Another old war story

Now first off if these stories are not considered appropriate for this Forum please just let me know.  None of my stories are upsetting or even very negative.

I have either forgotten the bad stories or choose not to tell them.

This is a long post and I apologies for that but it is a true story


Now do not start thinking that I am going to write you guys a bedtime story every night. I do not have that many stories, at least not true stories.

I am going to tell a story that I think is one of my most vivid memories of my time in Viet Nam.

I spent most all of my time in Viet Nam flying for the Senior Advisor or his replacement. These were all single ship missions to support whatever he or his staff needed. My usual day would start out by flying south from Vinh Long to Can Tho where his headquarters was located. We would land in a Soccer Field next to his base and pick him and his staff up. We would then fly northwest and across two large rivers to Cao Lahn, where we would pick up his Vietnamese counterpart, General Hahn, (who we referred to in private as ?The Warlord of Cao Lahn?).

The picture below is of the monument pad in Cao Lahn where we would pick up General Hanh

These two could not have been more different. The SA Hassinger was one of the best Officers and more important, one of the best individuals that I have ever known. He would always look out for the crew. He made sure we got food and transportation and whatever we needed. He also treated us with respect and would often tell us stories on our long trips flying across the Delta. His parents were in the Diplomatic Corp and he grew up in southeast Asia.

General Hahn lived up to his nickname. He was a modern day version of a Feudal War Lord. The best example of his arrogance was that he would usually urinate in the street before getting into the Huey. He totally ignored anyone in his presence as if they were not there. Enough said about him.

The Huey that we used to support the mission was a specially equipped Huey. It had a large square radio console mounted in the middle of the aircraft just between and centered behind the two pilot seats. It had just about every kind of radio available and two or three FM radios so that they could talk to different forces on the ground at the same time. We even had a HF radio that requires a long zig zag antenna down the tail boom of the aircraft. He could probably have called back to the world and talked to his wife, well almost.

This Huey was the cleanest Huey in existence. It had so many coats of wax that it had to be the best looking aircraft in the Army. The last three numbers on the tail were 777. Our standard in the Headquarters Troop of the 7th of the 1st Cav was to use our squadron call sign of Blackhawk as our radio call sign along with the last three numbers of our aircraft. When flying this Huey I was known as ?Blackhawk triple Seven, (777).

That should be enough information to set the background. On the day of this story we picked up both of them and headed out west towards our old unlucky area around Chi Lang. I just realized how unlucky that area was. Most of the bad things that happened to me happened out there in the boonies.

In Viet Nam it was normal for us to try to fly above 1500 feet if we could. The main reason was because small arms fire was usually not effective above that altitude. By small arms I mean AK-47s, M-14s or M-16s. They fired 7.62 or 5.56mm rounds and we were mostly out of range for them. I usually flew at 2,000 to 2,500 feet to be safer and because in the summer it was much cooler at altitude.

On this particular day we had eight Americans, a full fuel load, a heavy radio console and a hot day with a high density altitude that had a negative effect on our lift ability. We were flying along at what I called the Fat, Dumb, and Happy mode. Now no professional aviator is ever really in that mode, but we were relaxed. Even so the two things every helicopter pilot has to always do.  They are to know which way the wind is blowing and where am I going if I lose my engine.

You guessed it, the audio alarm went off in my flight helmet and the center warning light console lit up like the Las Vegas Strip. We had an engine failure. The first thing that you have to do in an engine failure is to lower the collective and reduce the pitch in the main rotor blades. This helps preserve the momentum of the main rotor blades and can even allow the speed of the blades to increase slightly by making sharp turns. I then turned the knob on the radio to the emergency guard frequency, The Cyclic control, (like a big joystick in front of you) has a trigger for your pointing finger. One detent is for intercom and the second click is for transmitting on the radio that is active.

MAYDAY?MAYDAY?MAYDAY?THIS IS BLACKHAWK TRIPLE SEVEN?.WE HAVE AN ENGINE FAILURE?. FIVE MILES NORTHEAST OF CHI LANG??CODE ABOARD?...

