“Put that down,” Eddie said as he walked out of his cubicle and headed for the shower.
Ralph dropped the picture on the stand and said, “See you at the Club. I’ll order for you, so you better hurry.”
Eddie waved his approval as he walked off.
BRIEFING ROOM
8:00 a.m.
Eddie and Ralph stepped into the briefing room just before 8:00. Ralph carried a bag of sandwiches from the Officer’s Club in one hand and the latest weather briefing in the other. Before they could get to their seats, the room was called to attention. Major General Bellford stepped onto the stage, walked briskly to the mic, and ordered, “Seats.” Eddie and Ralph scrambled to their seats.
“Good morning, gentlemen. If you’ve been reading the papers, you know the target. We’re going to get the last licks in while the Marines evacuate Phnom Penh. By nightfall the whole fuck’en city will be theirs. After the last evacuation aircraft is back across the border, all of Cambodia will be off-limits to all U.S. military aircraft, except for the spy birds.
“It’s a damn shame, you know,” he continued, as he ran his hand across the top of his head. “I asked for a hundred B-52’s for a one-day mission. All I received from the White House was an obscene answer and two squadrons of F-4’s.”
There was some murmuring from the crews, so the general waited for silence.
“Don’t worry. I asked the chaplain to pray a special prayer that each of you would be given divine protection over your targets. I know that each of you is going to add that extra special touch to put your ordinance right on top of those commie bastards.”
There were cheers from some of the pilots. The general gave them a big grin.
“I also asked a special prayer that the Lord would give that stupid son-of-a-bitch in the White House the same answer on election day that he gave us on our request of bombers for this mission.”
The crews cheered as the general turned the briefing over to the mission briefing officer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BASE THEATER
UBON RTAFB
12:30 P.M.
The tall, thin pilot, wearing a green flight suit and a blue flight cap with a colonel’s eagle pinned to it, walked to the center of the stage while everyone in the theater stood at attention. For several seconds he just stood, letting his eyes wander over the pilots and crewmen who stood watching him. He had the good looks of a movie star and the air of a corporate executive about him. He was a rising star and everyone knew it.
“At ease, gentlemen. Take your seats,” he said. He waited a few seconds for things to settle before he continued. “Today Phnom Penh is falling to the Communist Khmer Rouge. History will report that the 40th Air Rescue and Recovery Squadron flew in support of the evacuation of our embassy there. If anyone is asked, you will say we flew into Phnom Penh to back up the Marines, who will actually evacuate our embassy personnel.”
The colonel paused. The theater was silent as everyone held his breath. “Throughout northeast Cambodia we have A-teams and intelligence teams working. By sunset we have to have them all out of Cambodia. This order came right out of the White House.”
The crews looked at each other, not really understanding why this was a dangerous mission. These type inserts and pick-ups were routine flying missions for them.
“Yesterday evening our comm center in Phnom Penh fell into Communist hands. A Soviet Spritzen team captured it intact, complete with all the classified files on our teams.” There were groans and curses heard from the crews. “They know where our teams are and where we’ve got to meet them for pickup. And they’ve had nearly eighteen hours to prepare something for our arrival.”
Now they understood the seriousness of their situation. With just twelve Jolly Green Giant helicopters and nearly thirty-five different teams in the field, they would be making three extractions per chopper.
After briefing the crews on the location of the pickup points each would be responsible for, one of the pilots asked, “Colonel, I hate to ask. But what about losses?”
“Hard to say what the losses will be. Low side looks like ten percent. In addition to our OV-10’s, we’ll have two squadrons of Phantoms. That’s a lot of support. And for all their notice, the Communists just don’t have much in the way of assets to move into that area. At least not very quickly.”
“Angel One, cleared for rolling takeoff,” the control tower radioed.
“Angel One, rolling,” the colonel answered as he brought the power up and pushed the cyclic forward. The heavily loaded Jolly Green swung out onto Runway 27, steered by the toe brakes. As it began to build forward speed, he pulled up on the collective and the chopper climbed up away from the runway, the five huge rotor blades beating at the hot, damp air.
