Medal of Honor

by Matt Jackson

  “Understood, Gambler Six. Do you have an ETA on fast movers? Standing by.” Salley laid the hand mike on the desk. I don’t need Tiger Six in the air, I need an airstrike, Salley was thinking.

  “An airstrike has been requested. ETA is thirty minutes, over,” Gambler Six responded.

  “Roger, Gambler Six, understood. Gambler Four-One, Out.” The two Vietnamese radio operators were watching Brian. Neither was probably over the age of nineteen, and they were both looking at him for some sign of assurance that help was coming. Although they didn’t speak English, nor Brian Vietnamese, a smile from Brian could work miracles, and they perked up when he gave them a thumbs-up.

  Stepping out of the command bunker, Salley and Brian saw total chaos. Enemy mortar rounds had accurately destroyed most of the bunkers on the northern perimeter. An ammo storage bunker had taken a direct hit and stored ammo was exploding in the resulting fire. The aid station was a heap of broken timbers, open sand bags and bodies. Those had been the medics. It was quickly obvious that someone from Dai-uy’s unit had provided a detail map of the fortifications. The intensity of the small-arms fire had decreased as NVA reinforcements were being kept back due to the artillery, but Brian knew that eventually, the firing batteries were going to get low on ammo unless a resupply could be arranged as well. ARVN soldiers were showing their discipline and their training as they attempted to maneuver towards positions held by the NVA. Unfortunately, the perimeter had been reduced considerably, since the NVA now held the northern perimeter, and the line of defense was actually along the intended line of reserves. As Brian watched, Sergeant Stokes came behind him.

  “Excuse me, sir, I want to put them in the bunker.” Sergeant Stokes had the body of Staff Sergeant Sterling over his shoulder. Sergeant Keane and Sergeant Boswell were behind him with the bodies of PFC Marthe and another advisor. “We’ll wrap them in their ponchos once we get them inside.”

  “Okay, but put them in the back room,” Brian directed, as the command bunker had a dividing wall of sandbags through the center, creating two rooms.

  “Sir, I’m going to see if I can get a chopper in here to get them and some of the wounded out,” Salley said as he moved away from Brian’s position towards the bunker door. “I’ll ask for an ammo resupply. No point in having a bird come in here empty. And water too,” Sergeant Salley added.

  Carrying his radio, Brian moved to the top of the command bunker, which gave him a better view of the perimeter on all sides and especially the north side. From the exchange of different-colored tracers, he could clearly see the line of the enemy’s advance and the positions of the defenders. Taking up a position on the bunker, he was about to adjust another artillery barrage when the sound of a helicopter caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a lone UH-1H helicopter entering an orbit above the fire base. Sergeant Salley came out of the bunker with the AN/PRC-77 FM radio that had recently been issued to him, replacing the older AN/PRC-25.

  “Gambler Four-One, Gambler Six, SITREP, over.”

  “Gambler Six, Gambler Four-One, we have checked the penetration of the north perimeter through the artillery. I need an air strike on the north side, where they’re consolidating forces for the next push. Also need medevac and a resupply of ammo. I have three US Kilo India Alpha that I would like to get out. Over.”

  “Gambler Four-One, did you say three Uniform Sierra Kilo India Alphas? Over.”

  “Affirmative, Gambler Six.”

  After a long pause, Brian heard, “Roger, Gambler Four-One. Be advised fast movers are on the way. Jockey Two-Three will be on station in five mikes to direct the strike for you. He’ll come down on your push. I’m going to send a log bird to you for resupply and extraction. How copy?”

  “Gambler Six, I have good copy. Will be standing by. Over.”

  “Four-One, the resupply bird will be Chicken-man Two-Seven, over.”

  “Roger, we will be standing by,” Salley indicated.

  Chapter 29

  Firebase Six

  “Hey, Mr. Reid, what’s our mission today?” asked Mike Patterson, the crew chief, as Roger Reid, the aircraft commander, and his copilot, First Lieutenant Gordon Bellem, a newbie on his first mission, approached the aircraft. Tossing his gear onto his seat, Reid motioned for everyone to gather around.

