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“One, this is Two, we’re up,” Mike reported to Reid on the company UHF.
“Roger, repositioning at this time,” Reid responded and moved the flight to the waiting stacks of ammunition to be delivered.
As Mike repositioned next to his load, Kelly and Smith hopped out and began helping the ARVN soldier with loading. At the same time, Mike began instructing Lieutenant Bond. “When we get in there, we’ll kick this ammo out as fast as possible and then load the three advisors. That’s going to be slow, so if we’re not taking fire, Kelly and Smith will give the Vietnamese a hand getting the advisors aboard.”
“Why can’t medevac bring them out? Aren’t they in the area?” asked Bond.
“Medevac only brings out the living, sir.” No further discussion was needed, but instructions were once Kelly and Smith were back on the aircraft. “Kelly, RA, when we get on the ground, if you can leave your guns, help the ARVNs get the advisors on board fast. I want minimum time on the ground. Understood?”
Kelly and Smith acknowledged.
“Chicken-man Two-Five, this is Lead. Let’s take one-minute separation. That should give time to unload and get out of the way.”
“Roger Lead,”Mike agreed and looked to Bond, who nodded in understanding.
“Two-Five, give me an up when you’re all loaded.”
“Roger, Lead, we’re ready to go.”
“Two-Seven, on the go,” Reid said as he pulled pitch and initiated a shallow climb to clear the trees and remain at treetop level.
“Patterson, how does Mr. George look back there?” Lieutenant Bellem asked.
“Mr. George, looks good, sir, with about one-minute separation,” Patterson responded leaning out of the aircraft and looking back.
Flying north of Firebase Six, Reid circled around to set up a west-to-east approach, avoiding the north end of the firebase and his previous final approach path. About five minutes out, Reid called Mike as they approached the firebase.
“Two-Five, the friendlies hold the south side of the firebase. There’s an orange panel on the south side between the berm and what appears to be a command bunker. Try and drop your load on the panel. I’ll get out as quick as I can to clear the pad for you. Any questions?”
Mike responded, “Two is good.”
“Two minutes out.” Navigation was no problem as the firebase was on a small hilltop and smoke from the engagement could easily be seen as they raced into the cauldron of tracer rounds, green and red.
“Gordon, get light on the controls,” Reid instructed as a precaution so Gordon could take control of the aircraft immediately in case he was hit. This was a common practice in the unit. Mike was telling Bond the same thing at this point.
“Roger.” Gordon’s eyes danced between the instruments and the front window.
“Guns up,” the crew indicated as they bored into the firebase.
“Gambler Four-One, Chicken-man inbound, flight of two. Chalk Two to pick up the advisors. Two minutes out with one-minute separation. Over.”
“Roger, Chicken-man, situation is same-o-same-o.”
“Understood.”
Before the aircraft cleared the tree line, small-arms fire was directed at the aircraft. At two hundred feet and ninety knots airspeed, Reid was about to commence a rapid deceleration. NVA soldiers all along the wire turned to see the aircraft, and Craig opened fire with his M60. From the sounds, Patterson was doing the same. Hammer blows told everyone they were taking hits on the aircraft. The nose started to come up in preparation for the deceleration. Suddenly, Craig was no longer looking down at the ground firing his weapon but up at blue sky as the nose of the aircraft pitched violently upward and the aircraft spun to the left. Craig could do nothing but hang on, thinking, We’ve lost the tail rotor. Patterson was hanging on, watching the ground approaching in a spin towards him. He jettisoned his M60, knowing they were about to crash. The spin was so fast, the nose so high, Craig hadn’t noticed that only half a rotor blade now existed as a loud noise overwhelmed him and darkness closed over him.
One minute behind, the radio pedestal between Mike and Bond showered both with shrapnel as enemy rounds came through the radios and then walked through the engine instruments on the forward panel. Pulling in power and increasing his speed, Mike made a snap decision that they needed to get out of there and quick. Another burst of fire found its mark as Mike pitched forward and blood sprayed his side of the cockpit.
“Oh shit, I’m hit,” Mike cried out. Lieutenant Bond’s instincts had him assume the flight controls as Mike was in a lot of pain. Both Kelly and Smith engaged
the ground fire as the aircraft sped towards Dak To and away from Firebase Six.
“Where are you hit?” Kelly finally asked as he left his gun and grabbed one of the four first aid kits, briefly looking back at the aircraft lying on its side outside the wire on Firebase Six. He received no answer and then realized that the intercom system wasn’t working as all the radios had been shot to pieces. Coming forward once the shooting stopped, Kelly moved behind Mike. Looking down, he could see that Mike’s right leg was bleeding a lot but not gushing, which meant that the main artery hadn’t been severed.
“Here, Mr. George, pack this against the wound,” Kelly yelled above the aircraft noise as he handed Mike a field dressing. It appeared that the round had hit Mike’s lower calf and exited just below the knee. Kelly could see that Mike was in a lot of pain.
Lieutenant Bond continued to fly the aircraft, hoping that the engine or transmission or any one of a dozen essential elements on the UH-1H hadn’t been damaged. When he approached Dak To, three other Chicken-man aircraft were in the refuel point, and Lieutenant Bond set his approach right to them. As he did so, Lieutenant Frank Zuccardi, standing in front of his aircraft, noticed the lone aircraft and its rapid approach. Something isn’t right, he was thinking when he noticed the holes in the nose and the red stain on the aircraft commander’s chin bubble. Shit, someone’s hit! Frank moved to the incoming aircraft.
