(Via Milinet)
> > THE RED LION
> > by Gene Salter
> >
> >
> > (This story was originally published in the April 1969 issue
of
> > LEATHERNECK magazine
> > in a slightly different form. Also, the original story was
accompanied
> > with illustrations by
> > then Major Mike Leahy, the now celebrated combat artist.
The Vietcong
> > enemy was
> > usually referred to as "V""C" or Victor Charlie or in this
case I just
> > referred to them as
> > "Charlie.")
> >
> > The 'Hot Line' from the command bunker rang three times.
The duty
> > officer jammed the alarm buzzer.
> > The Marine Line NCO yelled "Med-Evac! Med-Evac!" The
gunner and the
> > corpsman came tearing out of the line shack where they had
been telling
> > sea stories about the last Med-Evac flight we had just
returned from.
> > I raced to the telephone where the duty officer was copying
down the
> > Med-Evac mission. The copilot dashed to the Med-Evac
helicopter. The
> > crew chief had remained with the helicopter after the last
mission to
> > check it over and make sure all of the parts were still
there and there
> > were no fuel or oil leaks.
> > It was four days 'till Christmas, and I was scheduled to fly
Med-Evac
> > in support of the First Marine Division operating in and
around Da Nang,
> > South Vietnam. I pinpointed the coordinates on the combat
operations
> > map and checked the call sign of the unit needing a
med-evac. The duty
> > officer confirmed the call sign. I didn't have to look it
up but, I
> > wanted to reconfirm it, I had just returned from that area
and that
> > unit. Mike Company of the 3rd Battalion, Seventh Marines,
was in
> > contact with North Vietnamese (NVA) troops over in an area
we called
> > Arizona territory because it was real Indian country. Mike
Company was
> > taking more casualties. I grabbed the mission form the duty
officer had
> > filled in and started for the aircraft at a run.
> > "Wait a second, Major," shouted the duty officer. "Here's
another
> > Med-Evac pickup right close to that one. You may be able to
handle both
> > of the missions on the same trip."
> > I looked at the new coordinates on the map as the duty
officer
> > continued to write, "3-US-WIA-EMERGENCY Kilo Company." I
knew I could
> > get them all, Kilo was next to Mike Company's position.
Mike Company
> > had two WIA, but I knew it would be more before I got there.
Earlier in
> > the afternoon another unit had called in a Med-Evac request
for one WIA
> > who had stepped on a land mine. When the troops fanned out
away from
> > the explosion, they ran into Viet Cong booby traps. Six
wounded Marines
> > had been helilifted out of that zone!
> > I hustled to the Med-Evac chopper - a UH34D, Sikorsky-built,
single
> > engine machine with a Write 1820 engine. Old, but
reliable,
> > maneuverable, tough as nails and able to fly after
sustaining lots of
> > battle damage. She proudly wears the White Shamrock for
good luck and
> > the Red Lion for tenacity, honor bestowed on the squadron by
the South
> > Korean Marines who fight by out side. This afternoon she
would be put
> > to the test again.
> > As the crew chief helped me on with my flak vest I briefed
him, the
> > corpsman and the aerial gunner on the forthcoming flight.
> > 1
> > "Going back into Mike Company's position where we were just
a few
> > minutes ago. Over south of the Hoa An River, in Indian
territory."
> > They knew where it was
> > "Now remember, they have friendly troops all throughout the
area, so
> > hold your fire unless we get permission to return fire.
We're going to
> > pick up two WIA's at Mike's position, then move over to
Kilo's position
> > for three more. I don't know much else, Doc," I informed
the
> > corpsman, " except two are stretcher cases and three are
walking
> > wounded. Stretcher cases are gunshot wounds in the legs."
> > I climbed up the side of the helicopter, squeezed around the
armor
> > plate and through the window, dropped into the pilot's seat
and strapped
> > in. I handed the copilot the Med-Evac form with all the
information on
> > it. No use trying to talk to him yet. He had started the
engine and we
> > couldn't hear anything over the roar.
> > As soon as I was strapped in and had my helmet on and
adjusted, I got
> > the 'turn up' sign from the crew chief. I released the
rotor brake,
> > flicked the clutch pump and steadily brought up the rotor
turns until we
> > were in a flying status. I checked my watch. Barely three
minutes from
> > the time the buzzer first sounded. No record, but not too
bad. The
> > time was 1528.
