swash plate january 2012

President’sMessageRobertFrost

January2012

•“Reunions”•”LifetimeMemberships”• “CarrierQualification” IraWillMcComic•“DearMom,I’mAlive”RandyMainsandmuch,muchmore!

Presenting!

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Nowthattheholidayseasonisbehindus, the CHPA Board of Directors has justconcluded our first meeting of 2012. I amverygratefultobeginthenewyearwithsucha talented and dedicated group of directors.2012promisestobeourbestyearyetinouryounghistory.Atthelastboardmeetingwemadethedecisiontoengagetheservicesofamilitaryconventionplanner. Over thenext fewweeks Iwillbeconductingmyownduediligencetoinsurethatwehavepositionedourorganizationwithanannualmeeting/conventionpartnerwecanworkwithformanyyearsinthefuture. Aswehavegrown,thelogisticsofthe

planningandthetimeconsumedhavemeantthatourboard,withhelpfromsomeofourmembers,havehadtomaketripsattheirownexpensetothevariousvenuesforsitevisitsandtonegotiatearrangementsbeforesigningthenecessaryagreements.Allofthishadtobeinplacemonthspriortotheactualannualgathering. Thoseofyouwhohaveattendedarewellawareof theworkthatwent into theseevents tomake them successful. That iswhy each year attendancehasbeenup. This pastOctober,wehad80peopleattendtheFortRuckerannualmeeting.Weareplanningformorethan100thisyear.

The decision has been made to have our annual convention/meeting in Washington, DC fromTuesday,November13thtoFriday,November16th. Unlikepreviousgatheringsthathaverun intotheweekend,thisonewillbeheldrightafterVeteransDaybeginningonaTuesdayandendingonaFriday.Ibringthattoyourattentionsoyoucanmarkitonyourcalendarandmakethenecessarytravelplanstobeawayfromhomeand/ortheofficeduringtheweek.Thistimewastheonlytimeavailabletousthatwould guarantee the lowest possible costs and allow us to have a private tour of the US Capitol onWednesday evening, the 14th. This CHPA private tourwill be led by Congressman Louie Gohmert ofTexas.TheCongressman,priortobeingelectedtotheHouseofRepresentativeswasChiefJusticeoftheTexas12thDistrictCourtofAppeals.HealsoservedintheUSArmyasacommissionedofficer.HavingbeenononeoftheCongressman’stoursoftheCapitolafewyearsago,Icanassureyouitwillbeafunand informative evening. This should prove to be an exciting time to be in our Nation’s capital –especially being allowed into the Capitol during the first week of the “Lame Duck” session after thenationalelection.

It ismy hopewe can report back to you on ourwebsite (www.chpa‐us.org) and in theMarcheditionof “TheSwashPlate” that a full agenda for the conventionhasbeen finalized. Our intent is toprovideyouwithspecificcostinformationsoyoucanbegintheregistrationprocess.

Obviously, there is much to see and do in

Volume 8, Issue 1 CHPA • The Swash Plate www.chpa-us.org

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TheSwash!Now, I know there are stories out there yet to be told in this forum. Helicopter

crewmembers lead a most interesting life and stories abound from qualification courses, non-flying assignments, combat missions or just goofing off. Our most entertaining and informative stories come from you, our membership.

So, if you have an idea for an article, or if you have an article you’d like to submit it’s as easy as submitting it to the guy who puts the newsletter together. The story can be about anything from flight school to real life, TINS, or there-I-was stories. We’ve published several stories over the years ranging from tales of flight school a long, long time ago to real life “war stories” that we’re sure most of you can identify with.

Take a moment to lay fingers on keyboard or just put pen to paper and send in those stories. You can email them to [email protected] or through the US Post Office to: CHPA • PO Box 42 • Divide, CO 80814-0042

[CallForArticles]

Washington,DC.Ourthinkingatthispointistohaveafewplannedeventsontheschedulewithblocksoffree time available for your own sight‐seeing. The hotelwe choosewill be convenient tomost of thesightsbyshuttleand/ortheMetro.Manyofyoumaywanttoextendyourtripafewdaysandwewilldowhat we can to negotiate favorable hotel rates for those traveling in early or staying later than ourgathering.

As we move into this year of 2012, I encourage you to do whatever you can to support ourorganizationandhelpusmakeitgrow.PleasetakethetimetotelltheCHPAstorytopotentialmembersandcorporatebenefactors. Weareauniquegroupof individuals. Weare“comradesinarm”fromthepastandpresent.Ourpurposemandatesthatwecontinuetoforgethosebondsandpreservethelegacyofourcombatheritageaswemoveintothefuture.

80814‐0042

CHPA is building quite a collection of patches from our members. These patches are displayed at our booth at HAI, Quad A, and VHPA. Several of you have donated patches, like the one shown here, but we’re always looking for more. They are very eye catching and help us garner attention. So please dig through your old patches and if you have some you’d like to share, send them to us at: CHPA • PO Box 42 • Divide, CO80814‐0042

GOT PATCHES?


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Please feel free to forward this issue of “The Swash Plate” to your colleagues, potential members and other interested parties!

Sharethe“Swash”

Please consider sponsoring CHPA’s programs. You may make tax deductible donations to support the Goldie Fund, CHPA’s Scholarship program, the Holiday Boxes for the Troops, T-shirts for Heroes or the Association. For further information please look at Sponsorship at the website, http://www.chpa-us.org.

