OH23 Pilot Dies at Dak To
On Feb. 3, 1968, an OH23 observation helicopter pilot, Orrin Leonard Dyer Jr., was hit by small arms fire while directing artillery fire into an area we were receiving mortar fire from. His unit was "HHB DIV ARTY 4 INF" Artillery spotter for the 4th Infantry Division.
Remembering the day:
This is an email conversation between two ATC men, Ernie Camacho and Tom Theobald, who were involved in this tragic incident.
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Ernie Camacho:
Tom, remembering back to those days brings both good and bad memories. I remember how deeply affected you were by the OH23 pilot's death. You carried that around for a week or more before you were able to work your way through it. I do have a question about it, though: Weren't you my B man in the tower when that pilot first made radio contact with us? I believe it is Tom Scott that thinks it was Bartlett who came down out of the tower to alert the fire crew. You see? I have very vivid memories of that day, but some details get fuzzy with time.
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Tom Theobald:
As I remember that day I was playing fireman. Apparently, while I was down at GCA School in that city southwest of Saigon (forgot the name)(ed: Vung Tau), the firemen were putting out a brush fire on the northwest corner of the SF compound when a detonation cord wrapped artillery shell exploded. It killed one of the firemen and damaged the fire truck.
Because the fire crew was short one man I hopped on to help on a fire in a med tent that was started by a mortar. We were on the way back after refilling the water tank on the truck when we got the call about the OH23.
I was on the hose, foaming the chopper. Someone shouted that there were a couple of WP grenades that were in some burning fuel so I foamed them and then I turned back to the chopper, finally putting the fire out. The magnesium in the chopper was hard to extinguish. Near the grenades I saw the pilot’s helmet and picked it up, turned around while some sergeant was telling people to pull the body out. I had seen the body toasting while I was foaming the chopper, with the legs still on the pedals. I wasn’t feeling too hot and told the sergeant I wouldn’t help pulling the body out. He got pissy saying he didn’t ask me to help which was probably true but I never was able to keep my mouth shut.
I remember that I was on duty as B man when we got back to the tower. I still have a pretty strong reaction to that day.
I remember that we all thought that pilot was a pretty strong guy. He was shot and moaning and dying while he tried to land and crashed because a truck was driving right under him as he flared for touchdown. He pulled collective and rolled and dropped and ended up killing himself so he wouldn’t hurt the guys in the truck. Christ, I’m weeping now.
I’m back. Yeah, that was a tough day. The pilot was a brave and heroic man and he died. I don’t really remember how much I reacted to all that. I do remember you were pretty shaken up. We all were.
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Ernie Camacho:
Tom,
Thanks for the long message. One good thing coming out of this is that the events are getting laid out properly. My bad memories are being corrected. Your memories are clearing up some details. Maybe I can clear up some details for you too.
So, the fire truck explosion happened before the OH23 crash.
As for the explosion, what I believe exploded were the anti-personnel mines the SF camp had put out in the open area around their compound. They consisted of three 155 (175?) arty rounds, with their tails in a puddle of concrete, and with wires going back to the A camp perimeter, to be fired like a Claymore. As I remember it, the fire crew spotted the grass fire in that open area to the west of the A camp and took it upon themselves to go put it out. They didn't know about the 155s. Hell, I wouldn't have known about them but for our being there at the very beginning. I remember 3 firemen, a white, a black, and a Latino. I don't remember their names, but I remember that at least two of them lived in the room across from mine in the completed hooches. The white guy worked the truck and the other two manned hoses. I remember hearing that the Latino was badly injured in the groin. I don't remember how many were med-evac'd out. I never did hear what happened to them, so one of 'em dying is news to me. I know that the truck got hit by shrapnel, but I thought it was still usable. As you say, it was used for the OH23. I remember now that the white guy stayed with us. He's the one who told me what happened.
Now that you mention it, I do remember that the truck was on the road when we got it on the radio and directed it to the crash site.
As for the crash itself, I was talking to the pilot. I can still remember his first call. I couldn't make out what he said so I asked him to repeat. He could barely get the words out. About his 3rd try at reporting his position, my B man (Bartlett?), pointed to him, wobbling in from the NW corner. I immediately told him to just put it down on the ground, that we saw him and were sending aid. He started to do just that, descending to land, but there was a deuce and a half parked where he was headed for (there were trucks scattered around the whole resupply area). If that truck weren't there, he might have lived. But, I saw him pull up and then the chopper started gyrating around the sky. I think that he lost consciousness at that point. After several seconds of wild gyrations, it hit the ground and caught fire.
You guys in the truck were en-route already when he hit. A short while later you called to the tower that you needed more foam. I jumped out of the tower in a mad dash to load cans of foam on the 3/4 ton and get it out to you, acting as if my getting foam to you might save the day. Ha! I don't remember who I left in charge of the tower. When I got to the scene, I saw the pilot's body and knew it was all over.
When we got back, I'm sure I went back to work in the tower. So you and I were in the tower afterwards. My memory has been that you and I were in the tower when the pilot first called. I do remember that I smashed my thumbnail while loading 5 gal. foam cans. That throbbing thumb kept me awake all night, and I kept thinking about that pilot not feeling any pain now.
I didn't think that the pilot's aborting his landing was a thought-through decision to sacrifice himself. I think it was purely instinct 'cause if he hit that truck (I didn't see anyone in it) he would have crashed for sure. I think he was just trying to find a bare spot to put it down and lost consciousness during the attempt.
