by Matt Jackson
With that, the flight leader took off, with each chalk following as they climbed out from the airstrip at Camp Holloway. By standard operation procedures, Chalk Two had already obtained artillery clearance from Camp Holloway to Dak To. As Rob came up on the formation, flying in the Chalk Twelve position, he notified Flight Lead that the flight was up. He’d asked for this position so that the new copilot could get a better view of what all was happening in a formation and how to fly formations. If Hodges got too far back from Chalk Eleven and then had to accelerate to catch up, there would be no accordion effect for the rest of the formation, and Rob wouldn’t have to listen to everyone bitch about his copilot while he was instructing him on the finer points of combat flying.
After an uneventful flight, at least for everyone but Ben, the flight commenced an approach to the airstrip at Dak To, where ARVN troops could be seen standing in chalk order. As Rob approached his designated group to pick up, he took the controls from Ben.
“I got the aircraft.”
“You have the aircraft,” Ben responded.
“Clear right, Mr. Poggi,” said Specialist Franson, sitting in the crew chief’s position.
“Clear left, sir,” PFC Cramer, a recent addition to the unit from the infantry, indicated.
As the aircraft touched down, the nine ARVN soldiers reluctantly moved to the aircraft. With US soldiers, the load plan was six or seven soldiers, but the ARVN soldiers were much smaller and carried less equipment, so the aircraft could carry more of them. Weight was the critical factor in the UH-1H, or any helicopter for that matter. As they loaded the aircraft, rising dirt, smoke and devastation could be seen in the distance as the B-52 bomb strike went in.
“Flight, this is Lead. The bomb strike is about ten minutes late, but that shouldn’t affect us. Might even help. We’re at H minus twenty now. Chalk twelve, give me an up when everyone’s loaded.”
Scanning the other aircraft to see if they were loaded, Rob answered, “Roger, One. We’re all up at this time.”
“Roger, Yellow One is on the go.” And with that, Flight Lead lifted off with each aircraft departing in turn. Rob went into instructor mode, guiding Ben through how to take off without getting caught in the rotor wash of the aircraft in front of him and without over torquing the engine.
“Yellow One, Chalk Twelve, flight is up,” Rob announced as he slid into a tight formation with Chalk Eleven. He turned to Ben. “Okay, you have the aircraft. Maintain your position on Chalk Eleven there.”
“I have the aircraft.” Ben concentrated on maintaining one-rotor-blade separation at a forty-five-degree angle slightly above Chalk Eleven. It took all his concentration. Rob knew in a short time it would be second nature for Ben.
“Flight, H minus six,” Flight Lead announced.
In the distance, bursts of dirt and smoke could be seen rising up on what was left of the LZ after the B-52 strike. The ARVN command was determined to take back the firebase, and this was the first attempt. Chicken-man aircraft were determined to get them in there if for no other reason than to retrieve Reid’s body. The flight continued towards the artillery barrage.
At H minus two, the artillery shifted its fires, and the twelve Cobra gunships rolled into their dives, strafing and rocketing the perimeter of the landing zone. All appeared to be going well when Yellow One, Flight Lead, called, “Yellow One taking fire,” followed by Chalk Two making the same announcement.
Suddenly, Yellow One was increasing airspeed and climbing. “Flight, abort, abort. Return to Dak To.” Each aircraft maintained formation and followed their leader. As the flight continued on, Major Adams, flying the command-and-control aircraft, came up on the company UHF radio. He did not sound happy.
“Yellow One, Chicken-man Six, over.”
“Chicken-man Six, Yellow One.”
“Yellow One, what’s the problem? Why abort?”
“Chicken-man Six, we were still a minute out and taking heavy fire. My aircraft is hit, losing hydraulics and fluctuating engine rpm. It made no sense to continue into that LZ. We would have lost every aircraft, probably. I’m—shit! Mayday, Yellow One is going down!” The flight watched as Yellow One autorotated out of the formation and found the one open space along the flight path, in the middle of Highway 17 leading to Dak To.
“Flight, this is Chicken-man Six. I’ll take lead. Yellow Two, turn the flight around and join up on me. We’re going back into the LZ. Artillery is shifting back to engage. Yellow Twelve, once you drop your load, break off and retrieve Yellow One.”
