Studies and Observation Group (SOG)…Finding the Team
“One-Zero, this is One-Seven, drop back about 45 seconds so we don't bump into each other while climbing through the soup. I'm going to head in at 170 degrees. That should give me enough room to not bump into some rocks. Meet you on top”.
“Roger that, one seven”
“Let's turn to 160 degrees Tom, to spread us apart a little more. Boys, you can go ahead and slide the cargo doors closed”.
As our heading reached 160, I took control of the aircraft, reduced airspeed and penetrated the pewter side of the clouds. Tom kept his eyes on the engine instruments and outside the aircraft as I focused on the flight instruments. This is the second time this month that I've had to use my Tactical Instrument Ticket which basically trained us to keep the aircraft straight and level in flight. It gives you the ability to live another day if you inadvertently find yourself in the clouds. I'm not sure it was for intentionally entering the clouds but in war the mission always comes first.
As the doors shut, the noise was measurably reduced. The radios were quiet, and I was focused on the Instrument six pack (the turn and slip not shown above was number 6). Besides the flow of adrenaline, my mind was wandering everywhere pointing out all the negatives of this mission. I had the feeling that this was going to be a bad day. No gunships. Crappy weather. Team on the run from a battalion sized enemy unit. Already marginal fuel giving us only five minutes to find and load the team. I started hearing all kinds of new sounds and vibrations from the aircraft. I started thinking about icing and attributed some of the tinking sounds as ice flinging off the rotor blades.
“Tom what's the outside temperature?”
“It looks like a little below 70 deg.”.
I remember from flight school that icing was possible in high humidity up to 70 deg.
“Quigley where is that tinking noise coming from? Do you see anything flying off the rotor blades?”
“No sir, and the tinking noises are just the aircraft doing its thing. You normally don't hear them when the doors are open.”
“Thanks Quigley”
After getting the aircraft climb and heading squared away it was strangely calm and serene. I took a quick glance through the windshield and saw nothing but a luminous gray. I couldn't even see the rotor disc. My mind flashed back to my high school days driving home in my dad's 57 Buick when it was so foggy that I drove home looking at the centerline of the road through the bottom of the car's open door. Another memory popped in my mind about the last time I flew on instruments earlier that month. There was nothing serene about recovering an aircraft from an unusual attitude at night.
“We are on top,” announced Harnisher, as the cabin of the aircraft flashed bright. I must have been in a time warp as it only felt like a minute or two after entering the clouds and 4,200’ of climb later, we were on top. I turned due west and nosed the aircraft to cruise airspeed.
“Tom, you have the aircraft. Does anyone see the lead?”
“I've got the aircraft.”
The lead aircraft was a couple of klicks or so west of us, so I asked Tom to kick cruise up to a hundred knots. It's unbelievable how bright, beautiful, and white clouds can be on the top side. It looked like a layer of bright white cotton balls as far as you could see in all directions. Skirting about fifty feet above them made me feel a little carefree and playful. The day’s tension all but dissolved as I pictured myself dragging the skids through their tops.
I contacted Gutwein and let him know our position and he in turn called the Air Force Forward Air Controller (FAC) on station and reported in.
“Covey Two-Three, this is Killer Spade One-Seven, over.”
“Roger, Spade this is Covey, go ahead.”
“Roger Covey, we have a flight of two slicks and we just popped through the clouds inbound with an ETA of 15 minutes. We had to leave the Cobras behind due to weather. Do you have any help for us?”
“No Spade, but I’ll get you something coming. Standby.”
“Roger that, Covey.”
Gutwein then called me on the radio. “One-Zero, how are you doing on fuel?”
“I’ve got about forty minutes, before I see the twenty-minute fuel warning light.”
“Roger, One-Zero. We are same-same. It looks like we will have about twenty-five minutes after we get there to locate the team and get them back to Phu Bai.”
“That gives us about five minutes to find the team, if we kick it up a little coming back.”
“Roger that, One-Zero.”
“Spade One-Seven, this is Covey. I have two Navy Intruders inbound. I saved them a trip to Hanoi. They should be on station in about ten minutes. I also have three Phantoms out of Cam Ranh Bay on standby. I can have them here in fifteen minutes if we need them.”
“Roger that, Covey.”
