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“Clear above.”
The aircraft came to a hover and we started backing out of the revetment. Once clear of the revetment, a pedal turn to the right and we were hover-taxiing to the runway with the rest of the Chicken Pen aircraft cranking engines, hovering to take off or already heading down the runway. The unit had twenty aircraft of which about sixteen were ready for missions each day. Those on the ground were in various stages of required inspections and maintenance. Those eight pilots were also sleeping in for the day.
As we hit the runway, Mr. Leak dropped the nose and pulled in the power, climbing out above the rubber trees that covered the base. The sun was coming up in the east and the sky was clear as we turned south and headed for Bien Hoa, which was a major facility in the Three Corps area. First Cav Division Rear was located there along with major Air Force elements, to include fighter aircraft, transport aircraft and a major POW camp. People departing on or returning from R&R would travel through here, catching airline flights to such places as Hawaii, which was the destination for most married men to meet wives. Singapore, Sydney, Tokyo, Kuala Lumpur, and Bangkok were the other popular destinations. There was a large post exchange as well for support of all the people located on Bien Hoa. The Army elements generally were located on the north side and the Air Force elements on the south side of the runway.
The Air Force liked keeping the Army on the opposite side of the runway. Seems when the First Cav moved down from the central highlands, this was the first really nice place they had been and things got out of hand that first night. Someone was kicked out of the Air Force NCO club and the result was a CS riot gas grenade being tossed back into the club. The Cav was uninvited after that for some time.
As it was mid-February 1969, the memory of Tet 1968 was fresh in the minds of the powers that be, so two infantry battalions were operating about nine to twelve klicks north of the base. About seven klicks was the range of the 120 mm mortar. The Fifth NVA Division was operating in this region along with Viet Cong, the indigenous guerrilla fighters.
“Dan, call Lai Khe Arty and get us clearance to Bien Hoa,” Mr. Leak said.
I switched to FM1. “Lai Khe Arty, Chickenman Two-Three, over.”
“Chicken-man Two-Three, Lai Khe Arty, over,” they came back to me.
“Lai Khe Arty, Chicken-man Two-Three is Lai Khe to Bien Hoa at three thousand.”
“Chicken-man Two-Three, you are clear all the way.” Must be a quiet day for the big guns this morning.
We left FM 1 on the Arty frequency to monitor. FM 2 was on the frequency of the unit we were going to support. UHF radio was for air-to-air communications, with the VHF radio tuned to Bien Hoa tower. At times, you would be listening to conversations on all four radios at the same time and, surprisingly, keeping up with what was important on all four.
Mr. Leak started pointing out important landmarks as we headed to the unit we were supporting for the day. “Phuoc Vinh off to the left. Highway 13 running from Lai Khe south to Saigon is over on the right. That’s the Song Dong Nai River, which comes down from Song Be and runs right north of Bien Hoa. It’s a major supply route for Charlie.”
“Is that a Navy landing craft I see on the river?” I asked.
“Yeah. He’s been there for a month now patrolling the river. They’re trying to prevent Charlie from moving rockets and supplies down the river at night. Last year for TET, that was a major supply route for Charlie into Saigon,” Mr. Leak offered.
“Do they move all their supplies that way?”
“No, I’ve heard from the guys that fly the Night Hunter missions that the gooks will chop a notch in the trees and place a candle in the notch to mark a trail to bring supplies down on bikes. I’ve hauled some of those bikes out when the grunts have found them. You’ll be hauling all sorts of captured stuff, from bikes to rice to prisoners. You name it, you’ll haul it. Call Sabre Six and let them know we’re inbound.”
Sabre Six was the call sign of the battalion we were supporting for the day. The firebase they were operating on was just coming into view. “Saber Six, Chicken-man Two-Three, over.”
“Chicken-man Two-Three, Saber Six India4, we’ve been expecting you. Come on in and shut it down,” the radio squawked.
“Saber Six India, Chicken-man Two-Three, roger,” I squawked back.
“Crap!” grumbled Mr. Leak. “I hope we’re not going to be sitting on our asses all day. Howard, you may need to come up with a maintenance need in Bien Hoa. I’ll give you the sign if necessary.”
Mr. Leak was looking at the fast-approaching firebase. “I hate sitting on my ass waiting for these guys to get their shit together for our missions. Some units have got everything ready to go first thing in the morning when we arrive. This unit never has it together, and we may sit all day until late this afternoon before they have anything for us. When that happens, Howard always has a maintenance issue that we have to go into Bien Hoa to take care of, like get a hamburger or a beer.”
As we circled the firebase, we could see the log pad where we were to land as all the various supplies going out that day were being positioned to load the aircraft. Cases of C-rations, water cans, mailbags and ammo cases, to name a few items. A grunt was standing at one side of the pad, raising his arms as a ground guide. Mr. Leak turned onto our final approach path and began explaining the approach to me.
“When we’re at about fifteen feet, the dust is going to start coming up. Before you get to that point, you want to have your touchdown point picked out and your glide angle set and just lower your power and speed. At about ten to five feet, it’ll be difficult to see below you but easier to judge your speed and rate of descent by looking with your peripheral vision. At about five feet, you’ll see the ground through your chin bubble and just set it down. You do not want to be hovering around in this dust.” And we touched down. “Any questions?”
“Nope,” I answered.
“Good, the next approach is yours. Shut us down, then follow me over to the TOC for our briefing and let’s hope they got it together today.” Howard and the door gunner opened our doors and then returned to the guns and started cleaning the dust from them, using paintbrushes to get the grit out of the receivers and ammo. At this point I was fascinated with what I saw going on all around me. Shirtless grunts were going about their morning tasks, shaving, standing guard on the perimeter, writing letters, playing cards. Even the ever-present shit-burning detail was busy stirring the pot. From the looks of things, everyone was doing something different, with nothing organized but everything efficient, I would learn.
“Bring your map, Dan.” Ah, it’s Dan and not New Guy. We walked over to the TOC, or Tactical Operations Center, which was located in the center of the firebase. Five 105 mm howitzers were on one side and behind the TOC were four 81 mm mortars. All was quiet from the guns. The TOC was two metal CONEX containers with open doors facing each other, buried in the ground ten feet with corrugated metal covering the opening between them and everything topped with two layers of sandbags. This was surrounded with three rows of concertina wire. Inside this area, the operations of the battalion were tracked and directed.
When we entered, a captain greeted us. “Good morning, you must be Chicken-man Two-Three. Glad to see you this fine day,” he said as he approached Mr. Leak.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Mr. Leak and this is New Guy.” Damn, back to New Guy.
“Good morning, sir. Mr. Cory,” I said as I extended my hand, and he took it with a smile.
“So am I, Mr. Cory. Been here a week myself.” Ah, camaraderie between New Guys.
