"Headhunter Callsign"
​Submitted by - 1Lt Jim Voelzer, HH 10 ('65-'66)

Derivation of the “Headhunter Call Sign” (as my memory, tempered by these many years, recalls). 

I arrived at Pleiku in early July 1965 fresh from an “interrupted” stint as a Test Pilot at Sharpe Army Depot; Lathrop, CA.  Initially, our call sign was simply “Army 321”, but shortly, due to the many Army aircraft flying out of Pleiku, it was changed to Hershey.  That term cobbled up any number of snide comments from other units, not the least of which was “candy ass” which got old very quick.  We learned that we could apply for a new call sign and after discussing it amongst the pilots, agreed on Blackjack.  We applied and received the new call sign.  I don’t remember how many weeks we had Blackjack, but inasmuch as it was the nickname of General John J. Pershing, it wasn’t long before some “Brass” appropriated it and we were assigned the Headhunter name.  A couple of the pilots actually appropriated human (purportedly VC) sculls from the battle of PleiMe for their desk display and painted their call sign on the forehead.  As one might imagine, it wasn’t very long before that practice was terminated.  Our Unit patch in ’65-’66 was round and depicted an armed Bird Dog in a 45 degree dive.  It was a beautifully constructed and colorful patch and I haven’t seen it depicted on the website.  When I departed Pleiku for discharge in April ’66 we still called ourselves the 219th; not Headhunters. 

"The States to Pleiku"
Submitted by - SP4 Andrew Cardiel, 219th Pleiku

May 1965 – I reported to Gray Air Base from Ft. Hood, Texas. June 14th our unit departed for Austin, TX. Late in the afternoon we were loaded on a C-130 cargo airplane and landed that night at Travis AFB in California. We left and arrived at Hickam Field AFB in Hawaii. We were there for about 4 to 5 days with aircraft problems. Eventually we changed airplanes and went on to Wake Island. We were there for a few hours and then went on to Guam, then the Philippines where we stayed the night. The next day we flew to Saigon and landed for a few hours. Next we flew to Pleiku but had to turn back because our aircraft was too large for the landing strip. We flew back the next day to Pleiku and landed at Camp Holloway during a monsoon rain storm. In Camp Holloway our tent area was already setup by other units that arrived before us. We sand bagged, built bunkers, bathrooms, showers and unloaded shipments of supplies. The Big Red One came out of the jungle and set up camp around our perimeter in anticipation of an attack. The 101st Airborne was flown in and stayed with us also. Both units left to go back into the jungle to help support other units but still remained nearby to prevent an attack on Holloway. I left the unit in Sept. 1965 when the Major flew me out to Saigon. We spent one night at outlying platoon for one night on the way.

"One Time Flight"
Submitted by - Specialist Victor Hikok, PMOS 67B20, 219th Pleiku

Anyone in Army Aviation (crew Chief, Mechanic, Tech Inspector, Aviator) knows what the dreaded "Circle Red X" means to the flying capability of an aircraft! And for those who may have forgotten, it means that the aircraft can only go on a restricted, one time flight!!

During my tour of duty at Pleiku (Camp Holloway )in 1966, I had the opportunity to go TDY (Temporary Duty) to a town (?) called Gia Hghia where one Army and one Air Force O-1 were stationed.

We received word that a major offensive was being mounted against our area in a few short hours!! We had the cowling (both upper and lower) off the Bird Dog, for maintenance, and had to make a rapid departure for safety back to Camp Holloway. The only way to do that was throw the cowling on the aircraft, secure it with a few screws and the latches on both sides of the cowling, then the mighty 100 mile per hour tape (Duct Tape) was wrapped around and around the cowling to hold it together. The decision to make the aircraft a circle red X was made and we flew that aircraft back to Camp Holloway in that manner. Of course, as soon as we shut down the aircraft at Camp Holloway, it became a Red X condition (Not Flyable) but we were safe from Harms way, once again!

"Camp Holloway Flight Ramp"
Submitted by - Specialist Victor Hikok, PMOS 67B20, 219th Pleiku

"I recall an incident at Pleiku sometime in my tour of Jan 66 to Jan 67, where a crew chief was placing 2.75mm rockets in the tubes of his aircraft. Only problem was, he forgot to put in the red flagged "Remove Before Flight" pins that kept the electrical circuit from being completed on the tubes. Result? One crew chief hanging on to a 2.75 rocket with a 15 lb high explosive charge going down the PSP (Perforated Steel Plating- for those who do not remember those pieces of steel that many of us enlisted were tasked to replace on detail in the hot sun!!) for a short distance!!!"
Further comment on the incident above -
Submitted by Troy Duplessis -Pilot with the 219th 6/66/-3/67
"The pilot was Cpt Florio and the SF Camp was Duc Co. The SF guys were conducting a ground operation and CPT Florio was providing air cover. Ground fire struck one of the rockets on the right wind. The rocket detonated in the tube and a large chucnk of metal passed through the aircraft between the pilot & observer seats. Fortunately no one was wounded. The blast damaged the right wing aileron and it dangled from the wing causing severe drag. CPT Florio was able to return to Duc Co and safely land on the airstrip. I do not know if he had an observer aboard or if he was flying solo."