Behind Angle One another eleven HH-53 Jolly Green Giant helicopters departed one by one, each heading south toward Phnom Penh, their reported destination.
Twenty minutes after the last Jolly Green left the runway, a dozen pairs of OV-10 Broncos sat on the taxiway waiting for clearance to takeoff. With clearance given, the pairs took off to the south. Their four M-60 machine guns and two pods of 2.75 inch rockets would be the Jolly Greens’ close air support in the event they were attacked during the pickup.
UDORN RTAFB
1:15 P.M.
The heavily loaded F-4’s were given clearance to takeoff and depart to the south on a sortie to Phnom Penh. Four flights of four took off from LTC Waters’ squadron, followed by four flights of four from Big Jake’s squadron. Thirty-two F-4’s headed south into Cambodia. Weather was still severe clear.
As they crossed over the border into Cambodia, LTC Waters’ squadron was assigned high cover for six Jolly Greens. He broke three flights into six pairs and assigned each pair to a chopper. The fourth flight was held in reserve. Jake’s squadron was assigned high cover for the other six choppers and he assigned aircraft the same way LTC Waters did. Eddie’s flight was the reserve.
Eddie took up a holding position east of the Mekong River just inside Cambodia. Waters’ reserve flight was holding southeast of Eddie’s about a hundred miles.
“Look at that down there, Eddie,” Ralph said. “All that beautiful green carpet laid out so neat over the hills with that brown river sparkling through it. Hard to believe that under all that there’s a bunch of mean people killing innocent civilians.”
“Yea, sure looks peaceful from up here. Keep your ear to our radio. I’m gonna be on GUARD for a few minutes.”
“You’ll get your tit in a ringer for that, I’ll bet.”
“We’ll see.”
Eddie switched to GUARD and called, “Condor Lead, Smoky. You up?”
The reply came back in a slow Texas drawl. “Yea, I’m here.”
“What do they have you doing, Hank?”
“Reserve FAC. When it comes time to get down and dirty, I’ll be at the bottom of it.”
“Good. I feel a whole lot better knowing I have you to tell me which way to point my pecker.”
Hank laughed. “Okay, buddy. Show time. Call you if I need you.”
Two clicks on mic and Eddie switched back to his frequency.
The first pickup came at 2:02 p.m. The five-man intelligence team was spotted on the hilltop in a small clearing. Radio contact just after noon confirmed their location, but the OV-10’s were unable to raise them on the radio now.
“Guns on,” the colonel called over the intercom. “One minute and we do have them in sight.”
Three electrically operated mini-guns were switched on and the barrels began to spin. The nose of the giant helicopter pitched up and forward airspeed began to drop as the chopper settled toward the clearing.
“Sure wish we had a couple of Sandies with us,” the copilot said, referring to the A1-E Skyraider. “Those Broncos are just too light in the ass when the shit hits the fan.”
“Can’t see out of a Sandy,” the colonel said. “Is that them in the clearing?”
The copilot saw the men seated on the ground near the trees. “Yea, got ‘em.” He called the teams’ position to the crew in the back.
The chopper settled quickly to the ground near where the team was seated, but they did not move.
“Come on, assholes. Let’s go,” the copilot called out, even though he could only be heard over the intercom.
“It’s not right,” the colonel said and immediately heard his crew chief announce, “I’m out.”
The crew chief was a tough, quick witted, young man who graduated from the streets of East Los Angeles to the unfriendly skies of North Viet Nam. He stepped off the ramp and moved quickly toward the group of men seated on the ground, leaning against their backpacks. His eyes swept them and then the jungle beyond, looking for any signs of movement or a trap. His GAU hung on a strap off his shoulder, leveled at the men seated on the ground. As he moved near the group he could see that they were dead.
He moved around behind them, checked the edge of the clearing, and then approached them from behind. One had a bamboo pole sticking out of the center of his back. Two others had stab wounds in their backs and the last two had been strangled. After checking for booby traps and finding none, he called to the colonel over his radio.
