by Matt Jackson
That night Major Adams called a meeting in the mess hall for everyone. He knew that secrets didn’t last long in a tight unit, so he’d best dispel rumors and brief everyone on what was coming. When he walked into the mess hall, the first sergeant called everyone to attention.
“At ease,” Major Adams said as he walked to the end of the building. “Take your seats, smoke ’em if you got ’em.”
After everyone settled down, he said, “I wanted to have this meeting to banish the rumors that I’m sure are starting to roam the club and the barracks. I figured if you all were here to hear this, then we could forget all the speculation and rumors. The First Cav Division is going home starting next month and some units have already left. We are not.”
Moans, groans and a few disparaging remarks could be heard. “Quiet down,” bellowed the first sergeant.
Major Adams just stood there surveying the room, pleased that none of the officers were vocal. When all was quiet, he went on, “I know some of you thought you would get a reduced tour over here, but that is not to be. At some point, and I cannot tell you for certain when that will be, this unit will be attached to the Fifty-Second Aviation Battalion, First Aviation Brigade. They are the Flying Dragons. Our unit designation will be Company A, 227th, Fifty-Second Aviation Battalion. We will retain our Chicken-man call sign. For the time being we will remain here at Lai Khe, supporting the Third ARVN Airborne and the Fifth ARVN Division just as we’re doing now. Charlie Company will be moving to Ninh Hoa and be assigned to the First Aviation Brigade as well. Not sure what’s going to happen to Bravo Company. Delta will remain in-country as well and be reassigned to the First of the Ninth Cav Squadron, but I suspect they’ll be moving someplace else as well. Of those units that are going home, First of the Ninth will be the last unit of the division to depart, so we’ll see them in the operational area for a time. Third Brigade will remain in the Three Corps area for a bit longer.
“Now as things wind down here, we need to do a couple of things. First, we need to continue our missions as we have been doing. Nothing changes except we’re going to be doing a lot more with the ARVNs. Captain Vargus will be our LNO to the Third ARVN and pass the missions to us. Second, we’re going to have to assume a larger responsibility for our own security. Lieutenant Collard will develop a defense plan to include bunkers, wire and trenches. First Sergeant will develop a guard roster with the platoon sergeants and Flight Ops.” More quiet moans, groans and profanity could be heard. “And third, we will continue making a PX run once a week to Bien Hoa as the PX here is being reduced to minimal stores such as toothpaste and toiletries. We will use two aircraft for these runs—one for passengers and one to haul back supplies, like beer.” Finally a few positive comments were heard. “Okay, what are your questions?”
At first, there were none. Then Staff Sergeant Greeko raised his hand.
“Yes, Staff Sergeant.”
“Sir, with support leaving Lai Khe, where will the ration supply point be located?”
“Ration supply point will remain where it is, only it will now be operated by a civilian contractor who is going to be responsible for the fire department at the airfield, tower operations, the electrical generators and the water point. We should see no changes in those operations. If you see a degradation in the quality of our rations, you get with me immediately. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Another hand went up.
“Yes, Doc Christeson.”
“Sir, will the MASH unit be staying here, or are they departing?”
“For now it appears that they’re staying here, supporting the Fifth ARVN Division and us, but I suspect they will be leaving shortly as well. If you hear different, I want to know about it right away.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any others?”
“What about our mail, sir?” was asked from the group.
“No change. Courier bird will bring it to us each day from wherever the post office will be. I suspect it’ll be coming out of Bien Hoa for whatever time we have left here. Any other questions?” Major Adams asked. No one responded this time.
“Okay, then I have nothing else. You’re dismissed. Top, Doctor Christeson, may I see you for a minute please?” With that, everyone got up and started moving out, talking in small groups as they did so. Comments opposed to the unit remaining could still be heard, but there was nothing to be done about it. Soldiers not complaining about something were generally soldiers with low morale. If they were bitching, then they were probably content, but not happy.
As the room cleared, Doc and 1SG Miller stayed behind. They knew what was coming but really did not want to address the issue with the major.