  “Hey, Craig, come over here,” Patterson called to Craig Tonjes, today’s door gunner. Craig was actually a crew chief, but his aircraft was in maintenance and the assigned door gunner was on R&R, so Craig had volunteered to man the guns today with Patterson. Evidently, no one had told him never to volunteer.

  “Okay, guys, today we have a Chuck Chuck mission. We’ll fly over to Kontum and pick up our passenger, a Vietnamese colonel, and then bore holes in the sky over Firebases Five and Six. I’ll try to keep us at two thousand feet, so we shouldn’t be a target for Charlie, but I expect we’ll take some fire. Weather today is going to be crappy, with low ceilings and possibly some rain. May want to be wearing your jackets ’cause it’s going to be cool too. We’ll refuel at Dak To. Any questions?” Reid asked.

  “Why are we stuck with Chuck Chuck? It’s one boring mission,” Mike Patterson asked, fidgeting with the ammo for his M60 machine gun.

  “Hey, today is Chicken-man’s first day of operational flying in this region, and I guess the powers that be want us to have an easy day to further our orientation. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. If there’s no more pissing, bitching, groaning, moaning or complaining, let’s get the preflight done and saddle up.”

  Reid pulled out the preflight checklist and began reading off the items, with Gordon doing the hands-on inspection. Moving down the side of the aircraft, Gordon noticed a small piece of dark tape on the edge of the fuel cap. “Hey, Patterson, what’s this tape for?” Gordon asked.

  “Oh, sorry, sir, I forgot to pull that off this morning.” Patterson stepped over and pulled the tape off.

  “What’s it for?” Gordon asked again.

  “Sir, Charlie has a habit, or did, of sneaking through the perimeter at night and sabotaging the aircraft. He takes a US hand grenade, tapes the spoon with a piece of electrical tape and pulls the pin. He then drops the grenade down the fuel intake and slips away. Eventually the jet fuel would eat the tape off, the spoon would come off, and five seconds later the aircraft blows up. Putting the dark tape over the corner of the fuel cap lets us know if Charlie was here last night. He won’t see it in the dark, and we can tell in the morning if the fuel cap was opened,” Patterson explained. Gordon stowed that bit of information away for future preflight checks.

  After everything was preflighted and the aircraft started, they headed out to get their passengers at Kontum, twenty-five miles to the north. When they arrived at Kontum, the ARVN colonel boarded the aircraft before Reid even had a chance to roll the throttle back to flight idle. Adjusting his headset, he addressed Reid.

  “Gooood moring, chef,” he said in his partial broken English. By doing so, he just confirmed in his mind who was in command of the aircraft, and it was not the lieutenant.

  “Morning, sir,” Reid responded, turning partially around. Confirmation that the warrant officer is in charge, the colonel thought.

  “We go Six. We go now. You fly ten thousand,” the colonel said, waving his hand towards the front of the aircraft, indicating let’s go.

  Reid turned to Gordon. “Let’s go.”

  “Did he say fly at ten thousand?” Gordon asked with a bit of surprise.

  “That’s what the man requested, so take us up,” Reid instructed. As Gordon started the takeoff, Reid addressed the colonel. “Sir, what’s the call sign and frequency for your people on the ground? I’ll put them on your number one switch on the intercom box. When you want to talk to them, just turn the dial to one and then transmit.”

  “How you say, not first rodeo,” the colonel said with a laugh.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “No problem. They four-six point five.”

  Reid cranked in the new
frequency on the FM radio. “Roger, sir. FM radio one is set to the frequency if you want to contact them.”

  “Thank you.” The colonel started attempting to contacting Dai-uy Nguyen on the firebase to get an update on their situation. Until they were closer, he was unsuccessful.

  As they climbed to altitude, Patterson and Craig snuggled deeper into their jackets. “Hey, sir, it’s getting a bit cool back here,” Patterson stated over the intercom.

  “Oh really? Let me turn the heater on for you. There, how’s that?” Reid said. Everyone knew the Huey had no heater in the back and they were flying with the doors open.

