Chapter 20
Night Hunter on the Jolley Trail, November 1969

I was back on Night Hunter Killer missions and we were flying in the vicinity of the newly discovered Jolley Trail. We were flying with a flare ship and a Cobra, and I had been an aircraft commander for about five months now. In the copilot seat was Major Saunders. He had taken command and right away was flying missions. Not milk runs, but real missions. He wanted to see what this Night Hunter Killer mission was, as his last aviation unit didn’t have that mission. It was with the First Aviation Brigade, which supported those divisions that didn’t have dedicated aircraft as the First Cavalry Division and the 101st Airborne Division had.

We had been working along the Song Be River when we received a call from the brigade we were flying for.

“Chicken-man One-Niner, this is Comanche Six India, over.”

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

“One-Nine, Six India, we have a unit that needs your assistance. They’re a long-range recon patrol and are reporting that they’re surrounded and need assistance. Over.”

“Roger, Comanche Six. What’s their location, call sign and frequency?”

Comanche Six India passed the information to me. The major plotted the location, and we changed course to go directly to the patrol’s location. I briefed the crew en route and informed the Cobra and flare ship as well. As I closed in on the patrol’s location, I contacted them on the radio.

“Delta Six, this is Chicken-man One-Niner, over.”

In a whisper, a response came back. “Chicken-man One-Niner, this is Delta Six, over.”

“Delta Six, I understand your situation. What’s enemy estimate of strength?”

“One-Niner, we are surrounded. Estimate one hundred. We can hear them talking, and they’re attempting to get us to reveal our position. Over.”

“Roger, understand one hundred. How are they attempting to get you to reveal your position? Over.”

“One-Niner, they’re tossing sticks and rocks in the brush around us.”

“Roger, understand. But they have not engaged you, is that correct?”

“Affirmative. I can hear you approaching, Chicken-man.”

“Roger, tell me when I pass over you.” To my crew, I said, “Heads up, we have about a hundred gooks down there, and they won’t like us low and slow over them. I’m taking us over at ninety knots initially and will slow it down for a second pass.”

“Chicken-man, you’re passing me to the south.”

Damn , I thought, the jungle is thick around these parts .

I asked my starlight scope operator, Specialist Brewster, “Are you getting anything?” Brewster worked in supply and had traded off with Jones for the fun of doing something different.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Delta Six, is there a way you can mark your position?”

“Roger, I’ll put a flashlight in the barrel of an M-79. You should be able to see that without them seeing it. Wait one.” He was still whispering.

“Okay, crew, I’m slowing us down on this pass. They have a flashlight in the barrel of an M-79, so we should be able to pick that up pretty easily.”

As we came around for another pass, this time at sixty knots, Specialist Brewster said he had the light. “Oh, shit, sir, they’re surrounded.” And then he started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, slightly annoyed that he was taking this dangerous, tense mission so lightly.

“Sir, they’re surrounded, by a herd of monkeys! The damn things are all over the place. The only people down there are four guys in the patrol,” Brewster said.

“Are you sure?” the major asked as he and I exchanged puzzled looks.

“Yes, sir, I’m positive,” Brewster replied. Vietnam had gibbon monkeys, and they moved in herds. If they felt threatened, they would throw sticks and rocks at the threat. They were big and noisy critters.

“Delta Six, One-Niner. What do you want me to do? We have your position.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him who his enemy was.

“Chicken-man, if you can lay down some suppressive fire to the south, we’ll break to the north while you keep them down.”

“Roger, wait one,” I replied.

Switching radios from FM to UHF, I contacted Lobo and Chicken-man One-Four, who had been monitoring my conversation with Delta Six on the FM radio. Enlightening them on the true nature of the enemy, I said, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. On this next pass, lay down fire on the south side of the trail. Chicken-man One-Four, hold off dropping flares. Lobo, do you copy?”

“Roger, One-Nine, will make a run on your mark. One pass sufficient?”

“Lobo, yeah, that should be enough,” I chuckled. “I don’t think we will take a lot of fire from the monkeys.” As we came around, my guns opened fire and the Cobra rolled hot with minigun and rockets. The patrol successfully avoided the enemy monkeys and lived to fight another day. We laughed our asses off back at the base while refueling. In the TOC that night, we found out that it was a new patrol leader. I was glad that I hadn’t divulged the true enemy situation to him, but I did tell the brigade intel officer that the enemy situation reported might not be quite correct. He should get a scout bird out in the morning to see if there were any bodies.

After refueling, we returned to our original plan on the Song Be River. I had run this route the night before with another copilot and had run it the night before that as well. In both cases, I had run it from south to north. Tonight I would change it up and run north to south. We were about five hundred feet and sixty knots. There was a known crossing site over the river, which in this particular area was only about fifty feet wide. As we approached, out of the far bank, what appeared to be a string of green basketballs came arching towards us. Our door gunner opened fire with our 50-cal, engaging the .51-cal that initially engaged us. As I executed a left turn, Lobo called me.

“Chicken-man, you’re taking fire.”

“Roger, we’re engaging.”

Suddenly, my crew chief opened fire with the M60 onto the near bank. “Taking fire!” he shouted.

“Negative, Chicken-man, you’re taking it from behind. Lobo rolling hot.” What the hell? And then it dawned on me. We had flown into a trap, but as we had approached from a direction they weren’t expecting, they were out of position. As we continued our left turn, I heard Lobo’s rockets impacting. The major was on the radio calling Song Be Artillery with a fire mission. Suddenly it was as bright as day as the flare ship was dropping flares, and now we could see what was shooting at us. Three gun emplacements had been set up, with two on one side of the river and one on the other side. One gun on the near side was out of position for our flying north to south and still hadn’t engaged us but was out in the open. Lobo had completed his first pass and was about to engage this target when it opened up on him. That really pissed Lobo off, and he punched off the remaining seven rockets he had. The gun never answered his challenge. As for the two guns engaging me, the one that Lobo fired on didn’t answer, and the initial gun fell silent. As we climbed to altitude, the major took over directing artillery fire on the crossing.

The next morning, a scout team from First Battalion, Ninth Cavalry was out and found three destroyed guns and indications that someone had died with the guns and that the bodies had been removed.

The NVA didn’t like leaving their dead for us to find.

Major Saunders was okay in my book, and he would prove to be better than just okay.

Several nights later, the mission was given to Charlie Company. They were flying the same area and route. The same trap was laid for him, but they engaged before the NVA could. The next day, a scout helicopter team found twenty-one bodies and three guns left behind by the NVA.