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Postscript by Ernie:
This conversation took place in 2005. It is only now, in 2021 that I am able to identify the pilot, I think. CWO Dyer is the only observation helicopter pilot who died on Feb. 3, 1967. I hesitated before posting this conversation to the Story page. I worry that Dyer's family did not know the circumstances around his death, and if they were to find it here, it might be a shock. I decided to post it for history, as all of this website is dedicated to that end.
I also just learned, from the information below, that there was a second person in the helicopter, Larry Skoglund, who was wounded but survivied.
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Here is the information I found on the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association website:
Information on U.S. Army helicopter OH-23G tail number 64-15300
Date: 02/03/1968
Incident number: 68020311.KIA
Unit: HHB DIV ARTY 4 INF
This was a Combat incident. This helicopter was LOSS TO INVENTORY
This was a Recon mission for Unarmed Recon
While in Operations Area this helicopter was at Level Flight at 0800 feet and 070 knots.
South Vietnam
UTM grid coordinates: ZA010217 (To see this location on a map, go to https://legallandconverter.com/p50.html and search on Grid Reference 48PZA010217) [note from ernie: this grid reference is not correct]
Helicopter took 2 hits from:
Small Arms/Automatic Weapons; Gun launched non-explosive ballistic projectiles less than 20 mm in size. (7.62MM)
Systems damaged were: PERSONNEL, STRUCTURE
Casualties = 01 WIA, 01 KIA . .
The helicopter Crashed. Aircraft Destroyed.
Both mission and flight capability were terminated.
Burned
Original source(s) and document(s) from which the incident was created or updated: Defense Intelligence Agency Helicopter Loss database. Survivability/Vulnerability Information Analysis Center Helicopter database. Also: OPERA, LNNF, FM232, CASRP (Operations Report. Lindenmuth New Format Data Base. Casualty Report. )
Loss to Inventory
Crew Members:
P CW2 DYER ORRIN LEONARD JR KIA
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Additional information about this casualty:
WO Orrin Dyer, from Rumney, NH, was one of our pilots who lost his life at Dak To. WO Dyer had 4 children and I can't imagine the grief that family went through on that Feb. day in 1968. Larry S. was with Orrin that day and I know he is fortunate to be with us today. Larry remembers more from that day than he probably wants to... and I feel for him. It was on this site that I found Larry, and we converse often. There are many stories, a lot of them sad ones, but I know Orrin Dyer loved life and was a happy man who spoke often of his children. He joked, loved to sit up at night and chat, and was concerned for the safety of all of us. We can honor these men by remembering their bravery and telling others about them. I challenge everyone to tell a good story about a VN friend in their honor. Let us not forget any veteran from any war. God Bless and welcome home brothers.
PS. I am in contact even today with that young AO Larry Skoglund who was the WIA with Orrin that day. I spoke with WO Dyer's family a couple of years ago and reminded them how much he spoke of and loved them. Thanks for keeping records.
From: Paul Gardner
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Another witness: Norm Spaulding, 4th ID officer:
The OH23 that crashed outside the wire.
I was sitting in the Outhouse which faced to the West, I believe, looking across the active. I noticed this OH23 inbound at low altitude and he appeared to be out of control – rising, falling, obviously in trouble. I remember immediately thinking that it was our 1st Brigade bird and it would have been flown by our WO1. I started to finish my business and continued to watch the 23 as the oscillations were becoming more erratic. Probably in less than a minute, he crashed just outside of the wire. By then I had pulled up my pants and was running toward the scene. I immediately got hung up in several layers of concertina wire. I remember being really stuck and finally ended up ripping my pants to get over the wire. I felt like I must have been hung up for an hour, but in reality, I am sure it was for no more than a minute or so.
I continued on across the active and approached the 23, There were a lot of guys there, mostly standing around. There was nothing any of us could have done. By then, the bird was almost completely consumed by the fire; the heat was intense. I remember that our Brigade S4, a big black Major by the name of Myzik, was trying to get some people to help him throw a canvas sling around the engine that was the largest part of the bird that had not been consumed by the fire.
I remember being able to see the charred remains of the pilot. The remains were all intermingled and I remember thinking that they are going to have a hell of a time extricating the body. I also remember that the arms of the body were folded over what appeared to be the head. I thought that bringing your arms up to protect your face would have been instinctive. Like all the others standing around, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do anything. I believe that medics and some emergency vehicles began to arrive so I left. It was obvious that the bird had been hit by ground fire and most likely the pilot had been hit and was unable to control the crash. I later heard scuttlebutt that the bird had been hit by a 12.7mm (.50 Cal). I remember it like it was yesterday and I can still smell the stench of burning fuel and body parts. I guess I thought about that incident for the rest of the day. I flew a lot in those days with the FACS and on other missions. This could have happened to me just as it happened to that guy in the OH23. I didn’t give that thought more than a moment’s notice.
