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“Mr. Reid, did I miss something in your brief? Were you expecting that much fire?” asked Patterson, sitting back in his seat.
“You missed nothing. No one said anything about a hot LZ until we got here. Now I know why the chickenshit Vietnamese colonel didn’t come with us on this run!” Reid stated with disgust.
“Well, looks like someone is buying beer tonight, right, Lieutenant?” Patterson asked. Lieutenant Bellem just nodded.
Neither the US advisor nor the ARVN colonel were at the airfield when the aircraft arrived back at Dak To, and Reid couldn’t raise anyone on FM radio.
“After we refuel, let’s shut down and check the bird over,” Reid directed the crew.
Shutting the aircraft dow
n, everyone got out. No one said anything. Slowly, first Patterson and then Craig began to look the aircraft over. Craig started cleaning the guns and checking the ammo. They were going to need more, he felt, so he went to get some. It was only 0930, and they had already burned through half their normal load of six thousand rounds. The tail boom had a few new air vents, but nothing to consider as the tail boom was empty hollow space for the most part. The tail rotor drive shaft was on the very top, and four quarter-inch metal cables ran down the sides to control the tail rotor. As long as none of them were damaged, you were good to go.
As they sat waiting for the advisor to come back or contact them, Reid noticed another Chicken-man aircraft approaching the refuel point. Once it was refueled, it repositioned close to where Reid had parked. The aircraft nose had the traditional Chicken-man chicken with the name Iron Butterfly and the number 150. This was Mike George’s aircraft and his crew chief was Specialist Mike Kelly. Specialist Ronald Smith was the door gunner but everyone called him RA as his middle name began with an A. RA in Army lingo stood for Regular Army, and Smith was Regular Army, not a draftee. RA had replaced Kelly’s previous door gunner, Conrad, who had rotated home. Reid walked over to speak to Mike George once the aircraft rolled back to flight idle.
“Hey, Mike. What you guys doing?” Reid asked.
“Reid, how goes it?” Mike replied, not answering the initial question as he was filling out the logbook for the flight he had just completed.
“Right now, I would have to say not good for the guys on Firebase Six,” Reid stated, looking past Mike at his copilot, First Lieutenant Benjamin “Ben” Bond, a relatively new pilot who occupied the right seat.
“How so?” Bond asked.
Reid explained the situation on Firebase Six and the fact that it was about to be overrun unless some support got in there fast. As Reid explained the situation, Mike finished filling out the logbook and climbed out of the left seat.
“Well, we’re working for the same people as you and just finished a resupply to a unit north of here. Haven’t heard what they have next for us, so we’re just waiting on them to get back on the next load,” Mike said as he began pawing through a case of C-rations.
Reid headed back to his aircraft, where Craig and Patterson had finished their chores and were napping in the cargo area. After a half hour, a jeep with the US advisor aboard came to a stop in front of Reid.
“Mr. Reid, we need a couple of more resupply runs into Firebase Six. That last run helped, but they’re still under a lot of pressure. How soon can you go?” the advisor asked. Patterson and Craig began climbing into their chicken plates.
“Sir, I can be off as soon as your sling load is ready, but first, what’s the enemy situation up there? No one said anything about half the perimeter being overrun until I was on short final. Got the piss shot out of my tail boom,” Reid answered and asked. The advisor could sense that Reid was not a happy camper.
“Sorry, but I thought Colonel Trien had briefed you on the situation up there,” the advisor answered.
“Sir, with all due respect for his rank, that chickenshit colonel didn’t tell me squat except fly at ten thousand feet.”
“Okay, the situation is that Firebase Six is under a full-scale attack with at least three advisors killed. The northern half has been captured, and if you don’t get a resupply of ammo in to them, there’s a good chance the entire firebase will be captured before long,” the advisor explained. “It’ll have to be internal loads. We don’t have any more slings.”
“How many loads do you have, sir?” Reid asked with a concerned look on his face, thinking that one trip was possible, two was risky and three was outright dangerous at this point.
“We got two loads—small arms, mortar rounds, medical supplies, and a backhaul of wounded if you can. We also have three advisors to get out,” the advisor said, not needing to explain the condition of the advisors.
“Excuse me, sir,” Mike said as he approached the advisor.
“Mr. George, I thought you guys left after that last resupply.”
“Well, sir, we came in here to refuel and Reid explained the situation. We have negative comms with our Ops and technically we still work for you, sooo…I can join up with Reid to get this stuff in and your wounded out.”
“God, that would be great. I’ll get them motivated to get the loads together and have them waiting for you in thirty minutes,” the advisor said, climbing back into the jeep.
Mike gathered his crew around him and stepped back to let Reid give the mission brief.
“Mike, you want to give the mission brief? You’re the senior aircraft commander,” Reid said, looking at Mike.
“This is your mission, Roger. You’ve been in there and we haven’t. You’ll be Flight Lead and I’ll be Chalk Two. Great, never take your aircraft into the same LZ the same way three times. Now we’re taking two aircraft into the same LZ for a second time, the same way, and I’m the second aircraft. I’m going to get shot to shit on this one, Mike was thinking.
Reid went into a detailed explanation of the situation on the ground, the flight path, altitude, and airspeed, as well as checkpoints to and from the firebase and the touchdown point or kick-out point for the aircraft. When everyone was satisfied and understood the plan, both crews returned to their aircraft and started the engines.