~ ~

"I also remember after arriving at Pleiku, that I believe was the 194th Avn Co (Caribou) was across the field from us. The Dept of Defense said the Army was trying to do the Air Force job, and the Army had to transfer the CV-2 to the USAF. They needed to fill air crews on those aircraft, and we were asked if we wanted to transfer from Army to Air Force. I chose not to, because it meant the loss of 1 rank, and I had earned my PFC and was hoping to make SP4!!"

"While stationed at Camp Holloway in 1966, I recall an aircraft landing that did not go as planned at the airfield at, I believe, was Plei De Lim (Sorry about spelling of Vietnamese towns.) I recall being told the aircraft was landing into the sun and an Ammunition truck was crossing the runway. The aircraft hit the Ammo truck. The Crew Chief pulled the pilot out of the front seat. I remember being told that one 105mm round had went off. I did see the crater in the middle of the runway when we went to retrieve the aircraft, to be sling-load it under a Huey Helicopter back to Camp Holloway. The pilot suffered broken legs. I am sot sure of any other injuries, but I know that crew chief's fast thinking and evacuating that pilot, saved both their lives that day! By the way, I was on the Huey, over the river, when we started losing altitude and the Bird Dog started swaying badly, even with the spoilers we put on it. So the pilot hit the button that released the hood, and the aircraft went into the river. That is all I know first hand of that incident. "
Further comment on the  incident  above-
Submitted by Troy Duplessis -Pilot with the 219th 6/66/-3/67
""The pilot was LT John Martin and his back seater was Lt Butler, an artillery officer from the 3rd Brigade, 25th ID. At that time 3rd Brigagde CP was at the Catecka Tea Plantation adjacent to the sod strip. Typical mission scenario was flying from Holloway to Catecka to pick up an observer from the infantry brigagde for either an artillery mission or a recon mission. End-of-mission was landing at Catecka to drop off the obaserver and returning to Holloway. LT Martin was on short final at Catecka when a 21/2 ton truck loaded with 105mm artillery rounds drove onto the runway. Collision was almost immediate. LT Martin's knees were severely cut by the firewall and LT Butler saved his life by extracting him from the wreckage. A post-crash fire resulted and engulfed the airplane and the ammo truck. Fire caused the 105mm rounds to detonate and crater the runway. In addition, a nearby jeep had its frame, a mounted radio and all tires perforated by flying shrapnel, along with some fuel blivets at a nearby helicopters FARP that were also punctured. Fortunately, or perhaps miraculously, no one was injured. LT Martin was medevaced to Japan and I do not if he ever flew again or returned to Vietnam."

~ ~

"I recall the Bird Dog had to be fitted with some sort of aiming sight to use to launch the rockets they carried. I recall it was a small piece of Plexiglas which was mounted a few inches from the windshield. Then marks in grease pencil were made on the windshield to align with marks on the Plexiglas. I remember my pilots having to change the marks in flight from time to time!"

"While on a routine (was there ever any other kind?) flight as observer in the rear seat, this actually happened to me, which I will not ever, in this lifetime, forget! The pilot instructed me to put up the pedals and install the stick. Then told me to give him my M-14 from the rifle rack. Of course I complied without question, for I figured he saw something I did not see? While in that flight mode, he leaned out the open window and shot. We landed at a nearby Green Beret camp. The commander there drove a jeep to the aircraft, the pilot told me stay with the plane, that he would be back in a short time. I was nervous, because Green Beret camps were not a popular site to be at! Sure enough, as promised, they returned. In the back of the jeep was a animal I believe to be leopard. The pilot told me, the animal was going to be strapped into my seat, that he would fly to Saigon to the taxidermist he knew, and would be back for me!! I was like a cat on a hot tin roof waiting for that aircraft to get back. When the aircraft finally showed up, the pilot didn't shut off the engine, but had me climb in and back to Camp Holloway we went. That was my only experience with the brave men of the Green Beret, of which I am glad they did not go under attack while I was with them those few hours!"