  “Much better, sir. Thank you, sir,” Craig interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  When they flew over the firebase at ten thousand feet, it was obvious to Reid and Gordon that something was amiss. Sporadic small-arms fire could be seen coming from three sides of the firebase, as indicated by occasional green and red tracers being exchanged. In addition, they could see artillery impacting two klicks to the north of the firebase, but aside from that, all appeared normal. Flying at ten thousand feet didn’t let one observe details on the ground, but the temperature was nice and cool, so no one complained. The added benefit was no one was shooting at you either. After an hour of flying circles, Reid informed the colonel that they had to refuel at Dak To and he departed station to do so.

  En route to Dak To, which was only seven miles to the east of Firebase Six, the US advisor contacted Reid on FM 2. “Chicken-man Two-Seven, Gambler Six, over.”

  “Gambler Six, Chicken-man Two-Seven, go ahead, over.”

  “Chicken-man Two-Seven, they’re running low on ammo on Firebase Six. Could you take a load in to resupply them?” Gambler Six asked.

  “Shit, sir.” Reid paused to think this through. “Gambler Six, if I do this, I want to get in fast and get out fast. Could they sling the ammo so I can keep moving and punch it off over their side of the firebase? I’ll slow down as I go over so we put it where they want it and not have it go all over the place. Over.”

  “Chicken-man Two-Seven, yeah, I think that will work. Let me set it up. Gambler Six out.” Reid looked back at the Vietnamese colonel, who had been monitoring Reid’s conversation with Gambler Six and now flashed Reid a toothy grin and a thumbs-up.

  Addressing the crew, Reid explained what was planned for the return trip. No one said anything. Not a good sign. If soldiers weren’t complaining about something, they were thinking. Sometimes it wasn’t good to be thinking about your immediate future. As the aircraft refueling was completed, Reid motioned for the ARVN colonel to get in the aircraft so Reid could reposition to pick up the sling load of ammo. The ARVN colonel approached the aircraft and stood on the skid next to Reid’s door.

  “I no go.” He paused. “You lighter for this load.” The colonel was avoiding eye contact. What the hell is he afraid of? Reid was thinking. As the colonel moved away, Reid shook his head and moved the aircraft over the load, which consisted of small-arms ammo and hand grenades. After he’d completed his hover check and was satisfied that the aircraft could handle the load and that the load was stable, Reid had Gordon take the controls and start out for Firebase Six.

  “You take the aircraft. Give you a chance to fly a sling load. Have you flown one since you’ve been in county?” Reid asked.

  “I have the aircraft. No, all this is a first for me,” Gordon said, watching his torque gauge.

  “Nice and smooth. Don’t want it swinging under the aircraft,” Reid instructed. As Gordon executed the departure, Reid said, “Just like that. Nice and steady power. Good.”

  Approaching the firebase, Reid gave the senior advisor on the firebase a call.

  “Gambler Four-One, this is Chicken-man Two-Seven, over.” This was the first contact Reid has had with anyone on the firebase since the colonel had spoken in Vietnamese with Dai-uy Nguyen.

  “Chicken-man Two-Seven, Gambler Four-One. Understand you have a resupply of ammo for me. Over.” Small-arms fire could be heard in the background.

  “Gambler Four-One, that’s affirmative. It’s a sling load that I’m going to drop as I pass over your location. I’ll be moving slow and hope to drop it in your lap. Over.”

  “Sounds good, Chicken-man. Be advised, we do not, repeat, do not, control the north half of the firebase. They do, so make your drop on the south side.”

  Reid and Bellem exchanged wide-eyed looks with each other.

  “Four-One, did you say they control the north half?” Reid asked with some apprehension in his voice. No one said anything about that.

  “Chicken-man Two-Seven, that’s affirmative, over.”

  “Roger, understood. I’ll make my pass at treetop or lower over the south side from east to west. Will that be satisfactory? Over.”

  “I have good copy, Chicken-man. I’ll put a panel out for your target. Over.”

  “Roger, Chicken-man is two minutes out,” Reid said. He turned to Gordon. “Okay, I have the aircraft. Do you understand what we’re going to do?” Gordon nodded his head with his eyes fixed to the front. Addressing the entire crew, Reid said, “Guys, be on your toes. This is liable to be a hot LZ.”

  “You have the aircraft.” And Gordon looked over to see that Reid had in fact taken the controls.

  “Roger, Mr. Reid,” Patterson responded.

  “I’m good, sir,” Craig answered.