Every word was an octave higher than the previous word. I think I sucked the entire cushion of my seat up inside me. The most important word in that mayday call was CODE ABOARD. That statement signified that we had at least a General aboard the aircraft. I wanted every aircraft within radio range to hear that. It would get everybody headed in our direction and I wanted every hero I could find to come get us.

On the way down I checked the rotor and it was in the green. (OK). I had my landing field picked out and I did a quick ?S? turn to line up into the wind. I was committed to the site and felt pretty good about our chances to autorotate into the field. In autorotation you use the stored momentum of the main rotor to create a cushion at the bottom on your fall to stop your downward speed. I flared the aircraft to kill off the forward speed and waited till the correct time to pull the pitch and use my cushion to soften the landing. I pulled the pitch and the aircraft kept descending quickly. The timing was just right, the problem was that we were way overweight. With the eight Americans, the full fuel tank, the radio console and the hot day we had too much weight to fully cushion the landing. As we hit the skids spread out like an ice skater doing the splits and the bottom of the Huey touched the ground. The main rotor flexed down in the back and cut off the tail boom and tail rotor. We slid a foot or two and created a little dust cloud. As the dust settled I looked out in front of us. In the tree line there was this seven foot, bald headed, sumo wrestling, Ghengis Kahn looking Chinese fellow looking back at me. I blinked and he was gone.

Everyone was OK.  Nobody got as much as a scratch except for my knee. The troops jumped out and set up a security perimeter. On the way down I did have other aircraft responding to my Mayday call. I had been a little busy and did not have much of a conversation with them during the crash. Within a few minutes we had a regular parade of aircraft circling above us and jockying for position to determine who would pick us up.

I had a couple of duties that I had to do before getting on the rescue Huey. I had to either destroy or remove the KY-28 crypto box in the nose of the Huey. This looked like a modern day USB stick about the size of a loaf of bread. Upon removing it all the pins reset to eliminate the daily code. I also made sure as the Aircraft commander that everyone on the Huey was accounted for and on the other Hueys. I grabbed my 12 gauge shotgun from my seat back, my bag of shells, and my 35mm camera and turned to walk to the other Huey. I patted the nose of my old Huey. In collapsing the way it did it adsorbed the impact and saved everyone.

As I got on the rescue Huey, I sat on the floor and let my legs hang out over the skids. I picked up my camera and shot about four pictures as we lifted off. Forty years ago cameras did not have auto focus or auto exposure. Those four pictures were so over exposed that I could barely make the Huey out.

As we circled the wreck, a Chinook came into view. A Chinook is the large dual rotor helicopter that can carry a Huey under itself on a sling. They rigged my Huey and lifted it and carried it back to our base.

The return of the Huey was very fortunate for me. Whenever anyone crashes, the first thing that is considered is Pilot Error. Did I turn off the fuel, did I run out of fuel, did I do anything wrong.

Upon inspection, the cause of the engine failure was proven to be from a single 51 caliber round entering the front intake of the turbine and hitting the compressor blades. The compressor blades spin at a very high RPM and literally destroys itself if out of balance.
In addition they determined that because of all the extra weight and the fact that nobody got hurt that it was an attaboy, or a good crash.

The thanks from the Senior Advisor was enough of a reward for me, but they ended up giving all our crew members awards. My Crew Chief and Door Gunner got the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry, my Co Pilot got a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with a Bronze Star, and I got a Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with a Silver Star. Does that make me Gallant or what.

Thanks for sharing that, Bill.

You said: "It had so many coats of wax that it had to be the best looking aircraft in the Army." How much weight did that add?  ;D :

Not nearly as much weight as the Vietnamese General Hahn.  He did not miss many meals.

Thanks for the stories Bill.

Ken

Awesome story Bill,  thank you for your service. Living through those trying times is quite an accomplishment. Glad you were with us to tell the story. 

Wow, Thank you for your service.  We will never know the half of what our boys went through over there.  Glad you're here to tell your stories.

Robin

Geeze!  Good story.  My only claim to fame was patching A6 Intruder radar and "stuff".  Being out on Yankee Station on the USS Kittyhawk didn't place us in much of harm's way unless you count a few Olongapo City liberties.  We managed to play a lot of double-deck Pinochle, though, if that counts for anything.  Thanks for your service, Bill.  Glad you are around tell about it.

