Sometimes
we were told that an LZ or PZ would hot when it was not. Sometimes we were told
it would be cold when it was not. Sometimes, given the circumstances, we knew
what we were flying into and sometimes we didn’t.
It
was early in the afternoon, and we were tasked with moving a company from one
location to another. We landed in the PZ, the soldiers were arranged in loads of
seven or eight soldiers and spread out in a staggered trail so that we could
land near those we were to pick up. Smoke was thrown, and Lead identified the
color, and while this was routine, that is IDing the smoke, here it wasn’t
necessary. We could see the soldiers and they had secured the PZ. We weren’t
worried about the VC or the NVA trying to trick us by throwing a smoke grenade
to divert us.
 |
| ID Red. Landing in the PZ. Note the soldiers lined up on opposite sides of the PZ as the flight lands in a Staggered Trail. Photo copyright by Kevin Randle. |
Lead
said, “On the go.” He pulled pitch and lifted off.
We
followed suit and the flight quickly joined. Trail said, “You’re joined.”
Lead
said, “Rolling over.” It meant that he would increase his speed to 80 knots,
which was the standard for us.
Command
and control, orbiting in the area of the next LZ, had provided the information
to Lead, adding that we had negative suppression. That meant we weren’t
supposed to shoot unless the target could be identified.
There
was an RP, which was the rally point, and there was an IP, known as the initial
point, where we would be met by a gunship to lead us to the LZ.
This
time, because no one expected any trouble, there was no arty prep. We hit the
IP and the call was made, “IP inbound.”
We
could see the landing zone ahead, in this case, a huge area of rice paddies
with a tree line along one side. There was no one visible. No farmers in their
paddies. No water buffalo. In the far distance was a clump of trees that shaded
several hootchs where the Vietnamese lived.
The
gunship dropped from the sky, flying low, over the paddies. The crew chief
tossed a smoke grenade. It was green smoke… that did not signal a thing. It was
just the color of the grenade he’d grabbed at random.
C&C
said, “Lead, land fifty yards beyond the smoke.”
There
was nothing said for a moment and then, “Chalk four is taking fire on the right.”
That
meant it was coming from the tree line to the right of the flight.
“Trail
is taking fire on the right.”
One
of the gunships rolled in, flying along the tree line, looking for the enemy. I
could see a couple of tracers flash by, nowhere near any of the aircraft. In
front of me, one of the door guns opened fire. The rounds were hitting near the
base of the trees.
At
that moment, almost as if the door gunner had marked the enemy location, one of
the gunships fired a pair of rockets. They flashed down, exploding in the
trees. More firing erupted, as the enemy engaged and it was clear that there
were several of the enemy in the trees.
We
touched down and there was more firing. I saw a number of rounds hit the water
in the paddy in front of us. The soldiers almost dived from the aircraft. As
they did, they opened fire and our door guns fell silent.
“Lead,
you’re down with ten. Fire on the right.”
The
gunships were now working over the tree line, one of them using the minigun,
that is, the gatling gun that put out 3000 rounds a minute; 6000 from both guns.
The bursts were short and it sounded like a buzz saw rather than the stoccado
firing of a machine gun so common in the movies.
Firing
from the trees began to taper. It might be that the threat had been partially
neutralized, or it could be that the enemy was withdrawing.
“Lead’s
on the go. Firing on the right.”
Almost
as one, the flight lifted, staying low until clear of the area and then began
to climb out.
“Flight,
say hits.”
“Chalk
two, rounds through the tail boom. Instruments in the green.”
“Eight.
Couple of hits.”
“Lead,
head for Cu Chi.”
“Roger.”
We
had been engaged for about two minutes, from the time of the first shots until
we were clear of the area. I was astonished that we had taken so few hits. Only
a few of the aircraft had sustained any damage and it was superficial.
I
was also somewhat surprised by my reaction. I sat there, looking at the tree
line. I saw a couple of the muzzle flashes, but the firing was so wild that it
didn’t seem dangerous. Later I would realize that my training had taken over. I
was thinking of what had to be done based on what was happening. A need to head
to the evac hospital. A need to get to Cu Chi. What radio frequencies would
come into play. I wasn’t worried about getting hit, or a need to get out of
there, only what my job was, especially if the aircraft commander was wounded.
These
were the thoughts I would have at other times in other situations. Training
took over. We had practiced this in flight school and we had been doing this
for weeks.
At
Cu Chi, we all examined the aircraft. We’d taken a single hit in the tail boom.
It was a small hole and I had felt nothing. The AC said that he thought we’d
taken a hit or two but he hadn’t been sure. Said that he had felt the round
strike through the controls.
That
night, at the evening briefing, we learned that there had been only about a
dozen guys involved. As the gunships rolled in, they had tried to flee, but the
ground on the other side of the tree line was wide open and they had nowhere to
go. Instead, they had been captured. We were called back out to recover the
company, along with their prisoners an hour or two later.
It
was a small, unimportant engagement with a couple of thousand rounds expended,
maybe a dozen rockets, and no one hurt on either side. Sort of a routine
mission with a little bit of excitement thrown in.
Given
what would happen in the future, this was a mild experience… it was a lull that
wouldn’t last all that much longer.
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