by Matt Jackson
“Chicken-man One-Four, Lai Khe Control,” Sinkey said on the intercom, playing air traffic control out of Lai Khe.
Cory answered him back as if he was talking to Lai Khe Control.
“Roger, Chicken-man One-Four, you are cleared for GCA approach on Runway One-Eight. Say type aircraft.”
“Lai Khe GCA, Chicken-man One-Four is a UH-1.”
“Roger, Chicken-man One-Four, I have you on radar, five miles to the north, descend to and maintain one thousand feet. Altimeter setting is two niner point niner eight.”25
“Roger, Lai Khe GCA, out of twenty-five hundred for one thousand feet. Altimeter set at two niner point niner eight.”
Cory checked and the altimeter was set properly. Lowering the collective, he began a five-hundred-foot-per-minute rate of descent. Remembering that everything must be done with the written checklist now, he instructed Sinkey to get it out and start reading it off. Sinkey started reading and checking off each item while Cory concentrated on flying the aircraft.
“Lai Khe GCA, Chicken-man One-Four is one thousand feet.”
“Roger, Chicken-man One-Four. I have you at one thousand feet and three miles. This is your final controller. Do not acknowledge further instructions. If you lose communications, you will execute a missed approach, climbing to two thousand feet and holding over the Lai Khe Nondirectional Beacon at two thousand feet. Do you understand these instructions.”
“Roger, Lai Khe.”
“Chicken-man One-Four, you are on glide path, execute a three-hundred-foot rate of descent, on course. On glide path, drifting right of course.” Cory immediately corrected his heading to get back to the left by a degree. “Slightly below glide path.” Cory popped a touch of torque to hold his altitude until he heard the next words. “On course, on glide path.” Cory eased slight downward pressure on the collective to resume his descent. “On glide path, on course, over landing threshold, take over visual control.”
“Sinkey, you got it,” Cory immediately said.
“I have the aircraft. Take the hood off.” Cory didn’t need to be told. As soon as he felt Sinkey on the controls, the hood came off and he looked to see where he was at. Halfway down the runway and about fifty feet in the air.
“Nice job, old-timer. You’re getting the touch back pretty quick.”
“Thanks, but I need a few more hours under the hood before I’ll be comfortable. But it sure did feel good to be back in the cockpit. O’Donnell, you have a mighty nice bird here. She flies good.”
“Thank you, sir. Appreciate that,” O’Donnell answered.
Leaving O’Donnell and Hector to tie up a couple of things, Cory and Sinkey walked back to Flight Operations to turn in the logbook. It had been a relatively easy day considering they were back just after 1200 hours. Standing in Operations was Major Adams, who was looking over flight records with Captain Beauchamp.
Seeing Sinkey and Cory walking in, he asked, “How did he do, Mr. Sinkey?”
“Like he never was gone, sir. We flew partial panel back as you asked and shot a GCA approach. He did good.” Cory just realized he had been set up.
“We flew partial panel back? I didn’t see you slap the hood on there, Sinkey,” Cory answered with a shake of his head. “Sir, I felt fine coming back on partial panel, but I can’t vouch for him.”
“Glad you got it out of the way. Have you ever flown with Mr. Barstow?” the major asked.
“Not as a right-seater, sir. I think I gave him his orientation ride when he arrived in-country,” Cory respectfully acknowledged. He still wasn’t sure how much joking he could do with the CO.
“I’m putting you up with him tomorrow, Dan. It’ll be another mission with the ARVNs up in the same area you were in today.”
“Fine by me, sir. But let me ask. We’re authorized to fly 10k over into Cambodia. That far, I mean?” questioned Cory.
“Technically, we don’t have combat forces in Cambodia. Helicopters are not considered combat forces—that’s one way to look at it. The other way is that technically you’re not in Cambodia as you’re flying above Cambodia. Kind of a Catch-22 thing,” Captain Beauchamp explained.
“And if we get shot down over there…?” Cory inquired.
