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David Mitchell
Nina's reminder (yesterday) of a day I didn't even know existed gives me an excuse for a story I had been saving for a few years. (and so much difficuly with my 10 year old PowerBook that I'm now a day late)
I would like to share a wild episode from my second tour in Vinh Long that I refer to as the "second scariest" incidence I ever experienced during those 18 months - and the wildest, most confusing 5 or 6 minutes of my life!
If you can recall that in my first year I flew that high risk, low-level search as part of the so-called "Hunter-Killer" teams. I had been through some traumatic days, but always dealing with any fear with heavy doses of sarcasm and denial. We just laughed everything off. (almost everything) By extending our tours from12 to18 months we were granted a 30 day leave (free of charged leave - in other words, "paid" time off) and a flight home and back again. I spent nine of those 30 days skiing in Colorado with two of my buddies who were going home at the same time. My parents were not thrilled.
But I was caught completely unprepared for the onset of panic attacks and what we came to call "day-mares". I was so terrified to go back that I actually lied to my parents and stayed home two days later than the "orders" I had been granted. When I finally arrived back at Travis AFB (north of San Francisco - our point of departure), I was almost arrested by MPs for being AWOL. (that is another story)
So I arrived back at my unit and had to check in with my (new) CO, a Major Johnston - about 30, with a nervous presence and a borish, loud, controlling voice. This guy could drink like a fish and smoked like a chimney! He always had a funnier joke, a more interesting story, or the last word. We were a bit suspicious of him.
As I sat, facing him across his desk, I got straight to what was eating at me. "Sir, I can't take this anymore! I can't fly the "Scout" mission (the low-level "Loach" portion of the mission) anymore. Isn't there something else less risky I can fly in the mission? Major Johnston blew a big puff of smoke and said, "Well, we could use another co-pilot in the C&C ("Command & Control").
Great! I thought - I'll be up at 500 feet - safe and easy.
I had forgotten one point - when one of the "Loaches" gets shot down, C&C has to go down and get them.
The "C&C" (Command & Control) was the huey at 500 feet, above the Loaches, and below the Cobra gunships - guiding, directing, commanding the mission, and flown by the "AMC" (Air Mission Commander). The AMC rotated every three days - the CO, the XO, and the Operations Officer (a Major and two senior, experienced Captains), with a random huey pilot who flew as their co-pilot. I jumped at his offer and became one of the more regular C&C co-pilots - but flying with all three of them on more days than just each 3rd day.
Fast forward to a day in which I am Major Johnston's co-pilot, and we are flying above two of my best buddies in my former "Scout" platoon - Bob Tow, and Jack Abbott (who's funeral I spoke at in Roanoke 2 years a go).
I am at the stick (flying the aircraft) in the left seat and Major Johnston, in the right seat is out of his seat harness, turned around, kneeling up in his seat backwards, his "chicken plate" removed, smoking a cigarette, and jawing with our "backseat" (a local ground commander sitting in our back seat, hooked up to a radio headset so he can hear us and also talk with his own troops on the ground who we are covering.) Everything Major Johnston is doing is either against the regs or just plain annoying and interfering with me trying to fly and watch the "Scouts" circling below.
Suddenly Bob Tow gets shot down! He calls out over the air", May Day - May Day - May Day. One Seven's goin' down."
I yank the (Cyclic) stick over hard right and forward and begin a steep corkscrew right hand dive - too steep at first, and I make quick correction to avoid an "overspeed" and a potentially too steep dive. As we dropped, I feel the fear engulfing me, almost like, as I descend, I fly deeper into fear and panic. As we came to a hover at the bottom of our descent, I think I was in some form of a state of shock. I am in complete calm now and everything is in slow motion. I feel nothing. All the radio sound seems through a distant muffled tunnel. I'm probably not really fully conscious.
We come to a hover about 3 feet off the ground, right behind Bob's ship, which is now partially in flames. (What we don't see right away is that Bob and his "observer" are out of their ship.)
Picture, if you can, sitting in the left front seat of a huey.
To your direct left about 80 yards in a woodline are a couple or three AK-47s firing at you in sporatic bursts. You turn to take one long (calm, slow motion) glance and watch the tracers coming at you (and high - always too high when they are at a dsitance) Your left door gunner is firing his M-60 door gun and you hear the clinking of spent brass shells bouncing on the floor. Over above that tree line - the source of fire, your own pair of Cobra gunships are diving on the target, firing their tubes of 2.75mm rockets and their nose turret minnie-guns which put out a deafening roar as they fire at 6,000 rounds per minute. (lots of loud noise all around you - but you are still "frozen").
And now the fun part.
In your right seat, your commanding officer and AMC of the day, Major Johnston is going berserk! As he tries to re-fit his "chicken plate" and get turned around and seated in his seat he starts screaming as he burns himself in his crotch with his cigarette. He is now moaning out loud, incoherantly in fear, and shaking around in his seat, causing me to be even more frightened than I already was. He went on and on, yelling and moaning and shaking for several minutes
* Meanwhile, Jack Abbott, the other Loach pilot, has landed his ship off to your left side (towards the oncoming AK-47 fire) and pulls the single most crazy, ridiculously brave stunt I have ever seen! He lands and gets out of his cockpit, runs over, (still under fire) to Bob's ship, and in an attempt to rescue Bob and his "Observer", sticks his face right into the burning cockpit !
But they are aready out of the cockpit.
The pilot, Bob Tow is in fact, standing upright about 20 feet behind our right (open) door. He has either a cut bleeding over one eye, or a clump of mud (I can't recall), and he is stumbing like a drunk in a tight circle, he is dazed.
My right door gunner yells out over the intercom, "I can't get Mister Tow on board, sir! ("Mister" the proper title for a Warrant Officer - yes I know it sounds awkward). Just then a single round of ammunition from the burning ship in front of us "cooks off" from the ammo feed belt and pings gently off my windsheid, causing me to blink and "awaken" from my state of shock. And I yell back at my right door gunner, "Well grab him by the shirt collar and pull him on board GodDammit". Which he did.
Bob gets on board and the door gunner gives him his helmet so I can talk to Bob on the intercom. He is yelling "He ran that way." and points to our right. His observer (first day in the air for him) got out and ran off away from the source of fire. We hovered painstakingly slowly back and forth one row of rice paddys at a time, until about third or fourth row of dike lines and he is huddling behind one of those dike lines. He jumps up, gets on board and we begin to climb out.
As we are gaining airspeed and altitude, I look back at Bob and he gives me a great smile and a "thumbs up". I gripped my cyclic stick bewteen my knees to free my right hand and and shook my raised fist with a loud war hoop. I'd swear I felt a huge weight slipping away from my neck as we climbed out. I recall thinking that was an hour or so. But in a more relaxed moment later, I figure it was 5 or 6 minutes - maybe 8 or 10 at the very most
Major Johnston slumped back in his seat and remained silent all the way back to the airfield at Vinh Long. I have a weird epilogue about Major Johnston to follow later. And onother bizarre chapter in Jack's life too.
The guy on our right is my late friend Jack Abbott. Out behind our "Scout" hooch, and our "mortar bunker" to your right.
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