Medal of Honor

by Matt Jackson

  “Morning, sir, you too. What we got today?” Mike asked.

  “Here’s the situation. Want you to take the psyops guys over to this valley east of here. They’re going to drop leaflets and use the loudspeaker to broadcast. We know of some activity in this area but nothing specific as to how many or where exactly,” the S-3 said.

  “So you want me to fly around and draw fire so you’ll know where they are. Right?” Mike asked.

  “No, stay at twenty-five hundred and let’s just nudge them to Chieu Hoi.”

  “What’s Chieu Hoi?” asked Reid.

  “Get them to surrender without a fight,” the S-3 responded. “Oh, Mike, if you do take fire, get your aircraft out of there. Do not pull a Cory on me.”

  “What’s a Cory?” asked Reid.

  “Cory was before your time. He was flying psyops one day and drew fire. He called an artillery barrage on them. Didn’t get any Chieu Hois but did get a good body count,” replied the S-3, smiling. “No Corys, Mike.”

  “Yes, sir, got it. If there’s nothing else, sir, we’ll get back and get going. Call you when we lift off,” Mike said.

  “Thanks, and see you back here.”

  Mike and Reid walked out of the TOC and saw that the aircraft was loaded with boxes and a large speaker in the left-side cargo door. Kelly, who generally sat on the left side, did not look happy as that speaker was right next to him. The psyops crew consisted of a staff sergeant and a Vietnamese captain.

  “Good morning, Dai-uy,”16 Mike addressed the Vietnamese captain, whom he had met on previous psyops missions.

  “Ah, goo moning, Geoge,” the captain answered. “Geoge, no Coyie t’day. Okay. He number ten,” the captain said with a disgusted look.

  “No Cory this morning. Cory gone home,” Mike said with a smile.

  “These guys really didn’t like Cory, did they?” Reid asked.

  “No, he really messed up the psyops thing for a while, but no one blamed him. He had just lost his roommate and good friend, Hanna, in a stupid shoot-down that shouldn’t have happened, and he just wanted revenge. We all did.”

  “Why shouldn’t it have happened?”

  “Hanna was flying the engineer battalion commander and his staff that day. The engineer convinced Hanna that the clearing was secure to land in, when it wasn’t. Hanna was at a hover when the gooks opened fire on him and Tittle, killing both outright as well as the gunner and the battalion staff in the back. The crew chief managed to evade for about a hundred yards before they caught up with him, but from what I heard, he put up a fight before they got him. Never, ever land in an LZ unless it’s a combat assault or you have commo with someone on the ground at that location, regardless of what anyone in the back tells you to do. You are the aircraft commander and that trumps everyone else’s hand. Got it?” There was a touch of anger in Mike’s voice. Hanna had been his friend too.

  Once everyone was settled in, Reid went through the start-up procedures while Mike was looking over his map and confirming with the psyops NCO the location and pattern that Mike would fly. Satisfied, Mike told Reid to take off and head east at twenty-five hundred feet. This area of Vietnam had an above-ground elevation of three hundred feet above sea level, so when flying at twenty-five hundred feet, you were actually only twenty-two hundred feet above the ground. In most cases that wasn’t enough to make a difference if Charlie was shooting at you—unless it was a quad .50-cal or a twin 23 mm antiaircraft gun, and then a pilot would be climbing for a lot more altitude. Although one SA-7 antiaircraft missile had been fired a couple of months before around Bu Gia Map, none had been seen in-country since. Reaching altitude was always welcomed as the air temperature was generally cooler at altitude.

  As Mike started into his orbit, on came the speaker, blaring the singsong language of Vietnam. Almost immediately, Kelly started howling like a Tennessee coon dog with a treed raccoon.

  “Damn, Kelly, that racket is enough. Do you have to add to it?” Mike complained.

  “Sir, you should be sitting back here if you think it’s bad up there. I’m right next to this thing. And I even put cigarette filters in my ears before I put on my helmet to cover the sound,” Kelly explained.

  “Let me understand this,” Reid said. “You put cigarette filters in your ears to cut the sound. Are they that effective as earplugs?”

