Welcome to flying stories of my time in Viet Nam



These stories are dedicated to James G. Zeimet who I refer to in a number of them. Jimmy was a good friend and class mate in flight school, a "hootchmate" in Vietnam and he frequently talked about his desire to fly Medivac. After about seven months in Vietnam, he finally got his wish and was transferred to the 283rd "Dustoff" Medivac unit at Camp Holloway, Pleiku. On September 4th, 1968, he lost his life flying the mission he dreamed about while trying to save the life of a fellow soldier. His name appears on panel 45W - Line 37 at the Wall in Washington, DC.

When I got out of the Army in 1972, I had this idea of writing a book about my experiences in Vietnam where I flew helicopters. While a noble goal, I didn't get started on it for about 35 years. As time passes, you tend to push bad experiences into some seldom visited spot in your brain where they don't bother you much. But I still remember Vietnam like it was just yesterday and wish I could plug my mind into a PC and play it! It would be an interesting video. I won't post everything I've written all at once because I intend to scan old slides, (I have hundreds!) to add to the stories which should provide a little interest. So here they are and I hope you enjoy them.

In the stories, I describe any enemy combatant as a “gook”. This term has no racial connotation nor is it a slur. We used it as freely as one would say, “bad guy”. I can relate it to WW2 radio terminology for German enemy as “Krauts" or "Gerry’s”. Nothing personal or racially motivated, just a convenient way of alerting your fellow war-fighters about your foe. I also refer to anyone fighting the war on the ground as “Grunts”. This is a term I use with great respect for those that weren’t privileged to fight “their war” from the comfort of a helicopter or enjoy going back to “base camp” each evening to a cold Budweiser and a relatively clean bed. The Infantrymen I spoke with unanimously opined that we were the ones that were at much greater risk than them and they would much rather spend their “tour” safely on the ground and exchanging bullets with the NVA. I guess it’s all in your perspective.



2/20/08

Rocket and mortar attacks on base camp

122 hit on a Hooch

Rocket and mortar attacks on base camp. Camp Enari started coming under rocket and mortar attack in January of 1968 during the Tet offensive. The rockets were 122 mm or almost five inches in diameter. The following description comes from a website called “Rocket City”. (Rocket City was the nickname for Da Nang Air Force Base and received more than their share of rocket attacks.)

“Generally, it took two troops to man-carry each rocket to the launch site. One carried the warhead, another, the motor assembly. The assembled rocket stood about 6 feet tall, and weighed 100 lbs, had a range of about 15,000 meters, (over eight miles) and had a warhead weighing about 50lbs, (approximately 14lbs explosive and 37lbs shrapnel) as I recall. Its primary function is anti-personnel, although the little rascal can do quite a number on buildings and, of course, aircraft.”

When we came under attack, the sirens would go off, the generators shut down and everyone would make their way to a reinforced bunker. We never found out how effective the bunkers were because none ever took a direct 122 hit while I was there. Some did impact on our hooch’s and did considerable damage. We also lost several Hueys to the 122’s and after a close or direct hit the Huey’s fuel would ignite and turn it into a pile of melted aluminum. It was amazing what a small pile of junk a Huey could turn into.
122 hit on a Huey


We tried to launch as soon as possible after the attack was over to seek out the launch site but we were invariably too late to accomplish anything. (The exception I can recall to this was the prior narrative of Jimmy and me flying in our underwear.) I always found it remarkable that the gooks would hump these rockets all the way down from North Vietnam and then almost indiscriminately shoot them at us like large firecrackers.

The 60mm, (about 2.4 inches in diameter) mortars were less intimidating but were still a threat. They would shoot these things in volleys and occasionally one would impact on a building or other structure. Compared to the rockets though, mortars were a mere annoyance.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

If that is a picture of YOUR hooch, then you haven't been telling the whole truth all these years. I'm glad you are now writing and getting it out of your system. I just praise God that you came back home so we could be a family!

oldav8r said...

Dear Jan,
Nope, I lived three doors down and was in the bunker I mentioned when this happened and probably well oiled to boot. I'm glad I made it home too so Joseph Ray could happen!
Love and blessings,
Mike

Unknown said...

We got hit one nite by rockets and mortars when I was standby AC. Saw a mortar hit a slick right on the mast. That aluminum/magnesium burns white hot. We ran down and cranked during a lull in the shelling but didn't find them that night.