Now I am through with in-country processing. I’ve got 3 sets of jungle fatigues with the cool pockets in the shirt and what we now call “cargo pants”, olive drab underwear and socks, 2 very cool pairs of jungle boots with olive drab fabric tops and farm tractor aggressive treads. Also, some pilot stuff like a Smith & Wesson Model 10 in .38 Special (with a very hokey shoulder holster) and a brand new APH-5 flight helmet in olive drab. Two of my flight school classmates and I left An Khe assigned to B Company; one of 4 companies that made up the 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion of the 1st Cavalry Division.
An aircraft from our unit at LZ English was sent down to pick us up and deliver us to the Commanding Officer, Major Varner, to report for duty. I was assigned to the 1st Flight Platoon Commanded by Captain Kenneth (Kenny Hardcore) Hamburger and my two classmates were assigned to the 2nd flight platoon. After almost 14 months in the Army I was finally at work in a real aviation company and ready to fly for a living. My first real boss, Cpt. Hamburger showed me my quarters in a section of a GP Medium tent and took me to Operations where all aviation activities are assigned.
After a couple of days orienting to company policies, fixing up my AO (area of operation) in my tent and getting checked off with the Company Standardization Pilot, I was officially in the REAL flight school, flying real missions from the right seat and part of a real 4 man flight crew. Nothing was simulated. Every time I went into the air, there was a real combat reason to do so and the hazards of combat to accompany it.
I'm not a particularly brave man and I was very inexperienced, in a real war, flying an armed war machine in areas where other people want to hurt me. The excitement of the adventure was starting to wane. The arrogance that I took with me from flight school was also waning. No, in fact, it was crashing down. I was among the best helicopter pilots in the world and next to them I was just an FNG. Every day that I saw my name on the mission board in operations, I was put with a senior, very experienced AC (Aircraft Commander) who refined the skills I learned in flight school. Formation flying was based on the mission. The tightness of the formation and its style were determined by the size and shape of the LZ (landing zone). For multi ship operations called combat assaults, the LZs could be single ship size where we used trail formation with spacing based on how long the flight leader thought it would take to drop the troops and get out of the way of the following ship. In flight school they were always loose with very large fields for landing. In combat we were fully loaded with 6 or 7 troops heavily equipped. If we had a full load of fuel, we were heavy - in the ballpark of maximum gross weight. In flight school, no troops. In flight school we trained landing on pinnacles, and in confined areas. In Vietnam most of our single ship operations were confined areas not much larger than the rotor disc. We also negotiated slopes and pinnacles that were also confined areas, fully loaded with supplies for the infantry or artillery unit we were supporting. Loading and unloading the aircraft were often done at a hover because of stumps and severe slopes. Holding an aircraft still at a hover while loading was not covered in flight school. Conservation of engine power while very heavy, required a very smooth stick. A 200-hour pilot out of flight school was typically very abrupt on the controls. We learned to imperceptibly pressure the stick where a casual observer couldn’t see it move. Long story short, the REAL flight school began with flying missions in combat, and I flew under the tutelage of the best helicopter pilots in the world. That was just part of the adventure fading and growing into a competent adult who people could count on when all the chips were in.
Every evening after work and after dinner, most of the 1st Platoon pilots would gather in our bunker/Officers club and tell war stories, play poker and sip on adult beverages. A lot of good things came out of these informal gatherings. One was our pledge to infantry soldiers to NEVER let them down. It did not matter the weather, the time of day or night, or the heat of battle; if they call, we come. Before I arrived, there had been some intense battles where my unit was involved in supporting the infantry under intense fire. Many of these war stories, and their related songs sung by our resident musicians, reinforced the code. We also learned the merit and skills of all the senior ACs in our platoon. I learned to stay out of poker games and to avoid alcohol. We also learned to hate the enemy and strip them of their humanity by assigning them names like gook, dink, slope, charley and so on. It’s difficult to kill or participate in killing people you don’t hate. When I left Vietnam the final time while in the Army, I pledged to myself to NEVER hate again.
In those first 2 months in the field, my sense of awareness was awakened and after awakened, continually sharpened. One day on a routine single ship logistical resupply mission, I was flying along skinny, dumb and happy at about 1500 feet above the ground. Suddenly the AC grabbed the controls and made a very sharp and steep left turn as an evasive maneuver. He claimed we got shot at and explained the popping noise he heard. It wasn’t long after that that my ears and mind became aware of the sound of ground fire through my helmet, through the ambient noise of the helicopter (rotor blades and engine), through those little pink plastic earplugs, and through radio noise. Amazing and true. The feel of the controls through flight gloves and thick soles of combat boots was totally lacking any sensation or feedback from the aircraft. Huey controls were all about hydraulic assist and dampened all feedback from the flight surfaces they controlled. Slowly as my hours and experience grew, I started feeling the aircraft talking to me. I felt the pedals under my thick soled combat boots talk to me about wind gusts, loading and vibrations. I felt feedback from the main rotor system. My hearing picked up airframe and engine noises. I became what is now called hyper-aware of my helicopter and its environment. By the time I had 500 hours (300 hours in country), I started strapping the Huey to my back and wore it like it was plugged in to my brain, not like being strapped to a runaway horse as before.
The months of September, October and part of November were the most important to me than the rest of that first year and somewhat quiet from the perspective of enemy activity where I flew. That allowed me to learn to fly, build my situational awareness and gain the confidence that I could make my aircraft do whatever I wanted it to and accomplish any mission given to me. I could have joined the unit on the eve of a great and ferocious battle like many of my associates did later that year, but God was working on my behalf, undeservedly, and I am forever grateful!