  “Sir, the ridges on those rubber earplugs we’re issued irritate the crap out of my ears, especially with the helmet on. Cigarette filters are soft, fit nicely in the ear canal and don’t hurt. Got to be careful not to push them in too far, and sometimes you need a pair of needle-nose pliers to get one out, but hey, they work. See, us crew chiefs and door gunners haven’t been issued those fancy helmets that you pilots wear that reduce noise. We have to make do.”

  “Hey, Mr. George, the psyops guys are starting to toss the leaflets out. Looks like a pretty good spread too. At least they’re taking them out of the box and tossing them out loose. Oops, spoke too soon. There goes a box,” Conrad said, leaning over and watching the box fall.

  “Watch it and see if it opens before it hits the trees,” Mike instructed.

  “It just opened at about a thousand feet. That’s going to be a concentrated bunch of leaflets. Chuck’ll have no problem finding something to wipe his ass with tonight.” The aircraft continued to make a wide racetrack over the valley. The hills surrounding the valley were heavily vegetated, but the bottom of the basin appeared to have been cultivated at one time with farmed fields. No current crop production was evident, but it was clear that at one time some farming was done—probably sugar beets, since the fields weren’t laid out as rice paddies generally were. The air was smooth, AFRN was on the radio playing music—all was right with the world.

  In the distance somewhere, a banging noise was heard. Conrad and Kelly, who had both been lying back in their seats, started looking around outside.

  “Hey, Mr. George, I think someone may have just been shooting at us,” Kelly sounded off, peering down over the side of the aircraft.

  Mike flashed a look at the instruments. All appeared well, and he heard no strange noises. “Can you see where it may have come from?” he asked, also looking down. The Vietnamese captain was jabbering frantically to the psyops NCO.

  “Mr. George, the captain heard shooting but doesn’t want you to be shooting artillery or the guns,” the NCO said. “Must be suffering from Cory memories,” he chuckled.

  “Tell him we aren’t going to do any shooting. Can’t tell where it came from anyway. Somewhere in that valley, but it’s a big valley. How much longer you want to stay out here? We’re starting to run low on fuel,” Mike said.

  “You can head back. We’ve dropped everything, and the captain is looking a bit worried.”

  “Okay, guys, it’s a wrap. Let’s head back to Bu Gia Map and call it a day.”

  The return flight was uneventful, which for a helicopter crew was good. Mike called the TOC and passed on the information about possibly taking fire from a heavy-caliber weapon as the psyops team unloaded their speakers and equipment. Once everything was unloaded and they were released from mission, Mike moved the aircraft to the refuel point.

  “When Kelly gets done refueling, let’s get him in the right seat and you get on his gun, okay?” he instructed Reid.

  “You bet.” And Reid enthusiastically got out of the right seat, approaching Kelly and pointing to the right seat. Conversation with flight helmets on and the engine running was impossible to hear, even if you yelled, unless both parties were plugged into the intercom system, which they were not. Kelly got the idea quickly and moved up to the door. As soon as Mike saw him, he waved Kelly in and pointed at the right seat. Some seat adjustments were required as Kelly was six foot three and Reid was five foot eight. As Kelly settled in, he plugged his helmet into the intercom system.

  “You hear me okay?” Mike asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, today is your first flying lesson. Want to get you to flying st
raight and level, holding altitude and making a slow, controlled descent. Any questions?”

  “A million, but I can wait,” Kelly responded.

  “Okay, put your feet on the pedals and hands on the controls. Initially you’re just going to get the feel of the controls as I fly the aircraft, so you should only be holding them lightly. At some point, I’ll turn it over to you. Good to go?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kelly already knew what each control did in controlling the aircraft, so they didn’t need to have a discussion on those points. Having Kelly lightly on the controls as Mike flew would provide Kelly with a sense of just how gently you needed to hold the controls to fly the aircraft smoothly. A light touch was all that was needed. Mike had no intention of trying to teach hovering to Kelly. That was the hardest part of flying a helicopter, and Kelly had no need for that.

  Mike received clearance from the tower for departure and brought the aircraft out of the refuel point, hovering to the runway and making a slow climb-out departure, increasing airspeed and altitude to ninety knots and twenty-five hundred feet. Kelly was keeping a light touch on the controls and following Mike’s movements.

