by Lew Jennings
The weather was a high overcast with lots of moisture in the air. Not a bad day to fly, however, we expected to find fog in the valleys, obscuring the hills after all the recent rains.
Sure enough, as we arrived over the A Shau Valley, there was dense fog from one end to the other. We radioed the weather report back to Home Base. No operations possible for a few hours yet. There was nothing for us to do but head back home.
With the arrival of monsoon season, the 101st Division pulled nearly all its forces from the mountainous areas back to the coastal plain. That included the A Shau Valley and all the firebases around there that had been constructed and occupied earlier that year; Airborne, Berchtesgaden, Currahee, Rendezvous, Zon, Cannon, Blaze and others now lay abandoned until next Spring, when the weather would allow operations in the area again.
Except for us in the Air Cavalry. Our mission had always been to be the eyes and ears for the Division, so we still operated out there to keep a look out for enemy activities. If possible, we would engage them with our Cobras and Scouts or bring in the fast mover fighter jets. In limited situations we would do a mini combat assault with our Hueys to put our Blues on the ground to check things out.
We had to be extra careful though as we were the only ones out there and lacked support from other ground forces or Artillery. Hence, the first light weather checks to make go or no-go decisions for us and other aviation units.
As we turned to head back home, I saw a Huey from another unit doing the same as us, apparently checking the weather conditions. He had turned around and was heading back towards the coast as well.
About then Speed called, as we were flying over the eastern ridge of the valley. “Let’s do a recon of the road on the way back,” he said, as he started descending. “Hokey dokey,” I responded and descended to stay on him.
This road was now designated Highway 547, the dirt road that been constructed by the Division engineers last spring, where the convoy had been attacked. As soon as he was down low on the road, he started his usual tactics of weaving back and forth to keep from getting shot down as he scoured the area looking for enemy activity.
As we approached the abandoned firebase at Cannon, Speed called me. “Holy cow, 23! There’s all kinds of fresh tracks heading up to those old bunkers on the hill. Foot prints. Water still dripping in them,” he reported, as he broke right and headed towards the bunkers.
“Be careful, Speed.” I called back, as I slowed to get ready for action.
Captain Seth Hudgins was our new Platoon Leader and I had him in the front seat on his very first flight with us. He was a West Point graduate and very sharp guy. We hit it off immediately.
“Seth, get ready with the mini-gun in case we run into bad guys,” I warned, as we kept a hawk eye on Speed.
Then it happened. Speed’s Loach pitched straight up for about a hundred feet, then pitched straight down, heading for a huge tree. The nose started coming up as they crashed into the tree, pitching them end-over-end through the air and crashing on the ground right side up.
The tail boom and rotor blades had broken off and the landing gear was flattened. As I circled overhead, I couldn’t tell right away if anyone had survived.
“Seth, start firing the mini-gun at those bunkers as we pass them and just keep firing the grenade launcher the rest of the time,” I hollered.
Then I instantly got on the UHF radio to the emergency channel that all aircraft monitor. “MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! THIS IS ASSAULT 23 VICINITY FIREBASE CANNON. MY LOACH HAS BEEN SHOT DOWN AND CRASHED. MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!”
“Assault 23, this is Coachmen. I’m just a few minutes east. Let me know how I can assist, over.”
Yay! I couldn’t believe it! The Huey I saw a few minutes earlier heard my call and was headed our way.
“Coachmen, Assault 23. I’ll keep an eye out for you and escort you in,” I called back as we continued to circle the downed aircraft, while Seth fired the mini-gun and grenade launcher.
I could see one of the crew crawling out from the wreckage now and trying to get the other one out too, as I called back to Home Base to tell them Speed had crashed.
Al “Speed” Goodspeed describes what happed.
“I was about 300 to 400 meters ahead of Lew. As I approached Firebase Cannon, I noticed that a large number of suspected NVA had crossed the road headed south and muddy foot prints led up a steep slope and dispersed into an old complex of bunkers overlooking the firebase.”