“Roger, Chicken-man Six,” Rob said.
On Rob’s aircraft, Franson asked, “Sir, did I just hear this right? Yellow One says we got shot out of the LZ and goes down, and now the CO is taking us back in there?”
“You heard it right. Not sure why the CO is pressing this, but we just do as we’re told. Guns up and be on your toes. Ben, I’ll take the aircraft.”
“You have the controls. This is going to get hairy, isn’t it?” Ben asked with some trepidation in his voice.
“About as hairy as it gets. You get through this one and everything else will be a piece of cake. You married?”
“No, why?”
“Just wanted to know if I was going to have to write your wife a letter after today,” Rob said, looking over at Ben’s pale face at this point. Their conversation was interrupted by Chicken-man Six.
“Flight two minutes, guns go.” And the Cobra gunships rolled into their attack again. As they had seen where the fire was coming from on the first attempt, they concentrated their fire on that location this time. At H minus one, small-arms fire opened up from both the ground and the air. Door gunners and crew chiefs were exchanging lead with NVA soldiers both in trench lines and in the open. Those in the open weren’t doing well as the gunships were using some flechette rockets. The aircraft on short final weren’t doing so well either as the enemy in bunkers shot at the larger targets. ARVN soldiers were exiting the aircraft even before the skids touched the ground, which didn’t hurt the aircrew’s feelings one bit. The less time in the landing zone, the better. As Chalk Two was lifting off, he noticed Flight Lead, Chicken-man Six, was not. In fact, that crew was getting out of their aircraft. The smoking engine told everyone that the aircraft wasn’t flying out.
“Chalk Twelve, Chicken-man Six is down, pick him up if you can,” Yellow Two orders.
“Roger, Chalk Twelve is going long left side.” No one wanted to sit in the LZ and wait for the crew from Chalk One to get out of the aircraft. Chalk Twelve was still on his approach as Chalk One was getting out, so from an aviation standpoint, it was best for Chalk Twelve to go long and land behind Chalk One and pick that crew up rather than for the entire flight to wait and draw the enemy’s fire.
Rather than land behind and to the right of Chalk Eleven, Rob continued to fly his aircraft down the left side of the formation, landing to the left of and behind Chicken-man Six’s aircraft. This gave Rob some cover from the enemy fire along the right side of the landing zone and allowed him to maintain some speed until he had to touch down. By picking up the downed crew, Rob would enable the rest of the flight to get out quick without sitting at a hover and taking fire.
As the ARVNs exited the aircraft, Major Adams and his crew just as quickly climbed aboard Rob’s aircraft. Rob didn’t even get his skids on the ground before Franson was telling him to go. As they lifted off, Ben saw that they were even ahead of Chalk Eleven and had to drop back to join the flight.
“Okay, Ben, you have the controls. Get us back into the formation.”
“Roger, I have the controls.”
Tapping Rob on the shoulder, Major Adams said, “Tell Chalk Two to take us back to Dak To to refuel, and I’ll get with the senior advisor to see if they want another lift in there, which I’m going to discourage. What’s the damage report on the other aircraft?”
“Wait one, sir. I’ll get the status.” Switching from intercom to VHF, Rob made the call. “Yellow Two, Chalk Twelve, over.”
“Chalk Twelve, Yellow Two.”
“Yellow Two, Chicken-man Six says for you to take us to refuel at Dak To and then shut down while he talks to the senior advisor. I need a damage report. Ready to copy.”
“Understood, Chalk Twelve, flight report. Chalk Eleven, break formation and proceed to pick up Yellow One. Over.”
“Roger, Chalk Eleven is breaking formation.” And he peeled off from the formation and headed for the downed aircraft on the road. Meanwhile, each aircraft in turn reported their known damage. Everyone knew that there was some unknown damage as well at this point that would be discovered on the ground. Of the twelve aircraft, no one was left unscathed. Turning to the CO, Rob reported the damage. Maintenance would be working overtime for the next couple of days.
Reaching Dak To, the aircraft refueled and then repositioned to shut down and a more detailed inspection of the aircraft began.