“They’re wasted. Want to recover ‘em?”
“Make it fast,” the colonel replied as he scanned the tree line for signs of an ambush. He then switched over to the other frequency and advised the cover aircraft of what they had found.
Whoever had killed them chose not to stay in the area or at least chose not to shoot it out with a Jolly Green.
The next two choppers put down and found their teams waiting on them. They lifted off without any contact with hostiles.
One chopper received ground fire as he approached his landing zone and broke off his approach. Two OV-10 Broncos knocked the guns out with their M-60 machine guns. The Jolly Green then made the pickup with no further resistance.
Another, Angel Seven, was one minute from the landing zone when he received an urgent call from the team on the ground.
“Angel Seven, Angel Seven. This is Brumley. We’re under attack from about a dozen hostiles with light weapons. They’re crossing the clearing onto us now.”
“Roger, Brumley.”
“Shetland Three, Angel Seven. Orbit left and we’ll thin ‘em out,” their OV-10 cover flight called.
“Negative. We’re going in. Cover the tree line.”
“Rog.”
The copilot called over the intercom, “LZ’s hot. Bad guys are in the open. We’re going in.”
The pilot was back on the radio to the ground team. “Angel, Brumley. Give us purple smoke. Give us purple smoke.” Although they called for purple smoke to mark the location of the friendly ground team, the call purple really meant yellow smoke.
“Roger on purple smoke,” came the immediate reply.
The helicopter crossed the tree line just above the trees and the nose pitched up sharply. The seventy-foot rotor blades slapped hard at the air and 165 mile per hour winds blasted down on the clearing. The chopper’s forward speed slowed rapidly.
“Bad guys on the left,” the copilot called over the intercom.
An instant later, rifle rounds could be heard slamming into the side of the aircraft. The vibration of the mini-guns turned the ground where the hostiles were firing from into a cloud of dust. The helicopter continued to slow and quickly settled onto the ground between the attackers and the ground team. The sounds of incoming rifle rounds ended as quickly as they began.
As the ground team scrambled aboard, dragging one seriously wounded man with them, a pair of OV-10’s passed low to the left of the chopper, M-60’s blazing down on the hostiles. Thirty seconds later the Jolly Green raised up off the ground, the nose tilted down, and it began to climb up and away from the LZ. The few attackers who survived found little left of those who did not.
The crew of Angel Seven found the rifle rounds had cut two hydraulic lines and they were forced to make emergency repairs while they sprinted to their next pickup point.
Several other rescue helicopters were reporting ground fire on or near the LZ’s. One called in a near miss from an RPG. An OV-10 received a stitch of AK-47 rounds in the fuselage, just behind the pilot. There were no injuries.
For twenty minutes Eddie and Ralph listened to the radio traffic as the giant choppers made their pickups. Nine Jolly Greens had completed their pickups and were returning to a classified site inside Thailand to drop off their teams. Three were heading for their pickup points along the Se Khong River, twelve to thirty miles north of Stung Treng.
“Condor Lead, Cobra Lead,” the radio crackled.
“Condor Lead, go Cobra Lead,” Eddie answered.
“Fuel status?”
“Twenty minutes to bingo.”
“Okay. CAP those last three. Their escorts are about to bingo,” Jake ordered.
“Rog.”
The Phantoms flying at lower altitude were burning fuel much faster than Eddie’s flight, which was at 35,000 feet. Eddie led his flight southwest to hold above the pickup points along the river. But that area was a hot spot for SA-2 surface-to-air missiles.
The three Jolly Greens dropped down onto the river within a minute of each other and began to take small arms fire almost immediately. OV-10’s dropped down and began to hit the edges of the river with M-60 machine gun fire and 2.75-inch rockets, but were driven off by a couple of DASH-K’s and several anti-aircraft guns. The escorting F-4’s rolled in and knocked out several of the heavy weapons. On their way up, two Phantoms took hits. One lost an engine and the other developed smoke in the cockpit. Both broke and ran for Udorn.
