The Ether Zone: U.S. Army Special Forces Detachment B-52, Project Delta

by Morris Ray

  * * * * * *

  The men in Project Delta were like a close family, and like most families, they had their share of disagreements. Often issues might lead to fisticuffs, but outsiders were better off not to interfere in the disputes. If anyone outside of the “family” attempted to intrude, they usually ended up being blamed for the entire mess, and had to take on the whole bunch. Troops cheerfully recall one such disagreement between SGM McGuire and Major Strange. It had been smoldering, and something finally brought it to a head during a party in the mess hall of a nearby aviation company.

  “Come outside and we’ll duke it out, Major,” McGuire said, puffing out his barrel chest as he challenged his commander. McGuire, known to put away a substantial amount of booze when off duty, was never one to walk away from a fight. The Major, a light drinker at best, politely refused the challenge and ordered his SGM to sleep it off. Although the dejected SGM McGuire left, in his mind it was just too big a deal to simply ignore. Within minutes he returned, shouting again for Strange to come outside. Strange realized this issue wouldn’t go away unless addressed, head-on. As Strange was huge, with tremendous strength, Delta folks often wonder exactly what McGuire was thinking when he challenged him. It was clear the Major didn’t want to fight his top NCO, but at McGuire’s insistence he relented and they moved outside to settle their differences.

  With few exceptions, air transport support for early Leaping Lena insertions (June-July 1964) was provided by VNAF pilots, the King Bees, utilizing H-34 helicopters 21

  They no sooner squared off than McGuire attacked—that was the end of it. Art Strange had been a wrestler in college. He mashed McGuire’s face into the sand and pinned him with a painful arm lock. When a guard from the helicopter unit, on his rounds, saw the two men struggling in the dirt, he became excited.

  “Okay, knock it off you two,” he shouted, rushing up. “Get up right now!”

  Delta troops never wore rank on their collars and although they knew each other’s rank, outsiders didn’t. In Project Delta, particularly Recon, rank mattered much less than in other units; experience and ability counted most. On occasion, higher-ranking NCOs and officers might have participated in operations led by someone of lesser rank. The two exceptions for wearing rank were reserved for SGM McGuire and Major Strange, each having metal rank insignias pinned to their collars. While securing McGuire in a torturous arm hold, Strange glanced up, exposing his rank to the young guard for the first time.

  “Go on about your business sonny, or I’ll kick your ass, too,” he said calmly. When the guard saw the rank of the two combatants, his jaw dropped and he beat a hasty retreat. To McGuire, Strange said, “Do you want me to break off your damned arm, Sergeant Major?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Then how about a drink?”

  “Okay.”

  He let the SGM up, and it ended.

  In yet another incident, upon returning to Fort Bragg as a Group Command Sergeant Major, McGuire called two of his NCOs into his office after they returned late for duty. Closing the door, the sounds of physical conflict could be heard inside for several minutes. The two NCOs emerged, battered and bruised, then asked the clerk to call an ambulance for the Sergeant Major. As Don Valentine related, “At times, you had to admire McGuire’s warrior spirit if not his judgment.”

  Today, Charles McGuire resides in North Carolina not far from the retirement home where Art Strange once lived. In a role reversal, McGuire gave up drinking, fighting and Irish ballads for the church choir, and serves as a part-time minister, while Strange, the mild mannered teetotaler, purchased a cocktail lounge. Arthur Strange passed away at Cape Fear Valley Medical Facility in Fayetteville, NC, 31 October 2005. He served five distinguished tours in Vietnam and at the time of his death, had retired as a high school teacher. He’d also been a successful businessman, with his popular Silver Fox Lounge and Ken-Art Realty Company.

