by Lew Jennings
Major Curtin always carried emergency rescue gear aboard his Huey in the event we were shot down, so he could try and rescue us. The Army hadn’t devised standardized rescue gear yet and it was left to each unit to devise their own methods. In this case, it was a single 60 to 120-foot line with a 4 inch by 4 inch by 4 foot square post tied to it in the middle. The idea was to lower it to the person on the ground and, if they were able, they could sit on it with the line between their legs and hold on as the aircraft lifted them out of the jungle.
“Bickle and I sat on the 4 by 4 facing each other with the line between us. Acord had sent down another piece of rope 10 feet long or so. We tied ourselves together and held on for dear life. As the Boss and his Pilot, Keith Nichols, tried to lift us out of the jungle, we swung back and forth crashing into trees hoping the Huey had enough power to get us out of there!”
“We got a little banged up but they were able to do it and after we cleared the trees they flew us, dangling below the helicopter at the end of the line, over to the old Aloui Airstrip nearby where we landed and then helped us into the Huey. Curtin then flew us all the way back to the 22nd Surgical Hospital at Phu Bai.”
“They performed emergency surgery on my leg and transferred me down to the 6th Convalescent Center at Nha Trang,” Ryan recalled. “The medical folks kept asking me if I wanted to go home. I told them I just wanted to go back to the unit. After almost three months at Nha Trang they allowed me to go back north to rejoin the Troop,” Ryan concluded.
We had lost two of our best Scout Pilots. Bob Larsen was recovering in Japan after being shot down and wounded at Hamburger Hill and Mike Ryan was recovering down at Nha Trang. At the time, we didn’t know whether either one of them would be returning to the unit.
A new replacement Scout Pilot arrived about then. His name was Dick Melick.
“I arrived at the unit and the CO told me I would be a Scout Pilot,” Dick remembers. “I was a Huey Pilot but the Boss needed Scout Pilots, so I was assigned to Eddy Joiner to mentor and train me as a Scout flying the OH-6 Loach,” he continued.
“Eddy told me about the Scout crashes. There had been nearly one a week lately.”
“Goodspeed had been shot down on his first mission into the A Shau Valley, although he survived and was flying again. His Observer had been severely wounded though and apparently had lost his leg.”
“A week later Bob Larsen had been shot down near Hamburger Hill and wounded when a bullet went through his foot, exploded the fire extinguisher under his seat and he took shrapnel in his legs. He had been evacuated to Japan.”
“And now Mike Ryan had been wounded and evacuated too!”
“We’re going back out to the A Shau,” Eddy told me as I got ready for my first mission. I didn’t know he was also known as “The Mad Bomber” because of his passion for constructing home-made explosive devices to blow things up.”
“Here, carry this in your lap,” Eddy instructed. “We’re going to use it to blow up a bridge today!”
“He had taken an empty 5-gallon gas can, filled it with a jellied gasoline concoction similar to napalm and had taped a white phosphorous grenade on top. He intended for us to drop it onto a hanging bridge they had discovered earlier out there in the mountains.”
“It seemed awfully dangerous to me,” Melick recalls, “however I was a newbie and Ed ‘The Mad Bomber’ was my mentor.”
What Ed didn’t mention to Melick was his failed attempt to blow up the bridge a day or two before. He had constructed a gasoline bomb and actually landed on the bridge, balancing the helicopter skids on the bridge while holding power to keep the weight off while his Observer pulled the pin, dropped the bomb and they took off. The bomb blew, however the structure was so wet from recent rains that it didn’t catch on fire and remained intact. This would be the second attempt.
“I could barely fit in the tiny Loach helicopter and trying to manhandle the heavy 5-gallon jerry can bomb at the same was no easy task,” Melick continued.
“We flew out to the west side of the A Shau Valley. Ed explained that one of the Gunship Pilots was able to destroy a bridge out there a week earlier but this one was in a deep crevasse and well camouflaged and the only way to get to it was to fly in and hover right over it.”
“We did just that and Ed instructed me to pop the handle on the white phosphorous grenade and I would have about two seconds to throw the whole thing out onto the bridge.”