Thanks for the story Bill!

I've gotta admit, when I saw the title of this thread I was happy to see another story.  I appreciate your sharing it, and I enjoy reading this stuff.  Way better than any fiction could ever be.

As i mentioned to you in another thread, about all I read is military autobiographies and memoirs.  It started a bunch of years ago when i went to see Chuck Yeager and Bud Anderson's "talk" at Oshkosh.  I have never been much of a reader, save from text books in school, and later text books related to my hobbies, general aviation flying, SCUBA, etc....
Anyway, after I heard General Yeager and Col Anderson speak about their WW2 experiences, and their later test flying, I went and bought their books. I've been hooked ever since.  I found my genre.

When i started having trouble finding those written by WW2 pilots, I read some by navigators, bombardiers, etc.... and later opened up to other periods both war and peacetime.... and ground stuff, submarines, etc... too.  I've found a couple good reads about helicopter pilots from your era, but not many.... one I picked up at an Airventure book signing called "Scarface 42".

Anyway Bill, you're a good writer, and I appreciate you sharing these stories.

You could expand this story a bit and have a great foundation for a chapter..... and maybe even a title for your book!...."Blackhawk Triple Seven"

Regardless, thanks for your service Bill.

Here is another story for you guys.

If these stories are allowed I will just keep adding them to this thread from time to time


The Tale of Jimmy Little Rat


During the time I spent in Viet Nam I carried most everything that you can imagine. I mostly carried V.I.P.s, but I also carried replacement troops, ammo, C-Rations, water, big containers of hot food for Thanksgiving and Christmas, prisoners, refugees, wounded, dead, Miss America and two runner up States, and a refrigerator from the PX in Saigon to name a few.

I flew all single ship missions so I got to land in some of the strangest places, little villages, Special Forces base camps, an observation post on the top of a mountain overlooking the border, and some places that did not existed officially.

One day we landed in a small out of the way village and two little Vietnamese boys came up to me and wanted to sell me a puppy.

(First picture below)

First off, I am a sucker for a little puppy. The thing that really convinced me was the thought that if I did not buy this puppy, he might end up in a stew pot.


So begins the tale of Jimmy Little Rat the Flying Wonder Dog.

(second picture below)


Jimmy loved to fly. He would beat us out to the Huey in the morning and stand with his two front paws on the front of the skid and wait to be picked up and put in the aircraft. He wore a harness with a clip on cord and would ride happily under my seat in the front right of the Helicopter.

We gave him the last name of Little Rat so that we could officially log his flight time in the log book. We had several American Indians that were within our flight crews. They all serve as some of the best soldiers over there. One of our crew had the last name of White-Buffalo, so we thought Little-Rat was a good name for Jimmy.

There is a medal that is awarded to flight crews in combat situations that dates back from World War Two. When bomber crews would complete their 25th mission they were rotated and were given the Air Medal. In Viet Nam the troops were awarded the Air Medal after 25 to 50 hours of Combat Air Time.

Jimmy Little Rat soon qualified for his Air Medal. The Company Clerk wrote it up and Jimmy got it.

Jimmy used to attend all the gatherings in our hooch, although he just like me did not like beer.

(third picture below)


As I recall Jimmy also once received an Article 15 for refusing to salute and for pissing on some ones boot.


Now like all good tales, this one does have some drama.

One day while not flying, Jimmy got run over by a Duce and a Half Truck. It broke his left hip. We rushed around and got the Medical team. The Flight Surgeon got his buddy the Orthopedic Surgeon and the Anesthesiologist and we carried Jimmy to a waiting jeep. We sped to the main gate to take Jimmy to the civilian hospital in downtown Vihn Long where they had an Operating Room.

The MP?s at the main gate would not let us take Jimmy off base. He had been off base almost daily during his entire life, but never thru the gate. We did not bother to even try to argue the point. We turned around and quickly grabbed a Huey from the flight line and MediVacced Jimmy. The hospital was just off the east end of our runway, so it was take off and immediately land on the roof of the hospital.