  “How do you feel?” Mike asked, noting the ear-to-ear grin on Kelly’s face.

  “Good, sir.”

  “Okay, we’re going to talk about a couple of the instruments that you should understand. Forget the engine and transmission instruments. For you, they’re not important at this point. Note the altimeter, the vertical speed indicator, the air speed indicator as well as the artificial horizon and RMI.” As Mike addressed each instrument he pointed at it with his pencil serving as a pointer. Continuing, “Those are the only ones to concern yourself with. The altimeter is going to show how high you are. The vertical speed indicator shows how rapid a descent or climb you’re making, and the airspeed indicator shows how fast you’re going. Got it?”

  “I’m with you, sir.”

  “Okay, now if the artificial horizon is working, it will show you if you’re straight and level, nose high or low, right or left turn. All the other instruments combined tell you the same thing, but the artificial horizon does all that in itself. Only problem is most of them don’t work. The RMI gives you a stable compass heading and will show you if you’re in a turn to the left or right. Forget the mag compass as it’ll be jumping all over and isn’t the least bit stable in a helicopter. Understand?” Mike asks.

  “Yes, sir,” Kelly answered, staring at the instruments.

  “If you find yourself sitting here in the cockpit, then the shit has hit the fan. Hopefully one of us will be able to talk you down, but you’ve got to be able to do it on your own. Could you find your way back to Lai Khe if you had to?” Mike asked.

  “Oh, sure, or Quan Loi or Phuoc Vinh,” Kelly responded, looking over at Mike. When he did, it hit him that Mike’s hands weren’t on the controls. He was flying the aircraft. The aircraft started a slight left turn.

  “Okay, relax your grip. When you saw that I didn’t have the controls, you tightened your grip, which pushed the cyclic slightly to the left. Just relax your grip and think—think about moving the cyclic to the right.” The aircraft started a slight correction to the right. “Yeah, just like that. Now think about leveling off, and head to Lai Khe.” With that, the aircraft stabilized on a track towards Lai Khe.

  “Good. Now let’s practice some ascents and descents. You want to lower the collective just a bit and watch the vertical speed indicator start to show a descent. At a rate of five hundred feet per minute, you want to pull in just a bit of collective to slow your descent and set up a five-hundred-feet-per-minute descent. It doesn’t take much to start, and there’s no rush, so slight pressure down and set it up.”

  Kelly applied pressure on the collective, and the vertical speed indicator showed a two-hundred-foot-per-minute rate of descent. The aircraft started to drift to the right again.

  “Watch your heading,” Mike told him. “You have to scan your instruments and then scan outside. Don’t fix your eyes on one instrument. Scan them and make any correction you need while looking outside. Then come back to the instrument. When you scan outside, scan the horizon and not the ground under you. Looking at the horizon will show you quickly if you’re on course or in a turn. Use your other senses besides touch and sight as well, such as hearing. If you’re slowing up, the sound is different, and if you’re speeding up it will also be a different sound. If your senses tell you that your speed is changing, glance at the airspeed indicator and make a slight correction, scan and come back to see if the correction was sufficient.” As the aircraft approached a vertical speed of five hundred feet per minute, Kelly started pulling up on the collective.

  “Good, make a correction and see what it does. Good. So you have a five-hundred-foot-per-minute descent going. Your airspeed’s okay. Lowering the collective shouldn’t affect your airspeed unless you push the nose down. Okay, let’s stop our descent. Come in with a bit of collective and see how much of a climb you get.”

  Kelly pulled up on the collective, and the rate of descent began to decrease, passing through zero descent and indicating a two-hundred-foot-per-minute rate of climb.

  “Take us back to twenty-five hundred feet and hold us there,” Mike instructed. Kelly’s eyes were scanning the instruments and then scanning outside. He was holding his heading towards Lai Khe, and he was getting the hang of altitude and airspeed control. Mike called Lai Khe Artillery.

  “Lai Khe Arty, Chicken-man Two-Five, over.”

  “Chicken-man Two-Five, Lai Khe Arty, go ahead.”

  “Chicken-man Two-Five is Song Be to Lai Khe. Request a free-fire area for approximately thirty minutes, over.”

