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Sunday, November 17, 2024
TRẬN ĐỨC LẬP 1968: PILOT CHÁNH BỊ THƯƠNG, CƠ KHÍ PHI HÀNH THAY THẾ, ĐƯA PHI CƠ TRỞ VỀ CĂN CỨ AN TOÀN.
"Trận đánh đã bắt đầu lúc 01:05 giờ sáng ngày 23.8.1968. Tại Đức Lập có 2 doanh trại, 1 là trại LLĐB và 2 là chi khu Đức Lập, trong đó có toán cố vấn Mỹ thuộc MACV (viết tắt của BTL Quân viện Mỹ tại Việt Nam -- người dịch). Hai nơi này ko xa nhau lắm, và đều gần biên giới Cam-bốt. Một lực lượng lính thiện chiến của Bắc VN đã tấn công 2 doanh trại trong đêm. Lính LLĐB đã chống trả mãnh liệt, nhưng chi khu (CK) có nguy cơ bị tràn ngập. (Theo sách của Shelby Stanton, tại đây có khoảng 6 cố vấn Mỹ và 1 đại đội ĐPQ -- người dịch). Toán trực thăng võ trang hay gunship của chúng tôi đã xuất phát từ sân bay Ban Mê Thuột (BMT) từ sáng sớm ngày 23.8.
Chúng tôi hướng tới doanh trại của chi khu, để xem điều gì có thể làm để thay đổi tình thế. Chúng tôi là những người đầu tiên có mặt trên khu vực chiến sự khi hừng đông ló dạng, và đã gặp bất ngờ. Vì quân bắc VN đã đưa súng phòng không vào vùng trong đêm. Nhưng họ đã ko nổ súng trong đêm vì ánh sáng phát ra từ họng súng sẽ là mục tiêu ngon lành cho các oanh tạc cơ và AC-47. Đây là súng phòng không 12.7 ly bốn nòng đặt trên một xe kéo, với bánh xe có thể gập sát đất.
Bruce Chido làm lead của hợp đoàn trực thăng, và tôi, Gilbert Terry, làm trail. Trên máy bay của tôi, Fred Pratt là co-pilot, Bill Goodness là CE hay cơ khí phi hành, và Carey Arney là DE hay xạ thủ. (Trong một hợp đoàn máy bay, lead là trưởng của hợp đoàn, trail làm phó; người co-pilot có cấp bậc hay kinh nghiệm ít hơn pilot chánh -- người dịch). Trên đường tới Đức Lập, Bruce đã nhanh chóng phát hiện trục trặc về truyền tin: các máy UHF và FM của y ko thể liên lạc với quân dưới đất và quan sát cơ hay FAC. May mắn, y vẫn có thể liên lạc với chúng tôi bằng VHF. Do vậy chúng tôi đồng ý như sau; tôi sẽ làm lead và y làm trail.
Khi chúng tôi tới gần, tôi đã nhận thông tin mới nhứt từ FAC. Họ đã hướng dẫn chúng tôi đến 1 dãy những lều (hootch) gần BCH chi khu, nơi mà đạn từ đó bắn ra. Khi tôi xác định mục tiêu, chúng tôi bắt đầu nổ súng.
Trong vòng đánh hay pass đầu tiên, một loạt đạn súng nhỏ đã bắn lên, và đạn xuyên qua cửa kiếng. Một số mảnh vở của cửa kiếng văng vào mặt tôi và Fred. Chúng tôi luôn bay với kính che mặt hay visor, nên ko bị ảnh hưởng. Một viên đạn khác đã trúng radio FM. Tôi tách hợp đoàn, bay ra ngoài (outbound) và hỏi trên bộ đàm hay intercom, "Mọi người OK?" Mọi người đều OK, kể cả Bruce. Mọi đèn phi cụ đều màu xanh, nên chúng tôi lại nhập vào hợp đoàn.
Ở pass thứ hai, ống nhắm rocket biến mất. Một đạn 12.7 ly trúng ống nhắm. Có thể một miểng đạn 12.7 ly hay mảnh vở của ống nhắm, đã cắt quai của nón bay của tôi làm đôi. Đạn nhỏ bắn lên rất nhiều.
Một viên đã trúng vào bản lề của cửa máy bay và một mảnh vở đã trúng vào chân tôi. Tôi vì quá bận nên ko nghĩ đến nó. Hết vòng đánh thứ 2, tôi lại hỏi, "Mọi người OK?" Mọi người đều OK, động cơ bình thường, đạn vẫn còn, và Bruce vẫn OK. Chúng tôi đang bắn phá các túp lều ở trái và phải.
Chúng tôi đang bay ngang 1 hồ nhỏ, chuẩn bị vòng thứ ba, thì bị trúng nhiều đạn 12.7 ly. Máy bay rung nhẹ vì trúng đạn. Khi đánh vòng thứ 3, tôi lướt nhanh xuống các phi cụ thì thấy đồng hồ hiển thị dầu máy và lực xoắn (torque) đứng yên. Ú-Ồ! Tôi biết ngay rằng máy sẽ ko chạy lâu nếu ko có dầu. (Cơ khí phi hành sau này nói với tôi rằng dầu đã phun ra xuyên qua tường lửa, nghĩa là phần truyền động bị trúng đạn).
Tôi vội tìm chỗ tốt để đáp. Tòa nhà của cố vấn ở bên phải tôi, do vậy tôi bắt đầu hướng về đó, cùng lúc máy bay mất cao độ. Tôi biết rằng nếu đáp xuống kế tòa nhà thì rất tốt. Copilot bình tỉnh nói, "động cơ đã tắt".
Tôi lập tức hạ cao độ để chuyển qua autorotation, xem hình, nhưng tốc độ của rotor cũng giảm. (Sau này chúng tôi biết bộ truyền động đã trúng đạn 12.7 ly, khiến ko thể quay được).
Tôi và co-pilot đều biết ko thể đáp xuống tòa nhà cố vấn và cũng ko có nhiều thì giờ để đáp xuống. Do tác động của gió, trực thăng vẫn bay dù đồng hồ hiển thị rotor đứng im và chúng tôi tiếp tục mất cao độ. Và cánh quạt từ từ quay chậm và... đột ngột ngừng quay, đến độ tôi ko ngờ. Mủi máy bay hướng lên trời, và máy bay chạm đất; phần đuôi của trực thăng đụng đất trước và máy bay gần như ở thế lộn ngược xuống đất trên 1 sườn đồi.
Trực thăng bắt đầu lăn long lóc trên đồi. Phần đuôi sút ra. Bụi đất tung tóe. Rồi máy bay đứng lại, im lặng hoàn toàn. Tôi nhớ lại mình vẫn ngồi trong ghế, nhìn 2 bàn tay, và nghĩ, "Mình vẫn còn sống."Tôi nhìn qua co-pilot thấy y OK. Nhưng máy truyền tin ở mủi máy bay đang nằm đè lên chân của y, và cửa máy bay đã sút ra.
Và 1 đạn cối đã nổ bên ngoài cửa, cũng có thể là 1 lựu đạn. Tôi vói tay để tháo đai an toàn và lập tức đập đầu vào trần của phòng lái và vào người của Fred. Hóa ra máy bay đang lộn ngược. Tôi bò ngang qua Fred và rơi xuống đất, và như 1 phản xạ tôi nói với co-pilot "Xin lỗi!", nhưng y trả lời lập tức, "Đưa tôi ra khỏi đây!" Tôi bắt đầu đẩy máy truyền tin ra khỏi chân của Fred, nhưng ko được.