“Okay, what have you determined about our VD situation?” Major Adams asked. Doc and Miller exchanged looks, and the major could see that this was not going to be a good answer. “Well, someone speak up.”
“Sir, I just examined them and found that a couple of the kitchen helpers were infected,” Doc answered.
“A couple! We only have a couple, so how many exactly?” The major’s voice went up a note.
“All of them, sir,” Doc responded.
“All of them!” repeated the major, looking at the first sergeant. “First Sergeant, I want them fired and out of here tonight.”
“Now, sir, let’s not be hasty about this. If we fire them tonight, then we have to put together a KP roster, and that will take some time to coordinate with the flight platoons as to who is flying and not flying. And besides, you know the morale is going to go to hell in a hand-basket if we put people on KP,” First Sergeant Miller explained—stalling for time, Doc Christeson could see.
“Sir, the women have been identified and I’m treating them, so they’re no danger working in the kitchen. I spoke with Sergeant Greeko about sanitary conditions, and he’s taking all the precautions that need to be taken,” Doc interjected, hoping to buy time for First Sergeant Miller to come up with something.
“Sir, I think I’ve put the fear of God in them. I don’t think they will be carrying on any business for fear of losing their jobs, and I’ve passed the word to everyone that they’re contaminated goods, so the boys won’t be sniffing around,” First Sergeant Miller added, buying some more time while he was thinking. “Besides, sir,” he continued, “we’re leaving shortly, so putting people on KP is only going to cause problems trying to get out of here.”
The major stood silently for a minute, thinking and looking at the two as if they were schoolboys caught in a lie. “How long were you hoping I wouldn’t ask about this?” he asked.
“Until we moved up north, sir,” the first sergeant answered, “and then it wouldn’t matter.”
“I have learned that some things are officers’ business and some things are NCO business. This is NCO business now. Take care of it, First Sergeant, but don’t let it get elevated any further or it will become my business. Do I make myself clear?” he said, looking at the first sergeant, then glancing at Doc.
“Yes, sir,” First Sergeant Miller responded.
“Good, let’s go get a beer. I’m buying,” the major said, and they left and headed to the club.
Chapter 25
Oh My God
“Mr. Zuccardi, time to wake up. It’s oh five hundred and you have an oh-six-hundred departure, sir,” announced the Ops clerk.
“Okay, I’m awake. Who am I flying with today?” Bob Zuccardi asked as he rolled out of bed.
“That new warrant is flying with you, Mr. Triplett.”
“Have you woken him yet?”
“Yes, sir. He said he would see you in the mess hall or Flight Ops.” The clerk moved on to the next pilot that needed to face the day.
Bob continued to get dressed but didn’t feel like eating breakfast. Coffee to go would be sufficient. His stomach was a bit upset, not from anything he had eaten the night before but from stress. Bob had been an aircraft commander all of one week and things had gone well, except the number of times he had b
een shot at in the command position. Being shot at occasionally went with the job, but being shot at every day wasn’t in the job description. In fact, everyone was getting shot at a lot more, and more missions were being flown over the border. Since the First Cav had pulled all its maneuver units out of the field, NVA activity had picked up, so the Third ARVN was getting in contact a lot more, resulting in the aircraft being hit more frequently.
Stopping by Operations, Bob connected with Mr. Triplett. Tim Triplett always had a positive attitude, it appeared. No gray clouds over his head. Originally from Newburgh, Indiana, Tim had attended some college and served as a bouncer in a bar. His dad have been a P-38 pilot in World War II and now owned a roofing company, where Tim worked part-time. Tim also had worked for a company that dug tunnels—big tunnels. All that backbreaking work convinced Tim that he was going to get a position that allowed him to sit and do his job, and flying a helicopter provided that position.
“Good morning, Tripp,” Bob said, coming through the door and using Tim’s nickname.
“Morning, Bob. Fine day to be in the sky,” Tim said. Bob wasn’t feeling it, however.
“Yeah, right,” Bob responded and then turned to the Operations NCO. “Ops, what you got for us?”