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First-Person Report:
Now, in 2021, I've managed to digitize and transcribe audio tapes I made during this time. On one tape, I tell my family the story of what had just happened. Before you read that report, I must confess that the memory-hole fooled me. In my conversation, above, I'm thinking that I am the A controller, the man with the mike, while Bartlett was the B man, logging flights on a clipboard. In reality it seems it was the opposite. I was the B man. It just goes to show how you can re-write your own memories of an event. I'm grateful that I can now correct that memory, thanks to my reporting:
I went on duty at 12 o'clock to relieve the, uh, people that were going to chow, and John Bartlett, my roommate, and I, we were both on duty, when all of a sudden this, uh, pilot in an OH23, that's one of these real light observation helicopters, came up on guard and, uh, called in for help, and we knew right off that he was in bad trouble because he could hardly even talk to us, you know, he was having a hard time breathing and, and -- he was just in bad shape. We could tell right off that he was shot. He was covering, uh, an artillery bombardment off to the northwest of us, right to the north of the LOC area, that one and a half miles out, we've been hittin' that, that general area for the past four or five days because that's the general location we've been mortared from every time.
Anyway, it appears that he got shot by Charlie, you know, some ground to air fire hit him, and he was just barely able to hold his own, to, uh, stay conscious, control his aircraft, a light helicopter, and he was trying to land it on the LOC, couldn't talk, uh, man, it was, it was pretty bad just listening to him on the radio, and we saw him out there and my A man, I was just sitting there as B man, wasn't really doing anything, so the A man got on the stick and tried to call, uh, the medevac. I tried to call the, uh, crash crew, our fire truck, to get out there, and we couldn't get ahold of anybody, there wasn't anything we could do, so all we could do was just sit there and stare at this guy and just pray that he put that thing down, you know, 'cause those are real flimsy aircraft, and he almost did put it down, he started comin' down nice and slow, I thought maybe he's got it, enough control that he'll be able to put it down and jump clear.
Well all of a sudden that, he was just gettin' ready to, oh, he's about 25 feet off the ground and I thought he was gonna come down a bit hard but he was gonna come down alright, when all of a sudden it seemed like he pulled the stick back -- straight up in the air and did a flip and started going all cockeyed. He'd, he'd stopped talking to us by then. He had it, he was continually, uh, keying it. He'd stopped talking by then, I thought for sure that he'd gone unconscious or something like that. And there wasn't a God-damned, there wasn't a darned thing we could do, just stand there and just watch him go down, and he, uh, he just went out of control, did a couple of crazy loops and then just crashed right there and burst into flames, so we knew there wasn't much chance that he could have gotten out of it. The fire truck did, uh, manage to see him, uh, swerving around in the sky, so they were on the scene before too much longer, and the guy and I in the tower, we were relieved by the people coming back from chow, and as soon as we left the tower, the, uh, fire truck needed some more foam, so we filled the, the, uh, truck, the three quarter, full of foam and we went racing out there, 'cause they were busy trying to put the fire out, of course it wasn't much use, there wasn't really much left of anything, the pilot or the plane, when we got there, kinda sickening, really.
It was even worse, seeing all these stupid people standing around, gawking at it. Trying to see what they could see just to satisfy their morbid sense of curiosity.
Well that, that whole thing, that whole little episode kinda got to me today, I guess. Well I'm kinda gettin' used to seeing bodies being brought in by the Dustoffs, unloading them over at the, uh, 4th med facility, and stuff like that is not so bad, it's just a body laid out on a stretcher. When it's somebody, you know, when you listen to him on the radio and you hear his very last words and his cry for help and all this stuff and you can't do a darned thing to help, and when you just see him burn, not too hot.
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The Rest of The Story:
In late 2021, I was contacted by Paul Gardner, via the comments section of this website. Paul was the person who wrote the additional information about Orrin Dyer on the Helicopter Pilots Assn. website (shown above):
Paul wrote:
I was CWO Orrin Dyer's Crew Chief on Feb 3rd 1968. Some of the 4th DIVARTY Pilots would welcome me to fly with them with an M-60 that I had brought with me from my TDY door gunner duty with 4th Aviation, B Co. Orrin was not fond of M-60’s hanging on OH 23’s when he was the pilot. Feb 3rd was no different. I stayed behind. FAC Lt. Larry Skoglund from the 1/8 accompanied him on this alleged 1 hour fire mission. Larry, although wounded severely, was able to get the aircraft back short of the runway. Larry was the garbled voice that called in their situation. At that point he believes CWO Dyer was already KIA as he was shot in the face.
I have devoted a chapter in my book "ONCE A BOY" to that event which includes LT Skoglund’s personal account. I can copy and paste that chapter to you.
Welcome Home Brother!
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LT Skoglund's account of the incident:
The 3rd of February 1968, some-what of an eventful day for yours truly.
I was returning from R & R in Sydney Australia. We, on the flight back, knew nothing of the Tet Offensive going on full bore in Viet Nam. The Australian news was full of the U.S. spy ship Pueblo that had been captured off the coast of North Korea, but nothing about Viet Nam. RVN was not an area of concern for the Aussies, other than their having a few troops there. We landed in RVN (I’ve forgotten where) on a civilian airliner and immediately started looking for the Officer's Club. Bad idea. The entire area was swarming with helmeted GIs, rifles and all, shouting and running every which way. A couple of us assumed amongst ourselves that some Colonel had a hard-on and was going to play war for a while. I’d wanted to look up a couple of friends on my way back up to Dak To, but soon found that was out of the question. One friend was a slick driver with the 4th Aviation at Pleiku, and the other was an artillery officer with a battery around An Khe. Both pals were from Ft. Sill OCS in ‘65/66. So, let’s catch a ride back "home". It wasn't real easy. The couple of friends I’d palled around with in Australia and I parted ways and I eventually caught a C123 ride back to Dak To. A true milk-run flight, up down, on off, etc. On the last leg I was talking with a Lt. going up to Dak To to the 29th Artillery, my unit. We introduced ourselves and then he said, oh, I’m your replacement! Lt. Ted Dieumegard. I didn’t know about that, but I had been doing aerial observation FAC (Forward Air Controller) stuff for Div Arty, and as I knew Col. McAlester (sp?), it was no surprise. My survey crew had surveyed most of the artillery at the Dak To firebase and at all of the peripheral bases around that had the 105mm direct support howitzers. So, I guess I knew It was coming.