Tôi lướt nhanh chung quanh và thấy 1 người, khoảng cách 50 mét, đang nhắm súng vào chúng tôi. Y bắn 1 phát, trúng vào trực thăng, nhưng ko trúng ai. Nhưng trước khi y bắn tiếp, xạ thủ của chiếc trail đã bắn trúng y.
Cùng lúc đó, vì ko còn bị máy truyền tin đè lên chân nên Fred đã rơi xuống đất. Y đứng dậy, và chúng tôi lập tức tìm kiếm cơ khí phi hành. Dây an toàn của người này đã sút ra, nhưng ko thấy y ở đâu. Tôi thấy 1 cái chân ló ra từ dưới trực thăng. Tôi nắm chân kéo ra, may mắn rất dễ dàng, vì trực thăng đã tì lên giá treo vũ khí (armament pylon), khiến máy bay ko đè lên y.
Tôi thấy y bị trúng đạn súng nhỏ ở đùi trái, và bên dưới xương sườn và máu chảy nhiều. Lúc nảy, khi tôi kéo các máy truyền tin khỏi người của Fred, tôi nhận thấy xạ thủ nằm lắc lư trên ghế, bất tỉnh. Nhưng khi tôi kéo cơ khí phi hành khỏi trực thăng thì xạ thủ Arney tỉnh dậy. Chúng tôi lấy lại bình tỉnh và suy nghĩ "Điều gì sẽ xảy ra?"
Chúng tôi ngồi như vậy 1 hay 2 phút, nói rất ít. Chúng tôi kiểm tra đạn dược. Tôi và copilot vẫn còn nón bay và áo giáp, và còn súng lục. Nhưng súng M-16 và M-60 văng đâu mất. Rất may tôi vẫn còn máy truyền tin cứu cấp. Tôi thử gọi nhiều lần nhưng ko được. Nhưng còn may vì tôi còn đeo một la-bàn trên cổ tay. Tôi còn nhớ lúc đó la bàn hướng về BCH/chi khu. Thế là chúng tôi bắt đầu bò lên đồi, băng qua cỏ cao.
Tôi và Fred thay phiên cỏng và kéo cơ khí phi hành bị thương. Đạn bay khắp nơi, dù ko nhắm vào chúng tôi. Tôi biết địch gần đó, và đang kiếm chúng tôi. Cỏ bị trúng đạn văng vào chúng tôi.
Lát sau, 2 phản lực F-100 vào vùng, làm vòng chờ để tìm mục tiêu, và bắt đầu bắn phá bằng đạn 20 ly. Bắc quân tìm chỗ núp. Chúng tôi bắt đầu lạc quan nhưng niềm vui nhanh chóng vụt tắt khi một chiếc F-100 bị trúng đạn. Nó bay khỏi mục tiêu với khói từ sau đuôi, sau đó 1 cái dù bung ra. Chiếc thứ 2 bỏ đi và chúng tôi lại tự lo lấy mình.
Khi có máy bay thì chúng tôi đã di chuyển rất nhanh lên đồi. Nhưng khi máy bay đi xa, chúng tôi ko thể di chuyển vì sợ địch phát hiện. Tôi và copilot cố gắng giúp cơ khí phi hành im lặng, dù y đang bị đau nhiều. Chúng tôi nằm ngửa trên cỏ với súng lục cầm tay, mắt hướng về chung quanh.
Hai chiếc Phantom F-4 xuất hiện. Vì Phantom phát tiếng động rất lớn và đang tấn công, nên địch tìm chỗ núp. Chúng tôi lợi dụng điều đó, và bắt đầu bò lên núi và được 1 khoảng xa.
Chẳng bao lâu chúng tôi đã tới hàng rào ngoài cùng của chi khu. Chúng tôi nằm xuống nghỉ ngơi và nghĩ rằng đã thoát nạn. Nhưng giờ đây bị chi khu bắn.
Khi cố vấn của chi khu thấy máy bay chúng tôi biến mất trên đồi, cắm đầu xuống đất, họ nghĩ rằng chúng tôi đã chết (goner). Và điều ấy đã xảy ra trước đó khoảng 2 giờ.
Do vậy khi chúng tôi tới hàng rào, họ tưởng là Bắc quân và bắn chúng tôi. Chúng tôi la lớn bằng tiếng Anh và họ nhận ra. Một trung úy và 1 trung sĩ ra đón chúng tôi và dẫn qua bãi mìn.
Khi đã vào bên trong chi khu, tôi để cơ khí phi hành sau 1 bức tường cao ba bộ hay 0.91 mét. Copilot biết sơ cứu vì từng làm việc với LLĐB, nên giúp đỡ cơ khí phi hành, còn tôi vì quá mệt nên ngả vật (plop down) xuống tường.
Tôi thấy 1 thiếu tá mặc đồ lót bằng vãi olive (olive drab hay OD), đội nón sắt hướng về chúng tôi. Ông ta là chỉ huy toán cố vấn. Chúng tôi nói chuyện rất nhanh. Tôi nói một phi hành đoàn bị thương còn ông nói về tình hình.
Ông cho biết rất nhiều súng AK-47, M-16, và cạc-bin nằm rải rác khắp nơi. Cũng có 1 M-60 nhưng ko còn đạn. Tôi nói còn rất nhiều đạn 7.62, cũng là đạn của M-60, nằm cạnh khẩu min-gun trên trực thăng của chúng tôi. Ông yêu cầu tôi xuống đó, mang đạn về cho ông. Một trung sĩ của ông đi theo chúng tôi.
Tôi có súng lục nhưng viên trung sĩ thì tay không. Chúng tôi băng qua bãi mìn và chạy nhanh xuống nơi trực thăng rơi. Chỉ tốn chưa tới 10 phút, ít hơn rất nhiều khi chúng tôi trèo từ đó lên đây. Máy bay đầy đạn, vì chúng đã bắn min-gun ko nhiều. Tôi lập tức kéo băng đạn 7.62 ra khỏi khẩu minigun.
Tôi quấn dây đạn quanh ngực và cổ, trung sĩ kia cũng làm như vậy.
Vì mang đạn lên núi nên đi chậm, nhưng ko gặp gì hết. Sau khi chúng tới chi khu, một trực thăng Dustoff hay tải thương đáp xuống giữa chi khu. Lính VN chạy nhanh tới và lấp đầy trực thăng, dù nhiều người ko bị thương. Họ tỏ ra hoảng loạn.
Tôi và copilot Fred rất khó khăn lắm mới tìm chỗ cho xạ thủ và cơ khí phi hành vì máy bay đầy người. Tôi đứng trên càng trực thăng và nghiêng người vào phòng lái nói với phi công Iley, "máy bay quá tải, và tôi và Fred đi chuyến sau." Y nhìn tôi và nói qua cửa sổ, "Bỏ cái tật khùng của ông đi, vì tôi sẽ ko trở lại".
Ko có thì giờ để cãi cọ, tôi cố gắng thu người, ngồi giữa 2 phi công, và Fred ngồi chen chút phía sau. Tôi đang nhìn đồng hồ phi cụ trong khi đại úy Iley kéo cần lái để cất cánh. Khi đồng hồ N1 vượt quá 100/100, tôi ko dám nhìn nữa. Tôi sợ rằng rất nguy hiểm khi đồng hồ N1 quá 100. Nhưng chiếc UH-1 H của y mạnh hơn chiếc gunship của tôi nên mọi việc ổn thỏa.
Ko có bịnh viện ở Ban Mê Thuột mà chỉ là một lều bạt lớn. Họ để chúng tôi nằm trên ghế bố xếp. Chẳng bao lâu người bị thương đưa về rất nhiều. Cả 2 chúng tôi rất đau lưng, hậu quả của vác đạn lên núi. Chúng tôi phải đi khom lưng (stoop over), và chúng tôi không thể xoay cổ hay lưng. Vì vậy, chúng tôi lăn mình ra khỏi ghế bố, quỳ xuống và thận trọng đứng dậy cho đến khi hết đau lưng.