“Log mission for the ARVNs. It’s all on the mission sheet,” the Operations NCO said as he handed the mission sheet to Bob.
Taking the sheet, Bob quickly scanned it. “Okay, I’ll give you a call on takeoff. Let’s go, Tripp.” And out the door Bob headed with Tim in tow.
Arriving at the aircraft, Bob found that the crew, Jonesy and Dorsey, had mounted the guns and were ready to go. Jonesy and Dorsey were Mr. Fairweather’s crew, but since Mr. Fairweather had rotated back to the States, Bob had inherited his aircraft and his crew. After reading through the preflight checklist and start-up procedures, Bob called the tower for clearance to depart while Tim maneuvered the aircraft out of the revetment and took off once clearance was granted. As they were climbing out, Bob gave the mission brief to the crew.
“Heads up. We’re flying log today for one of the ARVN battalions up at Loc Ninh. That means we’re going to be over in Cambodia, so be on your toes. Get the aircraft loaded and unloaded fast. If you have to, motivate the ARVNs to get things done. I don’t want to be sitting in some hover hole waiting on them to get the stuff to the aircraft. ‘In and out’ is the words for today. Understood?”
A joint response of “Yes, sir” came from the crew.
All the way to Loc Ninh, Tim was his usual Chatty Cathy self. Bob would almost have liked to tell him to shut up, but even though he was the aircraft commander, a certain amount of military decorum must be observed. I swear this guy could talk the ears off a deaf mute, Bob was thinking. Tim wanted to engage in light conversation, and Bob just wanted some peace and quiet to think. Since Bob wasn’t responsive, Tim struck up a conversation with the crew, which was fine by Bob.
Contacting the American advisor for the unit they were supporting, Bob was told to land at Loc Ninh at the ARVN compound and come in for the morning brief. As Tim hadn’t been to this location previously, Bob took the controls and brought the aircraft into the established log pad, which was already stacked with supplies to go out to the units operating in the field. Among those items were pigs and chickens. Jonesy swore under his breath because he knew they were going to be washing the aircraft when they got in tonight. Pig and chicken shit would stick to everything once dried.
Inside the TOC, Bob met the ARVN advisor. “You must be Chicken-man,” the infantry captain advisor said, coming to meet Bob.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Zuccardi, and this is Mr. Triplett, my copilot.” Bob wanted to establish who was in charge of the aircraft.
“Glad to have you guys. Got a busy day for you,” the advisor added as he directed them to the map board. “We have three companies in the field at these locations and all three need a backhaul this morning and resupply this afternoon. Here are their call signs, frequencies and coordinates.” He handed Tim a sheet of paper. Bob wondered if he gave it to Tim because he was the copilot or because he thought Tim was in charge.
Turning to Tim, Bob said, “You want to plot those coordinates on our maps but not the frequencies. We keep them separate. Also, once you have them plotted, just bring the frequencies and call signs with us and leave the coordinates on that page here. Once we’re in the aircraft, we’ll write the frequencies on my knee board and call signs on yours to keep them separated.” If the advisor didn’t know before, he knew now who was in charge of this duo.
Taking up the briefing again, the advisor said, “We have had activities in all three locations with small elements of NVA forces attempting to consolidate. There’s been some antiaircraft fire in this vicinity in the past couple of days, so you want to give it a wide berth if possible. I have a scout team from First of the Ninth coming out this morning to recon this area around our Alpha Company.”
“Do you have a call sign and frequency for them? I’d like to have that in case I need to coordinate our flight activities. Don’t want to be busting along at treetop level and run over the low bird,” Bob said.
“Yeah, I have that right here.” Picking up a clipboard, the advisor scanned the top page and flipped to the second. “Here it is. Gunner Two-Three is the flight leader and his frequency is thirty-eight point four five Fox Mike.”
“Okay, I’ll give him a call and coordinate with him. If your units are ready, we’ll get out and start backhauling starting with Alpha if that’s okay,” Bob explained.