“Hey, Mr. Poggi, you have got to see Lieutenant Gore’s aircraft,” Franson called to him.
“Why, is it bad?” Rob asked as he and Ben started walking up the flight line, looking at the damage to everyone’s aircraft. All had the common puncture marks created by a bullet passing through sheet metal. Rob noticed several people gathered around Gore’s aircraft. The cover over the tail rotor drive shaft was open.
“Hey, Alston, where did you take one?” Ben asked as he approached the group.
“Can you believe this shit?” Alston asked as he pointed at the drive shaft, a four-inch aluminum pipe. Dead center in it was a bullet hole, perfectly centered and perfectly round, straight through the drive shaft.
“Alston, I’ll fly with you any day—you have a very powerful guardian angel,” Ben said.
“Lieutenant Gore, if I didn’t know better, I would say someone shot that tail rotor drive shaft while the aircraft was sitting on the ground and the shaft wasn’t turning. I’ve never seen anything like this,” the maintenance warrant officer said as he stepped back from inspecting the damage. “You can fly it back and we’ll replace the shaft tonight,” he added.
The senior advisor for the ARVNs came by, and Major Adams had a brief discussion with him. The advisor understood that with just ten combat aircraft, the second insertion would have fewer troops but insisted that they had to get in to reinforce those already inserted. Major Adams reluctantly gathered the aircraft commanders together.
“Gentlemen, we have to take a second lift in or they probably won’t be able to hold the landing zone or retake the firebase,” he said. Enthusiasm for a second lift was not registered on anyone’s face. “I don’t like it, but I’ll take the flight lead position. Bob, you sit this one out,” he said to Bob Zuccardi, who was the aircraft commander on Yellow Two. “Let’s crank and get it done.”
With that, everyone started given the arm signal to crank the aircraft, and crews reluctantly donned their chicken plates. Murmured comments could be heard, along with a “Hail Mary” or two.
Once the ARVN soldiers were loaded, Major Adams led the flight back to landing zone. The second insertion was a repeat of the first, but no aircraft were lost and no one was injured. Everyone had additional holes, however. On their return to Dak To, the condition of each aircraft was assessed. Only four aircraft were considered combat-effective, with the remaining six flyable but not combat-effective, and all returned to Camp Holloway for repairs and maintenance. The CO’s aircraft would probably be destroyed in place, and Lieutenant Zuccardi’s aircraft would have to be slung back to Camp Holloway under a CH-47. At least no one had been killed or wounded. Chicken-man was beginning to realize that this wasn’t like flying in the Lai Khe area anymore.
Chapter 34
Night Extraction
“Major, wake up, sir,” Captain Curran said, gently nudging the major’s foot.
“Yeah, I’m awake. What’s up? What time is it?” the major asked, rubbing his hand over his face.
“Sir, we just got a mission request with a oh-five-hundred H-hour pickup. One ship. I thought you would want to see this before I get a crew together. It’s oh two thirty hours now.”
Sitting up and reaching for a light next to his bed, the major stared up at Captain Curran, not fully awake. The cup of coffee that the good captain was extending was a welcome gift. Taking a sip, the major cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m awake now. Thanks. What’s the mission?”
“Sir, we are to provide one aircraft to make an extraction of one individual at oh five hundred in the vicinity of Firebase Six in a PZ that’s about one klick from the firebase. The aircraft will have an escort of four Cobras. The individual to be picked up is Lieutenant Thacker, the guy who stayed behind and covered the withdrawal with artillery fire.”
Fully awake now, the major asked, “That guy is still alive?”
“Evidently, sir. He’s been hiding out in the jungle around the firebase since Frank and the boys escaped. I guess he’s been pinned down by the NVA and couldn’t move for a couple of days, and he still can’t get back to Firebase Five. He has a radio and made contact, and they want us to get him extracted. Who do you want me to pass this mission to? It should be a guy with a lot of night flying experience,” Captain Curran explained.36
Coming out of his bed, the major slipped on his flight suit pants. “No one. I’ll take this mission. Get me another AC with night experience to fly as copilot. I’ll be in Ops in a few minutes,” the major directed.