Khi chúng tôi định ra cửa, ai đó hỏi chúng tôi định đi đâu, chúng tôi nói rằng đến lều của mình. Sau đó trong ngày, chúng tôi gặp bác sĩ phi hành. Chúng tôi rất cần chiếu X-quang, để xem thương tổn mức độ nào, nhưng ko có máy này. Bác sĩ nói "ko sao, chỉ có các cơ bắp bị kéo căng." Nhưng ông ta ko cho chúng tôi bay. "Cho tới khi các cơ bắp tốt hơn," ông nói.
Chúng tôi trải qua vài ngày ko làm gì hết (goof off). Tôi còn uống rượu nữa. Tại sao ko? Vì chúng tôi ko được bay. Vào ngày thứ ba, copilot Fred ko còn kiên nhẫn nữa (chomp at the bit). Các anh em LLĐB của y đang chiến đấu, và y ko muốn ngồi chơi. Dù chúng tôi chưa khỏe 100/100 nhưng chúng tôi ko muốn ngồi chơi trong khi bạn bè đang bay bổng trong vòng lửa đạn. Chúng tôi gặp bác sĩ phi hành.
Lúc đầu ông nói,"Tôi ko cho phép ông bay vì ông ko thể đứng thẳng, và đi lại khó khăn."Tôi nài nỉ rằng các bạn trong phi đoàn rất mệt mỏi, có lẽ khắp kiệt sức, trong khi chúng tôi còn rất khỏe. Cuối cùng ông đồng ý và chỉ vào tôi với yêu cầu, "Anh phải là copilot." Ông chỉ vào Fred nói, "Anh ko thể bay cùng với Gilbert (tác giả bài viết)." Chúng tôi vội vả ra đi vì sợ ông đổi ý.
Chúng tôi đến phòng HQ của phi đoàn và nói cho họ biết được phép bay. Ngày kế, Fred Pratt là copilot với đại úy David Rutledge, trưởng hợp đoàn của chúng tôi và là một phi công xuất sắc (a heck of pilot). Tôi là copilot với Brad Jones trong chiếc cuối của hợp đoàn.
Chúng tôi đã đánh vài pass, và khi sắp hết đạn, chúng tôi nghe trên máy, "Pratt bị trúng đạn," Đ.u. Rutledge nói với chúng tôi rằng Pratt bị miểng của cửa kiếng plexiglass văng vào mắt, ko thấy rõ, và sắp đáp xuống BCH CK.
Tôi quay lại nhìn cơ khí phi hành và xạ thủ -- chúng tôi phải cứu Fred Pratt. Chúng tôi quăng các thùng đạn rỗng của M-60, lương khô ra ngoài để máy bay nhẹ và có chỗ trống. Chúng tôi vừa hết đạn và sắp hết xăng.
Tôi và đ.u. Brad Jones đáp xuống kế máy bay của đ.u. Rutledge. Xạ thủ của chiếc này đang đứng bên ngoài để bắn M-60, trong khi cơ khí phi hành kéo Fred qua máy bay tôi. Ngay khi Fred vừa vào, Brad kéo cần lái để cất cánh.
Chúng tôi bay xuống sườn đồi, bay qua nơi mà máy bay chúng tôi đã rơi.
Ngay khi chúng tôi rời vùng, một hợp đoàn võ trang khác vào vùng để bảo vệ chúng tôi bay ra. Danh hiệu của hợp đoàn là Buccaner, và của chỉ huy là Buc 8.
Nhưng khi chúng tôi cách mặt đất khoảng 15 tới 20 bộ, chúng ta bay ngang 1 tên VC đang nả 1 băng AK vào cạnh phải máy bay. Tôi ko sao vì ngồi ghế trái, nhưng đạn đã xuyên qua bàn đạp trái, xuyên qua giày, trúng ngón chân, và trúng miếng giáp bảo vệ ngực của Brad.
Tôi đỡ y khỏi ghế và cho y quay ra sau, hướng về cơ khí phi hành. Khi đạn trúng áo giáp của y, những mảnh gốm bị bể nát và bắn vào cổ và mặt y. Máu văng đầy buồng lái, giống như ai đó quăng hộp sơn đỏ vào tôi. Brad nghĩ rằng y trúng ở cổ họng nên nói, 'bây giờ anh điều khiển máy bay'.
Tôi cố gắng đưa máy bay lên cao. Anh cơ khí kéo cần màu đỏ ở ghế phi công và kéo Brad về phía sau. Tôi nói với cơ khí Wusso, 'lại đây'. (Nói thêm: khi bay gunship để test hệ thống hỏa lực, lúc về tôi để cơ khí phi hành lái. Họ rất thích điều đó. Tôi dạy họ cách đáp xuống và đậu hàng dọc trên phi đạo. Tôi ko dạy họ cách hover hay bay đứng 1 chỗ vì ko có thì giờ).
Khi y cố gắng để trèo lên ghế của phi công, chúng tôi bay lên cao. Trong khi cơ khí phi hành buộc dây an toàn, tôi nói, "Nếu điều gì xảy ra với tôi, hãy nắm chặt các cần điều khiển. Ko nên kéo cần mạnh quá vì vòng quay trên phút hay RPM sẽ tụt giảm. Tôi chuyển tần số qua số 3 và nói với y, nếu điều gì xảy ra với tôi, kẻ mà anh cần nói chuyện là Buc 8, y sẽ chỉ đường cho anh về và đáp xuống phi đạo. Ko nên quẹo trái hay phải, ko nên bay đứng một chỗ, chỉ cần đáp xuống phi đạo. Y ko nói một lời. Tôi rất bận, nhưng nhìn y và mắt y mở to. Có lẽ y đang nghĩ, "Ú-ồ, tôi có thể phải làm điều này." Nhưng y đã ko làm vì ko điều gì xảy ra với tôi.
Chúng tôi bay về Ban Mê Thuột càng nhanh càng tốt, tới thẳng bãi đáp của Hồng Thập Tự. Fred vẫn còn sống khi chúng tôi khiêng y ra khỏi máy bay. Chúng tôi bay về chỗ đậu của trực thăng (revetment) và tắt máy. Và lúc đó mới biết trực thăng đã trúng nhiều đạn. Hai trong số những ống điều khiển tới cánh quạt đuôi của máy bay bị cắt gần như làm hai khúc. Chúng ta đã may mắn trở về mà ko gặp tai nạn.
Và một lát sau, chúng tôi được biết Fred đã được chở tới Pleiku, nhưng chết trên đường đi. Dù về căn cứ an toàn, nhưng chúng tôi đã mất một người tốt. Một ngày rất buồn.
NÓI THÊM:
Không thể tin được khi phi công máy bay F-100, bị bắn rơi vào ngày hôm đó đã được cứu thoát. Bốn người lính LLĐB Mỹ, trong khi chiến đấu cho sự sống còn của họ, để bảo vệ doanh trại chống lại địch quân áp đảo (overwhelming odds), đã thấy dù đã bung ra từ máy bay. Họ đã chạy nhanh khỏi doanh trại trên hai chiếc jeep, đánh nhau với 1 đại đội CSBV đang chiếm giữ 2 bên đường, cứu sống phi công và đánh nhau lần nữa với kẻ thù trên đường về trại.
Vài tuần sau trận đánh, vị tuyên úy TĐ gửi cho tôi bản đồ trận đánh. Nhiều chỗ trên bản đồ được đánh số. Chú thích của bản đồ cho thấy số 15 là địa điểm máy bay của chúng tôi rơi, và số 15 là hầm của BCH của CSBV chỉ huy trận đánh -- hai nơi rất gần nhau. Chúng tôi đã rơi xuống 1 nơi rất xấu và đã sống để kể lại điều ấy.
