Vietnam 68-69

I was talking to an old friend today.  I told him about my Vietnam blog and he told me something that gave me an idea.  I recently saw a couple of YouTube videos that I really liked that reminded me of one memorable Huey ride I took on my way back to my platoon in the bush.

Vietnam 1969 – I was ready to return to my platoon after a stay in the hospital.  One Huey was dispatched to haul me back to my platoon in the bush.  When the chopper arrived, I hoped aboard as the runners danced on the ground.  As soon as the Huey’s solo passenger was aboard the engine strained under the load of the pitched rotors and we shot skyward and over the trees.  We flew low over Camp Eagles bunkered perimeter and were soon swiftly flying low over the Vietnam landscape.   The pilot was flying at treetop level, at every rise in the terrain he would pull the Huey up and I would be pressed into the floor.  At every drop off of the terrain he would take the pitch out of the rotors and I would float weightless before slamming back to the floor when the helicopter stopped falling.  I looked out the open door and watched the landscape fly by.  I must say that I was kind of afraid, wondering if the pilots were going to make a mistake and hit the ground.  I had never ridden with a treetop flyer before.  I pulled my self up to take some pictures of this joy ride!  I could see out of the front windscreen and could see the land and water rushing towards us.  I brought my camera to my eye and took a picture, advanced the film and took another picture and then another.  I wanted to have some pitures of our low level thrill ride.

Treetop flyer over Bo Song river

Treetop flying, pressed into the floor

"Screaming Eagle" pilot of Huey flying on the deck.

 I also took a picture out the door of the helicopter of a Vietnamese gathering on the bank of the Song Bo river as we sped by.

Vietnamese gathering on the banks of the Song Bo River

I will never forget that ride with those ”Hotshot” chopper pilots.

I hope you enjoyed the story and I hope you enjoy the videos.

Mark Galloway performs his version of  Treetop Flyer - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6rYJli8e_Y

A Treetop Flyer flying a river - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o40_MzuKIGA

View of Song BO River, where we ambushed vietcong in a sampan.

After striping down to his fatigue bottoms he dove into the river and swam out to where we last saw the sampan.  When reached the middle of the river he dove down and it wasn’t long before he located the sampan.  After a few more dives he came up with an AK-47.   He swam it to shore and then returned to dive a few more times, but didn’t find anything else to retrieve.

Our platoon leader wanted us to do some sweeps of the area on the other side of the river, so he requested helicopters be sent out to ferry us across the river.   We patrolled down the side of the river to see if there was anything before the helicopters arrived, then moved to an area where the helicopters could land to pick us up.  The Huey’s arrived and picked us up for the short hop across the river.  The AK-47 we recovered was given to one of the door gunners to be returned to Camp Evans.

Once everybody was on the ground we did a sweep of the area along the river.  We didn’t find any dead VC or anything to indicate that anybody made it out of the river.  While checking the shoreline, I found a piece of shrapnel from the big gun’s rounds.  The piece was about eight inches long and as sharp as a knife.  I showed it to all the guys and at some point trough it aside.  We were glad that none of us got hit by any of the shrapnel.

Our platoon broke into squads to RIF the entire area.  We spent a good part of the day looking for signs of the enemy, but found nothing.  Late in the day we picked out an area near the river the setup another night ambush.   The area was flat so there was room to set up a good ambush NDP.  Watch detail was assigned, those not on watch went to sleep.  I was one that didn’t have to pull guard until after midnight, so I went to sleep shortly after nightfall.  I’m not sure what time it was, but those who were sleeping were awaken by those on guard.  One of the men said they had seen two or three VC approaching our NDP, appearently they heard something from our position, turned and disappeared into the dark.   We went on high alert, not knowing if they would return and attack our position.  The remainder of the night was quiet.

The next morning we patrolled the hills above the river, looking for the enemy or their caches.  We didn’t find anything.  We heard that there was another platoon downstream from our ambush site.  We were told that they found atleast one VC body along the river.

When we returned to Camp Evans, there was an article about our night ambush in the Stars Stripes newspaper, it said the enemy body count was close to 400.  We couldn’t believe what we were reading, we thought maybe we killed 4 VC, not 400.

View of Song Bo river where we ambushed vietcong crossing the river in a sampan.

Our platoon was on patrol along the Song Bo river in the mountains somewhere near the lowlands.  The river was fairly wide and deep, and the water was quite clear.   We waited under cover up stream until after dark and then moved into an ambush position along the right bank of the river.  It was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.  As we moved along the edge of the water the river made a left turn and then went straight along the base of a large hill.  We silently spread out and positioned ourselves on that hillside overlooking the water.  I thought about how exposed we were sitting on that hillside with no cover.  As we sat there straining to see in the darkness, there was just enough light to make out any movement on the river.   We were all quiet as the night as waited for any enemy movement.

