From CWO "Jones" 1/22/2021
Preface:
I received an email from a helicopter pilot, relating two stories that had been sent to him about missions he had flown. He received these emails 30 years after the war and states that they mean more to him than any award. He asked that his name, and that of the other pilot, be changed so that these stories will be representative of all combat helicopter pilots who served in Vietnam.
-Ernie Camacho
Hand Grenades in the Jungle can be Hazardous to your Health!
Mr. Jones:
Once upon a time long, long ago, I, two other Americans, and four indigenous men were on a walking tour of the lovely Laotian hill country. We chanced upon a group of individuals (I do believe they were from North Vietnam) also on some sort of walking tour. This group of absolute strangers reacted with the utmost hostility and opened fire with their individual weapons. My tour group returned this fire and at one point my weak-armed point-man threw a grenade (M-26 type) which I saw hit a tree and bounce back and explode within our perimeter. The explosion wounded me and two of the indigenous, one critically.
After this incident we were extremely annoyed with the Asiatic tour group and called upon the US Air Force to smite them hip and thigh, so to speak. The Air Force sent two "fast movers" to thump on these folks and did so with napalm and CBU. Prior to the arrival of the "fast movers" I had pulled my group of tourists back to the reverse military crest and had to return to the original position to recover the critically wounded "yard" (Montagnard soldier). I was administering a blood expander and bandaging his visible wounds when the "fast movers" arrived and worked over the area. I had already called for "Spare 33" and was advised that the extraction choppers were enroute. After the "fast movers" strike, the unfriendly hikers withdrew from their ambush-turned-"killing zone" and we were directed by the "Covey" to move toward an extraction LZ.
This all sounded a lot easier and simpler than it was to accomplish. For example: the Indig. carrying the makeshift stretcher could not carry their rucksacks and weapons. I was carrying my own weapon, three others, and an additional rucksack as we made our way to the LZ we mistakenly thought "Covey" had found. When we arrived at the spot "Covey" had selected, we found it wasn't even a "oneship" LZ. In fact, it was not an LZ at all. The LZ he had selected from above the "dead man's zone" was nothing more than an area that just had shorter trees than we were accustomed to.
You are probably asking, "Why is he telling me all this?" If you will bear with me you will understand. At about this time the extraction Chopper arrived and we began to talk on the Foxmike [FM radio]. The pilots could see that we did not have an LZ and wanted to drop the ropes but we could not do this due to the severely wounded and enemy pressure which was once again starting to build up. After surveying the LZ the AC asked me, "Is there any Bamboo"? I replied in the negative. Once again, he asked, "Do you see anything over six inches in diameter"? Again, I replied in the negative. The AC said, "Watch your head we are inbound." This chopper descended through the secondary growth and hovered approximately two to three feet off the ground while I loaded my wounded and my team. After take-off(?) this aircraft took us to the Heli-pad at the 72nd Evac. Hospital in Pleiku, where our wounds were dressed and the critically wounded "yard" died on the operating table.
You wanted to know how I remembered your name after all these years, Mr. Jones. That's how. You don't forget the guy who saves your life.
De Oppresso Liber,
Batman
How I toured the Mysterious East
Mr. Jones,
Mr. Smith,
Once upon a time in the far away inscrutable and mysterious East, I was the leader of a small group of tourists engaged in short trips (at minimum expense) of the above-mentioned lands. One day my Group leader called me to his office and advised me that my next walking tour was to be in a veritable garden spot known to the Group leader as "Charlie 50". He told me that another tour group (not native to the area) was believed to be in the immediate vicinity of my projected tour and were known to be extremely hostile when aroused. I, being a brilliant leader, decided that it would probably be best if I first took my group to Cambodia and walked over a mountain into Laos thus not disturbing or arousing to anger the other tour group. My group leader (S-3) thought this an excellent plan (not having to walk and climb himself) and agreed that it should be so. I was given a short flight in a fixed wing aircraft to select my primary LZ for our subsequent landing by rotary-winged aircraft.