> > The copilot flipped on the radios and navigation switches as
I taxied
> > toward the runway. I keyed the mike button on the F.M.
radio and
> > called, " Med-Evac up!"
> > "Escort up," came the reply and I knew my gunship escort was
ready to
> > go.
> > Then on UHF I called the air control tower, "Marble Tower,
Med-Evac to
> > taxi, take off."
> > As I pulled up to the runway I saw my UH1E gunship escort
taking off
> > and I lifted off behind him. The Big Red Lion was airborne.
There
> > wasn't much to say. We had previously briefed on how I
wanted to run
> > the flight and what I wanted the gunship to do. We had
already flown
> > three missions together that afternoon. The gunship pilot
is a
> > professional and knows his job.
> > We turned left (west) after takeoff and flew low level along
the Song
> > Cau Do River until we were well clear of the Da Nang
Airfield and its
> > jet traffic. We started to climb to 2500 feet to clear
enemy small arms
> > fire on the route out to the Med-Evac pick up area.
> > My copilot is LtCol Sam Beal, a Marine veteran of three wars
and has
> > more than 8000 hours of flight time in various types of
Marine Corps
> > fixed wing and rotary wing aircraft. He is a professional
aviator, at
> > home in any cockpit.
> > The crew chief is Cpl. William D. Carpenter. The corporal
attended the
> > Aviation Mechanics School at the Naval Air Station, Memphis
Tenn., after
> > completing boot camp at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, San
Diego,
> > Calif.
> > LCpl. George T. Curtis of Hudson, Mass. is the aerial
gunner. He is 18
> > years old. After completion of boot camp at Paris Island,
S.C., he,
> > too, attended Aviation Mechanics School at Memphis.
> > Carpenter and Curtis are each assigned an M-60 machine gun
mounted on a
> > swivel on opposite sides of the helicopter, and each is
carrying 600
> > rounds of belted 7.62 caliber ammunition. As we are
climbing out from
> > Marble Mountain Airfield, they load their machine guns,
release the
> > safeties and keep a sharp look out for enemy snipers.
> > We contact the Direct Air Support Center on out UHF radio
frequency and
> > check in so we can get a report on any friendly artillery
fire in the
> > area, plot it, and avoid it. We can see the big guns
shooting from Hill
> > 10 but that will not affect our flight path to the area of
our WIA, We
> > fly south of Hill 65 to be clear of that artillery. The
guns on Hill
> > 55 will be in "check fire" until we get in and out of the
pickup
> > zone. 2
> >
> > Hospital Corpsman Albert Villanavaus was preparing stretcher
slings.
> > He knows that two stretcher cases could turn out to be three
or four by
> > the time we get to the scene. Corpsman Villanavaus will be
ready. He
> > has flown many Med-Evac missions.
> > We are now in the vicinity of the fighting and it's time to
contact the
> > ground unit. I call Mike Company on the F.M. radio.
> > "Beachnut Team Mike, Beachnut Team Mike, this is Red Lion
Med-Evac."
> > "Red Lion Med-Evac, this is Team Kilo. I see you north of
our
> > position."
> > "Roger Kilo. Let me get Mike first and I'll be right over
to your
> > position."
> > "Med-Evac, this is Team Mike. We have moved our zone about
twenty
> > clicks south of the spot you came into last time. Enemy
situation
> > remains the same. The zone is still hot. We are taking
fire from the
> > east and the west. Friendly troops are to the south. We
have patrols
> > out in all directions. You are not, I say again, NOT
cleared to return
> > fire Best approach is from the south or north. We will pop
smoke on
> > your command."
> > "Roger, Mike. I'll hold my fire. Pop your smoke now.
Break, break.
> > Escort, This is Med-Evac. I'll do a spiral down on the
north side of
> > the river, drop behind the tree line and buttonhook in to
Mike's
> > position."
> > The HUEY gunship acknowledged my transmission and added,
"I'll follow
> > you down on your left side, Gene. Call when you lift out
of the zone."
> >
> > "Roger, Escort. Break, break. Roger your yellow smoke,
Team Mike."
> > "Yellow smoke confirmed."
> > Always we confirm the color of smoke marking a zone.
Charlie manages
> > to have a few smoke grenades with him, also, and he would
enjoy nothing
> > better than to trick an inexperienced pilot down into his
zone for a
> > real easy kill. Not very likely in the daytime, but at
night when the
> > ground troops use flashlights, strobe lights or some hand
illumination
> > flares to mark the zone, Charlie likes to confuse the issue.
