FLYING WITH THE ARMY
The brief samba ended and our chopper gently rose.
We effortlessly floated sideways from our mooring area and were given clearance to proceed. The pilot nosed the chopper forward above the marston-matting runway. Smoothly shifting from a horizontal to oblique attitude relative to the ground, we quickly gained speed and altitude.
And just like that, we were aloft. Incredibly exhilarating to take flight, doors open, in such a nimble aircraft.
We slipped above the Qua Viet River and Quang Tri City and banked hard in a southerly direction. Our destination was the A Shau Valley, down around Phu Bai and Hue City.
As always, there was plenty of activity there, being an important segment of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. The North Vietnamese used that part of the trail to ferry war materials to Hue and DaNang.
Whenever we had some free time, me and ex-Sgt. Bernard would volunteer to fly along with the Army’s 22nd Air Cavalry.
“Extra help”, they called us.
We were attached to a small Marine unit at the end of the runway at Quang Tri. Kind of hidden in plain sight, we operated sophisticated radar equipment that could guide a pilot to a target in any kind of weather. With devastating accuracy. Nobody, not even the Army, were aware of our mission.
After a while, it just became usual for me and Bernard to ride with them. They always loved us flying with them. They were very cool people.
Mostly, we rode with the Major; he was CO of the outfit. Bit of an underwhelming personality, but he was a good pilot. He usually drove a “slick”, meaning that it was not a gunship. It did, however, have a .60 caliber machine gun in the door. Nice to know.
We were usually accompanied by a couple of Huey gunships; some Loaches, which are turbo-powered spotter helicopters, and two, very nasty, Cobra gunships. Nicer to know.
But today for some reason we flew off by ourselves.
Almost on station, I remember passing over the huge ammo dump at Camp Eagle. That was where the 101st Airborne was headquartered. I couldn’t believe how many huge PILES of spent brass artillery casings were spread out below us.
The Major all of a sudden put his hand up to get our attention. Then one finger, like, “Wait.” He burst out laughing and altered our heading slightly.
“You won’t believe this,” he yells back to us. The co-pilot was still laughing.
“That's a lotta money,” they agree, shaking their heads.
Tilting his head back toward us again, the Major related what he had heard on the radio. We were going to divert briefly to a big event that was just getting ready to let loose.
In a minute or two, we came over a heavily treed rise. Ahead, off the port side, we saw at LEAST twelve other choppers of varying types flying in a large circle.
Stationary, at about 20 feet and 40 feet respectively, were two small spotter helicopters, called Loaches.
The Major eased us into the rotation and started in on the details we were dying to learn.
On the ground, there were clusters of troops clumped here and there, trying to find the best view. There had to be more than a hundred people. Evidently this had been in the works for a while and there was a ton of money riding on the outcome.
Out of nowhere, a HUGE freaking lift helicopter came swooping down through the center of our little flying circle. It looked like some kind of prehistoric dragonfly, with four long metal legs spread wide under a skinny fuselage.
It hovered just above the ground.
Because there were so many of us flying in the same small space, we had to kind of jockey in and out to see what we could. As we circled, I could make out a ground crew scrambling to attach a massive strap to a hook under the huge bird's carved out belly.
The strap was part of an elaborate rigging system that had been prepared for one of the bigger, and definitely most shot up, dump trucks I have ever seen. The tires seemed tall as a man.
As a dump truck, its days were over... but, as the center of a large bet as to how high the dump would JUMP when dropped from a helicopter... they were just beginning.
Quickly the Major told us the betting details. Somewhere around $20,000 had been put up. Units from all over had put in money and made their guess as to how high it would bounce. The Loaches were stationed to act as height measures.
A couple of surveyors with range finding equipment were stationed both on the ground and in the Loaches to record the height. The money would be split among those who got it right.
In another swoop around, I caught the crane maneuvering over the dump, the slack almost gone out of the sling. The thrust of the mighty jet-assisted engines made an angry sound, and the scene below disappeared in enormous clouds of dust.
And then, tugging its prey into the air, the helicopter arose above the self-created sand storm... and then I briefly lost my view.
Luckily, the Major saw it all.
He was kind of jumping in his seat, "Jesus Christ that's one heavy son of a bitch. That thing is giving him a hard time.
Then, he says, "Shhh!" and starts counting off from his earphone:
"Three..."
"Two..."
"ONE...!!!!"
(Nothing....nothing.....nothing!)
Then...
"WHUUUMMPPH!
Suddenly, the lift helicopter goes screaming up past us, minus his load.
“WOW...!" the co-pilot shouts, "INCREDIBLE!!"
Bernard claps his hands. “That thing went down like a ton of bricks!"
I caught a pretty good look, too.
The Major sputters, "Did you see that fucker hit the ground? The freakin' wheels went... 'BOOOF'... and flew off to the winds. Christ!"
Belly-laughing, the co-pilot chokes, "Yeah,
that sonofabitch must’a jumped at least 20 feet. I wouldn't have believed it!"
He motions, "... almost took out that Loach."
Everybody laughed. We saw it too.
I piped in, "Yeah, but what about all that MONEY. How's THAT gonna work? There's gonna be some ornery mo-fo's when it comes to saying just exactly who is 'in' and who is 'out' on them buckos."
One of the Army guys shakes his head and laughs.
"Man, I wouldn't want to be in the middle of that happy little gathering. EVERYBODY'S armed!"
The circle broke up and the majority of the choppers set down.
The Major headed us back on our mission.
“THAT was Fucking GREAT!”
We all agreed.
Except Bernard. All he could do was shake his head.
"Damn! Wish I'd known. I betcha I could'a made some serious money on that little fucker!"
We pressed on.
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