"Individual on the Runway"
Submitted by - Troy Duplessis, Jr. Pilot, 219th  , HH52 6/66-3/67

"An aircraft piloted by LT Chris Schafer was landing at Catecka when an individual soldier walked on the runway requiring him to make a go-around. A temporary control tower had been set up there because the 1st Cav was conducting operations in the area and had a FARP established parallel to the runway. LT Schafer reported the problem to the tower just as a 1st Cav chopper was calling to depart the FARP. The chopper pilot saw the runway intruder laughing about the matter and informed the tower that he was going to teach him a lesson. He then proceeded to rundown the gleeful fool and beat him into submission with his rotorwash. Needeless to say, we never had that problem recur."

 

"Baby Cakes"
Submitted by - Troy Duplessis, Jr. Pilot, 219th , HH52 6/66-3/67

"Crew Chief Stacy Reeves painted the name "Baby Cakes" on the cowling of an aircraft. This was the bird Chuck Getman was flying when he had a mid-air collision with a Huey near the la Drang River. Chuck was killed in the collision as was everyone aboard the Huey. Later Reevers painted the name "Baby Cakes II" on an aircraft with tail number 2929. On Nov 19, 1966, I was flying a recon mission alongthe north river of Plei Djereng SF camp when a throttle linkage failure occured. I landed in the river and my observer - SSG Teal Holbert - and I waited a long 30 minutes before being rescued by a Huey. After that incident, Reeves said there would be no "Baby Cakes III". Maintenance folks sent a Huey to sling load the Birddog back to Holloway. Not considering the weight of the water in the fuselage, the Huey lost rotor RPM and crashed into the river. A Chinook was sent and recovered both the Huey and the Birddog wreckages."

"My First Day as a Headhunter"
Submitted by - SGT Don Jordan, 219th Co Clerk, Pleiku

          It was a short trip of no more than and hour or so from Qui Nhon to my new home away from home.  When we touched down on that big runway at Pleiku, I thought that it was my new base.  But it was not to be!  My base, I found out, was located to the south at another smaller airfield on Camp Holloway.  Camp Holloway was a few miles to the south of the main Air Force base at Pleiku.  So I hopped on a truck and headed down the road to my new home.

          I remember being greeted in the Orderly room on that first day by my new First Sergeant.  His name was Sgt. Rush, and the Company Clerk was a Spec/4 named Mathews . . . .”Matt” for short!  I didn't know it at the time, but I was to be Matt's replacement once Sgt. Rush found out that I could type. The XO (Executive Officer) was a Major Spence.  I was given the customary cordial greeting when I turned in my Orders, and then received a short briefing on the ways of the world at Camp Holloway.  

          I was then introduced to my new Commanding Officer (CO).  His name was Major Ogburn.  I stood in front of Maj. Ogburn’s desk, came to attention, and gave my best snappy Army hand salute. 

           “Specialist Fourth Class Jordan reporting for duty as assigned Sir.” I said.

           “Welcome to the 219th Jordan.” He said, as he stood up to shake my hand.  Then came the “New Man” questions:

        “Where ya from Jordan?  How long have you been in the Army?  What’s your DEROS date?”  The DEROS date is the date when I go back to the States. 

          The officers in Vietnam were sure a lot more civil to the enlisted men than the ones in Basic Training at Ft. Ord.  So for the next few minutes we had a nice little chat.  The one thing that I remember most about the meeting was the sign on the left side of his desk.   It read “Headhunters!”   On the right side was a human skull with a bullet hole in it, and a cigarette clinched in the Beetle nut stained teeth.

          After that Matt gave me a short tour of my new home. Buildings like the latrine, the Post Exchange (PX), and the mess hall were all pointed out first. Then came the supply building where I picked up my bedding, an M-14 rifle and one clip of ammunition.   In the barracks Matt and I were sharing the same semi-private room.   I was assigned the “Top” bunk.  I found out later on January 7th why all of the new guys got the top bunks.    I have few memories of my first couple of days in Pleiku.  I do remember that the air was dryer, and it was a little cooler.  Particularly at night!  The nights could get downright cold!  Pleiku was much higher above sea level than Qui Nhon.

​          I joined the Army to be an Army Aviator. But I was tricked into becoming a Crew Chief on the O-1 Bird Dog.  I was told that all pilots had to take a mechanics course first.  In the 219th they turned me into a Company Clerk.  Such were the recruiting practices at the time.