The surgeons rushed Jimmy into surgery to pin his hip. They had to estimate his anesthesia based on his weight. They had never worked on such a small trooper but they fixed him up and put a cast on his left leg and half his body.

As they later tried to bring him back on base?.You guessed it. They were refused entry with our buddy. We went back to the flight line for a second MediVac from the hospital to the base.

After taking a leisurely vacation, Jimmy fully recovered and was awarded a Purple Heart

I was sent home early and went from the war to the Freedom Bird in one day. I was told that our Crew Chief was able to take Jimmy Little Rat back to the world, specifically California.

I am not sure if that was true of just what the wanted me to believe. That was forty five years ago so I am sure that Jimmy Little Rat is flying around somewhere now.

I never realized it before, but I just zoomed in on one of my old pictures and you can see Jimmy under my seat in the next picture.

(Picture below)


That?s my Story and I am sticking to it.

Great story Bill! Super cute pup, and it's amazing the things we do for our furry friends. Love the pics too.

Nice story, Bill -- I can see why you quickly became attached to Jimmy.

great story! Thanks!!!

What a riot about flying him out and in when a jeep just wouldn't do!

I wonder, did the surgeons and such think that he was some sort of trained and official military war dog or something?.... or was everyone in the loop on his real rank?

Brad,

One of the positive things about Viet Nam was that it was not a spit shine - follow every rule to the letter kind of place.

I had lots of friends and more importantly Jimmy had lots of friends.  He was not an official mascot, but he was a regular fixture and an unofficial part of our crew.

In Viet Nam we often had the ability to just gets things done and to do the right thing.  I guess we always do have that option.

Through my life I have alway been fortunate to work in situations where that has also applied.  I have been involved it five seperate start up companies.  In a start up situation you have lots of discretion in solving problems and fixing situations with the right and morally correct solution.  Later as the company matures the Bean Counters, (Accountants) tend to do a cost benefit analysis instead of just doing the right thing.

Fortunately we had very few Bean Counters in the war that I was part of.

To illustrate that there were some positive and satisfying missions accomplished over there, Here is another short story.


Not all war stories are related to bad memories. This one is one of my favorite memories of Viet Nam and though it has only been told a few times to close freinds during the last 45 years, I think it is time to tell it.

There was a Vietnamese doctor that grew up in a very respected family in one of the provinces of South Viet Nam. His father and older brothers were also Physicians. They had all been educated and trained in Medical School in Paris. France is closely associated with colonial Viet Nam and it was once known as French Indo China. There are and have been strong ties between the two countries.

This Physician was a Hemotologist (worked with blood diseases). While in Paris he met and married a French woman and they had six children together. His name was Captain Tu, in vietnamese a captain is called "Di We". He spent almost ten years in Paris where his father and brothers were practicing medicine. Just prior to qualifying for citizenship at ten years residence in France, Captain Tu was conscripted into the South Vietnamese Army as a Physician. He spent several years operating a Hemotology lab in the western part of the Delta.

I met him several times as he would pass thru the base where I was stationed in "Vinh Long" in the center of the Delta. He would make trips back to his home province and old family home. He was selling family assets and converting the vietnamese Piasters to American Greenbacks. I met him thru our Flight Surgeon who was a friend of his.

Captain Tu had managed over the years to send his three oldest children to live with their Grandparents and Uncles in Paris and to go to school there. His obligation in the Vietnamese Army continued to be extended.

Captain Tu, his wife and their three youngest children lived in "Long Swin" for years until he got a transfer to a different assignment.

One bright sunny morning a Huey picked up Dr Tu and his family and took off to the east into the morning sun, flew across the big river and out of sight. Shortly thereafter the Huey turned to the left and flew to the NorthWest up across the green rice paddies of the Delta. About an hour later the Huey crossed over an imaginary red line and continued Northwest. At a spot on a map where Highway One intersected a small village the Huey landed. An ancient French Citrogen car was waiting with a Buddist Monk as the driver in his safron and orange robes. Doctor Tu shook hands and he and his family got into the small car and continued NorthWest to "Phnom Pen" where they had tickets on a French airliner to Paris.