Trở lại phi đoàn ở Trại Coryell ở BMT, sau khi Bắc quân rút sang Cam-bốt và tình hình lắng dịu, tôi nộp đơn xin đi phép (put in for R&R). Tôi lấy thư mỗi ngày để biết đơn xin được chấp thuận hay ko. Sau khi ba lần được biết đơn xin đi phép có thể thất lạc, tôi gặp chỉ huy phi đoàn. Ông nói tôi chưa thể đi phép.
Tôi không định nói điều này với ông, nhưng tướng Abrams sẽ đến đây để gắn huy chương cho ông. Tôi nhớ rất rõ suy nghĩ đầu tiên của mình khi nghe tin rất bất ngờ đó: "Họ không thể gửi nó qua đường bưu điện sao?"
Tôi không cần huy chương hay thăng thưởng, nhưng chỉ muốn được đi phép. Trên thực tế, tôi thậm chí còn không biết mình đã được cấp huy chương.
Khi nói như vậy, tôi thực sự ko tự xem mình là anh hùng. Tôi chỉ làm những gì phải làm. Chúng tôi có rất nhiều người tuyệt vời trong Đại đội 155 trực thăng tấn công. Bất kỳ ai trong số những người khác cũng sẽ làm những điều tương tự như tôi đã làm. Chỉ tình cờ là tôi là người gặp nhiều điều xấu ngày hôm đó.
Lời của ban biên tập: Gilbert Tery đã nhận một Anh dũng Bội tinh (Distinguished Service Cross) và Chiến thương Bội tinh (Purple Heart) cho các chiến công ngày 23.8.1969 và một Phi dũng Bội tinh (Distinguished Flying Cross) cho hành động trong ngày 26.8.1969.
Chuyển ngữ từ bài Shot down at Duc Lap của Gilbert Terry, cựu phi công trực thăng võ trang của đại đội 155 trực thăng tấn công, đồn trú ở ban mê thuột.
Friday, November 15, 2024
SHOT DOWN AT DUC LAP
The battle began the night of 22 August 1968. Duc Lap had two compounds, one was Special Forces and the other was MACV. They weren't far apart, and both were within a couple miles of the Cambodian border. A large force of experienced NVA troops had assaulted both compounds during the night. The Special Forces guys were holding the bad guys off pretty well, but the MACV compound was in serious danger of being overrun. Our light fire team of Charlie model gunships had launched from Ban Me Thuot City Field early the next morning.
We headed to the MACV compound, to see what we could do to help stem the tide. We were the first gun team on station after dawn broke, and we were in for a surprise. As part of the attack, the North Vietnamese had brought anti-aircraft weapons in during the night. But they didn't crank them up during the darkness, because the muzzle flashes would have given their positions away and made them prime targets for Air Force fighter-bombers and Puff gunships. There were quad 50's; four barrel gun systems on a little trailer with wheels that would fold flat, to form a stable platform.
Bruce Chido was Falcon Lead, I was Trail A/C. Fred Pratt was my Peter Pilot, Bill Goodness was the CE, and Carey Arney was the DG. On the way to Duc Lap, it quickly became apparent that Bruce was having radio problems. His UHF and FM radios didn't work at all, which meant he could not communicate with anyone on the ground or the FAC. Luckily, he could still communicate with us on VHF. So we agreed to swap places; I became Falcon Lead, and Bruce would be the Trail ship.
When we were close, I made contact with the Air Force FAC to get the latest information. He directed us to a row of hootches near the MACV compound, where a lot of fire was coming from. When I was sure of the target, we got set up and started making our gun runs.
On the first run, we took a bunch of small arms fire, and rounds came through the windshield. Fred and I both had bits of plexiglass pepper our faces. We always flew with visors down, to protect our eyes, so it wasn't a big deal. Another round hit the FM radio tuner. We'd been hit, but we were still flying. We broke off and turned outbound, and I asked on the intercom, "Everybody OK?" We were, and Bruce said they were OK, too. All the instruments were in the green, so we rolled in again.
Inbound on the second gun run, my rocket sight disappeared. A .50 round went through it, and it just exploded gone. WOW! "There's big stuff out here," I thought to myself. Something, probably a piece of shrapnel or part of the rocket sight, cut my helmet strap nearly in two. There was a lot of small arms fire, kind of like a hailstorm.
A round shattered on the door hinge and a chunk of it stuck in my leg. I knew it was there, but I was kind of busy with other things right then. We finished the gun run and broke off, and again I asked, "Everybody OK?" All affirmative; everyone OK, the engine was still running, we still had ammo, and Falcon Trail was OK. There's no doubt we were being effective, we were tearing up hootches left and right, taking out those positions.
We were flying over a small lake, turning inbound for another gun run, when we started taking hits from the .50. It was like being in a Volkswagon with someone beating on you with a sledge hammer. The helicopter was yawing from the hits. Not good. As I rolled out inbound for a third gun run, I glanced down at the engine instruments and the engine oil and torque were unwinding. UH-OH! I knew right away that engine wasn't going to run long without oil. (The crew chief told me later that there was oil shooting through the firewall; the transmission had been hit.)
Forget the gun run, I was looking for the best place to put it down. The MACV compound was off to my right, so I started turning toward it, at the same time going into a steep descent. I figured that the closer we could get to the compound, the better off we would be when we landed or crashed. Who knows why, but I did notice our heading as we descended toward the MACV compound. But we didn't fly long. When the engine quit, it got very quiet. Fred said very calmly, "There went the engine." My response to him was not as calm nor was it PG-rated.
I immediately bottomed the pitch to enter autorotation - but the rotor speed was bleeding off, bigtime. (We figured out later that the transmission had been hit with armor-piercing rounds, and was seizing). Fred and I both realized right away that we couldn't make it to the compound. In fact, we didn't even have much time to prepare for the crash. I was still flying the helo, even as the rotor RPM unwound and we continued to lose altitude. Fred folded his mini-gun sight up, to get it out of the way. And the rotor went slower and slower and then... it just quit turning. It stopped out the left front, and I kind of stared at it, not wanting to believe it had stopped.
Then I looked out the window to see how much further we had to go; about 100 feet, or maybe even 150. I had a big flare in, hoping I could get back some rotor speed, but it didn't help at all. The Huey nose kept coming up and back -- and then we crashed. The tail boom hit first, and we went in almost upside-down on the side of a hill.
The helicopter started rolling end over end, up the hill. The tail boom broke off, and there was lots of dirt and noise. I remember thinking, "This is IT. There's no way to survive this." When everything quit moving, it was deathly quiet. I remember sitting in my seat, looking at my hands. I turned them over a couple of times, and I thought, "Man, I'm still alive." I was really surprised. I looked over at Fred, and he was OK, too. But the radios from the nose of the Huey were over on top of his feet, pinning him in. I noticed his door had been torn off.
Just then a mortar round exploded outside my door, or maybe it was a grenade. In any case, that brought me back to reality. Automatically, I reached to unlatch my seat belt and immediately fell hard on the ceiling and then into Fred. I hadn't realized that we were upside down. I crawled over Fred and fell out on the ground, and my good southern upbringing just came to bear because I picked myself up and I said "Excuse me!" to Fred. I'll never forget the look on his face, but his reply was immediate; "Get me out of here!" So I started pushing on the radios, and he was, too; we were trying to get his feet loose. It wasn't working, so I looked around for something to pry with.
I happened to glance around and saw a guy, maybe fifty meters away, aiming his weapon at us. He got one shot off, it hit on the helicopter, head high, but didn't hurt anybody. Before he could fire again, Chido's door gunner took him out. Well done, Falcons.
