Copyright © 2006. Gamble Dick. All rights reserved.
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Continued from  I've a Bad Feeling About This...

The "E-Ticket" Ride

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."

-- John Stuart Mill

FOB 1 Landing Zone, Phu Bai, SVN, November 9, 1967... 0930 hours / November 9, 1967... 0130 hours Zulu

The initial adrenaline surge is wearing off. We are entering the "hurry up and wait" phase for which armies around the world are so famous. Confusion reigns and for the next couple of hours we are battered by conflicting orders and little information. There is no shade and we sit in the oily dirt of the helipad in chock order (Chock order is the order that the troops will be loaded in the aircraft) propped up by our rucksacks. It's getting hot!

We eventually get a temporary "Stand Down" order and go back into the camp to find some shade and refill canteens. I go to the TOC to get any updates that might be available. Not unexpectedly, the situation is SNAFU'd (Situation Normal, All Fucked Up).

I go back to my room and get a can of C-Ration Peaches and stick it in the pocket of my jungle fatigues. That turned out to be a smart move. I wish I had taken more.

The plan was to board fourteen H-34 Helicopters (8 VNAF Kingbees and 6 from HMM-263, with 2 more Marine helicopters used as "Chase Ships" in the event that an aircraft is shot down or some other emergency arises during the insertion of Hatchet Force "Bull Dog") around 0800 Hours and fly into the LZ (Landing Zone) to the east-northeast of the crash sites, but the Marine helicopters had a previous mission to lift a Battalion from Camp Evens, west of Hue, to an area along Highway One, the "Street without Joy", for a security sweep. It is now 0930 and they are just completing that mission.

The Kingbees and the Army helicopters on temporary duty at FOB #1 (UH-1C gunships using the call sign “Gladiator and the remaining UH-1D "slick", call sign Spartan 52) headed out to the area of operations (AO) at first light. We are standing by waiting for their return.

After the briefing earlier this morning, I was under the impression that a Kingbee had been shot down the night before and crashed. That was not what had happened. The Kingbee had indeed been "shot down", but had not crashed. It had sustained so much battle damage that it couldn't keep flying. The pilot managed to make a controlled landing in the jungles of Laos away from the immediate area of conflict. No one was injured in the landing and the VNAF crew of three, and three Nungs from "Flat Foot" whom they had rescued, spent a terrifying and uncomfortable night in the wilds of Laos. Because of communication difficulties, I would not know that until much later.

It turned out to be a good thing that our helicopters went back to the AO in Laos to look for their missing helicopters and crews instead of picking up the Hatchet Force. They found the downed Kingbee, made a determination of what needed to be done, sent a couple of helicopters back to Da Nang for parts, returned to Laos, repaired the Kingbee and flew it out later in the day. Another helicopter flew their crew and our three Nungs back to Phu Bai.

Other Kingbees flew back to the crash sites and with the help of the "Gladiators" and A-1's on the scene, located the Aircraft Commander and Pilot from the downed Army UH-1D and rescued them. Army Warrant Officers Zanow and Woolridge were delivered to Phu Bai in separate VNAF Helicopters. Both were seriously injured and were taken into surgery immediately and couldn't be interviewed.

Survivors were scattered all over the AO in Laos and in Phu Bai and it became confusing to know how many people we needed to account for in Laos. It took hours to get everything sorted out. Word of the fate of the downed Kingbee didn't filter down to us until the operation was over. For years I didn't know the fate of the gunship and thought the crew shot down the night of November 8/9, 1967, other than a survivor we would pick up later in the day, had perished.

FOB 1 Landing Zone, Phu Bai, SVN, November 9, 1967... approximately 1230 hours / November 9, 1967... 0430 hours Zulu

We are back on the helipad and have been told that the gaggle has been rounded up and as soon as all the helicopters (USMC and VNAF) are topped off with fuel they will pick us up and transport us to the landing zone in Laos.

Sure enough, a short while later we hear them lift off from Phu Bai Airfield just down the road. It is a short hop for them and they came roaring in causing the usual commotion and stirring up the oily dirt, which now sticks to our sweaty bodies, further adding to our general discomfort. The "Hatchet Force" loads onto fourteen aircraft. Two additional helicopters will be used as chase ships to rescue anyone who is shot down or injured getting into the LZ.

