. Let’s do it!”
A few minutes later Michael announced: “Nearly there. Keep your eyes open! Does anyone see them?”
The gunner screamed: “There they are! Eleven o’clock, next to that big crater.”
“Savage, we have you in sight!”
“It’s about time! We’re taking small arms fire from the north tree line.”
“Gunner! Spray the freaky tree line. Keep their heads down.”
“Savage! Looks like Dennis picked the only good spot to land. We’ll try landing about fifty feet behind you. That’s about as close as we can get. Tell Dennis we’ve got the commo bird today. Only has room for 4 paxs at most.”
“We understand — no room! We’ve got two guys that are hit! We’ll send them first!”
“Send ‘em on back! We’ll take them to Nancy and come back for you guys.”
Looking around quickly, Mike saw an eerie sight. The morning sun had created patches of ground fog about three to four feet deep. The burnt stumps and snags made it look like a horror movie.
Suddenly from his right, his eyes tracked incoming tracer fire. It was the first time he had tasted fear like this since he’d been in ‘Nam. Knowing he could ill afford to lose his nerve, he remembered he reminded himself he had a job to do. People’s lives depended on him keeping his head and making sound decisions.
“Jeff, we’re sitting ducks! Chief, help ‘em! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Chief, we loaded yet?”
“We are now!”
Pulling pitch, Michael announced loudly: “ We’re on the go! Savage! Keep your head down for the next thirty minutes. I’ll be back to get you!”
“Can you bring a cheese sandwich?”
“White or wheat?”
“You decide!”
Michael pulled maximum power, keeping the nose down to pick up as much airspeed as he could before getting to the tree line. Once he was there, he eased back on the cycle and quickly climbed over the trees. “Jeff is flying right up there with sex, man!”
“Boy, do you need to see Susan!”
“Seventeen and a wakeup!”
As the copter departed the LZ, the crew encountered increased gunfire.
“Jeff, call Nancy and have the medics waiting at the pad. How bad are they hit, Chief?”
“One in the leg, not bad, the other, in the chest. It looks real bad.”
“The medics are already at the pad. The Med Evac is almost here. The colonel wants to know if you want them to go to Nancy or to the downed aircraft.”
“Tell him all the wounded will be at Nancy. We’ll head back and pick up the rest.”
“Guys, I only want to be on the ground for thirty seconds, that’s it, so move it. When we get there help get these wounded off. Savage and Dennis need our help now!”
Thirty seconds after the skids hit the pad, Jeff announced hard: “They are off and we’re clear!”
Michael pulled pitch, nose down flying only inches above the ground. He quickly hit 90 knots then climbed to twenty feet above the trees. Seeing the flight level, Jeff said: “Can we fly a little lower?”
“Now remember we’re short.”
“Oh, yeah. What was I thinking?”
Five minutes out, Michael called the downed crew. “Savage! Are you still there?”
“Yeah! What’s taking so long?”
“We thought we’d toast your sandwich first. Don’t worry. We’re three minutes out. Status? How hot is it?”
“I think they brought in their relatives. Your best approach is from the south. Stay away from the rubber plantation. The Quad 50 is there.”
“Roger that. We are getting closer to the deck.”
“Yeah, sweet music, I can hear you. Can you land a little closer this time? We’ve got to carry these M-60s out.”
“Can you destroy the machines guns?”
“No.”
“Okay! We’ll try getting closer. Gee! It looks bad down there!”
“Yeah. That napalm leaves a lot of snags and trees. You’d think they were fighting a war or something.”
“How about that crater on your right front? Can we land there?”
“Yeah. Just watch that stump on our side.”
“Get everything! I’m not coming back.”
“Roger that.”
Thirty seconds on the ground turned into three minutes and seemed a lifetime for the crew. Michael watched as carefully as he could the activity around him. It seemed that every one was moving in slow motion. Even the enemy’s rifle fire striking the ground around them created slow moving clouds of dust. A smile came over Michael’s face when he thought this was like watching a 3-D movie — a lot of action with no one really getting hurt. Then a cold chill hit every fiber in his body — this was not a movie and people could die. All he could think about was putting the power to the blades to get out: “Jeff, for Christ sake, how much longer?”
“Everyone’s on board! Let’s go!”
“The wind’s picked up! I’m going to fly low-level crosswind as long as I can, then turn into the wind. That is the only way we can keep from flying over these guns.”
“I agree. Go for it!”
As he pulled pitch, the ground fire intensified.
“Guys, we’re taking fire from the tree line — two o’clock! Gunners! Hit ‘em! Just a little more and we’ll be gone!”
Suddenly blood sprayed on Jeff’s arm and leg but he felt no pain. He turned to see that the blood came from Michael. He tried to take control of the aircraft. “I’ve got the aircraft.” Jeff screamed: “I’ve got the aircraft! Michael! Michael, you’ve been hit! Let go of the damned cycle. I’ve got the aircraft!”
Michael could only click his mike.
“Chief! Michael’s been hit! Move up here and tilt his seat back so you can see how bad it is!”
The others in the rear could see what was going on. They quickly flipped Michael’s seat back and took off his flak jacket. Then Dennis turned on his mike: “He’s been hit in the neck just above his chicken plate. He’s bleeding badly. You’ve gotta get him to a hospital now!”
“On Guard, Med Evac bird, this is 685, fifteen minutes north of Nancy”
“685, this is Med Evac. We’re just leaving Nancy.”
“This is 685, my pilot has been hit, bad. Where’s the nearest Doctor?”
“685 that’s where we’re going. Tune your Fox Mike to 54 38. I’ll give you a long count, just home in us and we’ll lead you there.”
“Roger 54 38.”
Then Dennis yelled: “It’s too late Jeff! Michael’s dead!”
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