  At about three in morning someone spotted a sampan coming across the river.  As the sampan reached our side of the shore one of the men started getting out of the small boat.  But he must of heard us passing the word that there was  a boat with men in it.  He shoved the boat from the shore and jumped back in.  As the men hastily paddle the boat back across the river the current moved them directly in front of our ambush.  Someone gave the order to open fire.  Suddenly the still of the night was shattered by a barrage of small arms fire.  We opened up with M-16′s, M-60′s and M-79′s.  Tracers were streaking into the water and ricocheting through the air.  I was firing my M-79 as fast as I could load it.   My rounds exploded as the hit the water and sent big columns of water in the air.  I heard splashing on the far bank and concentrated my shots in that area.  Jeff Crabtree felt something hot hit him, he thought he had been hit and fell backwards, firing his M-79 as he did.  It wasn’t long before we were given the order to cease fire.  It was then that Jeff realized he had been hit by hot brass from the guy’s M-16 to the right of  him.  We listened for movement but didn’t hear anything.  The sampan had disappeared below the surface of the water.

  I figured it was all over and was beginning to relax when the silence was broken by something other worldly coming towards us from behind and to the side of the hill that we were on.   High over our right side an ungodly howl moved through the night sky.  The sound was unlike anything I had heard before.   The howl was loud and sound like a small car flying at high speed through night sky.  The round was soon followed by more howling projectiles and they started hitting the ground on the far side of the river.  There were brilliant flashes of light and concussions of sound and shock waves, followed by the sound of huge pieces of shrapnel splashing in the river.   I was hoping that none of the shrapnel hit us.  I later learned that the rounds were fired from a battleship’s 18″ guns.

The next morning one of the guys in our platoon volunteered to dive down in the river to see what he could find.  (Story continued in Part 2)

My 1st Platoon was on patrol somewhere in the jungle west of Hue.  On the particular day, we were walking a trail on a valley floor with a fairly large river running through it.  As we came along side the river, it was decided that we needed to cross.  Our platoon leader, I think it was Lt Trautmann that chose a place to cross the river where the bank dropped straight done into the deep water.  The other side of the river was a gravel bar.  It was decide who would swim across with a rope and secure it.  Then it was decided who would get in the water to help with the mattresses, since I was six foot three, they picked me.  It was something I didn’t relish doing, but when the time came I slipped off the bank and into the cold, murky water.  My feet hit the muddy bank about four feet under the water.  My platoon members started dropping air mattress loaded with a pack to me as the men slipped into the water and took the mattress.  The mattress was attached to the rope stretched across the river.  It was taking forever for everybody to cross over to the other side.

After quite a few had crossed, Raines’ air mattress was lowered into the river and as it passed into my hands, his boots slide off the top of the pack and started floating away.  I jumped for them and started kicking to swim to them.  My legs immediately cramped up, and I mean cramped up!  The cold water had an icy grip on my legs.  I remember going under as my legs spasmed in pain.  I don’t think I made a sound as I went under.  I came back up thrashing my arms to stay above water.  My boots and fatigues were trying to pull me under.  I remember seeing someone jump in the river as I started to go under again.  The next thing I knew was that a strong arm grabbed a hold of me and pulled my head up above the water. Sgt Dunn swam me to shore as I tried to remain calm.  When Sgt Dunn got me to the bank, a couple of men grabbed my arms and hauled me up on to the bank, spitting and sputtering.  I thought I was a goner, like the  boots.  After I recovered, the rest of us crossed the river.

When I got across the river, Raines was blaming me for loosing his boots.  Sgt Dunn told him to shut up.  Everybody was saying how it was his fault for not securing his boots to his pack.  Raines had to walk in his stocking feet until we could meet up with the supply helicopter.  I don’t remember how far we hiked before Raines got his boots, but I remember thinking how lucky I was to be alive and how much gratitude I had for Sgt Dunn for saving me.  Thank you Sarge!

Leech Island, 1st Platoon, on patrol by ourselves, as usual.  Now Leech Island is a good name for the place we were.  It was double canopy jungle, deep, dark and damp, but not an island.  We were on a well worn trail that wove it’s way through the jungle.  The jungle growth along the trail contained wait-a-minute vines, and oh yeah leeches.  The hazy light filtered through the mist and trees.  My squad (3rd) was on point this particular morning and I was about fourth in our echelon.  We came to a semi open area and the trail made a sharp turn to the right.  As we turned the corner the point man saw an NVA on the trail ahead of us.  He immediately raised his M-16 and fired as the man turned and fled.  The bullet hit a low hanging tree branch between the two men and them kept running.  All our point man heard when he pulled the trigger again was a click, his M-16 had jammed.  I saw a flash of a dark figure as he disappeared into the jungle.  I couldn’t get a clear shot and didn’t want to hit any nearby branches with an HE round, like the M-16 bullet had.  There could have been worse consequences if that happened.  We examined the bullet whole in the tree after we made sure that any NVA had left the area.  The branch was large enough that the bullet didn’t go all the way through.  I thought about how lucky that NVA soldier was and wondered if he had more luck to make it through the war in one piece.