“Then I suggest you either escape and evade, or don’t get shot down, Lieutenant Cory,” Major Adams said, indicating that this line of conversation was not desired.
“Yes, sir. If there’s nothing else, sir…”
“No, have a good day,” the major indicated with a wave of his head.
Chapter 23
The Rumor Mill
“Sir, here are the records on seven right-seaters that have the time to move up,” Captain Beauchamp said after Cory and Sinkey had departed. Major Adams and Captain Beauchamp continued to look over flight records of each of the right-seat pilots. Several aircraft commanders had returned to the States and a few more were about to go home. New pilots had been slow to come in due to the drawdown of US forces in-country. A couple of new pilots were transfers from units that had already stood down. These guys had less than three months in-country, so they didn’t get to rotate home with the rest of the unit. They were not happy campers. They had had enough time with their old unit to build a bond with fellow pilots and crew chiefs. Watching them depart while they themselves were left behind wasn’t taken well. This was not limited to just Alpha Company but was happening all over Vietnam. Morale was slipping across the country.
“We need four new aircraft commanders to replace the guys that went home last week. Let’s plan on Lieutenant Cory moving up into an AC seat after tomorrow’s flight with Mr. Barstow,” the major said.
“Good idea, sir. Cory was a hell of a pilot before, and he won’t let you down. He was a good flight leader too. Led the last mission out of Cambodia too and was the unit IP,” Captain Beauchamp added. Captain Beauchamp had arrived in-country about four months prior to the Cambodian Incursion. He talked of opening a haberdashery in New York City when he returned home. In Cambodia, he’d orchestrated the rescue of a downed Air Force pilot, earning the Distinguished Service Cross for his crew chief. The Air Force had put the crew chief in for the Medal of Honor, but as so often happened, it had been downgraded to the Distinguished Service Cross by those armchair commandos who had never moved to the sound of guns.
“Who else do we have coming up that’s ready for AC?” Major Adams asked.
“Well, sir, Reid and the two Zuccardis have the time and the hours. The ACs have all said they were comfortable with them in AC positions. Here are their records.” Captain Beauchamp handed their flight records to the major, who accepted them and started leafing through the first one.
“As you can see, sir, they all have the hours, they’ve all flown night missions as well as logging both actual instrument time and hood time.” As the weather had been nasty, Major Adams had really focused on the instrument flight time for everyone, hood or actual. Like most aviation unit commanders, Major Adams was now on his second tour in-country as a pilot. He was well aware of the possibility of suddenly being caught in crappy weather with an aircraft on partial instrument panel. The only other course of action when the aircraft instruments for inclement weather flying were broken was to sit it out on some firebase. However, now that there were no longer any US firebases, no one relished the idea of spending a night stuck on one of the ARVN firebases, which, when attacked, were usually overrun by the NVA.
“Okay, let’s get them all up for AC check rides in the next week. Now who do we tag to be our liaison officer with the ARVN headquarters?” Major Adams asked.
“Well, sir, it should be a commissioned officer. I don’t think the US advisor over there would take it well if we sent a warrant officer as it’s a face thing with the Vietnamese. Hell, if they had their way, you would be the one playing that role every day, and that ain’t happening.”
“You got that right. What commissioned officers do we have?”
“Sir, we have 1LT Collard, who’s about to make captain.
We have 1LT Hicks, who will be DEROSing in a couple of months. We have Captain Vargus, who hasn’t made AC in the eight months he’s been here, and we—”
“Captain Vargus, is it. Why the hell has he not made AC in eight months?”
“The other ACs don’t have confidence in his flying ability. He flies okay as a right-seater but really hasn’t demonstrated that he can think things through like an AC should. Just before you arrived, we had another pilot, Mr. Dumas, that was the same.”
“I heard about him. Okay, I’ll notify Captain Vargus that he’s the new LNO to the ARVN Headquarters. I suppose I should give him a jeep with a radio. Maybe that will soften the blow to his ego.”