  * * * * * *

  In January 1965, a feverish Captain Boulas was diagnosed with pneumonia, malaria and myocarditis (inflammation of the heart). Evacuated to the 8th Army Field Hospital, he remained for forty days; a Vietnamese-French priest gave him his last rites at a low point in his progress. He swears he had an out-of-body experience, floating above his bed, watching as the doctors and nurses struggled to save his life. His friendship with one of the nurses, Julie Klebaum Thornton, a farm girl from Washington State, has endured through the years. Boulas says she was a no-nonsense professional who didn’t suffer fools lightly, always providing a helping hand or a word of encouragement, and represented the best in the Army Nurses Corp. If anything, Boulas’s hospital stay had some positive aspects, for Delta troops always maintained a close relationship with the medical staff who cared for them when they were sick or wounded. B-52 reciprocated by providing security, making the medical team’s tour a little less stressful and perhaps even a little more enjoyable.

  Upon returning to the States, Leonard Boulas was hospitalized for hepatitis at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, costing him an assignment as a CIA training officer. He eventually retired as a lieutenant colonel. Today, he teaches at a community college and consults on emergency management issues.

  * * * * * *

  A majority of the earliest arrivals served more than one tour, remaining through the changes of several Delta Project commanders; MAJ Art Strange, Charlie Beckwith, John Warren and others. Some extended beyond, long after most soldiers departed to “The World.”

  After Leaping Lena’s demise, VNAF pilots continued on as Delta’s primary source of air transport for the next year and a half. The VNAF pilot talent ranged from extremely good to barely acceptable. It wasn’t that they lacked flying skills or the sensitivity to their unique missions, for once trained with Delta they were as good as any other pilot. Their problem was turnover—after crews had been highly trained for Delta-type missions, they’d suddenly be transferred, and a raw new crew would take their place. In essence, Delta had become a training unit for the Vietnamese helicopter pilots. Vietnamese H-34 Helicopters (the King Bees) were transferred to the CIA for use in SOG. Many of the valiant VNAF pilots who supported Project Delta were eventually killed while with SOG.

  Recon team boarding a “Slick,” 1966. (Photo courtesy of James Jarrett)

  The VNAF rotation, in combination with insufficient U.S.-operated rotary-blade aircraft, nagged and frustrated Delta commanders throughout 1964 and 1965. Inexperienced pilots often inserted recon teams into the wrong landing zones. After one operation on 30 July 1965 at Binh Dinh, MAJ Strange, the Project Delta Commander, commented in the official After Action Report (AAR), “This Project cannot operate effectively without a group of efficient, determined and motivated helicopter pilots.”22

  Neither the Commander nor Recon teams had cause to worry about one pilot, Lieutenant Khoi, a long-time Section Chief of the King Bees. He’d been with Delta its initial two years, then transferred along with other King Bees when they left to support SOG missions across the border in Laos. Many of Project Delta’s old hands wouldn’t have recognized him by his name, Khoi. He was known simply as “Cowboy.”

  As Len Boulas tells it, “How do you go about describing someone who is the cream of the crop in their technical skills—fearless, nerves of steel, yet with a sense of humor, one who enjoyed life to its fullest?” He said two things about the flamboyant Lieutenant Khoi were immediately noticeable; first, he was only a lieutenant who supervised several captains in his helicopter section, and secondly, he’d been given the nickname Cowboy by the Americans. This term was not only because of his Western-style hat or his pearl-handled pistol, but to recognize that he was the cream-of-the-crop, the best the Vietnamese Air Force had to offer. When he dropped off a recon team, he always knew exactly where they were, and when they needed to be extracted he always came back for them, regardless of the situation or weather.

  Choppers with recon teams, going into the “hole.” (Photo courtesy of Steve Adams)

  Boulas said, “If he’d been
an American aviator, he’d be wearing a chest full of DFCs (Distinguished Flying Cross, awarded to pilots and crews for extreme valor.) There are an awful lot of Recon folks who owe him their lives—some who’ve never even met him. Cowboy set the standard the Recon personnel expected from all aviation support personnel. They expected that when they called to come get them, the aviators would come, no questions asked, no matter how bad the situation. That’s what Cowboy always did.”

