After a week or so of simple
ash-and-trash missions around Nha Trang
it was time for my first mission with troops. I was right out of high
school and here I was getting ready to fly an actual combat mission.
I was both scared stiff and excited beyond belief and probably all 135 lbs.
of me was shaking. Little did I know the mission had a secondary purpose.
I was now under the wing of WO
Dennis Petrovich for my first few missions. We had dropped off a company
or so of ARVN early in the morning and were now picking them back up.
Our ship was #2 in a trail formation. The landing was without incident
and I saw that all the ARVN were boarding with big bundles of
tobacco that they had harvested.
Just then, my door gunner opened
up and said that he was receiving fire from the tree line. I looked
over at Petrovich and started to say something when the door gunner put
the barrel towards to my ear and fired several rounds. He then swung
the gun back to the tree line and opened up again, this time saying we were
receiving HEAVY fire from the tree line. The ship in front of us was
also firing from the right side. Just then the gunner started to talk
again but stopped mid sentence with a deep heavy moan. I looked back
and he was slumped back in his cubby hole. His gun barrel was now pointing
straight down. I was sure he was dead.
I looked over at Petrovich and told him
the gunner was hit and we had to get out of there. Just then Petrovich
swung around in his seat and grabbed his left shoulder. “I'm hit, you
got it” he said. I about died. I couldn't take off because lead
was in the
way. As those seconds passed by, all I could think about was that
I was a sitting duck and what the heck lead was doing just sitting there.
As soon as I saw lead get light I was ready and followed him out.
About a half mile out Petrovich
let the cat out of the bag. It was just a test to see if one of us
new guys would freeze when all hell broke lose. My door gunner acknowledged
he was still alive and that the ship did not receive any damage. I
had passed their test but was wondering how long it would be before my right
ear was on line again.
Back then, new peter pilots didn't
mingle with ACs very much. The showers was one of those mingle places
though and when I went in for mine, the ACs were already in there.
I didn't dare say a word and began taking my shower off to the side when
Petrovich said “Hey”. I turned around and saw him and the others looking
at me. “When the shooting started, where did you go", Petrovich asked?
"I didn't see anybody in that seat – thought you had got out.” The
ACs all laughed. Petrovich then said that all he could see in my seat
was a skinny little arm sticking out with one finger on top of the Chinese
hat trim button that was on the very top of the cyclic and that's how I flew
her out. He said he had never seen anyone suck himself down into an
armored seat as far as I had.
I passed the “Test” as did the
others and the mingling got a little easier. Tom Condrey became my
steady AC with a little bit of McCoig mixed in for flavor. Those two
taught me how to fly and more importantly how to stay alive. When my
son (9 now) is ready, he will be told this story and others and the tears
that I will probably shed will convey the feeling, sincerity, and the importance
of the memory. It was a time when boys became men overnight.
The End