Captain Curran started to protest, but the look the major gave him told him that his words would fall on deaf ears. With a simple “Yes, sir, I will wake your crew,” the captain left.
After the mission brief conducted by Captain Curran, Major Adams departed with Frank Zuccardi as copilot and flew to Dak To, where they met the aircraft commanders of the four Cobras and the senior advisor. The senior advisor took everyone to his headquarters for a briefing.
“Brian has been out there on his own now for eight days or so. He hasn’t been able to move much due to the NVA that are surrounding Firebase Six, but he finally got himself to a small clearing that can take two aircraft. He’s been there for a day now and reports no activity. The clearing is located here.” He pointed at the map. “He recommends a south-to-north approach as he says the trees are the lowest on that access. When he hears you approaching, he’ll mark his location with a flashlight with a red lens. He’s on FM radio, thirty-five point five zero. His call sign will be Runner One. I told him you would contact him at oh four forty-five for an oh-five-hundred extraction. It’ll still be fairly dark and may offer you some cover. Sunrise is at oh five thirty today. What’s your questions?” the senior advisor asked. There were none.
Turning to the flight leader for the Cobras, Major Adams asked, “What’s your air-to-air frequency?”
The flight leader gave it to him, adding, “I’m going to have two aircraft remain high at one thousand feet, and two will come in low on each side of you as you approach and enter the PZ. As you come out, the two high birds will drop down to cover you and the two low birds will climb to cover everyone. How’s that sound?” he asked.
“I’m good. Let’s go do this,” Major Adams said, extending his hand to the flight leader. Handshakes were exchanged all around and everyone returned to their respective aircraft.
After briefing Specialist Durand, his crew chief, and Specialist Robinson, the door gunner, Major Adams strapped in and Frank cranked the aircraft. Things were quiet as each member of the crew was lost in their own thoughts. A single aircraft flying at night into a known heavily fortified hostile area was not the most pleasant of situations to be in, even with four Cobras watching over you. As Firebase Six was only seven klicks from the airstrip, Major Adams tuned his FM radio to the frequency for Runner One as well as the frequency for the Cobras on the UHF radio. He knew the Cobras would be monitoring the FM radio as well.
“Runner One, Chicken-man Six, over,” the major transmitted. Nothing. “Runner One, Chicken-man Six, over,” he repeated and waited.
Finally in a whisper, the
reply came. “Chicken-man Six, Runner One, I have you. PZ is clear. I say again, PZ is clear. Over.”
“Roger, Runner One, understood PZ clear. We’re on the way. Chicken-man out,” the major responded and nodded to Frank to take off. The major wanted to minimize communications with Runner One for fear that the NVA might be listening and could have radio direction finders to pinpoint Runner One’s position. As Frank pulled in power, the Cobras did likewise, and immediately all four climbed to altitude for the short trip to Runner One’s position. Frank maintained his low-level flight while the major navigated, picking out checkpoints along the flight route he’d plotted. On the eastern horizon, daylight was beginning to appear and indicated that it was going to be a rainy overcast day.
Four minutes into the flight, the major heard, “Chicken-man Six, Runner One, I can hear you approaching. Red light is out.”
“Roger, Runner One. Two minutes out,” the major responded.
“Sir,” said Durand, getting the major’s attention, “a Cobra has just pulled up behind and on my side.” Quickly Robinson indicated the same on his side. Both crew members had had their guns up and ready since the aircraft had first taken off.
Commencing a deceleration at treetop level, Frank spotted a red dot in the middle of a small clearing and increased his deceleration while lowering his collective even more. As the aircraft came to a hover, a slight rocking could be felt. Lieutenant Thacker was on the skids before the aircraft even touched the ground.
“Sir, he’s aboard,” Durand said, and without further comment, Frank was pulling as much power as he could and building airspeed and altitude rapidly out of the PZ. No one shot at them.
“We got him,” was all the major said to the Cobra flight leader. “We got him.”
Looking over his shoulder, Major Adams saw Brian sitting on the floor, his back against the transmission wall, his head tilted back, his eyes looking up. Finally Brian looked forward at Major Adams. In the dim light of the aircraft instruments’ lights, Major Adams could see Brian’s white teeth and the double thumbs-up Brian was flashing him.