Shot down!

Original artwork by Joe Cline

Having an engine failure will point out how well you learned your emergency procedures in flight school and if you practiced them, mentally anyway.

Jimmy and I were on a C/A, (combat assault) one day and the third or fourth ship into the LZ. We had six grunts on board, were on short final at about 60 – 70 knots airspeed and simultaneously the low RPM beeper started it’s “teeeeep, teeeeep” and the master caution illuminated. Engine failure!

I had control of the aircraft at the time and Jimmy called the N-1 (or compressor turbine) RPM as “decaying” and that the engine / rotor tachometer had “split” which meant the engine had declutched automatically at the sprag clutch in the transmission. I had the collective pitch on the bottom, (but never remembered doing this consciously). Jimmy called the rotor RPM, airspeed and when we were clear of the trees at the edge of the LZ.

I pulled the nose up to bleed off the little airspeed we had left and applied the collective pitch to stop the descent. We settled on gently and slid about one aircraft length and the grunts exited. They didn’t even realize we had had an engine failure. The C and C, (command and control) aircraft called for us to clear the LZ and Jimmy responded that we couldn’t since we had lost our engine on final.

We tied down the blade and with the help of a couple grunts, established a defensive perimeter around the Huey. When the next bird unloaded their troops, we hopped on and returned to base camp with them.

It was all pure text book stuff with Jimmy and I reacting automatically and doing all the right things at the right time. The undamaged Huey was sling loaded back to Hensel by a Chinook; the engine changed and was back flying a couple days later. Maintenance told us the engine failure was caused by FOD, “foreign object damage” to the compressor section. The FOD was determined later to be several rounds, probably from an AK-47. This time, the maintenance officer and our CO got us drunk!

Delicious little bananas

Bananas: One of our crew chiefs carried a 100 foot long rope ladder in the back of his Huey attached to floor rings that he could kick over the side whenever it was needed. When returning from missions he would watch the terrain intently and come on the intercom and announce, “Bananas sir, bananas!” We would circle the area and use his directions to put us directly above the banana trees he had spotted. We would stop at a hover about 75 feet over the trees, out would go the rope ladder and down he went. He had a long extension for the ICS cord so he could remain in contact with us. He also had a ruck pack he wore backwards for the harvest and when it was full he’d tell us to pull him out. Normally, we would find an open area and slowly lower him to the ground and then land to retrieve him, his harvest and the rope ladder. At times he would climb back up the ladder to get back aboard.
All this was absurdly dangerous for all of us but I guess we never gave it a second thought. The little yellow-green bananas were the sweetest, most delicious I’ve ever tasted and made an absolutely wonderful Daiquiri.

Night Hawk

LRRP team, (Long Range Recon Patrol) at the "Oasis" firebase west of Camp Enari.

Kilo-8 or “Night Hawk” was a night reconnaissance mission used to observe road traffic and provide flare coverage for patrols and units in contact. The helicopter used for this mission was a UH-1H with a large boom mounted search light in the left door. The search light had visible as well as infrared capability and could be directed using the umbilical with a joystick. We normally used the visible light selection but could use the IR feature by utilizing special binoculars that “saw” the invisible light beam.Doug Hensley, Senior Electronics Specialist for the Zenon light system
Night Hawk also carried a large amount of canister parachute flares. These flares had a cable lanyard that was hooked to any number of floor D-rings. All the crew chief or gunner had to do was heave one out the open door and the cable would start the ignition and parachute ejection sequence when the flare reached the end of the cable. They provided superb illumination, (several million candlepower) for the time they descended under the parachute. We had to be careful not to fly into them if we used the flares to accomplish an emergency extraction of someone in trouble. We also used the flares to mark a location on the ground as a target reference for AC-47 “Spooky” Air force fixed wing attack aircraft. We did this by flying low and slow and having the crew chief or gunner throw a flare out the door. The flare would ignite but being so low, would land on the ground without the parachute deploying and provide an excellent aiming point for the attack birds. All we had to do was tell Spooky which direction from the burning flare to place their fire and they would adjust accordingly. Spooky would put one round, (or bullet) every square inch on the ground. The sight was spectacular at night since every sixth round was a tracer and with six GE mini-guns shooting 6000 rounds per minute the effect was like a huge sheet of flame coming out of the sky. The sound on the ground was awe-inspiring as well and sounded something like a very loud baritone, “BAROOOOOOP”! The captured gooks that were interrogated after a strike called Spooky “The flaming tongue of death” or “Death from the sky” It was a lot of fun working with Spooky because we knew what these guys could do. They were aggressive, professional and eager to shoot. Toward the end of my tour, the “Super Spooky” AC-130 gunship was developed and had much greater firepower.