“I did as he told me but had a tough time lifting the jerry can clear of the aircraft, dropping it as the seconds ticked away. The thing blew up just below us about one second after I dropped it, showering the bridge with gasoline and setting everything on fire. It scared the shit out of me!”
“Eddy was just laughing and hooting and hollering. Job well done!” he said as a compliment.
“We sent in our spot reports of more enemy build-up on that side of the valley and our successful destruction of the suspension bridge,” Melick continued. “I would end up being signed off and flying as a Scout in a little over a week instead of the usual two months and would fly over 130 hours a month as a Scout Pilot.”
Dick Melick would become a great Scout Pilot for the Troop. He would later take over our Aircraft Maintenance Operations to keep the birds flying and end up as the unit Operations Officer, running the Tactical Operations Center.
Eddy “Mad Bomber” Joiner congratulates his “Assistant Mad Bomber” Dick Melick on receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross for destroying the bridge with an “incendiary device”.
In the meantime, with all the new enemy activity being reported by our Air Cavalry Teams, enemy skirmishes with the two Airborne Infantry Battalions still out there, Firebase Currahee being attacked and the 3/5th Mech convoy ambushed, the Brass finally decided enough was enough. Time to bring in the heavies. A B-52 “Arc Light’” Air Strike was requested.
B-52’s, introduced in the 1950’s, had been built as Strategic Nuclear-weapons carrying Bombers for the Air Force’s Strategic Air Command (SAC).
General Westmoreland lobbied to get B-52 support in Vietnam as a Tactical Bomber, dropping conventional “Iron Bombs”. SAC relented and two Bomber Wings with their B-52s were modified to carry high explosive bombs and deployed to Andersen Air Force Base in Guam to support Ground Commanders in Vietnam with massive tactical bombing capability.
A total of 72 B-52 Bombers were modified for Tactical Air support. In 1967, the B-52’s were moved to Thailand to provide quicker response times and eliminate the aerial refueling required by the 2,500-mile flights from Guam.
Each B-52 could carry a massive 60,000 pounds of ordnance with 108 bombs; eighty-four 500-pounders internally, and another twenty-four 750-pound bombs on external wing racks.
They typically flew in formations of three or more dropping their bombs from 30,000 feet. We were warned well in advance whenever an Arc Light was inbound and to stay well clear of the ensuing carnage.
Mike Talton and Al Goodspeed were standing by to witness the Arc Light a few days later. They were circling over the A Shau Valley, well clear of the intended target area around Don Ap Bia. They were to go in after the Arc Light to do a “BDA” or Bomb Damage Assessment.
Mike Talton relates what happened.
“Speed and I and were tasked to stand by along the eastern ridge of the Valley, directly across the Valley floor from Hamburger Hill. An Arc Light was scheduled to walk bombs across the top of the Hill and Speed and I were to zoom into the smoke and perform a BDA to assess the results of the strike.”
“As we flew north looking west or to our left at the Hill, mushrooms started to grow out of the trees south of the Hill, three lines of mushrooms, straight lines running from south to north.”
“The mushrooms started as small blooms just visible above the tree lines that had survived the Battle for Hamburger Hill back in May, and then grew rapidly as dirty brown, black and grey miniature atomic-bomb-like clouds, rolling and boiling and interlaced with flashes of red. As we wat
ched them grow and extend their line northward, down into gullies and up over ridges, heading for the Hill, it occurred to us that we had visuals but no audibles, no sound. Everything was silent, except for the sounds of our helicopter.”
“Then our Cobra literally rolled over onto its right side away from the lines of mushroom clouds, as if pushed by a huge unseen hand, and at that instant we were ‘hit’ by the sounds of deep, rolling thunder that went on and on. At some point, the visuals and audibles seemed to synch up so that we saw the bomb explosions and heard the loud booms somewhat simultaneously, even though what we were hearing and seeing was lagging due to the time it took for the sounds to travel across the Valley and from the Hill to our over-watch position along the eastern ridge line.”