Sponsorship


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ReunionsandGatherings

Thisistheareawhereweplaceyourannouncementsforupcomingreunionsandgatheringsthatmaybeofinteresttoourmembers.It’sawaytohelpyougetthewordoutandsupportveteransgroupsof all sizes and locations. Getting your gathering listed here is simple. Just send amessagewith theinformationtoHQ@chpa‐us.org.Ifyou’vegotalogosendthatalongaswell.Besuretoincludeaccuratecontactandregistrationinformationandwe’lltakecareoftherest.

30thANNIVERSARYOFTHEWALL‐READINGOFTHENAMES

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund is hostingthe Reading of the Names of 58,272 service membersinscribed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial inWashington, DC as part of the special activities plannedthis November to commemorate The Wall’s 30thAnniversary.

The Reading of the Names will take place at The Wall for 65 hours over a four‐day periodbeginningwithanopeningceremonyonWednesday,November7th,2012at3:00pm.Volunteerswillread names for approximately eight hours from 4 pm onNovember 7th to 12 am onNovember 8th.Participantswill thenreadthenamesfor19hoursdaily from5amuntil12amonNovember8th,9th,and10th.

TheReadingoftheNamestookplaceinWashington,DCjustfourothertimesinTheWall’shistory.InNovember1982,thenameswerereadaloudatWashingtonNationalCathedralaspartofaweek‐longNational Salute to VietnamVeterans. The nameswere read at TheWall during the 10th Anniversarycelebration in November 1992, during the 20th Anniversary celebration in 2002 and during the 25thAnniversary celebration in 2007. For more information and to sign up to participate visithttp://www.vvmf.org/ROTN.

Have you thought about a LifetimeMembership in CHPA but thought it was too expensive, ormaybenotworththecost?Tobreakitdown,duesforaLifetimeMembershipforpilotsis$650;forCrewMembersduesare$425.Whilethatmayseemlikealot,whenyoudothemathitcoversyouforjustashadeovertwentyoneyearsatregularmemberdues.Hasanyoneevermentionedyoudon’tnecessarilyhave to pay the entire amount “up front?” Well, you have the option of enjoying the benefit of notworryingaboutanyrenewalnoticesorwritingayearlycheckbypayingtheduesininstallments.CHPAoffersplanstoallowyoutopayyourLifetimeMembershipduesoverseveralmonths.Youcanalsosetupautomaticdebitstoyourcreditcard.Giveusacallat800•832•5144fordetails.

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I tell people I am one of the few carrier‐qualified Army helicopter pilots in the world. That'sbecausetheArmymademeparticipateinatrainingexercisetoqualifymetolandandtakeofffromanLST.And,asfarasI'mconcerned,allnavyvesselsthathavealandingareaarethesame.Therefore,anLSTiscloseenoughtoaflattopformetocallitacarrier.Inanycase,it'smorechallengingtolandandtakeofffromanLSTthanitisfromoneofthosewaterborneairfields.That'sbecauseanLSTissmaller,itbouncesaroundmoreand,withanLST,theNavyismoreintentonkillingArmypilots.

Ispeakfromsomeexperienceonthisissue.

First, letme give you a little background. At one time inmy young life, Iwanted to be a navalaviator,andforplentyofgoodreasons.IthoughtIwouldlookgoodinoneofthosewhitedressuniforms;itwasmyobservationthatsailorsinvariablyhadtheirchoiceofwomen,andIunderstoodthattheNavyhadthebestfoodofalltheservices.Icouldjustseemyselfinaspotlessuniform,MissAprilclingingtome,whileIdinedonlobsterandclams.

Then,mydreamwasshattered. Someone(IbelieveitwasmyAmarilloArmyrecruiter)pointedouttomethatnavalaviatorsoftenspendagreatamountoftheircareerflyingoverlargebodiesofwater.

Idonot likebodiesofwater. AsfarasIamconcerned,theyareunnaturalandsomethingtobefeared.Yousee,IgrewupinTexas,andinmyformativeyearswasheavilyinfluencedbymyWestTexasrelatives. In West Texas, large collections of water usually exist only as mirages. In West Texas, itprecipitatesonlyeverythirdMayandchildrenmarvelwhenoldcodgersinrockingchairstellthemabouttheonetimetheyrememberwhenitactuallyrainedtwodaysinarow.

Sincewaterthereissuchapreciouscommodity,childrenarenottaughthowtoswim;thereisnoneed.Furthermore,inordertopreventyoungstersfrompollutingthefewsmallbodiesofwaterthatdoexistthere,theyareencouragedtoavoidthosebodies. Adultstellthemstoriesofdrowningsandotherwateryhazardsthatconvinceyoungstersthatbodiesofwateraremoredangerousthanrattlesnakes. Isimplyexplainallthistohelpyouunderstandmymindset.Tome,flyingoverwaterwasasterrifyingathoughtasprohibition.

Eventually, I became an Army helicopter aviator, but I don't intend to imply that this was asecond‐rate outcome. On the contrary, I am eternally grateful that fate placedme in this position ofsuperiorityamongallaviators.

Parenthetically, letmeadd, Iusedtotakespecificpride inbeingagunshippilot. Usedto,whensomeoneaskedmewhatIdid,Iwouldliftmyheadandsaywithsomehaughtiness,"I,sir,wasagunshippilot." However,inrecentyears,ithascometomyrealizationthatIwasmadeagunshippilotbecausetheArmyconcededafternumerousattemptsthat itwasnevergoingtoteachmeto fly in formation(aprerequisiteIunderstandforslickpilots)anditdidn'tknowwhatelsetodowithme.But,thatisanotherstory.

Asfatewouldhaveit,Icametobewiththe235thArmedHelicopterCompanyinVietNam,anall‐Cobragunshipcompany.Wewerehiredguns,supportinganybodyintheDelta(roughlyanywherefromSaigonsouth),whowantedgunshipstocomeandshootupstuff.

It was in the summer of '69 when the First Aviation Brigade decided that, since our unit wassupporting Navy gunboat operations around the Delta,there might be some occasions when we would have to

CarrierQualificationIraWillMcComichttp://mysite.verizon.net/imccomic/copter/copter.htm


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parkaCobraortwoonanLSTtosupportthoseoperations.Then,asIrecall,somebraid‐wearingrulesmongerfoundaregulationrequiringthatpilotshadtobetrainedandqualifiedinordertoperformthisfeat.Thusbeganoneofthemostterrifyingexperiencesofmyyounglife.

Wehadtobetrainedtolandto,andtakeofffrom,anLST.Onlyafewofuswereselectedforthistraining.TheArmyselectedusbecauseweweretheoneswhohadthemostflyingtime.Thatis,weweretheonesnearing theendofour toursandhadnotyetbeenkilled. TheArmy,holding thatagainstus,thought theremight stillbeanopportunity toget itsmoney'sworthoutofus. And, sinceweweresoresistanttodemise,theArmyobviouslyfeltitnecessarytoenlisttheaidofitssisterservice,theNavy,toaccomplishitspurpose.

Forourtraining,weweretoldwewouldreceiveagroundschool(orwasitawaterschool?)onNavyaviationoperations,followedbyflightinstructioninvolvinglandingandtakingofffromanLST.

Truetoitsword,theArmygatheredustogetherlateoneafternoonandhadsomeNavyofficer,noteven an aviator, conduct a two‐hour school on Navy terminology, explaining things like "port","starboard",and"poopdeck".

ItwasduringthisschoolthatIlearnedtheprincipledifferencebetweenanLSTandanairfield:anLSTmoves.UnlikeanLST,land‐basedairfieldsdonottrytorunawayfromyouwhenyouareattemptingtolandonthem.

And,generally,airfieldsstayinoneplacewhenyouleavethemanddon'ttendtomovesomeplaceelsetheminuteyouturnyourback.Youcanusuallyfindanairfieldrightwhereyouleftit.NottrueofanLST.

Thiswholeconceptofamovinglandingsitewasaneye‐openingrevelationtome. Ohsure, justlikeanyotherhelicopterpilot,allofwhomaregeneticallyinclinedtobeinglost,Ihadonafewoccasionsmisplacedanairfieldortwo,butIhadneverhadonegetupandmoveofitsownvolition.

In the school, theNavyofficerexplained someof the communicationsprotocol in contactinganLST.Forexample,atypicalradiocontactmightbe,"NavyLST123,thisisSatan13.Iwouldliketolandnowand,bytheway,whereareyou?"

Healso informedus that anLSTdeck couldhold twohelicopters. Then, as an afterthought, hementioned that if, asweweremaking an approach,wehappened toobserve that therewas already ahelicopteronthedeckaswewereattemptingalanding,weshouldtakeaninterestinobservingwhetherthat aircraft's rotor was still turning, or tied down. If it was tied down, we could proceed with thelanding. If itwasstill turning,wemightconsidernot landingsincetherewasnotenoughroomonthedeckofanLSTtoaccommodatethediameteroftwoturningrotors;thatis,withoutcausingvitalpartsofbothhelicopterstobecastuponthewaters.

In the last fiveminutesof the school,with timerunning short (the clubwasabout toopen),heflutteredhishandsintheair,simulatinghowtoenterapatternforalandingtoanLST,howtoapproachit(youcomeinatninetydegreestothelengthofit),andhowtocometoeitherathree‐foot,oratwenty‐five foot,hoverabove thedeck,dependingupon thedepthof theswells thatmakeanLSTbobupanddownlikethefishingcorkonalinewithacaughtturtle. Theactualterminationofthelanding(thatis,puttingtheskidsonthedeckandmakingthemstaythere,allwithoutbendingsomething),helefttoourimaginations.Finally,heassuredusallthattherewasreallynothingtoit,citingthestatisticthatalmosthalfofthosewhoattemptalandingtoanLSTdo,infact,makeone.

The school ended, we chosen few retired to the club. There, we discussed the perils of LSToperations.Afterafewdrinks,theunanimousconclusionwasthatifNavyhelicopterpilotscoulddoit,itcouldn'tbethathardforus.

The next morning, we were up early for our flightinstruction.(That'sonethingIlearnedthattheNavyshares


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withtheArmy;everythingbeginsearlyinthemorning.)All but one of us selected for the training were picked up by a Navy slick, hauled out, and

depositedonanLSTintheoceanoffthecoastnearSocTrang. Theplanwasthatthesepersonswouldwaitthereandthen,onebyone,taketurnsmakinglandingsandtakeoffsfromtheLSTintheCobrawhichtheoneotherpersonwouldflyouttotheLST. AkeycomponentofthisplanwasthatthepersonwhoinitiallyflewtheCobraouttotheLSTwouldactuallybeabletolandontheLSTtobeginwith.AnditwasmewhowastoflytheCobraouttotheLSTand,supposedly,makethefirstlandingsandtakeoffs.

Ihadwishedforaniceday;however,thedaywasfullofrainandthewindwasgusting.Infact,I'msuretheArmyselectedthisdayforourLSTtrainingbecauseitwastoomiserableadayfortheVietCongtobeout.

Withaninstructorpilotinthefrontseat,IdepartedCanTho.IfoundmywaytoSocTrang,passedoverit,andheadedoutoverthegraywateryexpansewhere,theinstructorassuredme,therewasanLSTsomewhereoverthemistshroudedhorizon.IthinkIknewwhatLindberghfeltlikeasheleftNewYorkbehind.

Flyingoutovertheoceanlikethat,Idiscoveredthataircraftbehavedifferentlythanwhenflyingover theground. I foundmyselfhearingsurges in theengine,grindings in the rotor,whistlings in thecracksofthecanopythatIhadnevernoticedbefore.Ihadnevernoticedbeforesomanytwitchesoftheneedles;eachone,Iwassure,apreludetoanenginefailureandaplungeintotheeternalsea.

Eventually,theLSTappearedstraightahead,rightwhereIwastoldtoexpectit.IkeyedthemikeandmadecontactwiththeLSTradiooperator.Iidentifiedmyselfandaskedforlandingdirections.Herepliedwithsomenonsenseabout "stern" thisand"portquarter" that,which I supposewassomehowrelatedtolandingontheLST,butwhich,asfarasIcoulddiscern,mightaswellhavebeendirectionsformakingorangejubilee.

I simply set up roughly a left‐hand landing pattern, flying toward the tail end of the LST, thenturning away from it downwind, and eventually roundingoff the corners to do a 180‐degree left turnbacktowardthevessel,tryingtomaneuvertheaircrafttoendupperpendiculartotheLST'slength.

ThisactuallyworkedoutbetterthanIanticipatedandIfoundmyselfprettywelllinedupforthedeck. Ibeganadescenttothedeckand, then,somethingunexpectedhappened. Thespotonmysightpicturetothedeckbeganslippingaway. I turnedtheaircraft to lineupagainand, justwhenit lookedright oncemore, the spotmoved away again. That'swhen realitymet theory; I realized the LSTwasmoving.Ohsure,Iknewthatitcouldmove,butIhadassumedtheywouldstartmeoutonthistrainingbyatleastanchoringthethingdown.IwasalittleaggravatedwiththeNavyforthisoversightontheirpart.

Isoondiscovered,though,thatIreallydidn'thavetore‐aimtheaircraftatthedeck.Icouldsetuptheapproach,getthesightpicture,andjustlettheaircraftdriftsidewayswiththemovingLST.Withthisdiscovery,therestoftheapproachwentwell. Iwaslineduponthedeck,slidingalongsidewaysatthesamerateastheLSTwasmovingforward,andatjustthedescentangletocleartherailingsaroundthedeck.

IwasfeelingprettygoodaboutthewholethinguntilIgottoaboutfiftyfeetfromthedeck.That'swhenInoticedthateithermyhelicopter,orthedeck,wasmovingupanddownfasterthantheexpresselevatoroftheSouthlandLifeBuildingindowntownDallas.

IcametothehighesthoverIcouldmaintainjustoverthedeckandwaitedforthedecktocomemeetmeat itsearliest convenience. Shortly, thedeckrose to theoccasion,pitchingup towardme. Itstopped briefly and I pushed down on the collective totouch down. But before I could light, the deck plungeddownagain,leavingmesuspendedintheair.


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Then,IsawthedeckcomingbackuptowardmefasterthanIcouldspendmoneyonpayday.Inapanic,IpulledasmuchcollectiveasIcouldtoescapeitand,bythetimeI lookeddownagain,thedeckhadfallenawayoncemoreastheLSThitatrough,andthereIwassuspendedsohighabovethedeck,Icould barely see the sailors there. However, I could still see themwell enough to determine that, forsome reason, they thought my predicament was terribly funny. And I could see that money wasexchanginghandsbetweenthemregardingtheoutcomeofmypredicament.

Ialternatelychasedand fled fromtheplungingand lungingdeck foraminuteormore. All thistime,theinstructorupinthefrontseatwasgivingmeinsightfulandtactfuladvicebyasking,"What'sthematterwithyou;areyoutryingtokillusboth?"and"Youdounderstand,don'tyou,thatyou'renotbeingpaidbythehourtodothis?"

Just when I thought I would never get the skids of my aircraft and the deck to agree upon acommonaltitude,Ifeltthedeckknockgentlyontheskids.Quickly,Iseizedtheopportunity,plungingthecollectivetothebottomandlatchingontothedeckbeforeitcouldescapeagain. Immediately,IfelttheaircraftfallingastheLSTplungedintoanothertrough,but,thistime,theskidswereonthedeckandwewereall,manandmachine,ridingthewavestogether.

Atthispoint,IhadloggedoneLSTlandingandtherewassomuchsweatinmyflightglovestheywere sloshing. But I had done it. I let out a sigh of relief and rolled off the throttle to flight idle inpreparationforlettinganothervictimhaveashotatthistorture.That'swhentheinstructorsaid,"Let'sdoatakeoffnow."

Although I was drained from the landing, I thought to myself, how difficult can it be to do atakeoff?Iwouldjustgettheaircraftlightontheskids,waitfortheLSTtoriseuponaswell,pullpitchbeforethedeckbottomsoutagain,noseoverabit,andI'dbeonmyway.Itseemedsimpleenough,and,onceIwasairborne, IwouldsimplyrefusetoreturntotheLST. IwouldflybackandlandatCanTho,wherethegroundstayedputunderme.

Havingthusresolved,IwasreadytobeginwhenInoticedthissailorstandingafewfeetinfrontofthehelicopter,between itandtherailing,watchingme intently. IsupposehehadbeenthereallalongwhileIwastryingtofindthedeckearlier,butIwassoengagedinthatmaneuverthatIhadn'tnoticedhim.Iwaitedpatientlyforhimtomoveoutoftheway.Afterawhile,hehadnotmoved,andIbegantosuspectthathemighthavesomepurposerelatedtome.

Iaskedtheinstructorabouthim.Theinstructorexplainedthathewastheretodirectmytakeoff.HispurposewastogivemesignalsdesignatingwhenIshouldcometoahoverandwhenIshouldtakeofffrom the deck. I had never had someone do this for me before. I considered him to be a sort ofcheerleaderforhelicoptertakeoffs.

Irolledonthethrottleandwaitedforhimtosignalsomething.Hesimplystoodwithhishandsonhishipswhilemyrotorwashwhippedhisuniform. Eventually, the instructorsaid IshouldgivehimathumbsupwhenIwasreadytogo.SoIflippedhimadigitand,inresponse,hebeganwagglinghisarmsupanddownwithhispalmsup,whichItooktobetheNavysignalencouragingmetocometoahover.Eitherthatorhewasattemptingtobecomeairbornehimself.

The Cobra strained to lift off the deck and Imanaged about a four‐foot hoverwith the torquemeteralmostpegged.Iwasstrugglingtomaintainfourfeet,yetthesailorstillstoodthereinfrontofthehelicopter, flappinghisarms,andinsistingonmorealtitudebeforehewouldgivemethesignaltotakeoff.IdidthebestIcouldandmanagedtogetanotherinchortwoofheightbeforetherpmbegantobleedoff.

I considered thesituationandestimated therailing in frontofme tobeabout three feethigh. Icalculatedthatfromafourfoothover,Icouldjustcleartherailing. Neglectingformypurposesthefactthatthesailor


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infrontofmestoodsixfeettall,Inudgedthecyclicforward,headingfortheopensea.As the skids cleared the railingbyabouta foot, I lookedback to see the sailor sprawledon the

deck.Iadmiredthefactthat,foramanhissize,hecouldmoveprettyfast.Ifhehadn'tduckedwhenhedid,hewouldhavehadashortenednavalcareer. (Baseduponthatexperience, foryearsIthoughttheterm "midshipman" referred to a sailorwho had been chopped off at thewaterline, so to speak, by ahelicopterpilotattemptingtotakeofffromanLST.)

To shorten the story, I did, in fact, return andmanaged tomake a second landing on the LST.Thereupon, I gratefully gave up the aircraft to the next person. After that training, Iwas never againcalledupontolandonanLST,somethingforwhichIamprofoundlythankful.

SubmitYourPhotos!CHPAhasagrowingcollectionofphotos,fromflightschoolclasspicturestoactionphotostohelicoptershotsfromaroundtheworld…IfyouwouldliketocontributetothecollectionpleaseuploadyourphotosbyfollowingthelinksontheCHPAwebsiteorclickhere!


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Excerptfrom“DearMom,I’mAlive,byRandyMains

OnMay20,1969Iflewaroutinemission

that turned intoa livingnightmare. That’showcombat flying is. It shifts from themundane tothe horrendous most often when you leastexpect it. This particular memory has becomepartofme. Ihaverelivedthemissionhundredsoftimesinmymind.Itisascleartomenowasifithadhappenedyesterday.

It was like a sauna in the cockpit. Thesweat was dripping down myforehead in rivulets formingsalty pools in the hollowscreated by the hard plasticbridge of my army‐issuesunglasses. Myhelmet felt likea green oven threatening tocookmyskullandfrymybrain.My green Nomex flight suitclung to my skin like a wetplastic bag. My back, the itchyfire‐retardant material soakedthrough with perspiration, stuck to the greenmeshofmyarmoredseat. Asmall,half‐smokedcigar hung from my mouth. I chewedaggressively at its wooden tip. I was flying atfifteenhundred feet,analtitudesafe fromsmallarms fire, towardour objective, anLZone clicksouthoftheDMZ.

Four marine reconnaissance teammembers sat impatientlyon thehot, graymetalfloor of the bumpy chopper going over the lastminutechecksof theirweaponsandequipment.Their young, serious faces were grotesquelypainted with green and brown camouflagegreasepaint. You could tell the fourmenwerehypedupandtightlystrunglikefootballplayersbeforeachampionshipmatch. Inafewminutesthey would be dropped into the LZ anddisappear into the jungle to stalk the elusiveenemy. The remaining four members of the

eight‐man teamwere flying in the secondHueytrailing a mile behind, commanded byWarrantOfficerBillRickter.

With an airspeed of 110 knots the LZcame into view quickly. It loomed out of thethickmantleoftwistedjungleahalfmileahead.ItwasoneofthoseLZsblastedoutofthetriple‐canopy jungle by a five‐hundred‐pound bombdropped by a sky crane helicopter two weeks

earlier.Iturnedinmyseat.“You

guys ready?” I said over theintercom.

My crew chief pulledback the bolt of his pedestal‐mountedM‐60machinegunandreleased it, driving a 7.62‐mmroundintothechamberwiththeheavy clank of metal slammingagainst metal. He raised asweat‐stained Nomex flying

glove and gaveme the thumbs up sign. “Rightbehindyou,sir.”

“Howaboutyou,Garrett?”The gunner also chambered a round.

“Ready,sir.”I glanced atmy copilot. Hewas an FNG

lieutenant,straightoutofflightschool.Thiswashis third mission in country. “You ready,O’Connor?”

“Ready.”Helookedandsoundednervous.“Relax,O’Connor. Thisshouldbeapiece

ofcake,”Isaid,tryingtoputthemanatease.Throughhabit,asIhaddonehundredsof

times in the sevenmonths I had been flying inVietnam, I swung the holstered .38 revolver tomy groin as added protection and tucked it

DearMom,I’mAliveRandyMains

InafewminutestheywouldbedroppedintotheLZanddisappearintothejungletostalktheelusiveenemy


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comfortably between my legs. In the samemotion I adjusted the “chickenplate,” a twenty‐pound,acrylic,three‐quarter‐incharmoredchestprotector, under the two webbed shoulderstrapsofmyseatharness.O’Connorwatchedmeandquicklydidthesame.

I pressed the red trigger on the cycliccontrol stick and radioed to the secondhelicopter,“We’rebeginningourapproach,Bill.”

“Roger,Randy.We’reamilebehindyou.”Two heavily armed marine Echo‐model

gunships circled five hundred feet above usready to offer suppressive firearound the LZ’s perimeter.They were armed with 2.75‐inch rockets and mini‐gunscapable of delivering threethousand rounds per minute.Two F‐4 Phantom jetswere onstation circling at twenty‐fivethousand feet, loaded withnapalm just in case. “We’llcover you, Black Widow 25,”one of the gunship pilotsradioed. “Whenever you’reready you can begin yourapproach.”

“Here we go,“ I said onthe intercom to the crew androlled the chopper into a hardrightbank.

. With both large cargodoors open on the side of theaircraft the wind howledthroughthechopperas itplummetedoutof thesky.Iguidedthecraftinadownwardspiral.

A gunship dove past our falling Huey.Puffsofsmoketrailedfromitsrocketpodsasthe2.75‐inch rockets ignited and snaked their waytotheperimeterofthelandingzone.Theyfoundtheir mark and exploded with great orangeflashes, flinging moist red and brown dirt andgreenfoliagehighintothedankSoutheastAsianair.

“When we’re on short final for the LZ,openfire,”Iinstructedthecrew.

“Roger,sir,”TaylorandGarrettansweredinunison.Thehowlofthehurricane‐forcewindon their boom microphones nearly blanketedtheirreplies.

“Watch the gauges, O’Connor, and staycloseonthecontrols.”

O’Connor didn’t answer. His eyes weretransfixed outside the chopper watching thejunglerushrapidlytowardus.

“O’Connor?” I said again, glancing at himmomentarily.

“Roger.I’llfollowyouthrough.Goddamn,they sure didn’t teach us thistype of approach in flightschool.”

“They should have.” Ibanked the machine from asteep,tightrightturntoasteepleft turn. “It could save yourlifeoneday.Charlielooksupatusfallingoutoftheskylikethisand thinkswe’re out of controlso he thinks whywaste bulletson a helicopter that’s going tocrash anyway? Or if he doesdecidetoshootatushe’llhaveahell of a time hitting us at thisrate of descent. And all theseunusual attitude changes makea nearly impossible target tohit.”

The second gunshipbegan its run on the LZ. Istraightened the ship out and

slowedtherateofdescentforanormalapproachfiftyfeetabovethetreetops.Thesmalllandingzone was encircled with trees ranging fromseventy‐fivetoonehundredfeethigh.Thetalleroneswereupslopealongtheplanneddepartureendof the ridge line. I pickedmy spot to land,not to thecenterof thezone,but slightly to therightofcenterwheretheexposedroots,twistedtrees,andchunksofmoistearthwerelessdense.

Theperimeter, fortymeters to the leftof

Thegreenhorizonappearedtoturnninetydegreesagainsttheblueskystrewnwithwhite,puffycumulusclouds.Iaddedrightpedal,kickingtheaircraftoutoftrim,

andloweredthecollectivepitchlever,causingthemachinetodescendatmorethanthreethousandfeetper

minute


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our aircraft, exploded at regular intervals fromthe impacting rockets from the gunships. Theshock waves from the blasts rocked ourdescendinghelicopter as itmade itsway to theplannedtouchdownpoint.

I flew our ship over the tree line andbegantodescendintothegashcarvedoutofthejungle thatwas theLZ. I gave the command toopen fire. Taylor and Garrett sprayed thesurrounding tree linewithmetallic defoliant tokeep the enemy’s head down if in fact theVietcongwerethere.

The ratt‐tat‐tat‐tat‐tat‐tat‐tat from thetwo M‐60s filled the cockpit with theirsynchronous clatter. I planted the skids of thechopper in the soft soil. The four‐man reconteamleaptofflikeclockwork.

“We’re clear!” Taylor yelled. “They’regone!”

“Comingup,”Isaid.With the weight of the four men, their

weapons, ammunition, and supplies off‐loadedthe Huey climbed slowly but steadily until itcleared the hundred‐foot jungle thirty‐fivemeterstoourfront. Onceclearofthetrees,thegunner and crew chief stopped firing theirweapons.

I pushed the cyclic stick forwardacceleratingtheaircrafttosixtyknotsandbegana maximum performance climb to fifteenhundred feet. The second helicopter began itsapproachbehindus. O’Connorbeganbreathingagain.

“What’d I tell you, O’Connor. Piece ofcake,huh?”

The lieutenantmanaged a smile, a smileofrelief.

“Receiving fire! Receiving fire!” cameBill’sfranticcryovertheradio,fillingthecrew’sheadsets. The radio transmission jolted mysenses. I instinctively threw the aircraft into aquick 180‐degree turn to view the LZwe’d justleft.

“They’re breaking off the approach,” thecrewchiefyelled.

Iradioed,“Youallright,Bill?”“Everything looks all right, Randy. We

took a few hits. The gauges look all right. It’shotterthanagoddamnhornet’snestdownthere.Charlie has your four men pinned down in thecenteroftheLZ.”

I lowered the collective pitch lever tobeginadescent.“Taylor,Garrett.”

“Yes,sir.”“We’re going in after them. Open fire

whenIgivetheorder. We’llapproachlowlevelfrom thenorth, thewaywe came in. WhenwecrossthetreelineI’llgivethecommandtostartfiring.”

“Yes,sir.”“O’Connor, follow me closely on the

controlsand…,”Ipausedtolookdirectlyintothelieutenant’seyestoemphasizewhatIwasaboutto say, “… if anything happens down there bepreparedtotakethecontrolsandgetusout.Doyouunderstand?”

O’Connor’s eyes got large. The colordisappeared from his thin, sweaty face. “Yes, Iunderstand.”

Iradioedthesecondchopper.“Bill?”“Goahead,Randy.”“We’re on our way in to get those guys.

Coordinatethegunshipstocovertheperimeter.I’ll be approaching at treetop level from thenorth. Have the F‐4s drop their sortie on thezone’seasternandwesternperimeters.”

“Roger,Randy.Goodluck.”Idovethechopperat110knots, leveling

thesipattreetoplevelandflyinginthedirectionof the LZ. The jungle below was now a greenblur. “OK guys,we’re almost there. Hold yourfireuntilIgivethecommand.”

“Roger,sir.”


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Wedescendedintothezone.The helicopter’s machine guns rattled.

Hot shell casings flew from the breaches,bouncingoffofeverything in thechopper ̶ thefloor,thebackofmyhelmet,ourarmoredseats ̶while Taylor and Garrett sprayed the landingzonewithbulletsinanefforttokeeptheenemy’sheaddown.

Imaneuveredthecraft,descendingbelowthe high surrounding jungle tree line. In thezonelaythreeVietcongsoldiersdressedinblackpajamas,nowdrenchedintheirownwarmbloodthat oozed freely from freshwounds.

Dirt kicked up by thebullets fired from the tree lineflew in the air around the fourpinned men. I could see thembelow, lying on their stomachsfacingthecardinalpointsofthecompass. They fired into thejunglewitheverythingtheyhad.O’Connor hovered over thecontrolsasIguidedthechoppedintothecavernousLZ.

The scene turned into aflaming holocaust. The firstnapalmbombdroppedbyanF‐4 exploded sixty yards awayalong the western perimeter,shaking thecraftwithasuddenjolt. The heat wave and blastfromtheexplosionsweptacrossourhoveringhelicopter likethesearing blast from a jet’s exhaust. The noisefrom the gunfirewas deafening. The hot, acridsmell of napalm mixed with the expendedgunpowder, smoke,and thickVietnamheatwasnearly suffocating. I landed where we haddroppedthemen.Theywerenowpinneddownthirtyyardsaway.

A screaming Vietnamese soldier boltedfrom the tree line. His clothes, skin, and hairwereablaze fromthe fierynapalm. Thegunnerquicklycuthimdown.Hisbodycollapsedtothegroundinafieryheap,twitchingandwrithingin

spasmsuntiltherewasonlyanamorphousmassof lifeless, burning flesh offering yet anotherpungentaromatothealreadyputridstench.

Thefirsttworeconteammemberssprangupofftheirbellies,jumpedtotheirfeet,andranbackwardstowardsus,reloadingandcontinuingto fire their weapons at the faceless enemy. Icouldhearbulletsoccasionallyhittingtheship.Iwatched the engine instruments intently, myhandsvice‐tightonthecontrols.

First one, the a second man scamperedaboard the chopper. Sweat rolled down my

forehead and my sunglasses,immediately leaving wigglystreaksofdriedsaltontheglass.The third and fourth manjumped up and ran backwardtoward us. The third manstumbled on an exposed treerootandnearlyfell.

ForGod’s sakehurryup,Iscreamedtomyself.Thesceneunfolded around us in slowmotion, surreal, confused,distorted. Rockers fired fromthe gunships overheadhammered the perimeter withbone‐jarringtremorsthatshookthe craft with each blast.“Whump! Whump!” Therockets exploded in pairsfollowedbyfallingdebrisofsoil,foliage,fleshandbone.

The last two men threwthemselvesonboard.“Getthefuckoutofhere!”the team leader screamed from the back. Hisshrillvoicecarriedoverthesoundofgunfire.

I pulled up on the collective pitch lever.The helicopter rose from the ground, climbingslowlythroughthesmoke,stench,andheat.Thetwo F‐4 Phantom jets streaked by low level oneithersideofthelandingzoneatthreehundredknots within seconds of each other. Like twosilver bullets, they dropped their remaining

Ipulledaftonthecycliccontrolstick,flaringthechopper.Itsnoserearedbacktoathirty‐degreeattitudetokillthe

forwardairspeedbeforewereachedthetreelineonthezone’snorthernperimeter.Suddenlywecrossedoverthenakedopeninginthetrees.“Openfirenow!”


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sortie of napalm. The two simultaneousexplosions that followed caused a deafeningexplosion of heat and light that shook thehelicopter as it slowly made its ascent to clearthetalltreestoourfront.Icouldtelltheaircraftwas heavy. Maybe too heavy. The helicopterstrained for altitude. Twenty feet, thirty feet,fifty feet, she rose slowly. We’d refueled inQuang Tri prior to themission and had toppedup to twelve hundred pounds of fuel. Theapproach into the LZ takes less power than avertical takeoff out of the same landing zone.Without the fourmen theHueyhad no power problems, butwith the addedweight shewasseverelylimited.

The four soldierscontinued to fire theirautomatic weapons from thechopper’s open doors into theflaming LZ. Taylor and Garrettcontinued firing, the barrels oftheir M‐60s now glowing redhot.

Her ascent was slowing.Sixty‐five feet, seventy feet sheclawed,shookandstruggledforaltitude. The turbine enginestrained and whined trying todevelop enough shafthorsepower to pull the weight of the heavilyladen craft vertically over the hundred‐foottrees. Al thepower instrumentswerewell intotheir red lines. The aircraft stopped climbingtwenty‐five feet below the tree tops unable toascendonefootmore.

Is thishowI’mgoing todie? I thought inhorror. Hovering here like a tin duck in ashooting gallery ready to be picked off by theenemyseventy‐fivefeetbelow?

O’Connorbegantopanic.“Goddamn,let’sgetthefuckoutofhere.”

“Notenoughpower!”Iyelled.I pulled inmore collective and the rotor

RPMbegantodecayspillinglift.Theshipbegan

to sink back down into the LZ. Back in to theholocaustbelow.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Thedreaded low rotor RPM audio warning rangloudly throughthepilots’headsets. I fought forcontrol, fought tomaintain altitude. One of themachinegunsstoppedfiring.

“My gun’s jammed, sir,“ Taylor saidfrantically.“I,I…Ican’tclearit.”

Suddenly the green plastic window overO’Connor’s head exploded, showering plasticsplinterseverywhere.O’Connortuckedhishead

down instinctively. He threwhishandsoverhis flighthelmetto avoid the shower of debriscaused by the Vietcong bulletfired at us from the junglebelow.

Two of the enemy ranfromthe treescarryingRussianmade AK‐47 machine guns.Before they could stop to takeaim one of the recon teammembersthrewafragmentationgrenade between them. Theblast flung them in the air andback into the jungle’ssmolderingeasternperimeter.

The helo sat hoveringseventy‐fivefeetabovethezone

at full power, the engine straining to deliverevery bit of its 1250 horsepower, unable toclimb, too heavy to power up any higher in thethicktropicalmoistureandburningheat.

I suddenly remembered that as a lastresortifyouaddedrightpedalittakespitchfromthe tail rotor givingmore engine power for themain rotor, and when poser is marginal it justmay give the extra edge to get out of a tightsituation.

Desperate, and out of ideas, I kicked inrightpedal. Theaircraft swungviolently to theright. I dipped the nose, guiding the machine

Thefoursoldierscontinuedtofiretheir

automaticweaponsfromthechopper’sopendoors

intotheflamingLZ.TaylorandGarrettcontinuedfiring,thebarrelsoftheirM‐60snowglowingredhot.


15

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through the sporadic enemy fire. The skidsdragged through the tangled branches of thelower trees to the rear of the zone. Thunk!Thunk! Thunk! Several more VC roundspuncturedtheaircraft.Weclearedthetreeswithnoroomtospare,acceleratingdownthe jungle‐coveredmountainslopetosafety.

The machine‐gun fire ceased. All thatcouldbeheardwastheloud,lowgutturalroarofhot air rushing through the gaping hole overO’Connor’shead.Iacceleratedtosixtyknotsandbeganaclimb.

Billradioed,“Youguysallright?Shit,thatwassomeshow!”

IradioedbackandtoldhimeveryonewasOK.Thechoppershimmied,vibrated,andshookviolently.ThecautionwarninglightsegmentontheinstrumentpanelwaslituplikeaChristmastree with red and yellow lights, but the Hueymanagedtostay

in one piece for the twelve‐minute flighttoLZVandergriftwherewelandedsafelyonthestrip.

swash plate january 2012

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