While flying Nighthawk we were frequently called upon to extract patrols that got into contact. These three or five man teams would set up ambush locations and frequently get in too deep with a superior force when they triggered the “Claymore” anti-personnel mines. We would get a call on our company frequency to change to an alternate frequency and contact the tactical call sign of the patrol in trouble. When we made contact we would invariably hear gunfire in the background, (sometimes in the foreground) and the situation was usually desperate, sometimes involving injured troops. The “RTO” or radio telephone operator would sometimes whisper because the contact was so close. We found the patrol using a variety of methods including “homing” on their radio transmission, visually locating a high intensity strobe light or simply finding the tracers from the ongoing firefight. Our tracers were yellow/orange appearing and the enemy’s tracers were a green color. This color difference made it easy to see where our guys were and determine what size of force they were up against. The patrol would try to break contact and make their way to an area we could at least hover to pick them up. We made approaches to strobes, smoke grenades and even Zippo lighters. Usually the guys would be formed up in a defensive perimeter, roughly an outward facing circle, and on our call would fire a short burst from their weapons to help us pinpoint where they were. When we finally got them on board our concern was mainly if there were any injured and that the entire patrol got out.

In this situation we sometimes received intense fire when on final approach and when departing the pickup area and our gunner and crew chief would return fire with their M-60 machine guns. The guys we picked up would join in with their M-16’s. We would take any wounded to the hospital at Pleiku Air Force Base and drop the rest at the helipad at Hensel field, Camp Enari or sometimes the "Oasis" West of Camp Enari.

The guys we pulled out occasionally came to visit us afterwards armed with whatever booze or beer that was available. We’d sit around getting hammered and telling each other how crazy we were to enjoy doing what we did. We developed deep respect for each other.

Resupply

Kilo-4 was re-supply and we referred to it as, “Ash and trash” because of the condition of the pickup area for rations and ammo or the landing zone or “LZ” where we unloaded the stuff. We also delivered mail, new troops, took troops that were going home back to base camp, “dusted off” injured to the hospital, took POW’s to the base camp prison and generally acted as a flying truck.

The pickup area was normally at a secure location such as Camp Enari, Dak To, Ban Me Thout and An Khe. We would establish contact with the unit we were working for after loading up the C-Rations, ammo or both and deliver it to the forward location. Usually we would resupply all day until we were released by the assigned unit. When we completed the resupply activity we were at the disposal of the ground commander and flew whatever mission profile he conjured up. The field commanders were usually 2nd or 1st lieutenants or sometimes a captain. They sometimes used the resupply bird to evaluate their defenses, reconnoiter the area adjacent to their position and plan for whatever assaults, patrols or ambushes they had planned.

At times we disagreed with their use of us as it was evident the newer less experienced ground commanders got a serious ego trip riding around in a Huey rather than use it to actually resupply. When we suspected this we gave them an unforgettable ride making every effort to make them airsick. We had two Huey’s resupply the same unit once and two young lieutenants insisted they both get on individual birds and fly around the surrounding area to “recon”. During the formation flight, these two jackasses were giving each other the finger and making other gestures while communicating to each other using head sets attached to drop chords. Without them knowing, we started alternately climbing and descending as we flew close formation and the effect was immediate as they watched the other Huey climb and descend. Added to the visual stimuli were the slight positive and negative G forces. Almost simultaneously, they both became airsick and wanted nothing more than to get back on the ground. We worked for this unit many times in the future but the young “LT’s” never wanted to fly with us again.

One other situation comes to mind but this time it involved a Lieutenant Colonel that we delivered to a forward location to “inspect” his underlings and generally strut his stuff. His attitude was clear as he referred to us as “pilot” almost with the same tone of voice he would say “cabbie” back in New York. We picked him up later in the afternoon to return him to base camp and on the way had a tail rotor hydraulic failure. We elected to make a running landing on the dirt at edge of the runway at Hensel field.