“Sure, I’ll give them a call and let them know you’re inbound. There’s a US advisor, NCO, with each unit that you will be talking to.”
“Good, I’ll give you a call when we take off,” Bob said as he gathered his map and departed the TOC with Tim following.
As they walked back to the aircraft, Tim asked, “Hey, Bob, what’s wrong? You just don’t seem yourself today. Did I do something to piss you off?”
“No, and I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling good today. Nothing physical, just not with it, that’s all,” Bob responded. “I’ll feel better when we get these missions done. I’m not crazy about flying in Cambodia, where all these guys are operating at.”
“I can understand, but it’s going to be an okay day. Aircraft is operating good, the weather is clear and even a bit cool this morning. What could be better?”
“A cold beer on the beach with a girl back in the States. That could be better,” Bob answered with a grin.
“Got me,” Tim laughed.
Climbing into the aircraft, everyone got situated as Tim cranked the bird. When all was ready, Bob reached for the controls.
“I’ll take us to the first location first time, then you take the second turn. I have the aircraft,” Bob announced.
“You have the aircraft,” responded Tim and looked over to make sure Bob had the aircraft.
“Coming up,” Bob announced.
“Clear left,” Jonesy said.
“Clear right,” Dorsey echoed. And with that, Bob pulled the collective up, moved the cyclic forward and was airborne to the first unit.
“You give me directions to get to Alpha and also tune in Gunner Two-Three on FM 2. Once we have contact with him, we’ll meet him on UHF. Request his frequency so we can talk to him and his team. Put Alpha on FM 1, and I’ll contact them.”
“Roger,” Tim responded, adjusting radios. “Gunner Two-Three, this is Chicken-man One-Eight on FM.”
After a short pause, “Chicken-man One-Eight, come up two four three point five Uniform Hotel Foxtrot,” Gunner Two-Three instructed.
“Roger, two four three point five.” With that, Tim began tuning the UHF radio and indicated when it was ready to communicate.
Bob keyed his mike switch located on the cyclic. “Gunner Two-Three, Chicken-man One-Eight, over.”
“Good morning, Chicken-man. What you doing this morning?” Gunner Two-Three asked.
“Gunner Two-Three, we are working log resupply today in
the same area you’re operating in and just wanted to check in with you so we don’t overrun your little bird. And so we could hear a friendly voice out here today. Over.”
“Chicken-man One-Eight, glad to have the company. Are you working for the same folks as us?”
“That’s affirmative. We are heading to the Alpha’s location for a backhaul and then to Bravo’s location. Where are you? Over.”
“We are reconning about two klicks north of the Alpha’s location. We’re two Cobras and two little birds. Over.”
“A lot of birds for a recon, is it not? Over.”
“The way things have been going, we’re beefing up the pink teams. Over.”
Tim looked at Bob and keyed the intercom with his foot switch. “What the hell is a pink team?”
“Pink team is normally one Cobra and two little birds. They’re beefing them up if they’re sending two Cobras out. The little birds fly in circles around each other, covering each other, and the Cobra loiters at altitude to cover them. I suspect with all the antiaircraft fire we’ve seen, the Cobras are staying low, making it more difficult for them to cover the little birds. How far are we from Alpha’s location?” Bob asked as he took a peek at the map in Tim’s lap.
“About three klicks out. Do you want me to give them a call?”
“Yeah, and let him know—” Bob is interrupted.
“Mayday, mayday, going in—”
“What the—? Who was that?” Bob asked, looking at his copilot.
“Chicken-man One-Eight, Gunner Two-Three. Over.” Gunner sounded loud and anxious.
“Gunner Two-Three, go ahead,” Bob said, having switched to the UHF frequency on his intercom box.
“Chicken-man, I have a little bird down and taking fire. Can you get up here and pick him up?”
“Gunner Two-Three, we’re on our way. I’m two klicks south of Alpha’s location and heading in your direction. Can you mark the location?”
“Shit, just get up here. The aircraft is on fire and marking itself really well. He’s in the trees on the edge of a clearing.”