Two pairs of Echo Model Gunships growl in circles above the helipad. They are a welcome sight. The E Models are the Marine Corps' answer to the Army's C Model Huey Gunships. They are a little heavier than the Army Gunships because of extra instrumentation and navigational aids. That will help us in the days to come. They don't carry quite as much ordinance as the Army, but they are very effective and well flown by courageous pilots.

The Kingbees come in first and I am the last man on the first helicopter so I can be the first off when we reach our LZ. The Marine H-34's follow, picking up the remaining "Hatchet Force" members.

And suddenly, we are away. After hours of waiting in the hot sun, we are climbing into the cool air at 5000 feet. We have some serious mountains to cross on our way to the AO.

It isn't long before we are over the Ashau Valley, that forbidding place known to us as the "Valley of Death". A short time later, the VNAF Crew Chief tugs on my sleeve and points to the LZ. Having never seen it before, it takes me a minute to locate it and reconcile it with my map.

Then I notice the burned areas to the west and see the smoke. Men have lost their lives here and no doubt a clever and determined enemy waits for us. The bad feeling surfaces again, but is quickly overtaken by the world's greatest "High". If real life was like the movies, this is where "Ride of the Valkyries" by Richard Wagner, or better yet, the last guitar/horn riff in "Liberation" by Chicago, would fade in as background music.

There is no way to adequately describe the adrenaline dump that accompanies a combat air assault. It happens every time, no matter how many times you do it. And every time I've thought to myself, "If I could just find a way to recreate this as a thrill ride at Disneyland it would be the ultimate E-Ticket Ride. I would be a billionaire." But it can't be done. There is nothing to compare to this.

Sometimes the helicopter comes screaming in at treetop level, suddenly flares, and plops down in a small jungle clearing, barely stopping before it powers away over the treetops. You have a second, maybe two, to get away from the machine before it kills you and then you must face whatever fate has in store for you on that particular day. Other times it's different... but the same.

This time, we approach the LZ at a very high altitude because of concern for enemy antiaircraft and ground fire. We are directly over the LZ when suddenly the bottom falls out and we are in a death spiral toward a large grassy area on a ridgeline east of the smoking areas. Although we are hanging on to anything we can for dear life, there is no need; centrifugal force has us pinned inside the aircraft. There is no sound. The engine is at idle and it seems our fate is now ruled by basic physics. We are going to die!

Spang! A bullet passes through the tail boom. It doesn't matter because we are dead men. Suddenly the engine roars to life and we are flaring toward the ground. Even though I am pressed hard against the floor of the Kingbee, I manage to get my legs out the door and sit up. Whomp! We are on the ground and I am out. My exit is not elegant, but it gets the job done. The hundred pounds of extra weight I'm carrying hasn't helped. The Kingbee is gone, but the roaring continues as the remaining thirteen helicopters disgorge their loads and pass over me, looking like enraged Dragonflies and sounding like the seventh wave of a big storm driven set on the North Shore of Oahu.

Vicinity YC021925 Laos, November 9, 1967... approximately 1400 hours / November 9, 1967... 0600 hours Zulu

I indicate to the men around me to face the tree line to the east. If there is immediate trouble, it will come from there. It has grown quiet. No helicopter noise, no voices, and no gunfire. The LZ is cold.

"Covey, this is Bulldog, over."

"Bulldog, Covey. Go."

"Covey, Bulldog, the LZ is cold. We are moving to the crash site now, over."

SFC Dudley Nutter, the FOB #1 “Covey Rider” sitting in the right seat of the O-2, next to the pilot, Captain Corwin "Kip" Kippenhan, responds, "Roger Bulldog. We still have “beepers”, but no voice contact, over."

They had flown all day the day before when "Flat Foot" and "Happy Times" had been inserted and had barely gotten back to Da Nang when they re-launched to return to the area to guide the rescue efforts. In addition to the long hours, "Kip", is suffering from severe stomach cramps.

Last night, they had been relieved by another Covey working out of Khe Sanh about 0100 local time, just after Jolly Green 29 cleared the area. They returned to Phu Bai for a brief rest. They were back in the area just after first light this morning. Captain Kippenhan, SFC. Nutter, and the other FAC's and Covey riders who participated in this action are definitely some of the many unsung heroes in this incident.

The story continues on  Walking Naked

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