We change
> > tactics at night
> > "Escort in position," tells me that my gunship is ready to
follow me
> > down and will give me covering fire if it comes from any
position
> > outside the immediate area of our friendly troops.
> > "Med-Evac going down," I call, and start my 110 knot,
> > 2500-ftoot-per-minute spiraling drop to the ground. The
copilot is on
> > the controls with me. If I get hit he will wave off the
approach and
> > get the hell out of the area. A Med-Evac helicopter just
isn't much
> > good without the pilot.
> > "All set below?" I ask the crew chief over the intercom..
> > "All set," he answers.
> > I take another fast look at the landing zone and calculate
how I'll go
> > in. I know I won't see the zone again until I pop up over
the tree line
> > and flare the helicopter to kill off airspeed and sit down
beside the
> > wounded Marines. I level off about ten feet above the
river. Still no
> > enemy fire. Maybe I've outfoxed Ol' Charlie this trip. The
tree line
> > along the river is rushing toward me. I wait until the last
possible
> > moment, ease the cyclic stick back, drop my collective to
reduce power,
> > throw the helicopter into a side flare and settle into the
rice paddy
> > beside the wounded men lying on the dike.
> > "Med-Evac in the zone. No fire!" I pass the information to
the HUEY
> > Escort.
> > Two Marines are struggling through the paddy with a
stretcher. They
> > are bringing a
> >
3
> > wounded buddy to the helicopter. Another Marine with a
seeping, red
> > stained bandage on his
> > head is being assisted into the cabin door. Fifteen seconds
gone by -
> > too long ! Watch the water in the paddy for mortar rounds
to start
> > falling. Still no small arms fire.
> > "I'll pick up from here and make it low level to Kilo's
position," I
> > pass to Gunship Escort over the air.
> > "All set below !" booms the crew chief's voice over the
intercom.
> > "Have Kilo pop a smoke, NOW !" I yell at the Escort.
> > "Green smoke in Kilo's position," call the Escort
helicopter.
> > "Green smoke confirmed," Kilo's radio man confirms.
> > I pick up, do a half turn to the right and spot the green
smoke coming
> > from the tree line just south of my present position. I
pull in maximum
> > power and skip over the rice paddy. I think I hear sniper
fire but I
> > can't be sure. Perhaps it is a Marine firing at Charlie.
> > "Hold your fire, hold your fire," I order my crew over the
intercom.
> > The brief from the ground troops had been that we could
expect fire
> > from the east and west of their position I figure we'll
draw fire as we
> > often do, and I set the helicopter down facing the east.
This gives
> > Charlie a little less target to shoot at.
> > Two walking wounded are helped aboard. There's a delay
while our
> > corpsman throws out a stretcher. The troops have to carry
the other
> > wounded Marine to the helicopter. He's coming now. Four
Marines, one
> > on each corner of the stretcher, are bringing out the
wounded man. They
> > are sinking down in the mud of the rice paddy. Mud over the
tops of
> > their boots with the load they are carrying. One foot down,
pull the
> > other out of the mud. Slow, slow. Too much time in the
zone. One
> > stretcher bearer slips, falls down and then picks himself
up. They are
> > all four exhausted with their load. They are almost to the
helicopter.
> > "WHAM!!" My guts churn.
> > "I'm taking fire in the zone!" I tell everyone on the air.
"Fire from
> > the southeast."
> > "PLUNK, PLUNK!" No mistaking the hollow sound of bullets
gouging out
> > neat, hot, round holes in the skin of the helicopter.
> > "HURRY UP! HURRY UP! HURRY!" I want to scream at
everybody.
> > "We're taking hits!" the crew chief yells.
> > Hell, I know that.
> > "Hold your fire. We have friendly troops in that
direction!" comes
> > back Kilo Company's radio operator who had been monitoring
the F.M.
> > radio traffic.
> > The bloody Marine is being lifted aboard the helicopter by
two haggard
> > and exhausted Marines. He's halfway in the door. Slow.
Everything is
> > slow except the bullets whipping through the tail pylon and
the cabin of
> > the helicopter..
> > No hits in the engine - yet ! Have the controls been hit?
Gear box?
> > "I'm lifting out to the north, over Mike's position. I'll
try to get
> > across the river," I yell into the radio as I see the last
wounded
> > Marine disappear into the belly of the chopper.
