I haven’t blogged lately, and actually don’t really know just when the next blog will come. I like to makeup short stories, and share them. So until I can come up with another story, I’ll leave you all with this one I wrote several months ago,
Into The Valley Of Death
That night as we sat around the Phoenix officers club tossing down a few beers at Camp Evens, I got to talking to a new WO ( warrant officer) who had just arrived in country,a “newbie” and had never been into a combat zone before. Learned he was flying as a peter pilot/co-pilot for tomorrows insertion into the A Shau..
The A Shau.. That thin 25 mile long valley that stretched toward the Laotian border, and a arm of the Ho Chi Minh trail..North Vietnam troops were well entrenched in the valley. A major strong hold A valley we called ..the valley of death..
Being a ‘vet’ flying into the A Shau, I tried to assure the new WO that he would be okay if he paid close attention to the radios, and not to panic if the shit hits ,but be ready on the controls. It wasn’t going to be a easy insertion, and certainly no ash, and trash run..This was going to be the real deal! We were to airlift a battalion of the 101st Airborne
The next morning at 04:30, I was waken by the loud voice coming from the loudspeaker just outside my hooch.. I had drank too much the night before, and wasn’t feeling too well, but knew it was time to move.
I made my way to the chow hall, a mess tent that set in the middle of the compound just off from TOC. Not able to eat much more the some greasy eggs, and a slice of cold toast, and gulping down a couple cups of coffee, I headed to TOC for final briefing, again was warned for triple A, and incoming rockets.
By the time I reached the revetment my crew chief had already gone over the aircraft. It wasn’t long before we were at 3, 000 feet with eight members of the 101st, crew chief, and door gunner aboard flying in a column of eight heading into the A Shaw, and to the LZ..
The sky was very overcast to the west and as we climbed over the overcast and were vectored west, radar at Evans said they "believed" they knew where we should start our letdown and when we cleared below just go left down the valley. We had the coordinates and the LZ was at the end of this range on a slender ridge.
I was now hearing all kinds of radio traffic. Not the good kind. As soon as we dropped below the overcast, the gunfire started and the cockpit chatter from everyone in the valley never ceased. Other pilots were yelling "get out of there." We didn't know who they were talking to. Tracers followed us the entire way and never stopped. Some of them were almost indescribable, more like red and yellow bowling balls. I don't remember either of us saying anything until we saw 205 overshoot the LZ and make a right turn for another approach coming back in behind us.
Oh God! We were going in hot! My worst nightmare, but I had a job to do, and that was to get these troops safely on the ground. Breaking left, I came in behind the LZ, and hovered down inches off the ground.. The fire was intense as I shouted for the troops to jump! I felt at any minute I was going to take a direct hit, and wanted to get away from the LZ as quickly as I could.
As the last troop jumped I pulled pitch, and lifted off just in time to see the huey in front of me take a hit in the tail rotor.. Trailing smoke, I knew his hydraulics were loss, and soon the craft was spinning in circles. As I gained altitude, I looked down in time to see the aircraft was able set safely down.
Thinking to myself, There for the grace of God go I, I headed back to Evans.
Just another day in the Nam, and another day in the valley of death.
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