A short note about rotary aircraft: Everyone who has any intelligence knows that a rotary-winged aircraft was never meant to fly. They can only be kept in the air by a very courageous, skilled individual with exceptional reflexes and who is (the degree being arguable) slightly deranged. These people were known as Warrant Officers. They were infiltrated by RLO's who were none of the above.
We had a contract with this rotary-winged organization, the 170th AHC (believed to be affiliated with Cooks) with the strange, somewhat effeminate, call sign of "Bikini". Later we boarded one of these aircraft and flew to my pre-selected LZ. I, being brilliant, had selected a one-ship (hover) LZ that required the aircraft to go straight down into the LZ which was in the primeval rain forest consisting of 120 ft. plus trees.
As we neared the ground, I and my indigenous team leader slid out onto the right skid in preparation for disembarking. I, also a master of the obvious, looked toward the tree line to ascertain if perhaps one of the non-native tour groups might be present to welcome us. I observed several hammocks strung between trees and about a "zillion" of those non-native tourists armed to the teeth rushing into position to fire on our fragile craft, which being nearly stationary, was quite vulnerable. The starboard side door gunner opened fire with an M-60 machine gun whilst I, and the indigenous team leader, busied ourselves returning to the passenger compartment and firing at the same time.
As I was returning to the aircraft, I observed a 51 caliber (13mm) antiaircraft machine gun behaving in a very inhospitable manner, firing on our aircraft. I directed my fire at this gun and hoped for the best as the pilots "pulled pitch" and gained altitude. During this time, as we were hauling ass, my assistant (American) tour leader stuck his CAR-15 rifle toward the hostiles and fired one round, the casing of which went down my shirt and being quite hot caused me a moment of concern.
As we cleared the trees a "Buc" (gunship) rolled in behind us and began firing rockets into the LZ. Later, I was told, the two USAF A1-E "Skyraiders" that were on station for the insertion expended all their ordinance into the LZ.
After clearing the LZ we headed for the 4th Infantry Division Fire Base at Dak To. At first, I was confused as to why we were heading to Dak To since this was not on our tour group's itinerary. My confusion was quickly cleared up when the door gunner tapped me on the head and said, "He's hit!" "Who's hit?", asks I. "The pilot", says he. (Read again the note regarding helicopter pilots). Without further ado I shed my rucksack and went forward to talk to the pilots. I found that the "Peter" pilot, CWO Smith, had been hit in the right calf by a 7.62 round that had entered through the floor pan and being deformed by penetrating the metal had caused a serious wound. I utilized the contents of my "Jungle 1st Aid Kit" and patched up his leg. I wanted to give him a morphine injection for the pain but he declined saying, "The pilot is fucked up and I'd better stay alert in case I'm needed." This was the first time I realized that both pilots were wounded. I turned to the pilot, CWO Jones, and he said, "Check my eyes!" I looked at his eyes and could see several shards of plexiglass in his left eye and blood in the right eye. At this time, I also became aware of the altitude of the aircraft and the airspeed. We were just above the treetops and the airspeed was approaching redline. So, being aware of the sensitive nature of the controls and not wanting to alarm the person who was keeping us airborne, I lied. I told him, "they look good to me; only a couple of scratches!"
CWO Jones landed the aircraft safely at Dak To and both pilots were taken to B-Med., 4th Inf. Div. I never saw them again during the remainder of my tour. The aircraft itself was totaled. Having sustained some 240 hits, it was returned to Pleiku by "Heavy Hook". After this trip I wanted to disband my little tour group but the S-3 said, "Nonsense, there will be better days!". The good news was that after assessing our expenditures we found that we had only expended ammunition, fuel, one aircraft, and blood. Personal expenses amounted to zero (wounds don't count). Everything considered, we had managed another tour for less than ten cents a day.
De Oppresso Liber
Batman
PS: The S-3 lied, there were no better days!