> > Maximum power! Maximum turns on the rotor! We are heavy,
perhaps too
> > heavy, with the weight of the five wounded Marines aboard,
plus the
> > crewmen, the guns, the armor plate, etc. A thought passes
through my
> > mind. I wish we didn't have the "etc." aboard, whatever
that is.
> > The wheels of the main landing gear break loose from the
oozing mud
> > that tries to trap and hold us as a target for the enemy.
Finally, we
> > are free of the ground! We are on our way out of the zone
of the
> > firefight.! I nose the chopper over as we struggle to gain
airspeed.
> > Sam Beal is on the controls with me.
> > 4
> > We bank to the north and hug the rice paddy so the enemy
troops farther
> > back can't get a shot at us. An enemy AK-47 opens up on the
right and
> > stitches the chopper on that side. We jerk left, hop a tree
line and
> > dip back towards the ground. Keep it low. Behind the rice
paddy dikes
> > if I can. We have airspeed now and the river is in sight.
At 90 knots
> > and skimming the ground I turn back to the right. We are
beginning to
> > take .50 caliber hits on the left.
> > "Med-evacs on the deck," I snap at the crew chief on the
intercom.
> > Not much farther to the river. Another automatic weapon
opens up from
> > the east, my right side. I look at my copilot.
> > "All gauges reading normal," he reports.
> > "We're taking fire from both sides," I tell the Escort
gunship (and
> > anyone else monitoring my radio frequency).
> > "We must be on the firing line of two VC rifle ranges," I
quip to the
> > crew on the intercom. I didn't know what else I could say to
them. My
> > stomach was in knots.
> > The adrenaline was rushing through my veins like it was
going out of
> > style. Automatic weapons on either side, and they had the
range. A few
> > rifles had joined in the turkey shoot. Nothing left for
the turkey to
> > do but haul tail.
> > Another hit! Up? Down? Left? Right? Which way to go?
This was
> > combat. The desperate, flailing dance for survival. Which
of us will
> > survive? Us or Them? When you are this close to death, it
is the
> > 'being alive' that is exciting - even intoxicating. My
heart was
> > pumping hard. I thought I could feel it pumping against my
flack
> > jacket. Every nerve ending was sharpened to a fine point.
Frightened?
> > Yes! And thrilled to be alive.
> > I cringed every time a round, or series of rounds, tore
through the
> > thin skin of the helicopter. "God," I prayed, "don't let
them hit those
> > kids down there in the belly of the helicopter."
> > At this moment of combat there is no hate of the enemy, no
time to
> > think of good or bad, no worry about his culture or politics
or
> > background. Questions of philosophy were not thought about.
Now, at
> > that moment, all life is reduced to basics - to live or die.
I
> > recognized that I had a responsibility, a job to do. My job
was to get
> > these men to safety.
> > "WHAM!" A solid hit ! I know we are out of business. The
helicopter
> > rocks with the impact ! Smoke pours into the cockpit and
cabin.
> > "You're on fire! Put it down! Put it down!"
> > "Med-evac, you're burning."
> > The river bank is just ahead. If I can get us across the
river, we
> > will be in friendly territory. I can't set down in enemy
territory.
> > Not with five wounded Marines aboard. They won't be too
effective in a
> > fire fight. I've got to make it to the other side of the
river!
> > "The Big Red Lion is smoking," I broadcast as calmly as I
can over the
> > air.
> > "Smoking, hell! You've got flames coming from your
transmission!" It
> > was the HUEY gunship still covering me. None of the
troopers down in
> > the belly of the helicopter had been hit - so far.
> > "Prepare the med-evacs for ditching," I instructed the crew
in case we
> > didn't make it across the river. "If we make it across the
river, get
> > them out as fast as possible," I continued. No details
required. They
> > knew their job.
> > "Gages normal," the copilot reports. He's cool. I wish I
were as calm
> > as he
> > seems.
> > 5
> > The river is below me. Just a little way to go. The
downwash of the
> > wind from the rotor blades is cutting a furrow through the
water.
> > The controls are going! I can feel the sluggish response to
my every
> > move. I'm fighting to reach the north shore. She's still
flying!
> > Thank God, and the Silorsky Iron Works.
> > The sand flashed below me. We were across the river! God
bless Mr.
> > Wright and his 1820 engine. The cockpit was getting warm as
I slammed
> > the helicopter down on the sand bar. I cut the fuel mixture
as soon as
> > I knew we were safely down. The copilot jerked on the rotor
brake. I
> > reached for the magneto switch.