Walking thru the little "terminal", part of the Brigade Hqs., we ran into the Brigade air officer (and I can not remember his name) who was more than a bit agitated. "Skoglund" he shouted, "you’ve got to get up in the air right now and help with artillery support. Now! A helicopter is idling right here waiting for an observer". I had a slight problem with this simple request. I was in my khakis, no boots, no combat dress. My flight helmet with the mic, my maps, my M-16 (which always comes along), etc. were across the road with the 29th. Plus, I thought it might be a good idea to check back in with my unit since I’d been gone for 10 days, and to take Ted along to introduce him to the guys. Wrong thoughts. "Here’s a flak jacket, and oh, there’s no electronics on this H23, it's been red tagged but these guys need help." "These guys" were an infantry patrol 5 or 6 clicks off the west end of the airstrip that had run across some NVA. They had no way to talk with any artillery and they couldn’t reach their unit for help. I’d been an FO (Forward Observer), seen plenty of combat, and also combat where we couldn’t get adequate artillery support for almost 12 hours, where only having our own direct fire 105 battery wasn’t enough. Off I went with WO Orrin Dyer. We’d met before, but since most of my aerial work was with fixed wing L-19s (Bird Dogs), I didn’t know him well. Ted D. nodded and I wished him well. The liaison officer said he’d run across the road and tell our S3 I was back and working for him at the moment. That never happened.
I grabbed two radios he had, backpack types, PRC10 or something like that, one on the DivArty artillery frequency, the other on the infantry push. I had a topo map and compass the liaison had passed to me so I nodded to Orrin and strapped in. We flew 5 or 6 minutes due west and started looking for the infantry patrol. We were flying low (more to keep the NVA from seeing us coming than anything else) and not too slow, doing some wide circles. Almost right away I spotted a uniformed NVA and turned to give Orrin a shout. At that moment hell broke loose. The bubble was perforated with bullets and I had my right arm shattered - it was extended, holding the map. I very seldom wore a flak jacket. You couldn’t get into the rear seat of the Bird Dog with one on; they were very clunky, heavy and awkward. But, this one probably saved my life because the bullet wound was right in line with my chest. I hollered and looked at Orrin. He was slumped in the seat, with his lower jaw a bloody mess. I couldn’t move my arm; it was just hanging. The lower bones had been blown apart along with the tendons, muscles, nerves and artery. It was really shooting blood. I knew I could not squeeze my upper arm and stop the blood flow. I immediately grabbed the right stick with my good arm and locked the one between my legs with my knees. I knew we had to get out of there. We were low enough so the jungle canopy prevented more shots at us. I knew the rudiments of what it took to control the helicopter. Throttles were set and not moving, foot pedals controlled the tail rotor which determined our direction. Slowly pushing the left pedal, I got us kinda aimed at the airstrip, which I could see in the distance. I couldn’t do much with the stick (cyclic) between my knees, but we were moving forward so I concentrated on the one in my left hand (collective) that controls the up/down or the pitch of the blades. In a very erratic manner, I was returning to the airfield. I had no intention of attempting a set down near anything, and planned on hitting the dirt on either side.
I later met with an Infantry officer, 1st Lt. Dean Plager, with B Co, 3/8th inf, whose platoon was on a ridge just south and a little west of the airstrip. Those guys heard the gunfire, saw the ship wavering around and heading for home. He said "those guys are in trouble" he recalled.
As we got near the runway, I got really tired, weary and passed out - from the blood loss I suppose. I can clearly recall saying to myself: "fuck it, this is too much work" and blacking out. The last thing I remember is a brilliant white light filling my head. Lt. Plager said the helicopter all of a sudden went straight up and fell backward to the ground and exploded. He thought it went maybe 150 feet or so up before it started flying more like a rock.
I vaguely recall a fellow carrying/dragging me to a 3/4 ton truck and fighting to get me in the seat. He took me to the triage medical unit on the runway and I think I heard them mumbling while cutting off my khakis. I was burned on the left side of my face, my left arm and left leg, along with the gunshot. According to my records, I was given morphine and blood plasma. I next awoke in the 71st Evac Hospital at Camp Holloway, outside Pleiku, a former French site with an airfield. I was strapped to a bed so I couldn’t roll over with the many IVs, and with my arm extended on a bracket arrangement bolted to the bed. It kept my arm elevated and stable. The hospital/airfield complex was attacked that night by the NVA and in the space of 5 minutes or so, 2 122mm rockets exploded in the wing I was in. Many aircraft were destroyed, and we had small arms fire perforating the tin sides of the hospital, all up high though. Lots of commotion as the place was overflowing with Tet casualties and slicks coming in continuously. But that’s a separate story.