Preface:
I received an email from a helicopter pilot, relating two stories that had been sent to him about missions he had flown. He received these emails 30 years after the war and states that they mean more to him than any award. He asked that his name, and that of the other pilot, be changed so that these stories will be representative of all combat helicopter pilots who served in Vietnam.
-Ernie Camacho
Hand Grenades in the Jungle can be Hazardous to your Health!
Mr. Jones:
Once upon a time long, long ago, I, two other Americans, and four indigenous men were on a walking tour of the lovely Laotian hill country. We chanced upon a group of individuals (I do believe they were from North Vietnam) also on some sort of walking tour. This group of absolute strangers reacted with the utmost hostility and opened fire with their individual weapons. My tour group returned this fire and at one point my weak-armed point-man threw a grenade (M-26 type) which I saw hit a tree and bounce back and explode within our perimeter. The explosion wounded me and two of the indigenous, one critically.
After this incident we were extremely annoyed with the Asiatic tour group and called upon the US Air Force to smite them hip and thigh, so to speak. The Air Force sent two "fast movers" to thump on these folks and did so with napalm and CBU. Prior to the arrival of the "fast movers" I had pulled my group of tourists back to the reverse military crest and had to return to the original position to recover the critically wounded "yard" (Montagnard soldier). I was administering a blood expander and bandaging his visible wounds when the "fast movers" arrived and worked over the area. I had already called for "Spare 33" and was advised that the extraction choppers were enroute. After the "fast movers" strike, the unfriendly hikers withdrew from their ambush-turned-"killing zone" and we were directed by the "Covey" to move toward an extraction LZ.
This all sounded a lot easier and simpler than it was to accomplish. For example: the Indig. carrying the makeshift stretcher could not carry their rucksacks and weapons. I was carrying my own weapon, three others, and an additional rucksack as we made our way to the LZ we mistakenly thought "Covey" had found. When we arrived at the spot "Covey" had selected, we found it wasn't even a "oneship" LZ. In fact, it was not an LZ at all. The LZ he had selected from above the "dead man's zone" was nothing more than an area that just had shorter trees than we were accustomed to.
You are probably asking, "Why is he telling me all this?" If you will bear with me you will understand. At about this time the extraction Chopper arrived and we began to talk on the Foxmike [FM radio]. The pilots could see that we did not have an LZ and wanted to drop the ropes but we could not do this due to the severely wounded and enemy pressure which was once again starting to build up. After surveying the LZ the AC asked me, "Is there any Bamboo"? I replied in the negative. Once again, he asked, "Do you see anything over six inches in diameter"? Again, I replied in the negative. The AC said, "Watch your head we are inbound." This chopper descended through the secondary growth and hovered approximately two to three feet off the ground while I loaded my wounded and my team. After take-off(?) this aircraft took us to the Heli-pad at the 72nd Evac. Hospital in Pleiku, where our wounds were dressed and the critically wounded "yard" died on the operating table.
You wanted to know how I remembered your name after all these years, Mr. Jones. That's how. You don't forget the guy who saves your life.
De Oppresso Liber,
Batman
How I toured the Mysterious East
Mr. Jones,
Mr. Smith,
Once upon a time in the far away inscrutable and mysterious East, I was the leader of a small group of tourists engaged in short trips (at minimum expense) of the above-mentioned lands. One day my Group leader called me to his office and advised me that my next walking tour was to be in a veritable garden spot known to the Group leader as "Charlie 50". He told me that another tour group (not native to the area) was believed to be in the immediate vicinity of my projected tour and were known to be extremely hostile when aroused. I, being a brilliant leader, decided that it would probably be best if I first took my group to Cambodia and walked over a mountain into Laos thus not disturbing or arousing to anger the other tour group. My group leader (S-3) thought this an excellent plan (not having to walk and climb himself) and agreed that it should be so. I was given a short flight in a fixed wing aircraft to select my primary LZ for our subsequent landing by rotary-winged aircraft.
