My War - Installment 14

"Well," I said. "Maybe they are crazy, like everyone says they are."



We continued talking about everything and nothing while we broke out the "C" rations for a mid morning snack. I learned early to try and grab the "A" units in the “C” ration cases. They were the packages that had fruit included canned of course but good. The fruit was something to look forward to. Having barely finished our grand luncheon, we were again called out to haul some more grunts. Brigade had been called in to join us in the action with some of their ground units. We would return to our base camp at Little Hong Kong to pick up the men that would be waiting for us. So it seemed they had "Charlie" on the run. Only trouble was that "Charlie" seemed to be headed toward that quiet little fishing village just to the south of their present position.



This particular village was on a small, peaceful, sheltered cove or bay just off the South China Sea. The area behind the village was surrounded by small mountains in a horseshoe fashion immediately to the north and west. The village was considered to be friendly and cooperative toward the ARVN and the U.S. forces. I believed that we would soon find out if that assumption was correct.



As we advanced toward Little Hong Kong, we were given the coordinates for our drop. It appeared that these men would go in on the north edge of the village, just as Bill and I had figured.



We found the men ready and, sort of, eager to climb aboard. Brigade units spent a lot of time waiting for the Troop Scouts’ platoons to get involved before they got to see much action, Bill informed me. I had been thinking that these guys must not have seen much action to be acting the way they were. Maybe they had a marine mentality or something.



We quickly loaded, took-off and set our heading for the village area. I did not expect to receive any gunfire while putting men in so close to a friendly village. We flew in cautiously anyway and put the helicopters down, in the soft cushiony grass of an open field, without any hitches.



I had heard how the rural economy depended heavily on rice, just then it hit me that I hadn't seen any active rice fields anywhere in that area. I didn't know a whole lot about rice at that point in my life: maybe it was just the wrong time of the year.



As soon as the troops disembarked we took-off. The villagers waved at us as we turned and headed back to the Bong Son lager area. By the time we got to Bong Son it was 1445 hours. We made a pass by the POL point before landing and shutting down. It looked as if we Lift pilots were in for another exciting afternoon with the local natives.



The afternoon passed by uneventfully. We never received a call to pull out our men, and besides our men there had been our second load from Brigade to think about as well.



The daylight dwindled into dusk and still there was no call to pull out our grunts. We rooted around, amid the dim light, in the back of the helicopter, for what was left of our "C" rations, wishing we had a better choice than what we had left to choose from. I picked and poked at a supper of canned eggs and bacon, not even bothering to heat it up. Our eggs, in the dusky light, appeared to be a faint yellow, gelatinous, blob in the can, totally unattractive and uninspiring as food goes. The dusk turned to an ever blackening dark as storm clouds moved in with the night.



"If we have to pull 'em out tonight thatt's really going to be a treat," said Bill. "All those fuckin' trees and tall grass and heaven knows what all. It's as dark as looking up a monkey's ass hole," he grumbled.



"Hey, don't sweat it," I said like some expert. "We'll be OK. You're just tired. Let me do the worrying for a little while; all right?"



Bill kept his silence. In reality, I only knew where he was by the sound of his constant slapping at the ever thickening flight of buzzing mosquitoes. The crazy little insects were diving at us like miniature kamikazes.



The night was absolutely pitch black. Clouds, it seemed, were beginning to lower.



At 2115 hours we finally received a call to extract the grunts. The NVA units had been caught between the two forces and were trapped below the village near the confluence of a river and the sea. We were told that the firefight had slacked off and we were to go in.



We took off in the blackness and turned to a heading which would take us to the area just below the village. Fortunately, our maps were very accurate. Outside the helicopter the horizon was almost nonexistent and we relied heavily on our instruments. We flew in a very loose formation en route, using our marker lights, only after having gained sufficient altitude. We would have to turn them off before making an approach to whatever LZ had been picked out for us.



In the darkness we could only go in one ship at a time. We couldn't use any light at all, no position, landing or spot lights, because it would be the perfect target for the enemy.



Our ship was the second to go in. I made contact with the squad on FM radio. They talked me close to the area where they were, strictly by the sound of the rotor blades. When they thought we were close enough, a brave or foolish grunt struck up a flame on his "Zippo" cigarette lighter and I cautiously made the final approach to his small flame. Bill let me do the majority of the flying, but on landing and taking off, especially at unknown LZ's, we were both constantly on the controls.



The individual ships began pulling out squads of grunts amid the red comet-like flares of the tracers. Charlie, in t his case the North Vietnamese Army regular force, was shooting at our sounds and not doing well. Thank God! The line from the star-spangled Banner whizzed through my mind, ‘the bombs bursting in air.. .’ We made our lift back to the lager area and then returned to pull out our second load of grunts. Landing to a cigarette lighter seemed much easier the second time around. We loaded our squad, the crew chief accounted for them manually, counting by touch. The only light in the ship was from the dim red glow of the instrument panels. Tracers continued to lighten the darkness of the sky. Our luck was holding out. Charlie's aiming by using his ear only worked, partially, when we were in close to the ground.