-- Larry Skoglund --
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On Feb. 3, 1968, an OH23 observation helicopter pilot, Orrin Leonard Dyer Jr., was hit by small arms fire while directing artillery fire into an area we were receiving mortar fire from. His unit was "HHB DIV ARTY 4 INF" Artillery spotter for the 4th Infantry Division.
Remembering the day:
This is an email conversation between two ATC men, Ernie Camacho and Tom Theobald, who were involved in this tragic incident.
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Ernie Camacho:
Tom, remembering back to those days brings both good and bad memories. I remember how deeply affected you were by the OH23 pilot's death. You carried that around for a week or more before you were able to work your way through it. I do have a question about it, though: Weren't you my B man in the tower when that pilot first made radio contact with us? I believe it is Tom Scott that thinks it was Bartlett who came down out of the tower to alert the fire crew. You see? I have very vivid memories of that day, but some details get fuzzy with time.
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Tom Theobald:
As I remember that day I was playing fireman. Apparently, while I was down at GCA School in that city southwest of Saigon (forgot the name)(ed: Vung Tau), the firemen were putting out a brush fire on the northwest corner of the SF compound when a detonation cord wrapped artillery shell exploded. It killed one of the firemen and damaged the fire truck.
Because the fire crew was short one man I hopped on to help on a fire in a med tent that was started by a mortar. We were on the way back after refilling the water tank on the truck when we got the call about the OH23.
I was on the hose, foaming the chopper. Someone shouted that there were a couple of WP grenades that were in some burning fuel so I foamed them and then I turned back to the chopper, finally putting the fire out. The magnesium in the chopper was hard to extinguish. Near the grenades I saw the pilot’s helmet and picked it up, turned around while some sergeant was telling people to pull the body out. I had seen the body toasting while I was foaming the chopper, with the legs still on the pedals. I wasn’t feeling too hot and told the sergeant I wouldn’t help pulling the body out. He got pissy saying he didn’t ask me to help which was probably true but I never was able to keep my mouth shut.
I remember that I was on duty as B man when we got back to the tower. I still have a pretty strong reaction to that day.
I remember that we all thought that pilot was a pretty strong guy. He was shot and moaning and dying while he tried to land and crashed because a truck was driving right under him as he flared for touchdown. He pulled collective and rolled and dropped and ended up killing himself so he wouldn’t hurt the guys in the truck. Christ, I’m weeping now.
I’m back. Yeah, that was a tough day. The pilot was a brave and heroic man and he died. I don’t really remember how much I reacted to all that. I do remember you were pretty shaken up. We all were.
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Ernie Camacho:
Tom,
Thanks for the long message. One good thing coming out of this is that the events are getting laid out properly. My bad memories are being corrected. Your memories are clearing up some details. Maybe I can clear up some details for you too.
So, the fire truck explosion happened before the OH23 crash.
As for the explosion, what I believe exploded were the anti-personnel mines the SF camp had put out in the open area around their compound. They consisted of three 155 (175?) arty rounds, with their tails in a puddle of concrete, and with wires going back to the A camp perimeter, to be fired like a Claymore. As I remember it, the fire crew spotted the grass fire in that open area to the west of the A camp and took it upon themselves to go put it out. They didn't know about the 155s. Hell, I wouldn't have known about them but for our being there at the very beginning. I remember 3 firemen, a white, a black, and a Latino. I don't remember their names, but I remember that at least two of them lived in the room across from mine in the completed hooches. The white guy worked the truck and the other two manned hoses. I remember hearing that the Latino was badly injured in the groin. I don't remember how many were med-evac'd out. I never did hear what happened to them, so one of 'em dying is news to me. I know that the truck got hit by shrapnel, but I thought it was still usable. As you say, it was used for the OH23. I remember now that the white guy stayed with us. He's the one who told me what happened.
Now that you mention it, I do remember that the truck was on the road when we got it on the radio and directed it to the crash site.
As for the crash itself, I was talking to the pilot. I can still remember his first call. I couldn't make out what he said so I asked him to repeat. He could barely get the words out. About his 3rd try at reporting his position, my B man (Bartlett?), pointed to him, wobbling in from the NW corner. I immediately told him to just put it down on the ground, that we saw him and were sending aid. He started to do just that, descending to land, but there was a deuce and a half parked where he was headed for (there were trucks scattered around the whole resupply area). If that truck weren't there, he might have lived. But, I saw him pull up and then the chopper started gyrating around the sky. I think that he lost consciousness at that point. After several seconds of wild gyrations, it hit the ground and caught fire.
You guys in the truck were en-route already when he hit. A short while later you called to the tower that you needed more foam. I jumped out of the tower in a mad dash to load cans of foam on the 3/4 ton and get it out to you, acting as if my getting foam to you might save the day. Ha! I don't remember who I left in charge of the tower. When I got to the scene, I saw the pilot's body and knew it was all over.
When we got back, I'm sure I went back to work in the tower. So you and I were in the tower afterwards. My memory has been that you and I were in the tower when the pilot first called. I do remember that I smashed my thumbnail while loading 5 gal. foam cans. That throbbing thumb kept me awake all night, and I kept thinking about that pilot not feeling any pain now.
I didn't think that the pilot's aborting his landing was a thought-through decision to sacrifice himself. I think it was purely instinct 'cause if he hit that truck (I didn't see anyone in it) he would have crashed for sure. I think he was just trying to find a bare spot to put it down and lost consciousness during the attempt.