At almost the same instant the round hit, Fred freed himself and BOOM!, he tumbled down and out onto the ground. He picked himself up, and we immediately started looking for the crew. The crew chief's seat belt had been ripped out of the firewall, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then I noticed a foot sticking out from under the helicopter, and I thought, "This can't be good." I grabbed his foot, expecting another struggle to pull him free but he slid out quite easily. Luckily, the helo had come to rest leaning on the armament pylon, leaving enough space so that the crew chief was not pinned underneath.
When we had freed him, we found he had been hit with small arms in the left hip, just under the ribs and he was in a lot of pain. So now there were three of us. While I had been pulling on the radios trying to get Fred out, I noticed the door gunner dangling in his seat, unconscious. But by the time we had gotten Goodness out from under the helo, Door Gunner Carey Arney was awake and had gotten himself out, too. We kind of huddled next to the wreckage, catching our breath and wondering "What next?"
We four sat there for a minute or two, not saying much. I'm not sure about the others, but I was definitely in denial mode, expecting to awaken soon to find it was all a bad dream. Twenty years old and bulletproof, I didn't think it was going to happen to me -- but it did. A few minutes ago we'd been airborne warriors, taking the fight to the enemy. Now we were down in enemy territory, without much going for us.
OK, enough of that, let's get back to reality. So we took stock. Fred and I still had our helmets and chicken plates on, and we had our .45's. But the M-60's and M-16's were gone, thrown out somewhere in the crash. Survival radio; yep, I've got one of those. I pulled it out and tried several times to make contact but the darn thing didn't work! Shot down was Strike One, no survival radio was Strike Two -- but we weren't out yet. I always wore a compass on my wrist, just in case. Good thing I did. I remembered the compass heading to the MACV compound, so I said, "We need to go that way." And we started off, crawling up the hill through the tall grass.
Fred and I were carrying and sometimes just dragging the wounded crew chief. There was lots of popping and snapping as bullets were whizzing by everywhere. The fire seemed mostly random, rather than aimed at us. We knew bad guys were nearby, and they were looking for us. The vision burned in my memory from those moments has blades of grass fluttering to the ground after being cut off by enemy bullets. It's funny what you remember.
But then, the Air Force came to our rescue. Two F-100's arrived on station, made a couple of orbits to identify their targets, and started making their runs. The NVA had to take cover, and the fire lessened. Best of all for us, the noise from the two jets' engines drowned out the sounds of our movement. And their 20mm cannons were helpful, too. Things were looking up. I felt like we had a chance to make it. But that all changed when the lead F-100 was hit. We watched in disbelief as he climbed away from the battlefield, trailing smoke -- and then he punched out. Nobody said a word as his chute drifted down some distance away. His wingman departed and we were on our own again.
And it had again gotten very quiet. With the noise from the jets and their munitions covering our movement, we had made good progress going up the hill. But when the jets went away, we couldn't move because we figured the noise of our movement would point the bad guys right to us. Fred and I were trying our best to keep the crew chief quiet, but he was in a lot of pain. It's a wonder we didn't smother him. We were lying on our backs in the grass with our .45's at the ready, looking straight up so we could see all the way around.
Again, it was the Air Force that came to our rescue. Before anyone spotted us or stumbled over us in the grass, two F-4 Phantoms came on station. Fearing attack from the air, the NVA again had to take cover. But from our standpoint, we most appreciated the noise of the two fighter jets. And they were VERY noisy; two F-4's are twice as many engines as two F-100's, and we used that noise to our advantage. We started crawling up the hill again and we made a lot of distance.
It wasn't too long before we got to the fence that was the outer perimeter of the MACV compound. We laid down along the wire and thought we had it made. Not so fast, GI! We were taking fire -- from the compound!
When the MACV guys saw us disappear over the hill, going in upside-down, they figured we were goners. And it had been about two hours since we'd gone down. Needless to say, they were not expecting crash survivors. When we got to their perimeter fence, they thought we were NVA, and they were shooting at us. Fred and I used some rather colorful English words -- LOUDLY -- to get their attention and to let them know we were Americans. And it worked. A lieutenant and a sergeant came out and got us and led us in through the mine fields.
When we got inside the compound, there was a wall about three feet high. We laid the crew chief down inside the wall. Fred knew first aid from his SF first tour, so he worked on Goodness to treat his injuries as much as possible, and to make him comfortable. I didn't know anything about wounds and medical stuff, so I just plopped down against the wall. I thought to myself, We're safe -- even though I could hear bullets whizzing overhead. Well, maybe not quite safe, but better off than we were an hour ago.
I looked up to see a Major wearing OD underwear and a steel helmet coming toward us. He was the CO, and when the compound had been hit in the middle of the night, he hadn't had time to get dressed. No matter, he was in the battle! We talked quickly. I told him about our wounded crew chief, and he gave me a brief sit-rep.
He told me the whole area was littered with AK's, M-16's, and carbines of guys who had fallen, and that there were plenty of rifles. He also said they had an M60, but no ammo for that weapon. I told him there was lots of 7.62 ammo in the mini-gun trays on our downed gunship. He asked if I would lead one of his guys back to the ship, to bring in some of that ammo, and I said "OK." One of his sergeants overheard, and he said, "I'll go, sir." And off we went.
I had my .45, but the sergeant didn't even carry a rifle. We went out through the mine field and kind of ran bent over back to the ship. It took less than 10 minutes; a lot less time than it had taken the four of us to go the other way. The ship was full of ammo, because we hadn't fired the mini-guns very much. I immediately started pulling the belted 7.62 rounds out of the mini-gun trays, and that's when I realized, I'm really hurting here.
I had had so much adrenaline running through me, I hadn't noticed any ill effects from the crash. But now, when I grabbed the ammo, my back hurt, my neck hurt, and I couldn't carry anything with my arms extended. So I wasn't the best ammo transporter, but I managed to carry a good amount by wrapping the ammo belt around my chest and my neck. The sergeant grabbed as much as he could carry, and we headed back to the compound.
Going uphill carrying the ammunition was slower, but we made it without incident. After we got back, it wasn't long before a Dustoff Huey flew in. I knew the pilot, CPT Iley. He was a good ol' boy from Texas. When he landed in the middle of the compound, Vietnamese soldiers rushed the Huey and immediately filled the ship. Most of them weren't even wounded, they just wanted out of there. The terror on their faces was apparent.
It was clear that getting any of them off the Dustoff ship would take considerable time and effort. Fred and I managed to make space for Goodness and Arney, but it was VERY tight. Fred and I looked at each other, and we both knew the helicopter was overloaded. I stepped up on the skid toe and leaned in the window. (CPT Iley reminded me of a pit bull; kind of snarly, and he had chewing tobacco running down from the corner of his mouth). I told him, "You are grossly overloaded. Pratt and I will come out on the next ship." And he looked at me, out that window, and he said, "Get your bony little ass in here, because I am NOT coming back!"
There wasn't time to argue, so we muscled ourselves in. I sat on the console between the pilots, and Fred wedged himself in back. I was watching the gauges as CPT Iley pulled pitch to depart. When the N1 gauge went past 100%, I quit looking at it. I was afraid we weren't going to make it. But his H model had a lot more power than our gunships did, and we made it out fine.
There was no hospital at Ban Me Thuot, just a big tent. They laid us down on some cots. It wasn't long before they started bringing in wounded people who were really messed up. Fred and I looked at each other, and I said to him, "I feel guilty in this cot." Both of us had back trouble, we had compression problems. We both had to walk stooped over, and we couldn't twist our necks or backs. So we rolled ourselves off the cots, went to our knees, and gingerly stood up still stooped over.