Two of the rescue helicopters lifted off the river and immediately drew heavy weapons fire. One dropped onto a sandbar on the river to get out of the field of fire, but the other dodged the heaviest fire, taking hits that killed two of the five crewmen, and ran northwest for the drop site in Thailand. Although the aircraft would make it back to Thailand, it would never fly again.
“Angel Nine, Angel Nine. I’m in the river and pinned down by heavy weapons fire. Need some help, fast.”
“Smoky, Angel Nine. I’ve got some fast movers coming down on you,” Hank replied.
“Thanks much, Smoky,” the pilot answered with a notable tightness in his voice.
“Smoky, Condor.”
“Tell me where, Hank.”
“Both sides of the river, if you can see where they are.”
“Save your smoke. We’ve got ‘em.”
As Eddie’s flight rolled over into a dive, Hank warned the other aircraft off the gun emplacements. The extent of the coverage in the area became evident when two SA-2 missiles launched from what appeared to be solid jungle.
“Got a launch light,” Ralph said with some doubt.
Before Eddie could answer, Hank confirmed the launches. “Condor, you got two SAM-2’s heading down your throat.”
“Rog, got ‘em in sight.”
With Eddie in a high-speed dive, they shot past the missiles so fast that the proximity fuses exploded well behind the Phantoms.
They pulled out of the dive well above the effective level of anti-aircraft fire and released flares to draw off several SA-7 heat-seeking missiles that were launched. The racks of cluster bombs fell away and opened, showering the ground below with death and destruction.
As the Phantoms cleared the river Hank rolled in for a close look at the damage. Tracers from several DASH-K’s flashed past his nose.
“Smoky, Eagles,” Hank called to the four remaining escort Phantoms. “Give me a suppression run on those DASH-K’s. I’ll mark them for you.”
“Eagle, Smoky. No time to mark. We’re at bingo fuel. We’ll hit and run.”
>
“Rog. You’re cleared in.”
The four Phantoms screamed in on the gun emplacements firing rockets and spraying the jungle canopy with cannon fire, knocking out a few of the big guns. Most other DASH-K’s continued firing.
“Eagle, Smoky, we’re gonna by lao.”
“Rog.”
“Eagle Three, I’ve got another four minutes of fuel. I’ll stay.”
“That’s a good roger,” Hank replied, before Eagle Lead could order him to return with the flight.
“Smoky, Condor. Can you make another pass on those DASH-K’s?”
“Rog. We’ll use rockets. That’ll shut down a few.”
Eddie’s flight again rolled in on the gun emplacements, this time at a lower altitude. They launched rockets on the DASH-K machine guns and knocked out three of them. Still, the tracer fire seemed to be even heavier than before. One SA-7 missile narrowly missed Eddie’s wingman.
Hank looked the situation over and said, “What we need is some cover from Sandies. Those old Skyraiders are great against this shit.”
“Smoky, you have Dragonflies,” an Oriental voice called over the GUARD channel. “We will cover for Angels. Inbound from west, thirty seconds.”
“Who the hell is that?” someone radioed over the operational frequency.
“Slopes! Slopes! We’ve got Slopes inbound from the west. A-37’s! I’ve got ‘em,” Eagle Three screamed over the air.
Eddie saw the A-37’s and recognized them as Colonel Suwit’s planes. “Friendlies! Friendlies! A-37’s are friendlies!”
“Negative! They’re Commie Slopes. I’ve got ‘em.”
“Smoky to Eagle Three, break off! Break off!”
Four flat black A-37 Dragonflies were approaching the river from the west in a flight path that would take them directly over one of the Jolly Green Giant helicopters sitting in the river. Eagle Three was diving on them from the north in a cannon run and was refusing to break off.
Eddie saw what was happening and slammed his throttles into burner. Ralph groaned as the Phantom pulled into a tight diving turn. The radio came alive with cursing and shouts as everyone tried to warn the two Phantoms off.
The Wrong Side of Honor Page 18