Grenades and Birddogs"
Submitted by - CPT Garry Forrest, 219th Pleiku, Phu Hiep, Nha Trang 10/67-10/68 and 5/70-12/70

On the Way to Vietnam - During the Vietnam war period, Army fixed wing training was conducted largely in the O-1 Birddog, a tandem seat variant of the tail-dragging Cessna 170. The O-1 was widely used by the Army in Vietnam for reconnaissance and target acquisition. Normal armament was four 2.75” rockets with warheads.

Obsolescent even in 1967, the plane had one feature that partially offset its slow speed: the windows opened a la J-3 Cub. That allowed not only “air conditioning” but also an opening for unobstructed photos – and for throwing things out of the plane.

In June 1967 we were rookie pilots directly out of Army flight school. A number of my class and I were assigned to form a new Birddog reconnaissance company (203rd Hawkeyes) at Ft Sill OK and deploy en masse to Vietnam.

After a few months gathering planes, people and equipment we were directed to deliver our planes to the depot in Stockton CA, halfway across the country. There, the planes were to be partially disassembled and shipped to us in Vietnam. On a September morning, in the pre-dawn darkness (to ensure we received per deim pay for the full day), all 28 Birddogs turned on our red  rotating beacons indicating we were ready to fly. One by one we were cleared for takeoff, heading west on a great adventure half way across the country from mid-Oklahoma to Northern California.

Twenty six of the planes formed a gaggle while two ships - a buddy, Gordie Watson, and I (plus a crew chief and tools) - took a separate, more southerly route to visit Gordie's Air Force brother in Phoenix. We stopped in Albuquerque, Show Low, Phoenix, Palm Springs, Santa Barbara and Monterey before dropping the planes off in Stockton.

The PHX - PSP leg was pretty boring. Still is. We followed Interstate 10 then as we do today. From my air-conditioned perch at 10,500', it suddenly seemed like a great idea to chuck that green smoke grenade out the window. Yessir. Pulled the pin and watched it drop, trailing a stream of green smoke heading down. And down. And...the interstate and the stream of green smoke now in the same sight picture. Pucker factor rising rapidly. Grenade heading for the highway. I'm gonna kill someone! Then, the thing thudded down in the median strip! Billowed smoke for a while as motorists went on as if nothing was going on. At my altitude I was praying that nobody would think to look up and by then, I might be outta sight. Phwew!  

Dunno where the smoke grenade came from. It certainly was not issued normally. Might have been a half-baked idea to use it as a signaling device should I crash somewhere.
We crossed paths with the gaggle in Palm Springs though. Gordie and I had refueled and were hustling to clear the area before a large dust storm closed in when the rest of the company arrived - like a flock of seagulls, swarming and squawking on the radio. At least one landed on a taxiway, just to get the planes on the ground somewhere as the storm hit.

Gordie and I listened to what sounded like incipient carnage as we spiraled up on instruments till we knew we could clear the high mountains. Dead reckoning direct Los Angeles, but LA was basking under a heavy layer of pink smog. Hmm.

 I spied the top of Santa Catalina Island poking through the pastel murk. (“Twenty six miles across the sea/Santa Catalina is a’waitin’ for me/Santa Catalina / the island of romance”) Slight change: climb to 12,500’ to overfly LAX TCA (Class B), direct to the mountain, then right turn direct Santa Barbara where it was clear. (Since we weren't permitted to fly on Birddogs’ instruments, we agreed to not log the time.) Thence overnight at Monterey where the rest of the company showed up again. Fun night there ‘cause the crew chief’s home was in Monteray. In gratitude for the chance to visit, he un-mothballed his Honda 250 motorcycle for us to use.

In Vietnam - A year later – January 1968 - now assigned to 219th Headhunters near Pleiku, Vietnam, I acquired an even stranger accessory: a thermite grenade. Not the best thing to carry around as its purpose was to melt artillery cannons. That accessory stemmed from some work I did for Special Forces at FOB II (CCC) as call sign SPAF 4. One day a team in Laos was being chased down a hillside. The 10 [team lead’s call sign and on a mission he outranked God] asked if there was a way I could start a fire. If so, the fire would burn uphill, toward the pursuers, and also make smoke.

All I had was high explosive rockets and no grenades of any variety. In a blinding stroke of stupidity, I decided that if I flew very low, level and parallel to the slope it might be possible to fire a rocket that would blaze through the dry tall grass before arming and exploding.

Well, that did in fact, work. I was very conscious of the high number of rifle sights likely trained on me - but not a one fired. Like the carnival shooting gallery target where the target moves slowly from right to left. A really dumb maneuver that luckily worked once. What if that hadn't quite worked? Would I have tried the same stunt again?

The fire did, in fact, save the good guys that day. The bad guys had to maneuver left and right away from the smoke and flames and couldn't get to our folks fast enough. The team bought me some beers when they came in.