As we headed out the door, somebody asked where we were going, and we told him we were going to our hootch. And that's what we did. At some point later that day, we did go see the Flight Surgeon. We really needed to be X-rayed, to find out the extent of our injuries, but there was no X-ray machine. Doc told us, "Aw, it's just muscles, you'll be fine." But he didn't want us flying, so he grounded us. "Just until your muscles are better," he said.
We spent the next few days just hanging around and goofing off. I might even have done a little drinking. Why not? After all, I was grounded. Fred had been restless from the start, and by the third day he was chomping at the bit to get back out there. His SF brothers were fighting for their lives, and he didn't like sitting on the sidelines when he thought he could help out. Besides that, our guys had been flying day and night and they were wearing down. Fred and I still weren't 100%, but we'd had enough of sitting on our butts while our friends were flying and fighting. So we went to see the Flight Surgeon.
Doc's initial reaction was, "Hell no, I'm not clearing you to fly. You can't even stand up straight, and you can barely walk." We argued that the other Falcon pilots were very tired, maybe approaching exhaustion while we were alert and rested. Finally he relented, but he did set some ground rules. He pointed to me and said, "You can't be an Aircraft Commander, you have to be a co-pilot." And he pointed to Fred and said, "You can't be in the same helicopter as Gilbert. I don't want you two flying together." Sounded good to us. We thanked the Doc and quickly departed before he could change his mind.
We walked directly to Operations, to let them know we were cleared to fly. The very next day, Fred was Peter Pilot with CPT David Rutledge, our platoon leader and one heck of a pilot. I was flying as Peter Pilot with Brad Jones in the Trail ship, and we went back to the exact same spot.
We made some runs and then, just about the time we were running out of ammo, we heard the radio call. It was, "Pratt's been hit!" CPT Rutledge also told us he had plexiglass in his eyes, he couldn't see very well, and he was going to put it down near the MACV compound. There's nothing democratic about an aircraft, you're going to go where the Aircraft Commander decides to go.
I folded up the mini-gun sight and looked back at the crew chief and door gunner. They were already at work, because they knew what was next -- we were going to get Fred. So they were throwing stuff out of the helicopter, to make room and get rid of excess weight. Spare M-60 barrels, C rations, a lot of loose stuff went overboard. We were already out of ammo and low on fuel. so we both thought we would have enough power to fly in and pick up Fred.
Brad Jones was a happy-go-lucky California surfer kid. He was senior to me, he'd been around, and was toward the end of his tour; a very good pilot. We followed CPT Rutledge down, and landed right next to his ship. The door gunner was standing outside shooting with his M-60 while the crew chief helped get Fred out of his helicopter and into ours. As soon as Fred was in, Brad pulled pitch. We bounced some on the uneven surfaces, and then we were airborne. We made it!
We flew down the hillside, right past where our first helicopter had crashed. By now it was just a hole in the ground, because the Air Force had blown it up so the North Vietnamese couldn't get the radios or mini-guns or any of that stuff. As we came out, another gun team had come on station to cover our exit. Their call sign was Buccaneer, the leader was Buc 8. Buc 8 swung in behind us, shooting up the place. We were gaining airspeed and slowly beginning to climb out; so far, so good.
But then, when we were about 15 or 20 feet off the ground, we flew right over a guy who emptied an AK into our helicopter. He stitched our gunship all the way down the right side. OK for me, I was sitting in the left seat, but not good for Brad. One round came through the chin bubble, through his left pedal, through his left boot, creased his toe, between his legs, behind his hand, and hit him on his chest protector.
It was like someone hit him with a sledge hammer. It lifted him up in his seat and turned him around to the rear, so he was looking at the crew chief. When the bullet hit his chicken plate, the ceramic material shattered and peppered his neck and face. Blood splattered all over the cockpit, it was like someone slung a red paintbrush at me. Brad thought he'd been hit in the throat, because of all the blood. He told me, You've got the controls. And I already had them, believe me.
So I was just trying to nurse the ship along, to continue our climb-out. The crew pulled the red handles on the pilot's seat and slid Brad back, to see what they could do for him. Lloyd Wusso was the crew chief, I said, "Wusso, get up here." (Sidebar: I was the platoon Armament Officer. When I went to test fire the weapons systems, I usually tried to let the crew chief fly on the way back. It was just something I did, and they loved it. It was kind of a reward to them. I taught them how to line it up on the runway and fly it to the ground. I didn't try to teach them to hover, not enough time.)
As he was scrambling to get into the pilot's seat, we were climbing out. Buc 8 was still shooting under us, doing his best to cover our getaway. When the crew chief was strapped in, I told him, "If anything happens to me, just grab the controls and keep it going. Don't pull too much power or you will bleed off RPM." I turned his radio switch to #3 and I said, "The guy you'll need to talk to is Buc 8, he will steer you home and line you up on the runway. Don't make any turns, don't try to hover, just crash it into the runway, if anything happens to me." He never said a word. I was busy, but I looked over at him and his eyes were BIG! Obviously, he was thinking, "Uh-oh, I might actually have to do this." But he didn't. Nothing happened to me, and we made it out without further damage thanks to Buccaneer 8 and his wingman.
We flew back to Ban Me Thuot as fast as we could, and went straight to the Red Cross landing area. Fred was still alive when they took him off our ship. He'd been hit bad, but he was a tough guy, so we were hopeful. We hovered to the revetment and shut down and that's when we realized our helicopter was really messed up. We'd taken a lot of hits. In fact, two of the control tubes to the tail rotor had been cut nearly in half. They wouldn't have lasted much longer. We'd been lucky to get back.
And then a little later we learned Fred had been flown to the hospital in Pleiku, but had died enroute. We'd made it back, but we'd lost a good man. A very sad day.
After Action Stuff:
Incredibly, the F-100 pilot who was shot down that day was rescued. Four of the SF guys, already in the fight of their lives, defending their compound against overwhelming odds, saw his chute drifting down after he'd punched out. They raced out of the compound in two jeeps, fought through an NVA Company guarding the road, picked up the pilot, and then fought their way back into the compound. Those SF guys were amazing. I'm glad they were on my side.
Some weeks after the action, the Battalion Chaplain sent me a map of the battlefield. The map had numbers all over it. The map legend showed #14 as the site of our downed helicopter, and #15 was the North Vietnamese Command and Control bunker -- and they were right next to each other! We'd gone down in a very bad place and lived to tell about it.
Back at Camp Coryell [Ban Me Thuot], after the NVA had pulled back into Cambodia and things had quieted down, I put in for R&R. I'd been checking most every day to see if my orders had come in. After being told for the third time that they must have been lost, I went to the CO. He said, You're not going on R&R -- yet.
I'm not supposed to tell you, but General Abrams is coming here to decorate you. I very distinctly remember my first thought on hearing that VERY unexpected news: "Couldn't he just mail it?" I didn't want a formation and ceremony, I wanted to go on R&R. In fact, I didn't even know I'd been put in for a medal. Now that I'm older and wiser, it's pretty neat that a General pinned on my medals.
Having said that, I really don't consider myself a hero. I just did what had to be done. We had such a great bunch of guys in the 155th, we were there for each other. Any one of the other guys would have done the same things I did. It just so happened that I was the one who drew the short stick that day.
(Editor�s Note: Gil Terry received a DSC and Purple Heart for his actions on 23 August, 1969 and a DFC for actions of 26 August, 1969).
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Pratt Hall, a flight simulator facility at Fort Rucker, is named to honor Fred. It's a fitting tribute. A good man, a fearless warrior, he died taking the fight to the enemy. I'm very proud to say I served with Fred Pratt.
This history was narrated by Gilbert Terry and transcribed by Les Davison. BIG Thanks to both!