“There were about 15 to 20 bunkers and as I flew down to ground level I could see that footprints lead to every bunker. There was no doubt that the bunkers were occupied.”
“By now, I knew Lew was into killer mode. But I didn't draw any fire. I told Lew I was going to fly over the bunkered area again and give it a closer look. Still no fire, so I decided to put some mini-gun on the bunkers. I lined up and was going to run low to high over the complex and fire my mini-gun into those bunkers. That worked just fine until I was at the top of my run, intending to make another run back down.”
“Before I even pedal-turned to begin the run all hell broke loose. An AK47 round came through the top of my aircraft and hit me high on my left upper back and penetrated through my chest, exiting from my right upper back. The impact was so violent that both my arms flew straight out and were spasming.”
“The next thing I knew the aircraft was diving straight toward the ground. Both my arms were still shaking above my head. It looked like we were going to crash nose first into the ground at a high rate of speed, and maybe hit a tree. We hit the ground really hard and bounced up, flipping end over end. When the aircraft quit flipping, the main rotors and tail boom had been severed from the aircraft and it was lying down favoring the right side of the aircraft. The engine was still screaming at max RPM, allowing what was left of the rotor head to continue to spin.”
“My Observer, Sergeant Williams, had exited the aircraft and crawled around to my side to render assistance to me. As I knew he would, Lew had already started attacking the bunker complex with accurate rocket, grenade launcher, and mini-gun fire. This all but stopped the fire that we had been taking when we crashed. Even though I was busted up pretty good, I knew that Lew would fight until his last breath to see that Williams and I were out of the jam we were in.”
“After we crashed I was able to get my seat harness off and I was trying to shut down the engine before the fuel around us ignited. I tried to turn the throttle off, but what was left of the control linkage wouldn't allow it to move. Sergeant Williams was lying next to me and saw me struggling with the throttle. He reached in to try and help me close it. I was bleeding so badly from my nose and mouth that I could hardly breathe, let alone talk. Aside from that, I couldn't move anything but my arms. I couldn't feel anything else in my body.”
“When Williams reached in to help me with the throttle, I just hit his arm and motioned for him to try to get me out. Unfortunately, I couldn't give him much help. He persevered and dragged me out to where only my feet were still almost in the wreckage. By now Lew had suppressed all of the fire we were taking.”
As Williams was struggling to get Speed out of the wreckage, I spotted the Huey coming from the east and flew out to meet and escort him in, explaining the crash site and promising we would cover him the whole time if he would land and assist the crew. He agreed and a minute later we were on low approach to the crash site.
We stayed between Coachmen’s Huey and where I thought the enemy location was, while firing rockets at the bunker complex as he landed next at the crash site. We continued circling and firing and covering them as his crew was getting the survivors aboard.
They were airborne just a minute or two later, heading towards hospital facilities 20 to 30 minutes away. All the Huey Pilots knew well the Surgical Hospitals at Quang Tri, Camp Evans and Phu Bai. The call was already in to the 85th Evac Hospital at Phu Bai to get medical personnel ready for the inbound flight of wounded.
Speed continues telling what happen
ed.
“As I lay in the mud next to the crash, it occurred to me that at the very least I had a sucking chest wound. My ability to breathe was diminishing and I was bleeding out. The only fight I had left was to keep my face out of the mud. Frankly, it was a peaceful feeling.”
“It was then that I heard rotor blades that could only belong to a Huey. They were landing very nearby and Sergeant Williams was already trying to get me up. I couldn't move. It felt like I was a big bowl of Jello being held together by my Chicken Plate. One of the door gunners on the Huey jumped out and helped drag me aboard. The Pilot immediately took off toward the 85th Evac Hospital in Phu Bai, about 25 minutes away.”
“I had been put on the floor of the Huey, lying face up, and this made my breathing even more difficult. But, thanks to Lew's quick action in getting help from the 101st Aviation Battalion the rescue was much quicker than it might have been. Already I was beginning to think that I just might make it. However, lying on my back, blood was pouring into my lungs, risking drowning in my own blood. With everything I had in me, I was able to roll onto my stomach which allowed me to gasp for more air.”