Gutwein’s aircraft was equipped with six McQuire Rigs, which were 150-foot-long ropes with a webbed seat on the end. They didn’t have enough Rigs to equip our aircraft, so we had six 150-foot ropes with a few knots tied on the end. They were neatly coiled on the floor, with one end attached to the tie-down rings. All we had to do if they were needed was for the crew chief and gunner to kick the coils out their door.
“One-Zero, when we get there, I’ll look for the team and you stay high until we find them then it’s up to you to keep me covered while I pick them up.”
“Roger that, One-Seven.”
“Ok, boys, open the doors and check your 60’s. Do not fire at anything until we know where the team is.”
“Yes Sir!” said Morris, the gunner.
“I’m locked and loaded, Sir!” Quigley added with flair.
“Anyone see that FAC out there?”
“I’m looking,” Tom replied.
Tom was from Queens, New York and his accent was so thick you could cut it with a knife. On top of that accent, he talked really slowly. It was a challenge for me to remember what he said in the first part of his sentence by the time he got through the last part. He and I were in the same flight school class and now in the same unit. He was a seasoned pilot and very good at what he did. He was ready to fly any mission, any time, and if the shit hit the fan, he was rock steady, apparently unlike those jar heads we left back at Phu Bai. I knew that all I had to worry about was to fly the aircraft and Tom would take care of the rest.
“Covey Two-Three, Spade One-Seven, we are approaching the east rim of the valley and it looks like there are a few holes we can descend through. What is your location?”
“Roger, Killer Spade, I have you in sight about four klicks west of me. I should be at your twelve low, right in the tops of the clouds.”
“Does anyone see him?” I asked over the intercom.
“I see him,” Tom said. “He is about our 12:30 low.”
“I’ve got him, Tom. I wonder if Guts sees him.”
“Covey, this is Spade One-Seven, I’ve gotcha. Do you have contact with our boys?”
“Roger, Killer Spade, they are still on the run and the NVA is on their tail. They should be very close to the valley floor now at the very north end.”
“Covey Two-Three, this is Intruder Lead. I have two A-6’s each loaded with nine 500 pounders and 1200 rounds of 20 mike mike. We are 10 klicks northeast of your position, over.”
“Roger, Intruder Lead. Go into 180-degree attack pattern at 10,000 feet over my position and hold. We have two Army Hueys locating a team for extraction and they are without, I repeat without, their gunship escorts.”
“Killer Spade, the A-6’s are on station. I’m going to scramble the standby Phantoms from Cam Ranh Bay for insurance.”
“Roger that, Covey. Thanks for coming Intruders.” Guts replied.
“The pleasure is all ours, Killer Spade,” replied Intruder Lead.
“RomeoTango One, this is Killer Spade One-Seven. Give me some smoke and we will get you out of here. Over.”
Roger, Killer ---ta-tat--- Spade, this is ---ta-ta-ta-tat--- Tango One ---tat-ta-ta--- popping smoke.”
“Tom, those guys are in deep weeds,” I commented over the intercom.
We looked out and we saw purple smoke and Guts came on their radio.
“Romeo Tango One, we have goofy grape, over.”
Then about a hundred meters to the north, a green smoke. And east of there, more smoke of all colors. We saw about twenty different smoke plumes. Obviously, the radio frequency was compromised, and the enemy was also popping smoke.
“Romeo Tango One, we have too many smokes, go to the first alternate frequency,” Guts transmitted, and I changed to the number two frequency from this morning’s briefing.
“One-Seven, One-Zero,” I called on the alternate.
“I gotcha One-Zero. Romeo Tango One, give me some signal mirror.”
“Roger, ---ta-tat-ta-tat--- One-Seven”.
The whole east side of the mountain and part of the valley floor started flashing mirrors at us as well as a few on the west side.
“Romeo Tango One, Killer Spade, the whole area just lit up. That’s not going to cut it. Do you have suggestions?”
“Roger, Killer Spade. You just passed overhead ---ta-tat-tat---and I hear your rotors. Fly a zigzag pattern and when you are directly overhead, I’ll signal. Drop your rigs ---tat-tat-tat-tat-tat--- in the nearest break in the trees south of my signal.”
“Roger that, Romeo Tango”.
