The "Huey's" had just completed the
troop Insertion and were leaving the LZ to refuel and rearm. With no landing
to cover , we decided to form a "pink team" and look for targets of opportunity.
''We" are a flight of two OH-6A Light Observation Helicopters
called "Loaches" and two AH-1G gunships called "Cobra's"
Since I was flying trail, the last
ship in a right echelon formation, my job was to watch the other aircraft
and monitor communications. So I tuned In Radio Saigon and was busy listening
to some rock and roll when Cobra Lead dives hard left and starts yelling
about some guy running around down below. As I pull out of the dive and
let my stomach return to its normal place, I notice this one lone individual
running a zig-zag pattern across an open field and he's really moving.
Now a Cobra is an awe inspiring sight
with guns, cannon and rockets bristling from everywhere. So to be an all
alone enemy troop in the middle of an open field with not one, but two
of these maneaters closing in on you at 200 mph, must be highly motivating
The first Cobra opens up with his
mini-gun which sprays bullets at 4000 rounds per minute. A cloud of dust
kicks up all around the guy but not a single shot touches him and he's
still running. The second gunship lets go a volley of rockets and flame,
dirt and smoke envelope the speeding figure. "He's had it now", I say to
myself and then sit slack jawed and incredulous as I watch him pop out
of the smoke, running even faster than before. The lead Loach dives in
dropping hand grenades like a mini-bomber yet the lone speedster goes on
unscathed. It's my turn now and I've got him all lined up. I slowly squeeze
the trigger for my mini-gun just as he steps into my sights and the damn
gun jams. We are all wild with frustration as he ducks into a small thatch
hut on the edge of the field.
The Cobras line up and dive in to
blow the hooch to hell when out pops the moving marvel who is now wearing
a white shirt. Now this sophisticated disguise
may have fooled many others, but not us. I mean, let's
face it, we're all high school graduates. The Cobras blow up the hooch
and he's off and running!
He's now heading back down the field
he had just run up. Again the gunships attack and the field literally explodes
in a fury of munitions and again, miraculously, this Viet Cong voodoo goes
untouched. He leaps over a row of hedge and dives into a small, deep stream
covered with vegetation. Now the Cobras must climb back up into their element
and let we Loachs do what we do best.
We slowly scout every inch of the
stream bank for our hidden prey. I'm reflecting on his impossible escape
from our firepower and am amazed at his skill, speed and good fortune.
As I follow the lead Loach, I begin to sense the feeling of being watched.
I stop dead and snap right just In time to see the top of his head disappear
under the water. I say nothing to the others and hold my position. My heartbeats
tick off the seconds. He raises his head, gasping for air and his eyes
suddenly go wide with terror. I'm not ten feet away, he has no place to
run and certain death is staring him in the face.
His eyes mirror the disbelief and
confusion he feels as I turn my aircraft left, away from him. As I turn
my head to face him, I touch my right hand to my helmet visor in brief
salute, smile and fly on. Tomorrow we may meet again and death may not
be cheated, but for today he has earned the comfort of another sunset.
As for me; it will remain my secret as later, when we gather to tell of
our daily exploits, I'll listen to the other pilots tell the story of "the
one that got away".
Ed Gallagher
( The author is a former Army helicopter pilot with
over 200 combat missions over Viet-Nam and Cambodia)