That was almost forty five years ago. I have never heard or seen Dr Tu since and he would be in his eighties or older by now. I like to think of him with his reunited extended family living all these years together. The Huey turned south and dodged around palm trees until we returned across the red line on the map where upon we climbed to altitude and rejoined the war.

I flew lots of interesting single ship missions during the two tours I spent over there, but I do believe that this was my most productive mission flown.

Sorry for the long post. That's my story and I am sticking to it.....and I think the statute of limitations has expired.

You are quite the wordsmith! Write a book.........I for one will read it.

Thank You.

I am saving the stories to post here one at a time.

I am not really interested in the commercial part of writing a book, But I do enjoy sharing the stories,

I especially like to tell the stories that are a little different than a typical "War Story"

I spent yesterday writing about seven stories to hold in reserve and to post in a way that they are not too long for a typical Forum thread.

I especially like to tell the stories that are a little different than a typical "War Story"

Click to expand...

And we sure enjoy them, too. Thanks,

Bill, 
Enjoyed reading your stories  and remembering you telling them in person out at Quartzite this past January.  The wife enjoy the ride through the dessert and up the mountain to the mine.  Thanks for the for sharing the power.  Don't know what was going on...everything worked fine when we got back to Casa Grande.
Maybe, my RV didn't like the dessert. 

If you ever get to NW Ohio let me know...I have a spot for you at private campground


WildBill

Bill Waugh, I'm enjoying your war stories.  They are unique!  Thanks for sharing them.

ArdraF

Here is another short one.


This story in keeping with my theme of positive stories is neither gory nor depressing. It is mostly interesting from a technical standpoint. I think that it will be appropriate for us guys in the Forum because most of us are interested in how things work from a technical standpoint.

First, A little background on one of the reasons a helicopter requires a tail rotor. A helicopter is an amazing assortment of mechanical parts spinning, twirling, oscillating, and rotating in different directions. You might think that Mr. Sikorsky?s real name was Rube Goldberg.

The main rotor that creates lift by pushing air down also has the effect of creating a twisting motion on the body of the helicopter. If we did not have a way of canceling this force a helicopter would spin in the opposite direction as the main rotor turned. You may have seen video of a helicopter crashing when they lose a tail rotor. They start pivoting and quickly lose control and usually hit something with the main rotor and roll up in a crash.

I had a tail rotor failure one day as we were returning to Vinh Long, our base. What many people do not know is that it is possible to land with a tail rotor failure if you are lucky and if the tail rotor fails in the right kind of conditions. A Huey does have a large surface area that is covered with a metal skin. This somewhat aerodynamic surface can help keep the aircraft pointing straight if you are flying at a high enough speed. At a hover, a tail rotor failure will result in an aircraft spinning like a top. Adding power just makes it worse. At speed the loss of a tail rotor usually does not have enough force to overcome the wind pushing against the covered body of a Huey. The problem is that when you lose airspeed and come to a hover, you cannot control the aircraft.

The solution is that you can actually fly a Huey in a method that is similar to an airplane. If you push the control forward, it will descend and pick up airspeed. If you pull back it will slow and climb or at least reduce the rate of descent. By leaving the control that adds power to the main rotor alone you can reduce the effect of changing torque.

The way to survive a tail rotor failure is to find the longest, smoothest runway around and fly the Huey into the ground like a fixed wing airplane. You can trust me on this one. That is exactly what I did. I lined up on the runway and flew as shallow of an approach as I could. I very slowly lost altitude while keeping my speed up as high as I could. When the skids touched down I kept slowly reducing the power and putting more weight on the skids. Eventually the Huey came to a sliding stop. I had to sacrifice the skids, but saved the Huey and us.

Again, without pictures it is not as good of a story. Here are a few pictures showing the replacement of the skids that were worn down.

A different aircraft, but I like this close up.

The second and third pictures are of the actual aircraft tail number 453 that I flew sometimes.

I also once had a hydraulics failure and used the same procedure to get it on the ground.  You cannot hover without the assistance of the hydraulic system.