VC ANTS
By Rick Waite
War Wagon 19
Copyright 1997
My doorgunner, Bill Hanegmon, and I were Scouting out an area about 10 klicks South of Muc Hoa in the Plain of Reeds. It had had been a rather uneventful day. Other than coming upon some unexploded bombs the Air Farce had dropped we hadn’t seen much enemy activity.
We found a little wooded area and were checking out some bunkers we had uncovered. There was big dead tree right beside one bunker. Hanegmon kept bugging and asking to get closer so I obliged him. As I moved the helicopter closer to the tree the barrel of Bill’s M-60 clunked against a branch  and snapped the limb off. About 10 seconds later Hanegmon started scratching, jumping and squirming around in his seat. He yelled that something was biting him. I looked over at him and saw a few ants on his Nomex. I told him not to worry, that he’d gotten a couple of ants on him. Just 5 seconds later he told me I had to land. By then he was writhing, twisting and turning literally all over the cockpit. He was begging me to land. I started laughing and called him a pussy. 30 seconds later one of the little bastards got me right in the fucking neck. I called the C&C bird and told them we had an emergency and that I needed to land immediately. By that point I could barely talk due to the painful bite. I was trying to find a dry, clear place that looked somewhat secure.
C&C was alarmed and concerned because of the rapid and erratic  movements of my aircraft. They thought that I might be having problems with the flight controls. C&C picked out an area about ½ a klick from our position but I told him we couldn’t make it that far. We had to land NOW!  My FNG Trail, who’s not supposed to be seen or heard from, got on the radio wanted to know if I wanted him to put down some suppressive fire. “Fuck No”! Cobra lead wanted to know where we had drawn fire from and C&C was visualizing a DFC he’d get for picking us up. I headed for the first clear spot and as soon as that Loach hit the ground Hanegmon and I unassed the ant infested cockpit and started running while stripping of our clothes, (We gave new meaning to “running landing”)
C&C must have done a “Falling Rock” approach because there he was, right in front of us in a tail dragging, huge assed flare. Nearly had that sucker standing on the stinger as he touched down.
By that time Bill and I were completely bare assed and beating on various parts of our bodies, fighting off small squads of VC Ants. Seems the dead tree must have been their home because they were really pissed that we had disturbed them. They were little tiny red ants but it felt like they had teeth that were two inches long.
When everyone found out what had happened we were called pussies and other demeaning names. Well fuck’em.  I demanded that my aircraft be slingloaded back to Vinh Long. The Maintenance officer, a regular prick, said he would come out and fly the ship back and show that pussy Scout pilot “how it was done”.  The prick had no sooner cranked the bird when he shut it down and bailed out while stripping off all his clothes.
The Loach was slung back that day and it didn’t fly for 3 more days due to fumigation.
Those VC Ants were the meanest little fuckers I had ever come across. I later thought if we could somehow package them then toss them into enemy bunkers they would have given us some great Dink running targets.

1970
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