“It should, sir.”
“One last thing to discuss, and for now this is between you and me. When the division stands down, we’re being attached to the Fifty-Second Aviation Battalion, First Aviation Brigade. I have a meeting with the battalion commander the day after tomorrow at Camp Holloway, so I’ll need a bird tomorrow to fly up there. The XO will be going with me to plan what they have for us. I want to keep this quiet for now until we get the facts about what they want us to be doing. I doubt they’ll leave us here for long, but don’t expect a move anytime soon. Certainly not until the division leaves and the attachment becomes a fact. We still have to backhaul our own battalions out and back to Bien Hoa.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll notify Maintenance to have your aircraft ready for tomorrow. How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“Probably three days. Day up, day of meetings, day back. I’ll have the first sergeant cut an assumption of command order for you. You’re in charge while we’re gone.”
“Sir, it’s only for three days—do you really think it’s necessary to cut an assumption of command order?”
“It’s the regulation, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
The interior walls of the Operations office were constructed of one-eighth-inch plywood with no soundproofing and offered about as much privacy as a three-hole latrine. On the opposite side of the wall from the CO and Operations officer sat the communications clerk, the Operations clerk and the Operations NCO. Secrets didn’t stay secret long within the unit.
That night in one of the enlisted barracks, Jonesy told the guys in his card game, “I’m telling you the straight truth. The Ops clerk heard the old man say that Division goes home, we’re going to the First Aviation Brigade and moving up north. He told Barry in avionics about it and he told me. I’ll take two.” He tossed two cards out of this hand.
“You’re full of crap. When the division leaves, the division takes everyone. They don’t leave people and units behind. The division came over all together, and it’ll go home together. I fold,” Mondie indicated as he tossed his cards down.
“If we’re going home, why did we get two new pilots in this afternoon? One was a warrant officer and the other was an RLO,” Dorsey asked. “I’ll see you and raise you twenty-five.”
“Wow, big spender, raisin’ me a whole quarter. Can you afford it?” Jarvis asked. “Here’s your twenty-five and I call.”
Lockwood, who worked in the orderly room and was sitting on the sidelines watching the game, entered the conversation. “Look, they just can’t cut the flow of pilots coming in, so we’re getting a trickle of pilots for a while. They have to put them someplace. As we get closer to leaving, those newbies will be reassigned to units that are staying, like the First Aviation Brigade. Sucks to be them getting bounced around, but hey, if they don’t like it, they should have come over sooner. First Sergeant did have me type up an assumption of command order for Captain Beauchamp today. Major Adams and the XO are flying someplace tomorrow and will be gone a few days.”
Looking up from counting his winnings in that hand, Cramer asked, “Any idea where they’re going?”
“Nah, I just cut the order. No indication where they’re going.” With that, the attention of the table returned to the next hand being dealt.
Chapter 24
Squelch the Rumors
“Come in, Mr. Barstow. Did you have a chance to fly with the proposed ACs?” Major Adams asked. He had been gone longer than anticipated due to the weather between Lai Khe and Camp Holloway. Monsoon season in Vietnam could play hell with flight operations, especially when the instruments for inclement weather flight were less than functional all the time. One did not deliberately go into weather conditions with a partial panel.
“Yes, sir, I did. I got in a good solid log mission flying with Mr. Reid and one combat assault. He was pretty solid on questions posed to him, and his judgment was okay.”
Adams raised his eyes from Reid’s file. “Just okay?”
“Ah, poor choice of words, sir. He demonstrated sound judgment for the situations presented,” Mr. Barstow corrected himself.
“So you see no problem moving him to AC?”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“What about Lieutenant Zuccardi?”
“Sir, I was able to get a log mission in with him and some instrument time when the weather closed in around us. He handled the aircraft well on instruments and made sound judgments while conducting the mission.”
“How come you had to fly instruments? Did he not see the weather coming and attempt to avoid it?”