  “Gordon, when I say execute, be ready to stomp the manual release on the cargo net in case the electrical release doesn’t work. We’re going to release just before we get to the panel he’s putting out so the momentum will carry the load to the panel. Understood?”

  “Got it,” Gordon answered.

  “You guys back there ready?” Reid asked Patterson and Tonjes.

  “We’re good, sir,” Patterson responded, Am I the only one shitting bricks right now? he wondered as he raised his gun.

  “Guns up,” Tonjes answered, asking himself, Why did I volunteer for this?

  “Okay, one minute out, slowing up, be ready,” Reid said, beginning a rapid deceleration as he cleared the tree line, aiming for the orange panel the advisor had put out. The deceleration caused the sling load to swing forward as its momentum was still moving at eighty knots.

  “Taking fire!” Craig yelled as they cleared the wire perimeter and his gun commenced firing. Patterson’s gun joined in the crescendo as well. Green tracers streaked in front of the aircraft’s nose. Small hammer blows could be heard coming from the tail boom. Scanning the ground, Patterson spotted six people attempting to turn and point a large-caliber weapon towards the aircraft. Before they could fire, Patterson engaged, killing all six.

  “Execute!” Reid hollered as the load suddenly dropped from beneath the aircraft. Not waiting to see if the electrical release functioned properly, Gordon stomped on the mechanical release. Shedding almost one thousand pounds of additional weight, the aircraft rapidly began to gain altitude, which Reid had anticipated and immediately converted to airspeed. Once they were well over the trees, Reid executed a power climb to two thousand feet and told Gordon to take the controls.

  “I got it,” Gordon said, and Reid began to breathe.

  “Head back to Dak To and let’s check the aircraft over for holes when we get there.”

  “Mr. Reid, did I miss something in your brief? Were you expecting that much fire?” asked Patterson, sitting back in his seat.

  “You missed nothing. No one said anything about a hot LZ until we got here. Now I know why the chickenshit Vietnamese colonel didn’t come with us on this run!” Reid stated with disgust.

  “Well, looks like someone is buying beer tonight, right, Lieutenant?” Patterson asked. Lieutenant Bellem just nodded.

  Neither the US advisor nor the ARVN colonel were at the airfield when the aircraft arrived back at Dak To, and Reid couldn’t raise anyone on FM radio.

  “After we refuel, let’s shut down and check the bird over,” Reid directed the crew.

  Shutting the aircraft dow
n, everyone got out. No one said anything. Slowly, first Patterson and then Craig began to look the aircraft over. Craig started cleaning the guns and checking the ammo. They were going to need more, he felt, so he went to get some. It was only 0930, and they had already burned through half their normal load of six thousand rounds. The tail boom had a few new air vents, but nothing to consider as the tail boom was empty hollow space for the most part. The tail rotor drive shaft was on the very top, and four quarter-inch metal cables ran down the sides to control the tail rotor. As long as none of them were damaged, you were good to go.

  As they sat waiting for the advisor to come back or contact them, Reid noticed another Chicken-man aircraft approaching the refuel point. Once it was refueled, it repositioned close to where Reid had parked. The aircraft nose had the traditional Chicken-man chicken with the name Iron Butterfly and the number 150. This was Mike George’s aircraft and his crew chief was Specialist Mike Kelly. Specialist Ronald Smith was the door gunner but everyone called him RA as his middle name began with an A. RA in Army lingo stood for Regular Army, and Smith was Regular Army, not a draftee. RA had replaced Kelly’s previous door gunner, Conrad, who had rotated home. Reid walked over to speak to Mike George once the aircraft rolled back to flight idle.

  “Hey, Mike. What you guys doing?” Reid asked.

  “Reid, how goes it?” Mike replied, not answering the initial question as he was filling out the logbook for the flight he had just completed.

  “Right now, I would have to say not good for the guys on Firebase Six,” Reid stated, looking past Mike at his copilot, First Lieutenant Benjamin “Ben” Bond, a relatively new pilot who occupied the right seat.

  “How so?” Bond asked.

  Reid explained the situation on Firebase Six and the fact that it was about to be overrun unless some support got in there fast. As Reid explained the situation, Mike finished filling out the logbook and climbed out of the left seat.