And Gil, I always looked at you as a hero, and still do. I was proud to fly with you! -- Jeff Schrader### Reprinted with permission from the Ban Me Thuot Barb, the newsletter of the 155th Assault Helicopter Co.
Click HERE to visit the 155th's excellent web site.BACK
to the home page of the Yankee Air Pirates.
The Battle of Duc Lap was a battle where North Vietnamese forces attempted to overrun a United States Army Special Forces Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG) camp between August 22–24, 1968.
Primary service involved, US Army
Quang Duc Province, II Corps, South Vietnam
Location, Duc Lap
Description: This was day three of the battle. The NVA made another major effort to smash the camp just before dawn. Their ground assault was timed to take advantage of the temporary break in air cover between the night time Air Force gunships and the daylight fighter bombers. The NVA attacked from the north hill and seized four bunkers on the main hill. Another NVA company approached from the southwest. They were stopped within grenade range of the main trench works. Air strikes were directed on the captured positions. When a napalm strike hit a CIDG company, they panicked and raced up the hill. The SF and Australians worked hard and order was restored by 0930H. The fight had been expensive for both sides. Things looked very grim for the allies. At 1000H SP5 Class Childs and LLDB medical SGT Le Van Lai, on their own, attacked and destroyed several NVA hard points. Caribou aircraft parachuted pallets of ammo and supplies. Two companies from the 5th Mobile Strike Force at Nha Trang airmobiled west of the camp during the morning. They moved through open fields and past piles of dead NVA. They were able to enter the camp through the breach blown by the NVA. Minutes later the 2d Mobile Strike Force was also able to enter the camp. Counterattack plans were made. At 1430H a Nung CIDG company attacked the NVA held bunkers and the Montagnard CIDG companies attacked directly up the NVA held hill. After two hours of hard fighting and great individual heroism, most of the northern hill was taken. One Montagnard commander Y-Gaul Nie was especially inspiring until he was killed by a grenade. The CIDG units hit the NVA positions from the top and sides as they cleared the hill. By late evening the NVA had either been pushed out of the camp or killed after five bloody hours. No prisoners were taken. The CIDG, nervous over several early encounters with bypassed NVA snipers, simply shot any wounded as they advanced. Duc Lap was a salutary Special Forces victory, achieved entirely by internal Special Forces lead mobile strike force CIDG units without outside infantry assistance. Casualties were KIA: 6 SF, 1 LLDB, 37 CIDG, 20 civilians; MIA: 9 CIDG; WIA: 13 SF, 7 LLDB, 80 CIDG. NVA losses were 303 by body count and probably much higher. The major camp weapons at the start of the battle were two 105mm howitzers, four 81mm mortars, one 4.2 mortar, and two 106mm RRs.
The source for this information was Green Berets at War P:205+
Bob/ Cyclic Chaison's Account:
The flight of inserting a "Special Mike Force" to help the Duc Lop SF camp was destine for trouble.
The composition was twelve aircraft and we Shamrocks were "sucking hind tit" on the flight.
Lead was a few 4th Avn birds, followed by few 155 Avn and us bringing up the rear. Mike Miller and "Ole" were chalk 10, me and Bob Teasly chalk 11 and poor Cpt Bob Young & David Summerlin chalk 12.
From my vantage point I could not believe my eyes. First revelation was what is happening; we
were systematically being eaten up with "RED" tracers. FRIENDLY FIRE !!! Our briefing said
nothing about heavy AA to be expected. I remember them saying expect "light-to-moderate"
ground fire. When Mike Miller and Lt Olson were engulfed in red tracers; I keyed up "Ole you are receiving
fire". Then he echoed the plight! As an FNG to have been decimated that first time out; I'm surprised
he ever set foot in an aircraft again.
Next in line for the decimation was me and Bob Teasly. I stood the Huey on her tail and totally forgot
about Bob Young behind me. One could hear the bullets ripping by and getting closer. As they hit our
rotor tips, I went from 20 Knots 40degrees nose high to laying her on her side and kicking a shit load of
petal. She was singing/growling about the extreme out or trim and 3500 ft per min rate of decent. Bastards
gave up on me and went after "Tail-End-Charlie"; poor chalk 12. The whole time my CE and gunner were
shooting like hell and popped smoke. They complained that they were having troubles due to my erratic flight. I pulled out of my fall and inserted some shook up troops to the damn road at low level. My next fear was having a mid-air with one of the remaining 10 aircraft.
Like a surprise party there was a pair of Air Force F-100's helping provide cover. One of the "Starch-Wings" calmly came up on GUARD and said he was hit, spiraling in and on fire. His wing man reaffirmed he was indeed in deep shit. I'll never forget it. He calmly said "Well George I'm gonna punch out"; I would have been screaming my fool head off! I looked around for a chute and thought I saw it. I take off West heading after the chute to pick him up. The a "shit-hook" comes up on GUARD and he says he has him in sight. I say "NO WAY" I got him in sight. Well.... I'm a little concerned here now. Are we going to have a mid-air with a CH-47 or one of the many Hueys that are flitting here and yonder. I don't see a CH-47, nor Hueys and I'm still chasing what I think is the damn Air Force jock. I finally get up to what I have been chasing and would you believe I'm going after the damn canopy of the downed F-100! Just to the North and East of us there is a big ass explosion of the F-100 auguring straight into the ground. What an exciting afternoon! Two Hueys down in flames and now an F-100. The Chinook pilot says he's coming out with the Air Force pilot; I say "Great Thank God". I was so mortified that I had been risking life and limb chasing a damn piece of Plexiglas; I didn't say shit back to him, when he asked.
I turned East again and went to the first burning aircraft and the was nobody home at that crash site. That was the 155 Avn bird that went down first. Next I turned toward Duc Lap camp where Cpt Young had crashed. I asked on guard if anyone had gotten to them yet? The reply set me on my ear; "The Oscar crew are gone". I was asking about survivors to be retrieved. That response told me they were dead... I sadly turned tail and headed back to BMT to refuel and check out why my blades were whistling dixie. Till today I still see that damn piece of Plexiglas, doing a slow and easy "falling leaf" display, just like a parachute floating down from the heavens.
On the flight back to BMT we hear two more crippled Hueys have to precautionary land/ auto to the road south of town. Me being tied up "chasing windmills", I don't get to save anyone crash landed on the way back to the staging area. Post flight damage report was rather mild considering we flew through a quad 50 encounter. We had clean 50 cal holes in the blade and all indication they were a few feet forward of our radio and battery compartment. So the 50's were within a yard of entering the forward cabin area. Thank God for small favors. So the count was rather heavy for light to moderate ground fire. Two Huey's down in flames, two on road with precautionary, and one F-100 most spectacular crash I have ever seen!
Thank the US Army for training us as well as the did. They knew we were getting into deep shit and prepared us mighty good...
Bob/ Cyclic Chaison
Shamrock 31
David Summerlin's Account:
I remember parts of that day like it was yesterday day and part (crash/post crash) is a fog at best. The morning of August 24, 1968 I had been in country about one month and was front seat on a snake but can't recall AC--maybe Tom Demos. Think that afternoon the battalion commander took the front seat to use as C&C ship. I was in the tent playing cards with 3 or 4 guys--Jim McCollum (spelling slightly off I think) who I went through flight school with was one of them. Cpt Young came in in a hurry and asked if anyone wanted to fly slicks that afternoon-sounded like fun to me so I volunteered. Last thing McCollum said was "don't get your ass shot off".
