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“Major, sir, the battalion commander is on the phone for you,” announced First Sergeant Miller, standing in the doorway to the major’s office.
“Thanks, Top.” Adams reached for his phone. “Major Adams here, sir.”
“How are things in the Chicken Coop today, Major?” the battalion commander asked. Lieutenant Colonel Shelton was commander of the 52nd Aviation Battalion, to which Chicken-man had been attached on their move north from Lai Khe to Camp Holloway. He and Major Adams had hit it off right away.
“Sir, okay today,” Adams answered, wondering what was coming next. He knew this wasn’t a social call.
“Good. Let’s make it better than okay. Stand down your company tomorrow. No missions, although you do have one assignment tomorrow,” Lieutenant Colonel Shelton said.
“Sir?” was all Major Adams could say, a bit in shock that they were getting a stand-down day.
“Tomorrow, Major Brayboy, commander of the 173rd Assault Helicopter Company, will be giving a briefing at ten hundred hours in the mess hall on the actions and lessons learned in Lam Son 719. I want your pilots to hear the briefing, so you get a stand-down.”
“Sir, I know Major Brayboy. The Robin Hoods lived next to us in Lai Khe. Be glad to hear what he has to say.”
“Good. I may come by myself to listen to it as well if I can get away. This should give your maintenance people a little breather.”
“Sir, I know the entire company will appreciate having a down day. Can I ask, sir, when are my three aircraft that were attached to the Robin Hoods coming back to me?” Major Adams really wanted them back.
“They didn’t get attached to the Robin Hoods but were farmed out to whoever needed additional aircraft at the last minute. They got jerked around a lot I understand having talked with the battalion commander for the 223rd Aviation Battalion Commander. He said they did a great job. Those three should be back to you sometime today, unless they decided to fly over to the coast and spend a couple of days at the beach.
“Sir, they best not do that,” the major said very slowly. Continuing, “With our maintenance availability I need those three aircraft back here now. With my luck, those guys would go sun bathing and get sunburned so bad, Doc Christeson would ground them for three days.”
“Well, you folks have a good day tomorrow. You deserve it. Good job getting Lieutenant Thacker out of there.”
“Sir, he saved seven of my people. Getting him out is the least we could do for him. We’ve put him in for a commendation for his actions. It should be on your desk today.”
“I spoke with the commander of the Twenty-Second MACV Advisor Group, Colonel Mitchell, as well as the artillery battalion commander. They are both putting him in for an award. I’ll send your recommendation over to Colonel Mitchell to support their comments. Which award are you putting him in for?” Lieutenant Colonel Shelton asked.
“Sir, I talked to my guys, and the overwhelming consensus was for a Medal of Honor.”
“That’s going to require a strong recommendation and support, but that’s the same thing Colonel Mitchell is thinking. Good—as soon as I see it, I’ll endorse it and send it forward.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Well, enjoy your stand-down. Your guys deserve it. See you tomorrow,” Lieutenant Colonel Shelton said before he hung up.
Placing the phone back in the receiver, the major looked up and saw the first sergeant standing in the door.
“Good news, sir?” the First Sergeant asked.
“We have a stand-down tomorrow, Top. The pilots have to attend a briefing in the morning, but aside from that…we have the day off,” the major said with a smile on his face.
“I’ll notify the mess hall to be ready for afternoon burgers and steaks. The boys deserve as much.”
“Okay, and I’m going over to Ops to tell Captain Curran,” the major said, standing and picking up his hat. They both departed and headed in different directions to get things ready for the next day.
Walking into Operations, the major saw Captain Curran standing near the map board with a grease pencil resting against his forehead, deep in thought, it appeared. His train of thought was broken by a radio call.
“Chicken-man Three India, Chicken-man One-Niner.” Slowly Captain Curran turned and stared at the radio as the Ops clerk picked up the mike.
“Chicken-man One-Niner, Chicken-man Three India, over,” the clerk responded.
“Chicken-man Three India, Chicken-man One-Niner, the wonderful white-winged, wicked-weekend-warrior and a flight of three returning to the Chicken Coop. On short final at this time, over.” Cory was stealing a line from the radio show in Chicago that had made Chickenman famous.
Grabbing the hand mike from the Ops clerk, Major Adams was on the radio with an ear-to-ear grin. “Chicken-man One-Niner, welcome home. What is the status of your aircraft? Over.”
Recognizing the major’s voice, Cory responded a bit more seriously, “Chicken-man Six, it sounds like you’re glad we’re home. We’re all in good shape. Some patches have been added, but all flyable.”