Again we returned to the lager area. The clouds were dropping even lower. Command informed us, while in flight, that we would be spending the night there along the runway at Bong Son.



After landing Bill grumbled rather loudly to himself for a few minutes.



"Things could be worse Bill," I said.



"Oh, how's that?" he replied.



"We could have been shot down over there, that's what," I retorted.



"Yea, I never thought of it that way," he replied more appreciatively.



The damp air made sleep almost impossible, not to mention that there was no place to lie down. There was always the threat of snakes and scorpions and the like if you slept on the ground, so we elected to spend the night in the helicopter. Strategically, we needed to be near our helicopters in the event of an attack on the air strip. Sleeping in the ship seemed the only sensible thing to do.



As I sat in the total darkness, I remembered something I had been told about snakes in Viet Nam. I can't swear that it’s true, but I had heard it from a few sources. "There are forty-three different kinds of snakes in Viet Nam. Forty-two are poisonous and the other one will squeeze you to death."



I tried strapping myself into my seat so I would not fall over. That seemed like a good idea to me, it only worked for a while. The mosquitoes were the biggest problem; they kept waking me from my light slumber. When the mosquitoes did not wake me, I would wake myself, because every time I drifted off to sleep I was awakened by my head falling to my chest.



Bill and Tom tried lying on the deck in the back of the Huey UH-1D, but they to were plagued by our little biting friends. The grunts were more comfortable than we were, because they were "field ready," they had their gear with them, mosquito dope sleeping bags etc. We the pilots were not prepared. We might be able to fly back most of the time to base camp, but what we flew back to was not much, although it was better than what we had that night.



Each time I would wake up I would sit for a while and think to myself. Not knowing still troubled me, and I wished I knew what was going on. Maybe tomorrow night I could visit the Scouts' tent and have a chat with some of them. I would be able to see for myself whether or not I would judge them crazy like most others had.



Night passed interminably slowly. I only seemed to be able to get comfortable enough to sleep for a few minutes at a time.



"Hey Sam, is that you? You awake?" asked Bill, as I took a piss outside my cockpit door. The splashing sound must have startled him to wakefulness.



"Shoot yea, it’s me. I'm just shaking my snake. Who the heck else would it be, besides Tom or me? Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I haven't slept worth a crap; how about you?"



"I feel about the same as you. Maybe we should carry some extra stuff along in case this happens again?"



"Not a bad idea," I replied.



I began thinking, to myself again, as the early morning hours passed by and the golden orange glow of another sunrise broke across the rim of the horizon. Even sleeping there in my fatigues, no mattress, roughing it, flying, being shot at, when it came right down to it... the beginning friendships... the adventure and all... gees I thought, I was really liking it, enjoying it even. Was that really possible? I hadn't killed anyone yet, but...



I must have dozed off again, because Tom shook me to wakefulness.



"Sir.”



"Huh, what's goin' on? Oh, it’s you, Tom!"



"Sir, Lieutenant Matthews has checked with Cap Richardson, we are supposed to get our recon platoon and put them back in where we picked them up last night. After that we're to run the other men back to Little Hong Kong’s LZ Hammond."



"Yea, thanks Tom. I'll be ready in a couple of minutes."



I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.



"Where's Bill?"



"He'll be right back. I believe he went to take a shit, Sir,” replied Tom.



Bill came stumbling back from the bushes, he finished buttoning his fly as he strolled along toward the aircraft. He looked up with a silly, shit eatin' grin and then climbed into the left seat.



We loaded up our Recon platoon after we cranked and awaited orders for takeoff. Cap Richardson gave us the word on UHF (Ultra High Frequency) radio and we lifted off in unison. Within a few minutes we were back in the area of the fishing village. We landed just to the south of the village, where the grunts got out quickly. No glitches, no hassles, a smooth in-out operation.



The flight lifted off, we stayed low for a minute, then climbed rapidly and returned to the air strip for our second load of the day. We put down, signaled to the brigade grunts, loaded and immediately took off for LZ Hammond.



Everyone must have felt really chipper that morning. All the pilots were sharp and quick with their tongues. Why? I didn't know. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. The feel of the formation was electrifying. We came in over the airstrip at altitude and Cap said over the radio.



"Let's take 'em down."



He didn't wait for a response. He quickly peeled off with the rest of us following right behind.



The grunts didn't look too happy during our steep banking. With one door pointed straight at the ground and one straight at the sky they seemed a bit

green about the gills



We landed, off loaded, and again took off together for the POL area. All of us refueled before we again headed for the lager area at Bong Son.



We had just landed and parked off the edge of the lager area when we received word that we had to go in to extract our Recon platoon and take them back home to Little Hong Kong.



"So, Bill, it appears that we are going to have a pretty easy day after all."



Bill and I had heard reports on the radio at different times while we were flying the last missions. The really amazing thing, at least from the spotty information we had, was that during this whole operation of the past few days, not one of our men had been killed. There were some minor gunshot wounds, that was all. We got the grunts and returned to camp, again without incident.

Later in the day we found out that the NVA had disappeared from the area during the night. After noon mess, Jeff and I returned to our digging. With the extra time we were getting that day, we expected to finish the bulk of our project.