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Huge cache sites were being loca
ted across the area because the NVA were using trucks to move supplies in Cambodia from a port in Cambodia where ships would deliver the supplies. In South Vietnam, cache sites were seldom found, and they were never very large, because there, bicycles were used to distribute small quantities of supplies to the NVA as soon as they entered the country. The use of trucks led to large three- and four-acre supply depots, and the NVA were determined to protect these huge cache sites. The division didn’t change its tactics of rapidly moving company-sized units that were lightly equipped. As each cache site was discovered, grunts inventoried the contents and either removed the materiel or blew it in place. In order to remove it, helicopters were called upon. Between combat assaults, resupply of our own grunts, and now the Vietnamese Army units that were attached to the division, as well as backhauling the captured materiel, we were flying more than ever. And now the press wanted stories.
Up until this point, the press was never seen, at least by us, unless they wanted a ride someplace. The only “press” I recalled seeing in the Chicken Coop was an actor who was visiting us for the day. He was the guy that played Tarzan in a television series at the time. Hell, he wouldn’t even fight our rooster! With the assault into Cambodia, the press now found everything about us interesting.
“Wake up, Mr. Cory, you have a zero six hundred launch to Camp Gorvad,” the ops clerk informed me. “The rest of your crew is up and moving.”
“Okay, I’m awake.” I started rolling out from under my mosquito net. “What’s the mission for today?”
“You’ll love this one. You’re flying some public affairs officer and the press around.”
“What did I ever do to piss off you guys in Ops?” I asked. He just laughed as he walked out of the hooch.
Flying over, we were directed to land at the VIP pad at Camp Gorvad. Why the hell isn’t Eleventh Aviation Group VIP flight platoon handling this? Bill, where the hell are you? I wondered. Could it be that we had so many VIPs, they’d run out of aircraft? Sad that the division was of no interest when we were operating in Vietnam, but something like this suddenly had everyone interested. As we were waiting, a clerk came out and said it would be a couple of minutes, so we rolled the throttle back and waited.
“Here they come, Mr. Cory. Holy shit, I know this guy! I mean, I’ve watched him on TV,” Lovelace said.
“Yeah, who is it?” my copilot asked as they were approaching from the rear.
“It’s Harry Reasoner,” Lovelace responded. Mr. Reasoner introduced himself to each of us as he climbed into the aircraft. The guy was so down to earth right from the start. Not at all what I’d expected. The major from the public affairs office gave us a rundown of what Harry wanted to see as well as do, and I said okay to all of it. Pretty standard stuff, as he wanted to go to a couple of firebases, one US and one Vietnamese, as well as tag along on a combat assault. I had to make some calls to find where one was going down. For us, it was an easy day, which we would pay for the next morning.
Again we were hauling reporters, but not Harry. This time it was a news crew of three guys with cameras, recorders and an announcer. I had never seen these guys before, nor did they give us a clue who they worked for. Their egos were getting in the way. They wanted to go in on a combat assault, and we found one for them. The flight was a six-two combination. I suggested that they fly in on the initial assault, get on the ground and film the second lift come in and depart on the third lift. I would take them in, drop them off, bring troops in on the second and third lift and haul them out after the third lift. From there it would be back to Camp Gorvad, where they would catch a fixed-wing aircraft back to Saigon and they could file their story. They thought it was a great idea, and I finalized it with the flight leader for the mission.
Initially everything went as planned. Artillery went in; gunships rolled hot; slicks touched down; slicks came out to pick up second lift. We arrived back at the PZ, and grunts on the second turn around jumped in the aircraft and we proceeded to the LZ. As the aircraft were on final approaching the LZ, gunfire started hitting aircraft, intense small-arms fire. The ground commander waved the second liftoff and directed us to a new LZ that was about two klicks from the original intended LZ. Ground contact intensified, and for the next two days, that company was in heavy contact. The press crew couldn’t be lifted out. Within the first thirty minutes of the fighting, they had used all their film. They had no water or food with them. They remained with the grunts for those two days until everyone could be extracted. After two days of flying the press pool around, I was back to flying normal slick missions, thankfully.
