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“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.