First flight in was uneventful though Young cautioned me to stay on the controls in case he took a round--that made me realize I wasn't a tourist. Second time around we were shot to shit as reported above - seem to recall the tracer rounds coming up looking like basketballs. We took some rounds in the console between me and Young and electrical smoke was so thick you couldn't see out. Crew chief was on a skid giving directions and Young would kick it out of trim to occasionally get a visual. Saw him in the hospital in Na Trang later and he said we were hit again at 100-150 feet which is when he yelled "no collective" and I pulled-seems like we had started rolling to one side before crashing. Apparently my face went into the instrument panel (I knew before taking off the seat belt lock was defective) and that sliced open my left eye and probably concussed me somewhat but I recall fire and pulling some ARVN's out-some dead I think.
I would love to get a list of gunship, slick and scout pilots and crews and rifle platoon members in the summer of 1968 if such is available as I just don't recall a lot of the names. Also didn't know about the Presidential Unit Citation-nice to hear.
David Summerlin
Mike Millers's Account:
Having arrived in Pleiku on 20 August 68, I was assigned to D Troop and flew, 23 August, in the back seat of a Huey to Bam Me Thuot . The flight on 24 August was my first combat flight in country and I was Bob Olson’s PP (Peter Pilot) that day. I talked to Bob a couple of years ago and he remembers well that day and that flight. As I recall 1LT Olson was the lift platoon leader and flew lead on this mission. Not sure if we were a Shamrock flight of 4 or 5 but I do recall Bob Olson being very vocal about the flight lead from the 4th Aviation Battalion leading the flight at small arms altitude. Our second sortie Bob was even more vocal about flying the same flight ground path and altitude. It was on our second trip that CPT Young was shot down and I remember well the feelings I had with my first combat mission as I saw CPT Young’s bird emitting smoke as it went down. We made other trips but not as flight of 14-16 Hueys! We (Shamrocks) completed the mission as our own flight, and flew down and back at tree top level [talk about adrenalin]. I do not recall the names of the CC and DG on our aircraft but needless to say, when that mission was over, I was convinced I was not returning home alive.
Mike Miller
Shamrock 48
August 68-69
Bob Young's Account:
I don't remember much about V.N. but I do remember that day. I guess I have blocked most of it out. I don't remember names until I talk with someone a little while. We were very lucky that day to live to talk about it. I remember being hit and going down. I didn't have a collective, all I had was the cyclic. I tried to get to the base camp but landed in the wires, Good thing I didn't make it as I understand the bad guys had over run it by then. I remember hitting hard tail rotor first as I was flaring it as much as I could. Next thing I knew was a helicopter was landing close to us. I made it to them said we had 4 Americans to get, I don't know if they were on all ready or not. Next thing we were at the Hospital. A bad day but a lucky one.
Cpt Bristol-reading-book. Camp gate in background and blues
seeking shade while on standby. August-Sept 1968
"Coutesy of Bob Chaison"
Bob Chaison and a gun pilot flying peter-peter. This photo was days before Duc Lap. Reason being; word came down from Div./Army "no snake drivers
to fly slicks or scouts"! The loss of Dave Summerlin was too much of a loss to the gun platoon. Too highly trained of a pilot to "sand-bag" with the slicks. You can see what the Army thought of slick drivers. Hi Hi
"Coutesy of Bob Chaison"
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https://d-1-10thcav-vietnam.com/24aug68.html
D Troop 1st Squadron 10th Cavalry (Shamrock) 24 August 1968 |
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Duc Lap Special Forces Camp Bob Young crashed between the shacks and the tall trees at the gate. "Coutesy of Bob Chaison" | ||||
The Battle of Duc Lap was a battle where North Vietnamese forces attempted to overrun a United States Army Special Forces Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG) camp between August 22–24, 1968. Primary service involved, US Army The source for this information was Green Berets at War P:205+
Bob/ Cyclic Chaison's Account: The flight of inserting a "Special Mike Force" to help the Duc Lop SF camp was destine for trouble. Thank the US Army for training us as well as the did. They knew we were getting into deep shit and prepared us mighty good...
David Summerlin's Account: I remember parts of that day like it was yesterday day and part (crash/post crash) is a fog at best. The morning of August 24, 1968 I had been in country about one month and was front seat on a snake but can't recall AC--maybe Tom Demos. Think that afternoon the battalion commander took the front seat to use as C&C ship. I was in the tent playing cards with 3 or 4 guys--Jim McCollum (spelling slightly off I think) who I went through flight school with was one of them. Cpt Young came in in a hurry and asked if anyone wanted to fly slicks that afternoon-sounded like fun to me so I volunteered. Last thing McCollum said was "don't get your ass shot off". First flight in was uneventful though Young cautioned me to stay on the controls in case he took a round--that made me realize I wasn't a tourist. Second time around we were shot to shit as reported above - seem to recall the tracer rounds coming up looking like basketballs. We took some rounds in the console between me and Young and electrical smoke was so thick you couldn't see out. Crew chief was on a skid giving directions and Young would kick it out of trim to occasionally get a visual. Saw him in the hospital in Na Trang later and he said we were hit again at 100-150 feet which is when he yelled "no collective" and I pulled-seems like we had started rolling to one side before crashing. Apparently my face went into the instrument panel (I knew before taking off the seat belt lock was defective) and that sliced open my left eye and probably concussed me somewhat but I recall fire and pulling some ARVN's out-some dead I think. I would love to get a list of gunship, slick and scout pilots and crews and rifle platoon members in the summer of 1968 if such is available as I just don't recall a lot of the names. Also didn't know about the Presidential Unit Citation-nice to hear. David Summerlin
Having arrived in Pleiku on 20 August 68, I was assigned to D Troop and flew, 23 August, in the back seat of a Huey to Bam Me Thuot . The flight on 24 August was my first combat flight in country and I was Bob Olson’s PP (Peter Pilot) that day. I talked to Bob a couple of years ago and he remembers well that day and that flight. As I recall 1LT Olson was the lift platoon leader and flew lead on this mission. Not sure if we were a Shamrock flight of 4 or 5 but I do recall Bob Olson being very vocal about the flight lead from the 4th Aviation Battalion leading the flight at small arms altitude. Our second sortie Bob was even more vocal about flying the same flight ground path and altitude. It was on our second trip that CPT Young was shot down and I remember well the feelings I had with my first combat mission as I saw CPT Young’s bird emitting smoke as it went down. We made other trips but not as flight of 14-16 Hueys! We (Shamrocks) completed the mission as our own flight, and flew down and back at tree top level [talk about adrenalin]. I do not recall the names of the CC and DG on our aircraft but needless to say, when that mission was over, I was convinced I was not returning home alive. Mike Miller Shamrock 48 August 68-69 Bob Young's Account:
I don't remember much about V.N. but I do remember that day. I guess I have blocked most of it out. I don't remember names until I talk with someone a little while. We were very lucky that day to live to talk about it. I remember being hit and going down. I didn't have a collective, all I had was the cyclic. I tried to get to the base camp but landed in the wires, Good thing I didn't make it as I understand the bad guys had over run it by then. I remember hitting hard tail rotor first as I was flaring it as much as I could. Next thing I knew was a helicopter was landing close to us. I made it to them said we had 4 Americans to get, I don't know if they were on all ready or not. Next thing we were at the Hospital. A bad day but a lucky one.
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| Cpt Bristol-reading-book. Camp gate in background and blues seeking shade while on standby. August-Sept 1968 "Coutesy of Bob Chaison"
| Bob Chaison and a gun pilot flying peter-peter. This photo was days before Duc Lap. Reason being; word came down from Div./Army "no snake drivers to fly slicks or scouts"! The loss of Dave Summerlin was too much of a loss to the gun platoon. Too highly trained of a pilot to "sand-bag" with the slicks. You can see what the Army thought of slick drivers. Hi Hi "Coutesy of Bob Chaison"
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