  One day Boulas encountered another SOG pilot using the name Cowboy, wearing the same type hat and brandishing the same pistol as Lieutenant Khoi. Boulas asked him if he knew Khoi. The new pilot informed him Cowboy Khoi had been killed flying a particularly dangerous mission across the border for SOG. When Boulas inquired about his nickname, the pilot grinned and said, “Comes with the territory. You get it when you’re recognized as being the best.” It had become Cowboy’s legacy.

  * * * * * *

  Although the 145th Airlift Platoon supported Project Delta intermittently as early as 1965, their first appearance in direct support began to be documented in After Action Reports following an operation near Binh Hoa, 2 January 1966, when they flew out of the Di An FOB. A sketchy history details the 145th Airlift Platoon (UH-1B) as “Slicks,” meaning the helicopters had been stripped of nonessential equipment to increase air speed, range, maneuverability and troop capacity. Slicks specialized in the dangerous, often vulnerable feats of insertion and extraction of teams in enemy controlled territory.

  On 6 January 1965, the 145th Airlift Platoon initially moved to Nha Trang to support Headquarters, Field Forces. That same year, on Christmas, they were reassigned to the 10th Combat Aviation Battalion, and began training with Project Delta Recon teams. A month later, 25 January 1966, the 145th platoon merged with the 6th Aviation Platoon (UH-1B gunships), forming 2nd Platoon, 171st Aviation Company (AC), thereby combining the 145th troop transport capability with the 6th Aviation’s combat punch that Delta needed.

  Whereas the 171st Company had been providing helicopter support for the entire 5th Special Forces Group headquartered in Nha Trang, the primary purpose of 2nd Platoon, 171st Company, became direct helicopter support for Project Delta’s recon operations. Remaining under operational control (OPCON) of the 5th SF Group Commander, conflicts often occurred; they were frequently skimmed off to support other Special Forces requirements throughout Vietnam. It would not be until 1966 that Delta received its own direct support organic helicopter unit—the 281st Army Helicopter Company. Its heroic insertions, air support cover and death defying extractions became legendary as Delta’s operations evolved over the next four years.

  By July 1966, the 281st Army Helicopter Company had assimilated all aviation assets of the 171st and was attached to Project Delta for direct support, thus combining airlift capability and firepower under the OPCON of Commander, Project Delta. The 281st AHC remained as Delta’s primary helicopter support unit until early 1970, near to the time of Delta’s deactivation.

  The 145th Platoon was unique even after absorbed by the 171st, and later by the 281st AHC. They were the first clandestine helicopter unit in the traditions of Special Ops; sterile uniforms—no rank or unit patches—and under the direct control of a non-aviation commander, the Commander of Project Delta. While this presented autonomy to operate secretly without interference by the aviation chain of command, it also aligned them beyond conventional re-supply channels. Unlike Special Forces units who were designed to operate in this manner, it proved to be a great hardship for aviation pilots and crews. This remained a bone of contention until 1965, when Delta Commander MAJ Charles Beckwith arrived and assumed full command responsibility for them.

  The 145th Airlift Platoon (later 2nd Platoon, 171st Aviation Company and 281st ACH) was an outstanding organization with the most talented pilots. Their unselfish acts and bravery beyond duty requirements unquestionably resulted in the safe return of many Delta personnel who might have easily perished.

  * * * * * *

  Fixed-wing aircraft were also becoming much more accessible to the unit’s operations. Following President Johnson’s decision to introduce U.S. aircraft and pilots into the Vietnam conflict, with the arrival of the 19th TASS (Tactical Air Support Squadron), three additional TASS’s rapidly followed. By 1965, 120 O-1F aircraft were being flown by USAF pilots. On 8 May 1965, the 21st TASS activated, and became operational December 1965. Shortly thereafter, the 21st TASS assigned a FAC, a radio operator and one 01-F aircraft in direct support of Project Delta. The U.S. Air Force touted its association with Project Delta as “one of the most innovative aspects of the entire Project.”