Gutwein started his zig-zag search pattern as he dropped down to about 300 feet above the trees. We stayed about 1000 ft above him and started a counterclockwise orbit above him.
“Killer Spade, bingo, I repeat bingo,” Called Romeo Tango.
“Roger that Romeo Tango, there is an opening in the trees 150 meters south of your position. I will wait for you there.” Guts then came to a high hover over an opening in the trees about 150 meters south of the “bingo” and kicked out the McQuire rigs. We dropped our orbit down to about 300 feet above his hover and tightened our orbit around Guts to cover him and give the fast movers room to work.
“Mr. Fillmore, we are taking fire from those hills on the west,” Morris alerted.
“Return fire.”
“Covey, we are taking fire from the mountain side on the west! Can you get those Intruders in closer!”
“Roger, Killer Spade.”
The FAC pilot fired a couple of white phosphorus smoke rockets we called “willy petes” to mark the targets for the Intruders and they dropped down and started making bombing runs on the mountain sides on our east and west. They dropped a couple of bombs from about 1000 feet on each pass.
“Intruder Lead, concentrate your fire on the west mountain side!”
“Roger, Covey; we just finished our last bombing pass, our ordinance is expended. We can make a couple of strafing passes with the 20’s.”
“Roger, Intruder Lead. Return to base after you're expended. Do you copy, Killer Spade?”
“Roger that”
“Dale, we have a 20-minute fuel warning light,” Tom said.
“OK, Tom. Reset the master caution.”
“One-Seven, One-Zero, we just got our 20-minute fuel light. Do you have those guys in the rigs yet!”
“No, One-Zero! They are below the aircraft and tying in. It should be just another minute or two. We have our 20-minute fuel warning also.”
Shit, shit, shit! This is dragging out way too long and I want to get out of here. Ground troops are closing in, and if we left now, we probably wouldn't have enough fuel to get back to base.
“Covey Two-Three, this is Phantom Lead. I am 15 klicks south of your position with a heavy fire team and we will be on station in forty seconds, over.”
“Roger Phantom, on arrival, go into a 120-degree counterclockwise attack pattern. What is your ordinance?”
“Covey, we have six 1000 pounders, 6 napes, and 2000 rounds of 20 mike mike per aircraft.”
“Roger Phantom, we have one Army Huey in a high hover picking up the team now and one orbiting, laying suppressing fire on the west side valley wall. On entering your attack pattern, lay some napes on my mark on the west side wall.” Covey fired a pair of willy peets low on the west wall..
“Killer Spade, we will have some fast movers on station in about 15 seconds. How is the enemy fire?”
“Covey, One-Zero. It’s settled down a little. They are probably moving in on the team. Have those Phantoms move in close to my orbit and lay those napes at the base of the west valley wall.”
“Roger, One-Zero. Do you copy Phantom Lead?”
“Roger, Covey.”
Right after the first pass of the F-4’s, Guts pulled up out of the trees with the McGuire rigs. He climbed vertically, very slowly, as he pulled the team up through the trees. As soon as we could see the team, Quigley announced over the intercom. “Sir, they only have three guys!”
“One-Seven, you only have three guys! What’s the deal?”
“Wait, One-Zero. --------------------- Roger, One Zero, we left three behind. I thought we had them all. You are going to have to pick up the other three!” With that he proceeded south toward the A Loui airstrip.
Shit, shit, shit! I thought we were out of here! Should I refuel and come back for the last three. This is why you don't volunteer! Shit! A load of adrenaline dumped, and dread invaded my belly and chest.
“Tom, I've got the aircraft. Ok guys, we are going to recover the last three. Stay sharp! Quigley, I’m going to need you to help me stay over the hole in the trees and keep me posted on the three left behind and only kick out three of the ropes. Tom, keep talking to Covey and see if you can get him to keep those Phantoms in close. Morris, save your ammo and only shoot when you have muzzle flashes or legitimate targets.”
I moved the aircraft over the hole in the trees. Quigley laid belly down on the cargo floor with his head sticking out where he could guide me threading ropes with knots through the opening between the trees. We were five minutes into the 20-minute fuel warning, 25 minutes from home, no safety bird covering us, Guts was a klick south and he was not climbing out.
To be continued . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment