part0022

“Chicken-man One-Niner, Cherokee Six, over.” It was the actual brigade commander on the radio and not his radio operator or the S-3, and he did not sound happy.

“Cherokee Six, Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, what the hell are you doing up around Loc Ninh lighting up our elements with your searchlight? Get the hell out of there!” My copilot looked at me like What’s he talking about!

The Lobo aircraft commander, who was standing on my skid and heard the conversation, verbalized my copilot’s thoughts.

“Ah, Cherokee Six, Chicken-man, we have not been north of Quan Loi tonight, over.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, where are you right now?”

“Cherokee Six, we are in the refuel point here at Quan Loi. Over.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, wait one.” Cherokee Six was still not happy and a bit anxious.

A few minutes later, “Chicken-man, are you still in the refuel point?”

“Roger, Cherokee Six.”

“Chicken-man, here’s the situation. There’s an aircraft flying over our positions north of Loc Ninh and covering each with a landing light or a searchlight. We have no idea who it is. Get up there and see if you can see them and get back to me. Understood?”

“Cherokee Six, understood. We’re launching now.” All three aircraft came to full power and we were off.

“Lobo Two-Four, Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

“Go ahead, Chicken-man.”

“Lobo, I will contact GCA and see if they have this aircraft on radar.”

“Roger, keep me posted.”

I switched frequencies on the VHF radio from Quan Loi Tower to Approach Control. “Quan Loi Approach Control, Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

“Chicken-man One-Nine, Quan Loi Approach Control, over.”

“Approach Control, Chicken-man is a flight of three off Quan Loi, en route to Loc Ninh. Have you got any other traffic in that vicinity?” Quan Loi Approach Control was the only radar in the region and capable of tracking low-flying aircraft. Capital Center in the Saigon area could track high fliers but not low-flying aircraft this far north.

“Chicken-man One-Niner, there’s one aircraft approximately twenty miles north of your location, but I have negative contact with him.”

“Roger. Can you keep me posted on his location? We’re heading in his direction.” I switched back to the brigade net on the FM radio. “Cherokee Six, Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, Cherokee Six, over.” Still the brigade commander was on the radio.

“Cherokee Six, I have Quan Loi Approach Control tracking an aircraft in the vicinity of Loc Ninh. We’re proceeding to its location.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, roger. If you can, identify who it is.”

“Cherokee Six, roger.”

After a pause: “Chicken-man One-Niner, if it’s not a friendly, you are cleared to engage.” Holy shit , I thought. We were liable to find ourselves in an aerial dogfight. With our .50-cal and two M60 machine guns, I was willing to take this on and add Lobo to this.

Switching to the UHF radio, “Lobo Two-Four, Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

“Go ahead, Chicken-man One-Niner.”

“Lobo Two-Four, Cherokee Six wants us to identify that aircraft and if necessary engage.”

Silence from Lobo Two-Four. Finally he responded, “Chicken-man One-Niner, I understand and am standing by. I’ll stay high, you go low.”

And we proceeded with all the speed I could milk out of the aircraft. Lobo was a faster aircraft but wanted to stay with me so we could work together. As we continued flying north, we were ever watchful for another aircraft. No one aboard said anything.

“Chicken-man One-Niner, Quan Loi Approach.”

“Quan Loi Approach, Chicken-man One-Niner.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, that aircraft is slowly moving north and will be over the border in about ten mikes if he continues his current speed and direction.”

“Roger, what is his heading?”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, he’s on a heading of three-two-zero degrees at ten miles at this time.”

I immediately corrected our heading a bit and milked another ten knots airspeed, which now had us at one hundred knots. The aircraft was shaking more than usual, and, conscious of retreating blade stall, I didn’t want to push it much faster. We continued on and kept looking. Finally, Approach Control called me.

“Chicken-man One-Niner, Quan Loi Approach Control.”

“Go ahead, Quan Loi.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, he has crossed over to the other side and is climbing to altitude. His airspeed is one hundred and twenty knots on a heading of three-five-zero degrees.” Damn .

“Cherokee Six, Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

“Chicken-man One-Niner, Cherokee Six, go ahead.”

“Cherokee Six, Quan Loi has that aircraft crossing over the border. What are your instructions?” Again a long pause.

“Chicken-man One-Niner, roger, understood. Break off your pursuit and resume normal mission. When you get a chance, come to my location when you refuel. Cherokee Six out.”

I relayed Cherokee Six’s instructions to the flight and could tell there was disappointment in the tone of the response I received. We were all hoping to be the first helicopters to be engaged in aerial combat in Vietnam, but it was not to be.

Back at the TOC, we were met by the brigade commander as well as the NCOIC from Approach Control with a map showing the track of the other aircraft. He had tracked it out of Cambodia to a location north of Loc Ninh and then back across the border. He hadn’t bothered to notify anyone of that aircraft coming out of Cambodia since there was a special operations helicopter unit at Quan Loi and he thought it was one of their aircraft returning for a mission.

Cherokee Six released us from our mission and we started home. The moon had come up and it was a full moon night. A bright full moon. The black jungle terrain was bathed in gray and black, almost as if it was day. There was no turbulence. An absolutely beautiful night to be flying, and so I thought a little music from AFN would be appropriate and tuned it in. We didn’t get music but something better. The announcer was giving a running commentary on the landing of Apollo 11, commanded by Neil Armstrong. We listened intently, not realizing that this was the night of the scheduled landing.

And then we heard the words,

“One small step for a man; one giant leap for mankind.”

Instantly, every firebase on that black-and-gray landscape exploded with gunfire and tracer rounds as well as star clusters and parachute flares. Even our flare ship dropped every flare he had on board, making a trail of our flight path. From Tay Ninh to Lai Khe to Song Be to Quan Loi, it was as if, out of the darkness, every weapon in Three Corps was fired on a single command, all against the backdrop of a full moon. As stupid as it sounds, we all strained to see if we could see Neil Armstrong up there taking that first step.

Arriving back at the Chicken Pen after sunrise, we noticed all our aircraft still in the revetments. That was odd as normally everyone would be gone by now. As we walked into the company area, the place was a beehive of activity.

Grabbing one of the other pilots, I asked, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you just got in. We’re moving across the Chicken Pen, taking over the hooches that were occupied by the Quarter Cav. Best be packing your stuff and find out where you’re moving to. The warrant hooches are the last two next to the mess hall. I think Dave Hanna’s tagged a room for you and him.” And he was off with an armload of personal items.

We spent the rest of the day moving our worldly possessions from the tents across the flight line to hooches. A definite improvement in our living conditions, we quickly came to realize.

To make things even better, we had a new commander arrive in August who was a major improvement, Major Robert Saunders. He was a leader, and we recognized it almost immediately. One of his first actions was to allow us to hire hooch maids. Previous commanders wouldn’t hear of it, so we cleaned our own tents. Now we had hooch maids that would come over from the village and clean our rooms, do our laundry, shine our boots. Mine even insisted on cooking Vietnamese food for us one day, which we bought and she cooked. She was a good lady. Major Saunders made it very clear from the beginning that no sexual activity would be tolerated with the hooch maids, and none was.

In an effort to raise morale, Major Saunders directed that one hooch would be turned into a club for the enlisted members of the unit. There wasn’t another empty hooch available, so he directed that the officers should build our own club. We had an engineer RLO pilot, and he drew up a design for the commander’s approval. With a design, we then began a scavenger hunt throughout Lai Khe for building material, and before long we had an officers’ club. The engineer brigade headquarters collocated at Lai Khe with us poured a concrete floor for us in return for some flight time for their projects.