  Once enemy units had been identified by Delta’s small recon teams,

  FAC pilots were called in. They directed deadly air strikes onto the exacting coordinates provided by the recon teams, and assisted in locating their precise position on the ground. The FAC mission also helped teams in trouble, extracting from hot areas by providing radio relay and air cover. According to a 1969 Air Force study, this new joint tactic was “One of the most significant and more productive applications of airpower in Vietnam, and represented a high payoff for a small investment of resources.”23

  Leaping Lena and, subsequently, Project Delta operations, gave birth to Long Range Recon Patrol (LRRP) techniques used by conventional U.S. Army and Marine Corps. Special Forces and CIA projects, SOG, Omega and Sigma, would similarly be organized using the skills and lessons gleaned from the early Leaping Lena and Project Delta endeavors; many conventional divisional LRRP units were trained by Special Forces personnel who had become experienced running recon patrols in Project Delta.

  Although divisional LRRP personnel were capable leaders upon graduation, their level of training still fell short of that for Delta Recon personnel, primarily due to Delta’s constant and repetitious training exercises using advanced infantry, special and unconventional warfare tactics. Their skills were finely honed to a higher level. All were skilled shooters and airborne operations qualified, map, compass and land navigation experts, trained in advanced tracking methods, silent movement techniques and hand and arm signals. They executed infiltration and extraction techniques; developed a mastery of as many types of weapons as time permitted; conducted practice ambushes, raids, defensive positions, recon and observation techniques; and mission support sites (MSS) and LZ/DZ sterilization procedures. In essence, Project Delta set the standard for all Special Operations projects to follow. Many of their techniques are still taught in Special Forces training exercises and are being used in Afghanistan and Iraq.

  19 Jerry D. Estenson. Autobiography, http://www.projectdelta.net/bios/estenson.htm.

  20 Donald Valentine’s website; http//www.don-valentine.com.

  21 Detachment B-52, 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne), 1st Special Forces, Operation 1-66, After Action Report “Mallet,” dtd: 25 Jan 1966, para 1.b. (2)

  22 Project Delta After Action Report, Opn 15-65 (Binh Dinh), 30 July 1965.

  23 U.S. Air Force. “USAF Support of Special Forces in South East Asia,” HQ PACAF, Directorate, Tactical Evaluation,

  SIX

  “We’re Thinking About You. Hold Out As Long As You Can. God Bless You All.”

  - Lyndon Johnson

  IN JANUARY 1965, PROJECT DELTA CONDUCTED a series of operations around the small village of Vung Tau. On 15 January, two Delta Recon teams were inserted north of Vung Tau where two VC battalions had been reported. Over two days, these initial teams were involved in a series of running gunfights with enemy forces, killing several and returning with valuable intelligence. One American received minor wounds. Ultimately, seven, five-man recon teams would infiltrate during the operation.

  Sergeant First Class Eddie Adams had been assigned to a Ranger reaction force called to action as a result of one of the recon team’s intelligence reports. On 21 January 1965, Adams led a company of Airborne Rangers into a defensive built-up village reported by the recon team. Under heavy automatic weapons fire, Adams formed his force into an
assault line, entered the village and initially forced out the enemy, although one house had been so heavily defended that it completely bogged down the attack. The Rangers, pinned down by the hail of fire, held up and returned fire; it was plain they weren’t going anywhere. Adams knew he had to get them moving before the enemy regrouped and counterattacked.

  He ordered a small huddled group of Rangers to follow him, stood upright in the face of direct enemy fire and charged the fortified house, firing as he ran. Without hesitation, the Rangers followed. The VC platoon guarding the house was so surprised by this audacious affront that it fled in panic, abandoning its weapons, grenades and documented intelligence information. Adams’s Bronze Star citation reads, “...continuously exposed himself to enemy small arms and automatic weapons fire to rout the Viet Cong from their positions, wounding many NVA and capturing one enemy POW.”