“It appeared there were three B-52’s running in a ‘V’ formation high over our heads, so high that we never saw them, not even contrails. We knew they were in a ‘V’ of three because of the strikes of their bombs when we saw the first ‘mushrooms’ bloom.”
“The three bomb lines ran over the top of the Hill and onward to the north for some distance. Don't know how many bombs they dropped or if they were all of the same weight and fuse type, but the explosions occurred rapidly, joined together by an invisible force that kept the three lines parallel and straight, at least from our perspective.”
“Speed took off in his little Scout bird on a beeline for the Hill as soon as the last boom ‘boomed’. Don't remember if he aimed for the crest or if he started his recon from the south along the same bomb run used by the High Flyers.”
“The massive destruction of the Arc Light was incredible to behold. Huge bomb craters, blown bunkers, destroyed fighting positions, collapsed trenches and tunnels. We didn’t see any bodies. I think if there were any enemy left, they had been blown to smithereens or buried deep in their own underground fortresses.”
“From then on, I wished we had Arc Light on call like TAC Air, Artillery or ARA,” Mike concluded.
The B-52 Stratofortress, as it was officially designated, became known throughout the Air Force simply as the BUFF – Big, Ugly, Fat, Fucker!
General William Westmoreland considered B-52s essential to U.S. efforts in Vietnam. From June 1965 until August 1973, when operations ceased, the BUFFs flew 124,532 sorties, successfully dropping their bomb loads on targets.
Thirty-One B-52s were lost, eighteen shot down by the enemy (all over North Vietnam), and the other thirteen lost to operational problems.
B-52 tail gunners, believe it or not, were also credited with three air-to-air combat kills, shooting down MIGs with their Quad-50’s, earning the B-52 the distinction as the largest aircraft ever credited with air-to-air combat kills.
We loved the BUFFs and became forever indebted to the B-52 drivers and crews for their efforts helping those of us down in the trenches.
That night back at home base, we hoisted a few to the Air Force as we enjoyed the taste of sweet revenge seeing Hamburger Hill blown to bits once again.
B-52 BUFF Arc Light
Arc Light Bombs strike Hamburger Hill
Eddy Joiner's Scout Bird
Eddy “Mad Bomber” Joiner, Assault 11
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MONSOON
The summer Monsoon season roared in on July 11, my 23rd birthday, when Typhoon Tess came within 50 miles of Camp Eagle with lots of rain and wind and setting records for rainfall that month.
The weather was really cramping our style and wreaking havoc with our support to the troops in the field. The heavy rains and winds were keeping us from flying for days on end.
We tried to keep busy and stay dry, whiling away the hours in our hooches reading, playing cards, cleaning our gear, studying our flight manuals (or other technical publications like Playboy Magazine), or just trying to get some sleep. The problem was, we were being constantly interrupted by Captain Roy “Bud” Dowdy, the Executive Officer or XO of our unit.
Executive Officers are the second-in-command guys in most military organizations. Their primary responsibility is to take care of all the administrative and housekeeping chores in the unit so the Commanding Officer can concentrate on leading and commanding. That automatically makes the Executive Officer a pain in the ass. The better he is at his job, the more painful it is for the rest of us. And Bud Dowdy was a very good XO!
The last two days Dowdy had been on a rant about sand bags. Our hooches were surrounded by stacks of sand bags up to about four feet high, to protect the occupants from enemy fire, especially shrapnel, from incoming mortars and rockets.
It seemed like every time we got into a good card game or deep into the latest edition of Playboy Magazine, Dowdy would come barging in and roust us out into the pouring rain to fill and stack more sand bags. I think he just had a hard-on for us lazy Warrant Officer Pilots.
After two days of this never-ending harassment, the CO came to our hooch asking for volunteers to do a reconnaissance mission of the nearby Perfume River. I couldn’t raise my hand fast enough as I leaped up from my bunk and was already putting on my gear and heading for the door.
Hunched over into the wind and rain and wearing a poncho to keep me dry, I ran to the hooch next door to get Stan Shearin as my Copilot. Stan was a tall, lanky, good-looking guy with an easy smile. What I really liked about him was his size. He would fill up the entire front cockpit and was the perfect Bullet Catcher.