Since we got pretty busy trying to maintain directional control using the throttle to add or reduce torque to yaw the aircraft and set up our approach, we ignored the Colonel’s constant rhetoric from the back until it became too much. My dear friend Jimmy Zeimet who was flying with me told him as best as I can remember, “Colonel sir, we’ve had a tail rotor hydraulic failure and were going to try to do a running landing back at Hensel and maybe save our collective asses. Please tighten your lap belt, shut up and let us do the job we are trained for.” There was total silence from the Colonel. The running landing was dusty but otherwise uneventful and when we came to a stop we looked in the back and the Colonel had exited the aircraft and was on the run about a hundred feet away! He later contacted our unit commander and didn’t refer to us a “pilots” but as “highly professional aviators.” He wanted to recommend us for citations but Jimmy and I declined as “we already had enough.” He never flew with us again either.

"Psy.-ops" and using a Huey as bait

I don’t remember the Kilo designation for a mission called “Psy.-ops”, or psychological operations. Prior to mission launch, a set of huge speakers on aluminum booms were installed on the Huey. The speakers stuck out over the skids and were attached to a powerful amplifier in the back. An interpreter sat in back and during the mission and would speak from a script encouraging the gooks to surrender, or “Chu Hoi” adding that they would be well treated and well fed as POW’s. We also carried leaflets that contained the same message and even offered monetary rewards that we’d throw out over the jungles and other likely looking areas. I flew this mission five or six times and never drew fire. That changed abruptly one evening after about an hour of the interpreter doing his thing and chucking out the Chu Hoi leaflets. We drew fire like this regularly after an uneventful hour or more at the beginning of the mission and we started to see a trend developing. We also noted that the normal bored expression of the interpreter changed to one of grinning and laughing just prior to taking fire. A Lt. Col. flew with us on one of these missions once as an observer and he was fluent in the Vietnamese language. After receiving fire and returning to base camp, he explained that the interpreter apparently got bored with the script and launched into an ad-lib message of his own design. His message included remarks about the enemy’s wives, mothers and sisters carrying on with other men, women, monkeys and water buffalo back home. He also remarked about their fathers and brothers activities as well. I guess he got quite graphic during his dialog and was obviously pleased with the results. By this time we always flew the mission with gunship cover as we took fire so often. We quit flying Chu Hoi soon thereafter but flew a modification of it for a while with mixed results.

Since Psy. op's didn’t cause legions of gooks to march in to be voluntarily incarcerated, it certainly did tempt them to fire on us, compromise their position and allow the gun ships to engage. From this experience, we devised a new mission that capitalized on what we learned.Gambler Guns UH-1B "Hog" Gunship

The mission consisted of a UH-1H and a fire team, (two gun ships) or heavy fire team, (three gun ships). We would launch in the evening as the sun was setting since this was the most prevalent time to take fire for some reason. The UH-1H would act as “bait” and fly about 100 feet over the jungle canopy at 50 – 60 knots with all our navigation lights on bright. The gun ships took up an orbit about a half mile away and wait for us to take fire. The gooks could not resist this tempting target and fired on us with little restraint. Upon receiving fire, the gunner and crew chief would drop smoke grenades then we’d clear the area as fast as possible and call the gun ships to identify the smoke color and clear them in hot. They’d roll in on the smoke and hose down the area with minigun and 2.75 rockets. Sometime the gun ships would take fire too and when they were “Winchester” or all ordinances expended, we would call in artillery on the area. Occasionally, we used “Spooky” to engage the target. Since this mission ended in darkness, we seldom got a confirmed assessment of KIA, (killed in action) or battle damage. What this mission did accomplish was to almost completely stop the gooks from shooting at us in the evening as had been their habit. They learned pretty quickly not to compromise their position.

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.

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

Sometimes, things got intense!

Another resupply mission that was particularly harrowing occurred when we were working for a unit close to Dak To.

It was late afternoon and got a call to divert to another units fire base for an emergency ammo resupply. We were not aware that the unit was in heavy contact but when we checked in with them we could hear all the weapons fire and general chaotic noise of an ongoing battle.