As the days wore on, aircraft continued to take hits and so did crew members. The initial assault on May 1, 1970, might have been a surprise to the NVA, but they bounced back quickly, and on May 7, they had a surprise for us. Four of our aircraft, led by one of our experienced captains as flight leader, were directed to join a flight of three from our sister company, Bravo. As their company commander was in the flight, he assumed command of the flight as flight leader.
“Flight, this is Green One. I will be leading this flight. Chickenman Two-Four, are your aircraft all up on frequency?” he asked of our flight leader. Green One was the same flight leader who had taken Lou and me through an artillery strike a couple of months before. I was not a happy camper about following him around again.
“Roger, Green One, all Chicken-men are monitoring,” Chicken-man Two-Four responded.
“Roger, Flight. We have a fourteen-sortie lift and will do it in two turns. Enemy situation is that Night Hunter took eleven hits last night crossing this LZ. Enemy strength is unknown at this time. We’re inserting a rifle company initially and may have to reinforce later. We have three aircraft from my unit, and they’ll be Chalks Two and Three, with Chicken-man being Four through Seven. Lobo is providing two aircraft and Blue Max will provide four. The LZ is outside of artillery range, which is why we’re heavy with Cobras. Formation will be staggered right,” he briefed us as the grunts climbed aboard. They didn’t look happy.
Chief Warrant Officer Second Class Bill Hess was an experienced AC, but today he was playing copilot to a brand-new AC, First Lieutenant Jaquoff. Major Sundstrum had asked Bill to fly right seat with him since it was his first time out as an AC. Bill was in his fifteenth month flying in-country.
“Is someone nuts or what? We’re going into an LZ that the Night Hunter took fire from, and without artillery coverage?” Bill said. He knew it wasn’t smart to operate outside of artillery range and with only six Cobra gunships.
The new AC, a lieutenant with all of four months in-country, told Bill, “The major knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry about it.” In the opinion of most of the warrant officers, this lieutenant was a twin to Lieutenant Dick Weed. Get rid of one and another pops up. As the flight lifted off with the troops on board, a staggered right formation was taken up with Cobras on the flanks.
En route to the LZ, Blue Max called Green One. “Green One, Blue Max Two-Zero.”
“Blue Max Two-Zero, Green One, go ahead.”
“Green One, we’ve just been pulled from this mission to cover a unit in heavy contact. Sorry, but we’re leaving your formation. Lobo’s staying with you. Good luck.”
Chicken-man Two-Four came up immediately. “Green One, Chicken-man Two-Four.”
“Go ahead, Chicken-man Two-Four.”
“Green One, what are your intentions now that we have only two gunships with us?”
“Chicken-man Two-Four, this doesn’t change the mission. We will continue,” Green One responded.
“Green One, that doesn’t make any sense. This LZ was hot less than eight hours ago, and we have no artillery support and only two gunships. Does the ground commander know we’re down to just two Cobras?” Chicken-man Two-Four asked.13
“Chicken-man Two-Four, this mission is a go. At one minute out, we will engage. Green One out.” The irritation in Green One’s voice was obvious.
Shortly thereafter, the LZ came into view. It was larger than three football fields, with a small clump of brush in the middle. Seven aircraft in staggered right formation could easily fit. That was the good news. At H minus one, Lobo rolled hot, expending his rockets, and the door gunners opened fire, as did two .51-caliber machine guns and three .30-caliber machine guns from the tree line and one .51-caliber machine gun from the clump of brush in the middle of the LZ. Before the aircraft could land, all were taking hits. Battalion policy had always been that when aircraft were taking intense fire before even getting to the ground, the insertion would be aborted. Green One couldn’t rise in rank to make general by observing this policy, though. He did not abort.