> > Sam Beal was out the left cockpit window as flames and smoke
continued
> > to pour into the cockpit from the left side of the
helicopter. I
> > slapped at the instrument panel, securing switches and
started out of
> > the right side cockpit window. I still had my helmet on and
my radio
> > wires and my sholder harness were tangeled up. I tore off
the helment
> > and threw it into the cockpit and climbed down the side of
the
> > aircraft. I could see that the crew had all the wounded out
of the
> > belly of the ship and that Corpsman Villanavaua was working
over one of
> > the wounded.
> > "Anyone hit?" I asked him.
> > "No, sir," he replied. "Just opened up one of his wounds
getting him
> > out of the chopper. He'll be okay."
> > I turned back to the burning ship and saw a machine gun
still on its
> > mount. LCpl Curtis saw it at the same time and ran to help
me get it
> > out. We were taking sniper fire from the south side of the
river.
> > Charlie wasn't satisfied yet.
> > We were too close to the river and too close to the burning
helicopter,
> > so I gave the order for everyone to move to the high ground
farther back
> > from the river. The three walking wounded were able to make
it without
> > too much trouble. I noticed that one of them had an M-14
rifle that he
> > had brought aboard the helicopter. Good man!
> > Cpl. Carpenter moved his machine gun back to the gully I had
pointed
> > out, set it up, and came back down to help Villanavaua with
the wounded
> > who couldn't walk.
> > LtCol Beal was helping LCpl Curtis set up his machine gun
and
> > organizing a defensive perimeter position. Charlie was
still sniping at
> > us and could be closing in from any direction.
> > I went back to help the other wounded who needed assistance
and
> > retrieved an M-16 rifle that Corpsman Villaanavaua had
brought out of
> > the aircraft.
> > We all settled down in the gully and watched the fire
consume the left
> > side of the helicopter. The rotor blades began to turn
again.
> > "Must have burned out the rotor brake," observed Carpenter.
> > The blades rotated slowly as the fire became more intense.
It looked
> > like a large version of the pinwheel that fascinates
children on the 4th
> > of July. Finally one of the blades burned through and fell.
The
> > pinwheel stopped.
> > I pulled out my emergency radio and attempted to contact the
HUEY
> > gunship that was covering us. All I could make out was that
another
> > chopper was on the way to pick us up. I looked at my watch.
It was
> > 1559. One half hour from start to stop.
> > The fire now consumed the entire left side of the old bird
and the left
> > strut gave way. She eased down on the left side. Nothing
violent -
> > just lying down because she was too tired and beat to stand
up any
> > more. A few sparks escaped the flames and shot up into the
air. The
> > sides were white-hot and melting. A few rounds started to
cook off.
> > Someone must have left a clip of ammunition
> > aboard.
> > 6
> > One of the walking wounded looked a little nervous. I moved
him over
> > by Cpl. Carpenter. "Help the corporal with this machine
gun," I told
> > the wounded Marine. He seemed relieved that he had
something to do. I
> > put another one of the wounded with LCpl Curtis. Then, I
instructed the
> > wounded Marine with the M-14 rifle to reposition to a more
advantageous
> > spot.
> > I walked over to where the corpsman was treating the two who
couldn't
> > walk. He was cleaning wounds, putting on new dressings, and
performing
> > the myriad tasks a corpsman must do in the field. "How's it
going,,
> > Doc?" I asked him.
> > "He'll be okay," Villanavaua answered.
> > "How long are we going to be here?" the Marine who was being
worked on
> > wanted to know.
> > "Now much longer," I assured him. " There are some more
choppers on
> > the way. They should be here in a few minutes".
> > "Am I going to bleed to death?" he asked.
> > I looked at the wound that Doc was cleaning. The bleeding
had stopped.
> >
> > It was 1620 when the H-46 choppers arrived overhead. One
peeled off
> > and started down. We made ready to get aboard as soon as it
landed.
> > The chopper settled down in a clear area about ten meters
from us.
> > Again, we helped the wounded aboard, retrieved our weapons,
and I took
> > a head count. Everyone was aboard. I gave the crew chief a
thumbs up
> > and we lifted off.
> > As soon as we were at altitude I walked u to the cockpit to
see who
> > was flying. I recognized him - LtCol Bill Beeler sitting at
the
> > controls with a cold cigar stub in his mouth.
> > "You owe me a beer, Salter," was all he said.
> > end
> >
> > Copyright 1999 Gene Salter
|