  “Chicken-man Two-Five, wait one.” A few minutes passed. “Chicken-man Two-Five, west of Highway 13 is wide open from the highway west ten klicks and north of Lai Khe to Chon Thanh. You are clear.”

  Mike plotted the area on his map. “Roger, Lai Khe Arty, we will be hot in the area.” He put his map away and turned to Kelly. “I got the aircraft. Take a break.”

  “You have the aircraft.” Kelly released the controls.

  “Okay, Conrad and Reid. We’re going low-level and you can open fire on my call.” With that, Mike lowered the collective for a seven-hundred-foot-per-minute rate of descent at ninety knots airspeed. As the aircraft crossed Highway 13, Mike was about one hundred feet above the trees. The free-fire areas were areas that no friendly forces or civilians were located within. Aircraft were free to shoot as much as they wanted in these areas. Of course, Charlie was allowed to shoot back as well.

  “Okay, you can open fire whenever you want. Reid, let’s see you hit the water hole coming up at eleven o’clock.”

  Reid raised the barrel of the M60 machine gun and sighted the weapon on the water hole, pulling the dual trigger. The gun jumped to life, throwing lead at the water hole but not hitting it even though he was aiming directly at it. Conrad, on the other hand, was pulverizing the water hole he was shooting at.

  “Hey, Reid, what’s your problem? Can’t shoot, I see,” said Mike with a taunting tone in his voice.

  “The sights must be off on this gun. I had it right in my crosshairs,” Reid whined.

  “Did you compensate for the forward motion of the aircraft?” Conrad asked. Reid was silent.

  “No, whatcha talking about?” Reid finally asked.

  “You have to trail the target, because of the forward motion of the aircraft. Your aim point should be behind the target, and let the rounds fly into the target due to the forward momentum of the aircraft. If you aim directly at the target, the rounds fly past. Aim behind the target and let them fly into the target,” Conrad coached. On the next water hole, Reid did as instructed. Some rounds hit and some impacted beyond the target.

  “That’s an improvement,” Mike said. “However, best you stick to flying and let them do the shooting,” he added with a chuckle as he initiated a steep power climb, trading airspeed for altitude, quickly climbing bac
k to one thousand feet and turning back towards Lai Khe, which was five miles to the south.

  “Okay, Kelly, you have the aircraft. Let’s continue to Lai Khe and execute a running landing. You’re not going to come in and hover but make a shallow approach down the runway so you’re sliding onto the runway at about twenty knots airspeed. I’ll talk you through it. Okay?” As Mike was talking, Kelly’s hands and feet were moving back to the controls.

  “I have the aircraft,” Kelly said, indicating positive control.

  “You have it. Turn and get us lined up with the runway,” Mike directed. Kelly gently, almost timidly, turned the aircraft so it was pointed at Lai Khe while Mike called the tower for clearance, indicating they were making a running landing. The tower wanted to know if the aircraft had battle damage, as that was about the only time a running landing was requested. Mike explained that it was training, and the tower gave him clearance to land.

  “You’re cleared for landing. You’re a thousand feet and ninety knots, so start a shallow descent to this end of the runway. If the end of the runway appears to be moving under you, you need to slow the aircraft and increase your rate of descent. If it appears to be moving away from you, you need to stop your rate of descent but not your airspeed yet. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kelly answered as he concentrated on flying the aircraft. He pressed down on the collective slightly, noting the vertical speed indicator slowly dropping to a descent of two hundred feet per minute. His airspeed fluctuated between eighty and ninety knots. Kelly was beginning to show signs of perspiration.

  “Relax, Kelly, you got this,” Mike encouraged him.

  “Glad you think so,” Kelly muttered. The runway appeared to be moving towards the aircraft.

  “Okay, you need to get more of a descent going. See how the runway appears to be moving towards you? You want it to be getting bigger, but not moving, so increase your descent and raise your nose a bit to drop some speed.” Kelly moved the cyclic back slightly, reducing speed, but his vertical speed did not decrease.

  “As you move the cyclic back to drop your speed, you need to decrease the collective to compensate, so put some down pressure on the collective.” Kelly did so and noticed the vertical speed increase. Airspeed was now down to sixty knots, with a three-hundred-foot-per-minute descent. The runway started to move away from the aircraft.