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David Mitchell
I got to visit with our church's third graders today and shared some thoughts with two other guys -then busy the rest of the day.
I would like to honor one particular veteran who meant a grret deal to me but the various parts of the story will be a bit long, so I will break it up in parts.
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10 - RIP GOES DOWN and I GO OFF !
- My Wakeup Call
Sorry this is a bit long. It's mostly background for the last two parts of this story.
After my crazy vomit-filled start, Captain Joiner did move me into the right seat. There I would fly for one full week with one of my other fellow Scout platoon pilots in my left seat as my “Observer”, to further coach me up on how to fly as a “Wing” man behind one of our “Lead” pilots. This was normal for all new Scout pilots. Fortunately, none of them had my weak stomach and we got through that week without any complications. I told the guys in my platoon that Captain Joiner had said I was such quick study that didn’t need a full week in the left seat. Yeah, right?
After that next week I had now become a “Wing Man”, flying my own ship about thirty or forty yards behind the “Lead” with my own Observer in my left seat. Our Observers were enlisted men (usually a “Spec 4”, “Spec 5”, about our age). We would follow the “Lead” ship loosely wherever he went, with the idea being that we were flying to be his “cover”, if, and when he came under fire. We were also searching beneath ourselves, so my observer was sort of leaning out his left door searching the ground beneath us, just as the Lead Observer did.
The Observer held a (fully automatic) C.A.R.-15in his lap, gripping it ready to fire. He also had four types of grenades in canvas bags at his feet or strung along side of his seat or the door opening. He could toss out a colored smoke to mark a spot for our Cobras to see from high above, or a choice of Concussion, Gas, or White Phosphorus (which would burn anything, including under water) - all of these were the various grenades we carried on board.
As the lead flew relatively straight, I simply stayed behind him. If he began weaving back and forth, I swung in and out behind him like the wagging tail of a dog. But if he slowed down or stopped, I would pass him and swing into a circle around him. Never would both of us come to a hover (full stop) at the same time - never. But sometimes the Lead would come to a full stop - hovering over a potential target to get a better look - at eight to ten feet in open rice paddy terrain - higher if we were over trees. You might think this was not the smartest tactical maneuver, but we did it all the time. Remember, we we’re 20 and 22. We were invincible.
Very shortly after I joined the regular rotation of daily pilot’s assignments, in our eight man “Scout” platoon, Captain Joiner left for the states as his 12-month tour had ended. He was succeeded as platoon leader by another of our guys, (just turned Captain) Rip Ashe, a quiet guy who tended to keep to himself. Rip was likable enough, but just not anyone’s “buddy”. He was a “by the book” kind of guy. I had begun to fly Captain Ashe’s wing on a somewhat regular basis, and I felt I was learning and improving. We did our searches, sort of like two bees dancing around each other along a garden hedgerow in a comfortable pattern of weaving and circling.
I think it had flown for about a month or so when our assignment sent us to a relatively new location for me - a place called Vi Thanh (“vee-tawn”), well south of our home base at Vinh Long. Vi-Thanh had a graded, fixed-wing runway, and of course, refueling capacity. The terrain we searched from Vi Thanh was always to the west of that airstrip, which meant we were nearing proximity to the infamous “U-Minh” Forest. The “U-Minh” was a section about 60 or 80 miles north to south, by maybe four to six miles wide (just guessing). It was a vast area of dense, heavy jungle, unlike all the rest of the southern part of Vietnam which was mostly wide-open rice paddy terrain. And because of that thick cover, the “U-Minh” was heavily infested with VC and large units of “NVA Regulars” (North Vietnamese Army) - these were the guys with khaki uniforms and those funny pith helmets - heavily armed, and a long way from their home in North Vietnam.
The day was clear, and we were having an uneventful ride - Captain Rip in the Lead, with me flying his Wing. We were above small trees, so we were at about thirty feet altitude when suddenly Rip’s voice burst out over the radio -“Receiving fire! Receiving fire!”, One-Six is receiving fire!”. I actually saw two tiny pieces of shreds of his aircraft skin (and I would swear, two bullets) flying up from the top of his ship. And I heard the unmistakable sound of an AK-47 (a distinctly “cracking” sound - as opposed to the “popping” sound of our own M-16s or CAR-15’s.). I think Rip had taken several hits in his transmission or his main rotor head and he was yelling over the radio “May Day. May Day. One-Six is going down. On-Six is going down!”
My reaction was to panic! I was completely caught off guard and terrified. It took me a moment to get control of myself and think of what I should do. I circled back to fire my mini gun into the trees where I thought they were hiding but my gun would not fire (with no trace of vomit this time). I was so frightened and confused I didn’t really know what to do! All I could think of was to keep circling above those trees to draw fire away from Rip and his observer where they went down. But I was still struggling to breathe. My heart rate must have gone through the roof.
In less than a minute, our C&C (Command & Control) ship came down (from his 500 feet), hovered close to where Rip and his Observer were getting out of their downed ship, and held at a still hover while they climbed on board. Rip had made a rather soft landing in the nearest rice paddy, so the impact caused no injuries or additional aircraft damage. And neither of them was hit. We all flew back to Vi-Thanh airstrip to recover and refuel. I tried to think of something to say to Rip about losing my wits and not picking him up. I felt guilty. But he brushed it off and said it was okay - and that it was the C&Cs job to get them out. Still, I felt quite embarrassed. You train, and train, and then train some more, but when the stuff hits the fan for the first time, you’re still not ready for it.
TBC
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