“I remember lying on the floor, looking at the Air Speed Indicator between the Pilot and Copilot to see if we were going fast enough to get to the 85th Evac in time. The ASI indicated that we were running at about 135 knots which was about as fast as we could go.”
“I was still barely conscious when we landed on the Helipad just outside of the Emergency Room. There was already a crew of medics and nurses waiting for me. They immediately loaded me onto a stretcher to carry me into the ER. I knew that I was in shock and they repeatedly asked me for my Service Number which I repeatedly mumbled back to them. After about four times it dawned on me that they were just trying to keep me talking, so I wouldn't lose consciousness. I even remembered one of the nurses who had treated me for minor shrapnel wounds on another occasion. I finally told them to quit asking my Service Number and that I was not going to lose consciousness.”
“After that I kept saying ‘Holy Shit, Ten Days,’ over and over again. They quit asking for my Service Number and seemed to accept what I was saying as long as I was saying something.”
Back at Firebase Cannon, I was helpless to do any more for Speed and Williams and felt sick to my stomach and close to tears as I continued to circle the wrecked aircraft waiting for the Blues and a recovery team from our unit.
I relived the story with Seth of my first flight into the A Shau with Speed so long ago. How he had been blasted by a 12.7mm anti-aircraft machine gun. Watching his rotor blades stop in flight. Seeing them roll end over end as the aircraft came apart. Landing on the trail. Mike Talton disappearing into the elephant grass to help them out. John Hayden’s leg nearly amputated by a hit to the femoral artery. Tom Michel coming in with a Scout bird to take Hayden out. Goodspeed banged up but in great shape considering what had happened.
Now I had no idea whether he would make it or not. And less than a week or two to go and he would have been out of here.
One of our Pink Teams arrived a few minutes later to relieve me on station. I briefed them on what happened and where I thought the enemy fire had have come from. They would provide cover for the inbound Blues and maintenance crews that would secure the site and get the wreckage prepared to sling load out and back to Camp Eagle.
The CO was already on his way to the hospital to check on Speed.
The last report we had on Al Goodspeed was that they had nearly cut him in half to repair all the damage to his organs and lungs and his condition was critical. If he lived, he would be evacuated out of country as soon as possible.
As I lay on my bunk that night staring at the ceiling of our hooch and grieving for Speed, I resolved not to joke about being a short timer anymore and concentrate on surviving the countdown to going home; 29 days and a wake-up.
“Speedbird”, December 29, 1969
Postscript: It would be 20 years before I would find out that Speed survived, when I attended a very emotional surprise reunion in New Orleans, arranged by the buds in 1990. Here Speed continues the story of his crash as he relates his dramatic experience on arrival at the 85th Surgical Hospital at Phu Bai.
“Though I was still babbling, gasping, and sputtering blood from my nose and mouth, I was relieved when the team of medics moved me from the seemingly unstable stretcher to a wheeled gurney and directly into the ER, while attaching various vitals equipment.”
“They moved me off the gurney onto a stainless-steel table where they immediately started cutting off my clothes and boots. At the same time, they inserted IV's into my jugular and carotid arteries, each containing an economy sized bag of whole blood.”
“I was still babbling about being SHORT when they flipped me over to check for other wounds. The table was completely encircled by Doctors, Nurses and Medics, calmly attaching more tubes and equipment. Though babbling, I was focused on the two bags of blood hanging over me as they deflated. I could feel the blood going out of the gunshot wounds in my upper back, flowing down the table to a drain somewhere.”
“When the surgeon told me that he was now going to insert chest tubes into my right chest and it might hurt, I remember thinking he must be nuts because nothing could hurt any worse. Of course, I was wrong. The chest tubes are about half of a centimeter in diameter and the steel tips are about four inches long. He jammed two of them directly into my chest like spikes! I hadn't been given anything for pain so it was excruciating! More painful than the gunshot!”