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Postscript by Ernie:
This conversation took place in 2005. It is only now, in 2021 that I am able to identify the pilot, I think. CWO Dyer is the only observation helicopter pilot who died on Feb. 3, 1967. I hesitated before posting this conversation to the Story page. I worry that Dyer's family did not know the circumstances around his death, and if they were to find it here, it might be a shock. I decided to post it for history, as all of this website is dedicated to that end.
I also just learned, from the information below, that there was a second person in the helicopter, Larry Skoglund, who was wounded but survivied.
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Here is the information I found on the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association website:
Information on U.S. Army helicopter OH-23G tail number 64-15300
Date: 02/03/1968
Incident number: 68020311.KIA
Unit: HHB DIV ARTY 4 INF
This was a Combat incident. This helicopter was LOSS TO INVENTORY
This was a Recon mission for Unarmed Recon
While in Operations Area this helicopter was at Level Flight at 0800 feet and 070 knots.
South Vietnam
UTM grid coordinates: ZA010217 (To see this location on a map, go to https://legallandconverter.com/p50.html and search on Grid Reference 48PZA010217) [note from ernie: this grid reference is not correct]
Helicopter took 2 hits from:
Small Arms/Automatic Weapons; Gun launched non-explosive ballistic projectiles less than 20 mm in size. (7.62MM)
Systems damaged were: PERSONNEL, STRUCTURE
Casualties = 01 WIA, 01 KIA . .
The helicopter Crashed. Aircraft Destroyed.
Both mission and flight capability were terminated.
Burned
Original source(s) and document(s) from which the incident was created or updated: Defense Intelligence Agency Helicopter Loss database. Survivability/Vulnerability Information Analysis Center Helicopter database. Also: OPERA, LNNF, FM232, CASRP (Operations Report. Lindenmuth New Format Data Base. Casualty Report. )
Loss to Inventory
Crew Members:
P CW2 DYER ORRIN LEONARD JR KIA
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Additional information about this casualty:
WO Orrin Dyer, from Rumney, NH, was one of our pilots who lost his life at Dak To. WO Dyer had 4 children and I can't imagine the grief that family went through on that Feb. day in 1968. Larry S. was with Orrin that day and I know he is fortunate to be with us today. Larry remembers more from that day than he probably wants to... and I feel for him. It was on this site that I found Larry, and we converse often. There are many stories, a lot of them sad ones, but I know Orrin Dyer loved life and was a happy man who spoke often of his children. He joked, loved to sit up at night and chat, and was concerned for the safety of all of us. We can honor these men by remembering their bravery and telling others about them. I challenge everyone to tell a good story about a VN friend in their honor. Let us not forget any veteran from any war. God Bless and welcome home brothers.
PS. I am in contact even today with that young AO Larry Skoglund who was the WIA with Orrin that day. I spoke with WO Dyer's family a couple of years ago and reminded them how much he spoke of and loved them. Thanks for keeping records.
From: Paul Gardner
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Another witness: Norm Spaulding, 4th ID officer:
The OH23 that crashed outside the wire.
I was sitting in the Outhouse which faced to the West, I believe, looking across the active. I noticed this OH23 inbound at low altitude and he appeared to be out of control – rising, falling, obviously in trouble. I remember immediately thinking that it was our 1st Brigade bird and it would have been flown by our WO1. I started to finish my business and continued to watch the 23 as the oscillations were becoming more erratic. Probably in less than a minute, he crashed just outside of the wire. By then I had pulled up my pants and was running toward the scene. I immediately got hung up in several layers of concertina wire. I remember being really stuck and finally ended up ripping my pants to get over the wire. I felt like I must have been hung up for an hour, but in reality, I am sure it was for no more than a minute or so.
I continued on across the active and approached the 23, There were a lot of guys there, mostly standing around. There was nothing any of us could have done. By then, the bird was almost completely consumed by the fire; the heat was intense. I remember that our Brigade S4, a big black Major by the name of Myzik, was trying to get some people to help him throw a canvas sling around the engine that was the largest part of the bird that had not been consumed by the fire.
I remember being able to see the charred remains of the pilot. The remains were all intermingled and I remember thinking that they are going to have a hell of a time extricating the body. I also remember that the arms of the body were folded over what appeared to be the head. I thought that bringing your arms up to protect your face would have been instinctive. Like all the others standing around, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do anything. I believe that medics and some emergency vehicles began to arrive so I left. It was obvious that the bird had been hit by ground fire and most likely the pilot had been hit and was unable to control the crash. I later heard scuttlebutt that the bird had been hit by a 12.7mm (.50 Cal). I remember it like it was yesterday and I can still smell the stench of burning fuel and body parts. I guess I thought about that incident for the rest of the day. I flew a lot in those days with the FACS and on other missions. This could have happened to me just as it happened to that guy in the OH23. I didn’t give that thought more than a moment’s notice.
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First-Person Report:
Now, in 2021, I've managed to digitize and transcribe audio tapes I made during this time. On one tape, I tell my family the story of what had just happened. Before you read that report, I must confess that the memory-hole fooled me. In my conversation, above, I'm thinking that I am the A controller, the man with the mike, while Bartlett was the B man, logging flights on a clipboard. In reality it seems it was the opposite. I was the B man. It just goes to show how you can re-write your own memories of an event. I'm grateful that I can now correct that memory, thanks to my reporting:
I went on duty at 12 o'clock to relieve the, uh, people that were going to chow, and John Bartlett, my roommate, and I, we were both on duty, when all of a sudden this, uh, pilot in an OH23, that's one of these real light observation helicopters, came up on guard and, uh, called in for help, and we knew right off that he was in bad trouble because he could hardly even talk to us, you know, he was having a hard time breathing and, and -- he was just in bad shape. We could tell right off that he was shot. He was covering, uh, an artillery bombardment off to the northwest of us, right to the north of the LOC area, that one and a half miles out, we've been hittin' that, that general area for the past four or five days because that's the general location we've been mortared from every time.
Anyway, it appears that he got shot by Charlie, you know, some ground to air fire hit him, and he was just barely able to hold his own, to, uh, stay conscious, control his aircraft, a light helicopter, and he was trying to land it on the LOC, couldn't talk, uh, man, it was, it was pretty bad just listening to him on the radio, and we saw him out there and my A man, I was just sitting there as B man, wasn't really doing anything, so the A man got on the stick and tried to call, uh, the medevac. I tried to call the, uh, crash crew, our fire truck, to get out there, and we couldn't get ahold of anybody, there wasn't anything we could do, so all we could do was just sit there and stare at this guy and just pray that he put that thing down, you know, 'cause those are real flimsy aircraft, and he almost did put it down, he started comin' down nice and slow, I thought maybe he's got it, enough control that he'll be able to put it down and jump clear.
Well all of a sudden that, he was just gettin' ready to, oh, he's about 25 feet off the ground and I thought he was gonna come down a bit hard but he was gonna come down alright, when all of a sudden it seemed like he pulled the stick back -- straight up in the air and did a flip and started going all cockeyed. He'd, he'd stopped talking to us by then. He had it, he was continually, uh, keying it. He'd stopped talking by then, I thought for sure that he'd gone unconscious or something like that. And there wasn't a God-damned, there wasn't a darned thing we could do, just stand there and just watch him go down, and he, uh, he just went out of control, did a couple of crazy loops and then just crashed right there and burst into flames, so we knew there wasn't much chance that he could have gotten out of it. The fire truck did, uh, manage to see him, uh, swerving around in the sky, so they were on the scene before too much longer, and the guy and I in the tower, we were relieved by the people coming back from chow, and as soon as we left the tower, the, uh, fire truck needed some more foam, so we filled the, the, uh, truck, the three quarter, full of foam and we went racing out there, 'cause they were busy trying to put the fire out, of course it wasn't much use, there wasn't really much left of anything, the pilot or the plane, when we got there, kinda sickening, really.
It was even worse, seeing all these stupid people standing around, gawking at it. Trying to see what they could see just to satisfy their morbid sense of curiosity.
Well that, that whole thing, that whole little episode kinda got to me today, I guess. Well I'm kinda gettin' used to seeing bodies being brought in by the Dustoffs, unloading them over at the, uh, 4th med facility, and stuff like that is not so bad, it's just a body laid out on a stretcher. When it's somebody, you know, when you listen to him on the radio and you hear his very last words and his cry for help and all this stuff and you can't do a darned thing to help, and when you just see him burn, not too hot.
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The Rest of The Story:
In late 2021, I was contacted by Paul Gardner, via the comments section of this website. Paul was the person who wrote the additional information about Orrin Dyer on the Helicopter Pilots Assn. website (shown above):
Paul wrote:
I was CWO Orrin Dyer's Crew Chief on Feb 3rd 1968. Some of the 4th DIVARTY Pilots would welcome me to fly with them with an M-60 that I had brought with me from my TDY door gunner duty with 4th Aviation, B Co. Orrin was not fond of M-60’s hanging on OH 23’s when he was the pilot. Feb 3rd was no different. I stayed behind. FAC Lt. Larry Skoglund from the 1/8 accompanied him on this alleged 1 hour fire mission. Larry, although wounded severely, was able to get the aircraft back short of the runway. Larry was the garbled voice that called in their situation. At that point he believes CWO Dyer was already KIA as he was shot in the face.
I have devoted a chapter in my book "ONCE A BOY" to that event which includes LT Skoglund’s personal account. I can copy and paste that chapter to you.
Welcome Home Brother!
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LT Skoglund's account of the incident:
The 3rd of February 1968, some-what of an eventful day for yours truly.
I was returning from R & R in Sydney Australia. We, on the flight back, knew nothing of the Tet Offensive going on full bore in Viet Nam. The Australian news was full of the U.S. spy ship Pueblo that had been captured off the coast of North Korea, but nothing about Viet Nam. RVN was not an area of concern for the Aussies, other than their having a few troops there. We landed in RVN (I’ve forgotten where) on a civilian airliner and immediately started looking for the Officer's Club. Bad idea. The entire area was swarming with helmeted GIs, rifles and all, shouting and running every which way. A couple of us assumed amongst ourselves that some Colonel had a hard-on and was going to play war for a while. I’d wanted to look up a couple of friends on my way back up to Dak To, but soon found that was out of the question. One friend was a slick driver with the 4th Aviation at Pleiku, and the other was an artillery officer with a battery around An Khe. Both pals were from Ft. Sill OCS in ‘65/66. So, let’s catch a ride back "home". It wasn't real easy. The couple of friends I’d palled around with in Australia and I parted ways and I eventually caught a C123 ride back to Dak To. A true milk-run flight, up down, on off, etc. On the last leg I was talking with a Lt. going up to Dak To to the 29th Artillery, my unit. We introduced ourselves and then he said, oh, I’m your replacement! Lt. Ted Dieumegard. I didn’t know about that, but I had been doing aerial observation FAC (Forward Air Controller) stuff for Div Arty, and as I knew Col. McAlester (sp?), it was no surprise. My survey crew had surveyed most of the artillery at the Dak To firebase and at all of the peripheral bases around that had the 105mm direct support howitzers. So, I guess I knew It was coming.
