The Time: February 1970
The Place: Mekong Delta, RVN
The Event: Going Down "THERE"
I've been "in country" for about a month now. My first
25 hours of combat flying have been in the Command and Control helicopter
orbiting over various Landing Zones (LZs). I've been learning my unit's
"How To's" of helicopter aerial combat assaults, from radio techniques
to gunship patterns. The drama is real, yet I feel detached from it. I
can see the rockets exploding, the tracer rounds spraying the tree line,
the assault choppers dashing into the LZ with men jumping out, running,
shooting, shouting, falling. But, they are down on the ground and I am
up here. I haven't been down "THERE" yet.
Today I'm up at "oh-dark-thirty ," shower and shave,
grab all my gear, meet at Ops, walk out to the ship, pre-flight it, climb
in and wait. The more adventurous crew members eat some "C" rations for
breakfast. I sit and watch the sun break the horizon and seriously contemplate
my chances of seeing it go down this evening. The Aircraft Commander shows
up. Warrant Officer Bob Allen, the platoon instructor pilot. As usual,
he gets the honor of breaking in the new troop on his first combat insertion.
He's been known to "bring'em back alive.".
The flight out to the pick up zone (PZ) is uneventful
and we wait for the "friendlies" to show up for their ride. The crews relax
while I sit in my seat and go over everything that can possibly happen
and what I must do when it happens. The "friendlies" arrive, find a shaded
spot and take a nap. The crew does likewise. Except me. I'm extremely busy
trying to beat back the black wall of fear building around me.
A member of the lead aircraft crew jumps out of his ship
and rotates his arm wildly over his head while whistling shrilly. The bad
guys have been found and we're going to go get them!
Bob flies the first assault while I sit lightly on the
controls in case he's hit. He talks to me all the way in, giving me last
lessons on something I've been training to do for more than a year. I hear
his words but my mind is numb. The ten machine guns of our five ship formation
create a din that resounds like the hammers of hell. As we touch down,
the gunships spray rockets to within 50 yards of us and their bursting
warheads seemingly explode in the depths of my chest as much as in the
jungle around us. The troops are out; we are off with the rest of the formation
and Bob is still calmly talking me through this. The next lift is mine,
and I'm trying hard not to show how badly I'm shaking.
I take the controls in the PZ, pick up the troops, and
we're off. Sweat is burning my eyes as I think of the 10 lives now relying
on my flying ability and my guts. We come up trail formation, a straight
line of five ships. Nose to tail, nose to tail, we fly with less than 50
feet between us. The LZ can be seen smoking and burning a few miles forward.
Lead ship reduces power and we all follow, descending back into hell. I'm
rigid with fear. I'm worried more now that I'll kill everyone through a
stupid mistake than in the possibility of my own death. The smell of jungle
and cordite rushes up into the cockpit as the ground closes in. The machine
guns open up and the air is filled with tracers, going out, coming back,
ours and theirs. I'm amazed! My hands and feet are flying the ship, while
the rest of my being is cringing somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
Ten feet, five, four, three, we're down! The troops scramble away from
this big green bull's eye I'm flying and run for the jungle's edge. Five
seconds later, we're up and moving.
I'm running on instinct and rote training. Up on the
collective, a little left pedal, forward on the cyclic, stay with the formation
and go like mad. The tension begins to subside just as both legs cramp
up so bad I'm forced to ask Bob to take the controls for awhile. He nods,
he knows, he's been "there!"
The days will go by and the assaults will continue, but
it will be different now. The fear will lessen with every trip. It won't
be conquered, but controlled, and that's enough. I know that now, I've
been "there!"
Ed Gallagher
(The author is a former US Army helicopter pilot with
over 200 combat missions in Viet Nam and Cambodia)
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