“Once that was completed they were ready to move me to the OR where repairs would begin. The last thing I felt was the gurney bumping over the threshold of the OR.”
“I awakened about mid-morning on the 30th of Dec 1969, ready to start my new life. Upon wake-up the Nurse at my bedside said that she needed to change my bandages. I asked if I could see the wounds to which she replied that they hadn't been sutured yet. I insisted, and she reluctantly brought me a mirror. I expected to see a couple of small holes. Instead, I saw a huge 4" by 2" gash about 1.5" deep on the entry point side and a gaping round hole about 5" in diameter on the exit wound side. I could literally see inside my chest cavity. I could have put my fist inside it!”
“I asked her, why so big? She said the impact of a supersonic projectile going through the body kills a lot of flesh which must be removed in order to keep from putrefying and becoming highly infected. The hot humid environment in Vietnam was the perfect place for infection for any wound, small or large.”
“When she finished bandaging me again she asked me that if I felt up to it, she could have me wheeled outside for some sun. A medic wheeled me out to a patio. With all the attachments and IV's, it was quite a production. For once the unbearable heat and humidity of Vietnam felt wonderful and there was even a slight breeze. It was one of the most peaceful times of my life.”
“I reflected on what a hellish year it had been. I thought about the many members of our Troop who had been lost and seriously wounded, and how I'd been blessed to serve with a group of the most courageous, dedicated, and professional men in the world.”
“All of us had jobs that could test your skills, your strength, and your sanity. As a Scout Pilot, we were dependent upon the Gunship Pilots who protected us at all costs. This kind of relationship goes way beyond simple friendship. Knowing that there were heroes such as these watching you as if they were mother bears protecting their cubs, made it a lot easier to strap on our small aircraft and fly into an area, daring the enemy to try their luck with us.”
“If we were hit, the Cobra Pilots stayed with us until we were rescued. They were all prepared to land and assist us until additional help arrived. If need be they would even strap us to their own aircraft to get us to safety. They were the Top Guns of Army Aviation, and deserved the utmost admiration. These are the men who could be depended upon to get steel on target during tough times. In the end, I decided that the Band of Brothers with whom I'd been surrounded far out-weighed the perils
I experienced that year of 1969.”
“I don't know how long I'd enjoyed the sun that morning, when a medic came out to retrieve me. I was wheeled back to the ward where dedicated Doctors, Nurses and other medical staff were busy caring for the never-ending stream of casualties they tended to every day. I was astounded at their professionalism as they continuously, and passionately, did everything humanly possible to comfort and treat their patients.”
“I was at the 85th Evac Hospital for about a week. Once I was out of Intensive Care, I was transferred south to the Hospital in Da Nang.”
“On or about the 11th of Jan 1970, I was loaded onto a USAF C-130 Cargo Plane that was packed with racks of stretchers stacked about 12" apart and about 8 high, probably about 120 stretchers in all, plus about 20 regular seats for those who were ambulatory and could walk and sit up. I was one of those in the stacked stretchers. This plane carried us to Camp Zama, Japan.”
“At Camp Zama, I was assigned to a 40-man ward and a few days after my arrival they sutured my wounds. Before I went into the OR for the closing I asked the Surgeon how they were going to fill the large tears in my back. He said they would stretch the surrounding flesh and wire them shut. I asked him if he could stretch the flesh that much. He replied that he could stretch it all the way to my asshole if he wanted to. That ended my questions!”
“When I was returned to the ward I met a new patient in the bed next to me. I noticed that he was sporting a colostomy bag on his side. I asked him what had happened to him. He said that he had been in Vihn Long as a Scout Pilot with C/7/1st Cav. He said that he'd been shot in the dick. Come to find out, he had been infused from A/2/17th Air Cav. He had been the guy that replaced me when I went north nearly a year earlier to Alpha Troop! His name was Roger Catlin. I told him I was damned glad we traded places.”