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.



2/19/08

Our crew chiefs and maintenance support guys

Oscar Tristan and me relaxing at Dalat.

Our crew chiefs were usually 18 -22 years old and did a commendable job of keeping their birds flyable. If their bird was assigned to a mission, they flew with it manning the door mounted M-60, supervised loading and securing the load, and kept us clear of obstructions in extremely tight LZ’s. When we returned after eight or ten hours of flying they pulled all the maintenance according to the manual, worked off any write-ups we entered into the log book and made certain all was ready for the next day of flying. When their bird developed a main or tail rotor vibration, we went back to the flight line to assist them in “tracking” the blades. They frequently worked late into the night or early morning to get their bird flyable and were there to greet us when we pre-flighted for the next day’s mission. The gunner kept the M-60’s in perfect working order, loaded the linked belt ammunition and maintained the aircraft’s supply of smoke grenades as well as working with the crew chief, acting as his assistant. Sometimes, I wondered when they got any sleep.
"Fraternizing"


We became very close to these guys and did our best to take care of them as far as promotions, decorations and time off was concerned. Our lives were in their hands and we had the utmost confidence and trust in them. Fraternizing of officers and enlisted men was prohibited but we did it anyway, especially if we all had the same day off. We’d invite them to our “hooch” and sit around listening to music and getting hammered. I wish I had stayed in touch with many of them but we all seemed to go our separate ways after our tours were over.
Doug Hensley, Electronics Specialist

2 comments:

Anonymous said...
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oldav8r said...

Thanks for the comment and I'll correct the error. So few notes and a bit of a memory problem at this time of my life are my only excuses. Mike Walsh