A short note about rotary aircraft: Everyone who has any intelligence knows that a rotary-winged aircraft was never meant to fly. They can only be kept in the air by a very courageous, skilled individual with exceptional reflexes and who is (the degree being arguable) slightly deranged. These people were known as Warrant Officers. They were infiltrated by RLO's who were none of the above.
We had a contract with this rotary-winged organization, the 170th AHC (believed to be affiliated with Cooks) with the strange, somewhat effeminate, call sign of "Bikini". Later we boarded one of these aircraft and flew to my pre-selected LZ. I, being brilliant, had selected a one-ship (hover) LZ that required the aircraft to go straight down into the LZ which was in the primeval rain forest consisting of 120 ft. plus trees.
As we neared the ground, I and my indigenous team leader slid out onto the right skid in preparation for disembarking. I, also a master of the obvious, looked toward the tree line to ascertain if perhaps one of the non-native tour groups might be present to welcome us. I observed several hammocks strung between trees and about a "zillion" of those non-native tourists armed to the teeth rushing into position to fire on our fragile craft, which being nearly stationary, was quite vulnerable. The starboard side door gunner opened fire with an M-60 machine gun whilst I, and the indigenous team leader, busied ourselves returning to the passenger compartment and firing at the same time.
As I was returning to the aircraft, I observed a 51 caliber (13mm) antiaircraft machine gun behaving in a very inhospitable manner, firing on our aircraft. I directed my fire at this gun and hoped for the best as the pilots "pulled pitch" and gained altitude. During this time, as we were hauling ass, my assistant (American) tour leader stuck his CAR-15 rifle toward the hostiles and fired one round, the casing of which went down my shirt and being quite hot caused me a moment of concern.
As we cleared the trees a "Buc" (gunship) rolled in behind us and began firing rockets into the LZ. Later, I was told, the two USAF A1-E "Skyraiders" that were on station for the insertion expended all their ordinance into the LZ.
After clearing the LZ we headed for the 4th Infantry Division Fire Base at Dak To. At first, I was confused as to why we were heading to Dak To since this was not on our tour group's itinerary. My confusion was quickly cleared up when the door gunner tapped me on the head and said, "He's hit!" "Who's hit?", asks I. "The pilot", says he. (Read again the note regarding helicopter pilots). Without further ado I shed my rucksack and went forward to talk to the pilots. I found that the "Peter" pilot, CWO Smith, had been hit in the right calf by a 7.62 round that had entered through the floor pan and being deformed by penetrating the metal had caused a serious wound. I utilized the contents of my "Jungle 1st Aid Kit" and patched up his leg. I wanted to give him a morphine injection for the pain but he declined saying, "The pilot is fucked up and I'd better stay alert in case I'm needed." This was the first time I realized that both pilots were wounded. I turned to the pilot, CWO Jones, and he said, "Check my eyes!" I looked at his eyes and could see several shards of plexiglass in his left eye and blood in the right eye. At this time, I also became aware of the altitude of the aircraft and the airspeed. We were just above the treetops and the airspeed was approaching redline. So, being aware of the sensitive nature of the controls and not wanting to alarm the person who was keeping us airborne, I lied. I told him, "they look good to me; only a couple of scratches!"
CWO Jones landed the aircraft safely at Dak To and both pilots were taken to B-Med., 4th Inf. Div. I never saw them again during the remainder of my tour. The aircraft itself was totaled. Having sustained some 240 hits, it was returned to Pleiku by "Heavy Hook". After this trip I wanted to disband my little tour group but the S-3 said, "Nonsense, there will be better days!". The good news was that after assessing our expenditures we found that we had only expended ammunition, fuel, one aircraft, and blood. Personal expenses amounted to zero (wounds don't count). Everything considered, we had managed another tour for less than ten cents a day.
De Oppresso Liber
Batman
PS: The S-3 lied, there were no better days!