We headed up to see Sergeant Saunders at the Operations Bunker to get our Mission Brief. Al Goodspeed was already there and would be our Scout for the mission.
The Perfume River was just a few kilometers (klicks for short) from our base at Camp Eagle. We were to fly out and conduct a reconnaissance of the river to make sure the enemy wasn’t taking advantage of the rotten weather to creep up on our Base Defenses.
The whole operation shouldn’t take more than an hour to perform unless we ran into trouble. And I wasn’t in any hurry to see the XO again anytime soon.
Our CO, Major Tom Curtin, was going to join us on the mission, flying his Huey. I think he was tired of hanging around home base the past few days and just wanted to get out into the fresh air with us. He didn’t have to fill sand bags for the XO, so I don’t think he really cared when he got back.
The weather was pretty crummy with low ceilings and limited visibility in the fog and rain. We followed the CO’s Huey and Al Goodspeed in his Loach with me dragging up the rear in our Cobra. We hadn’t been flying five minutes though when the CO called, “23 and 16, Assault 6. I’m heading back to base. This weather is too lousy to be out here although you can continue the mission if you’re up for it.”
“16, 23, you up for it?” I queried Speed. “23, 16, roger, let’s do it,” he replied.
“6 this is 23, we’ll continue the mission, over,” I called to the Boss as he headed back to Camp Eagle.
“16, 23, let’s drop down low on the river and take it nice and slow in this visibility,” I called to Speed.
The visibility was really terrible. I could hardly see a thing in front of us with the rain pounding on the front windshield. I pushed right pedal and crabbed the helicopter to look out the side as we flew along at less than 50 knots. The visibility while crabbing that way was much better.
“Stan, keep a close eye on where we’re at on the Tactical Map in case we need to make any calls or reports,” I directed.
He spread out the map in front of him to follow along. It covered the whole front windshield as I strained to keep an eye on Speed as he weaved back and forth low over the water in front of us.
We hadn’t been flying another two minutes when BAM! We smashed headlong into a huge tree angled out over the river. The collision was violent and threw us forward into our shoulder harnesses as the helicopter came to a sudden stop and started to fall sideways into the water below.
I could see branches flying all around us and getting stuck into the rocket pods as we fell sideways out of the tree. I pulled pitch to slow the fall and eased the cyclic forward, trying to wi
sh the helicopter into flying again. I was certain the landing gear was gone and had no idea of what other damage had been done as the helicopter barely recovered and started flying again just inches above the water.
“Stan, you okay?” I called on the intercom, as my stomach tried to recover from the sudden rush of adrenalin.
“Yeah, I’m okay. What the hell just happened?”
“We ran into a tree. Let me call Speed and get him back here to take a look at us to see what was damaged.”
“16, 23. Turn around and fly back down the river. We’ve run into a tree and I need you to assess the damage,” I called.
“23, 16. On my way. You guys okay?”
Before I could answer, the Boss called.
“23, this is 6. Did I hear you right? You ran into a tree?”
He was still on frequency. Damn, no getting around this one!
“6, 23. Roger that. We’re assessing the damage now. I think the skids may have been torn off and the landing gear gone. I don’t know if the turret with the mini-gun and grenade launcher is still there. I can see damage to the Wing Stores,” I replied. “Otherwise, we’re still airborne and heading back to base.”
“Roger,” the Boss replied. “I’ll get the Maintenance Crews ready for your arrival.”
Good grief! We’re the only ones out here in this weather which means everyone in the unit is going to be there to witness my arrival. I’ll be the laughing stock of Alpha Troop if not all of Camp Eagle!
Speed came up close in his Scout bird to take a look at the damage.
“Your skids are still attached and your gun turret is still there, however you have branches sticking out of your rocket pods and what looks like significant damage to your right wing,” he described.
That was good news. I hadn’t ripped off the turret and the landing gear was still attached, however it couldn’t be trusted to hold the weight of the helicopter. And there was no way to jettison the rockets or pods so we’ll just have to land with all the ordnance on board.