“Sir, he saw it and considered getting out of there early, but that would have left the unit on the ground that we were supporting in a lurch, so he elected to stay and finish the job. He pointed out that he had some alternate airfields we could have gone to if the weather got really bad, so electing to stick around wasn’t a bad decision. I just wish we could have gotten an air assault in to see him in formation, but I’ve flown with him before in formation and saw no problems.”
“Okay.” Adams tossed Frank Zuccardi’s file to the side and opened Bob’s. “What about Mr. Zuccardi?”
“We had a log mission that tuned into a medevac and night mission. Handled it very well. The unit we were supporting got into a firefight just as we were finishing up and had a seriously wounded soldier. It was quicker for us to go back and get him than for them to wait to get a medevac bird from Bien Hoa.”
“And what about Lieutenant Gore?” the major asked.
With a bit of laughter in his voice, Mr. Barstow replied, “Sir, he did just fine. We had a resupply in the morning, a combat assault about lunch and an extraction of a long-range recon patrol in the late afternoon.”
“And what was so funny about those missions?”
“Well, sir, we started the day off with a backhaul from a cache site west of Firebase Snuffy. We’re backhauling weapons and rice, lots of rice, when a bag opens up. Rice is flying around in the aircraft like the departure scene from a wedding. By the time we got to Snuffy, the chin bubbles were full of rice. Then, that afternoon we extract a long-range recon patrol with a dog—big dog, German shepherd. Dog jumps in and right away front paws are on the radio console. He’s having a great time looking out the front window. Unfortunately, that poor dog had a case of amoebic dysentery and shit all over the aircraft. I mean all over. We had to fly with full right pedal to get a crosswind effect to alleviate the stench before we could get back to Quan Loi to clean out the aircraft. Crew chief and gunner were both snuggling together on the side to avoid the spray and stench.”
“How did he do on the combat assault?” Major Adams asked, suppressing a laugh.
“That got a bit dicey. Oh, not his flying but the mission. Another unit was lead for that mission and we were chopped to them in order to reinforce a grunt platoon that was in contact with a VC company. As we’re coming in on our approach, Lieutenant Gore has an opportunity to get eyeball-to-eyeball with three black-pajama VC looking at him through the sights of their AK-47s. Thank God Lobo saw them and used the miniguns on them before they could hit us. Gore was rather cool through that. Much cooler than when we finally landed at Song Be and refueled,” Mr. Barstow said.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, sir, because of the dick da
nce that Flight Lead was doing, we landed nineteen minutes into a twenty-minute fuel warning light. The lieutenant kept telling Flight Lead we were low and reminded him a couple of times into the warning light, but Flight Lead still did the dick dance. In all honesty, sir, Lieutenant Gore is a pretty cool cucumber.”
“Good, then we have four new ACs is what you’re telling me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adams sat back in his chair. “How was your flight with Lieutenant Cory?” the major asked.
“Good, sir. When I first came to the unit, he was the unit IP and gave me my orientation check ride. We did some autorotations up at Chon Thanh. Crazy bastard showed me a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree zero-airspeed autorotation.”
“What?” The major was ready to come out of his chair with eyes the size of saucers.
“Yes, sir, he taught it to about everyone in the unit back then, and a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree zero-airspeed autorotation.”
“Those aren’t standard maneuvers taught at school. What the hell was he doing?”
“They aren’t taught at school, sir, but test pilots at Bell helicopter do them prior to turning the aircraft over to the Army. And they’re good techniques to know, and confidence builders.”
“Well, that may be so, but we will not be executing them here. I’ll talk to Lieutenant Cory about this.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else, sir?”
“No. Oh, yes. Please go by Flight Ops and have them cut AC orders for these four and put them on the board for tomorrow. Add Cory’s name to that list as well as an AC.”
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Barstow saluted and departed the major’s office. I hope I didn’t put Cory’s ass in a sling. I best go by and give him a warning about those autorotations.