As we made our approach to the pad on the side of the mountain we realized what we had gotten into. The firebase was swarming with activity from the defensive positions and nearly everyone seemed to be actively firing their M-16’s, grenade launchers or throwing fragmentation grenades toward the perimeter wire closest to the helipad. After we unloaded the ammo and were getting ready to leave, the helipad started receiving mortar hits that were so close they caused our aircraft to lurch sideways. We could clearly see and hear the “Shooom” as the rounds impacted and the sound of the shrapnel as it sprayed the helicopter.

I thought for certain that we wouldn’t be able to get away without major damage or worse. When we finally got stabilized we got a call asking us to try to put some fire on a bunch of gooks right next to the perimeter wire we were closest to. Still at a hover, we maneuvered almost directly over the perimeter and spotted a group of uniformed NVA that were readying a mortar or some other form of weapon. Our crew chief and gunner depressed their M-60’s almost straight down and engaged the gooks. We had to turn from side to side to allow them a clear shot at the now retreating enemy which still had the wherewithal to engage us with their AK’s. We took several rounds through the “chin bubbles” or lower front windows directly in front of our feet that impacted the flack vests placed there for this very situation. One of the two inverters took at least one hit and this caused the master caution to illuminate. We pulled the circuit breaker for the inverter as a safety precaution and the master caution turned off.

The firefight ended abruptly with the gooks slipping back into the foliage at the edge of the perimeter. The outgoing fire continued sporadically from the firebase and our crew chief and gunner continued to fire until their M-60’s were expended.

We called for permission to depart and were thanked profusely for our help which made us pretty happy as we made our way back to Dak To to refuel and check out the bird. We had developed a high frequency vibration that indicated some sort of tail rotor problem,could hear the distinctive "whoosh-whoosh" noise that a main rotor blade makes when it sustains damage and the crew chief said there was fluid streaming back along the tail boom and he figured it was either transmission or hydraulic oil. I also discovered that I had taken some shrapnel in my ankles and lower legs and was bleeding through the nylon sides and water vents of my jungle boots. No real pain as I recall, just a mess on the floor around the pedals where my feet were.
Shrapnell damage
After refueling we shut down and checked over the Huey for damage. We had sustained numerous main and tail rotor hits, shrapnel damage to a large portion of the tail boom and a severely leaking hydraulic reservoir located on the engine deck. We didn’t fly this bird home but left it tied down to be sling loaded back to base camp by a Chinook the next day. (This Huey was a “hanger queen” for some time to come as it required main and tail rotor blade replacement, considerable sheet metal repair and patches, hydraulic line and reservoir replacement, two new chin bubbles and a new inverter and electrical repair. I eventually test flew this aircraft at the completion of all the repair work and it was again a fine flying aircraft that I credited with saving our lives. She became a favorite of the entire crew!)UH-1H engine shrapnel damageBy then the adrenaline buzz was wearing off and we realized how close we had been to disaster. We had been so caught up in the action we never really thought about what could have happened. I believe that people in wartime circumstances react automatically, place themselves in great personal danger and take unthinkable risks, to wonder later if it all really happened.

"Stick buddies"

“You’ve got it” and “I’ve got it” were the ICS (intercom communication system) comments when transferring control of the aircraft from one pilot to the other. Jimmy and I were on a night mission on the east side of Pleiku city and were making an approach to an improved helipad adjacent to a small hill. There were power or communication lines close to the pad so we had to be careful. We had both been in control of the Huey off and on because visibility of the power lines and at some point the aircraft started making some pretty wild gyrations as we got close to the ground. It was not unusual for the two of us to get into unusual attitudes just for grins but this time we both must have sensed things were a little more extreme than normal and we both asked “You got it?” Nope, neither one of us had it. I guess we both grabbed the controls at the same time and got things settled down. This was a very close call that taught us both to never get casual about who had control of the aircraft. We also agreed to fly with the magnetic force trim on just in case something like this happened again. I think we both matured, (a couple minutes anyway) during this experience. We flew together so much that we trusted each other implicitly and this might be a sound reason not to let the same people “stick buddy” too much like we did.

Before Jimmy moved to the Medivac outfit in Pleiku, we probably logged 500 hours together as it wasn’t hard to get over a hundred hours a month on a normal flight assignment schedule. I finished my tour with 1226 combat hours.