Walking thru the little "terminal", part of the Brigade Hqs., we ran into the Brigade air officer (and I can not remember his name) who was more than a bit agitated. "Skoglund" he shouted, "you’ve got to get up in the air right now and help with artillery support. Now! A helicopter is idling right here waiting for an observer". I had a slight problem with this simple request. I was in my khakis, no boots, no combat dress. My flight helmet with the mic, my maps, my M-16 (which always comes along), etc. were across the road with the 29th. Plus, I thought it might be a good idea to check back in with my unit since I’d been gone for 10 days, and to take Ted along to introduce him to the guys. Wrong thoughts. "Here’s a flak jacket, and oh, there’s no electronics on this H23, it's been red tagged but these guys need help." "These guys" were an infantry patrol 5 or 6 clicks off the west end of the airstrip that had run across some NVA. They had no way to talk with any artillery and they couldn’t reach their unit for help. I’d been an FO (Forward Observer), seen plenty of combat, and also combat where we couldn’t get adequate artillery support for almost 12 hours, where only having our own direct fire 105 battery wasn’t enough. Off I went with WO Orrin Dyer. We’d met before, but since most of my aerial work was with fixed wing L-19s (Bird Dogs), I didn’t know him well. Ted D. nodded and I wished him well. The liaison officer said he’d run across the road and tell our S3 I was back and working for him at the moment. That never happened.
I grabbed two radios he had, backpack types, PRC10 or something like that, one on the DivArty artillery frequency, the other on the infantry push. I had a topo map and compass the liaison had passed to me so I nodded to Orrin and strapped in. We flew 5 or 6 minutes due west and started looking for the infantry patrol. We were flying low (more to keep the NVA from seeing us coming than anything else) and not too slow, doing some wide circles. Almost right away I spotted a uniformed NVA and turned to give Orrin a shout. At that moment hell broke loose. The bubble was perforated with bullets and I had my right arm shattered - it was extended, holding the map. I very seldom wore a flak jacket. You couldn’t get into the rear seat of the Bird Dog with one on; they were very clunky, heavy and awkward. But, this one probably saved my life because the bullet wound was right in line with my chest. I hollered and looked at Orrin. He was slumped in the seat, with his lower jaw a bloody mess. I couldn’t move my arm; it was just hanging. The lower bones had been blown apart along with the tendons, muscles, nerves and artery. It was really shooting blood. I knew I could not squeeze my upper arm and stop the blood flow. I immediately grabbed the right stick with my good arm and locked the one between my legs with my knees. I knew we had to get out of there. We were low enough so the jungle canopy prevented more shots at us. I knew the rudiments of what it took to control the helicopter. Throttles were set and not moving, foot pedals controlled the tail rotor which determined our direction. Slowly pushing the left pedal, I got us kinda aimed at the airstrip, which I could see in the distance. I couldn’t do much with the stick (cyclic) between my knees, but we were moving forward so I concentrated on the one in my left hand (collective) that controls the up/down or the pitch of the blades. In a very erratic manner, I was returning to the airfield. I had no intention of attempting a set down near anything, and planned on hitting the dirt on either side.
I later met with an Infantry officer, 1st Lt. Dean Plager, with B Co, 3/8th inf, whose platoon was on a ridge just south and a little west of the airstrip. Those guys heard the gunfire, saw the ship wavering around and heading for home. He said "those guys are in trouble" he recalled.
As we got near the runway, I got really tired, weary and passed out - from the blood loss I suppose. I can clearly recall saying to myself: "fuck it, this is too much work" and blacking out. The last thing I remember is a brilliant white light filling my head. Lt. Plager said the helicopter all of a sudden went straight up and fell backward to the ground and exploded. He thought it went maybe 150 feet or so up before it started flying more like a rock.
I vaguely recall a fellow carrying/dragging me to a 3/4 ton truck and fighting to get me in the seat. He took me to the triage medical unit on the runway and I think I heard them mumbling while cutting off my khakis. I was burned on the left side of my face, my left arm and left leg, along with the gunshot. According to my records, I was given morphine and blood plasma. I next awoke in the 71st Evac Hospital at Camp Holloway, outside Pleiku, a former French site with an airfield. I was strapped to a bed so I couldn’t roll over with the many IVs, and with my arm extended on a bracket arrangement bolted to the bed. It kept my arm elevated and stable. The hospital/airfield complex was attacked that night by the NVA and in the space of 5 minutes or so, 2 122mm rockets exploded in the wing I was in. Many aircraft were destroyed, and we had small arms fire perforating the tin sides of the hospital, all up high though. Lots of commotion as the place was overflowing with Tet casualties and slicks coming in continuously. But that’s a separate story.
-- Larry Skoglund --
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