So, in a case of another similar “fire mission,” one that might not get me killed, came the thermite grenade.

Eventually, I did drop that thermite grenade. Late in that tour – August or September 1968 - while flying around and fighting boredom, I decided to drop it on a random field. As advertised, the thing really burned. Quickly caught the dry rice field in a roaring blaze. As I circled, I saw a Vietnamese man standing, shoulders slumped, looking at his harvest go up in flames, then looking up  at me. If the man was not a Communist sympathizer that morning, by evening he certainly was. Score minus one in the tally of winning hearts and minds.

"Surprise!- Close Call"
Submitted by - CPT Robin (Obie) O'Brien, HH16, 219th Pleiku

In early 1967 I was assigned to the 219th Aviation Company as a FAC (forward air controller). I was returning from a mission to a Special Forces Camp south of Pleuku, Vietnam. I had an artillery observer in the back seat of the O-1 birddog I was flying. Seating is somewhat cramped and his knees were touching my back. We had been conducting "visual recognizance" while returning to our home base. While flying at aproximately 800 to 1000 feet elevation we sighted a group of 8 - 10 Montagnards about 500 yards off to one side of our flight path. They were running in a straight line parallel to us. Two of them in the middle of the group had a large "Bengal Tiger" hung beneath a bamboo pole. Normally the Montagnards did not run from us. I felt we should take a closer look to see what type of weapons they had and perhaps find out why they were running from us. I planned to circle around and cross the trail at a point where I thought they should be. I dropped  down to ground level so the wheels were almost touching the ground and the prop was stirring up dirt. We were flying with the windows open so I instructed the observer to get his rifle pointed out the left side of the aircraft and I would look out the right side. As we crossed the trail I heard a gun shot and smelled burnt gun powder. I thought the observer had fired his gun inside the aircraft. I pulled up and attempted to talk to him on the intercom. The radios had quit working so I pulled up higher and turned to look back at him. He was white as a ghost and very shaken. Later he told me that as we crossed the trail a little man had stood up from behind a small bush and ducked as the wing of the aircraft passed over his head. He stuck out his rifle and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed between us and as it went in one window and out the other the blast was caught in the aircraft as we flew by. I'm not sure why the radios failed as they came back on about ten minutes later. I never did see any of the men but I did feel the bullet pass by the back of my neck.

"In-Flight Explosion"
Submitted by - SGT Don Jordan, 219th Co Clerk, Pleiku

1967. I was a back-seat observer on many O-1 flights out of Pleiku from January to May 1967.  I remember one flight in particular in which one of the O-1s in the air with us was hit by some kind of explosion or other ground fire.  I remember that it was damaged but kept flying.  We heard the Mayday call and rendezvoused with it somewhere far from base.  I don't remember the extent of the damage, but I think it had a flat tire, and a hole in the right side fuel tank.  Not sure though!  Anyway, it could not make it back to Pleiku. So we provided an escort to some Special Forces base where it landed safely.  We followed it down to the ground, and then left for home.  Does anybody know anything about that incident?  I never did hear what really happened, or who the pilot was.

  "When I First Met Arlie Jan 7, 1967"
Submitted by - SGT Don Jordan, 219th Co Clerk, Pleiku

         I met Arlie Deaton for the first time in a bunker at 01:30 hrs on January 7, 1967.  We were rudely awakened that night to the sound of explosions at various locations in our compound at Pleiku, South Vietnam.  “Charlie” had decided that we had had enough sleep for one night and decided to stir up a little trouble for us.  I knew him then as Captain Deaton.  After all of these years, my memories of that night are a little hazy. So I had best just quote from my own personal memoirs of that first encounter with Capt Deaton.

         “…During a let-up in the deafening explosions I decided to make a run for the Command Bunker (CB) located about a hundred yards away just outside of our Orderly room.  The CB was where all of the company officers and administrative personnel went when under attack.  Well since I was the Company Clerk, I figured I was administrative personnel too.  And since there were mortar rounds exploding all around us, I was pretty damn well sure we were under attack!  It didn’t take three months of basic training to figure that one out.

         So with the equipment and clothes that I had hastily gathered up in the dark, I darted out of the door and started running for the Command Bunker.   I figured that it would take too long to lace up my boots, so I just carried them along with me.  I arrived within a minute or so and found that some of the company officers and a few enlisted men were already in there.  It was a comical scene at best with five or six Lieutenant grade officers all standing around half dressed trying to figure out who out-ranked whom.  The highest-ranking officer in the bunker had to assume command until our Field Grade Company Commander arrived.  And nobody wanted to admit that he out-ranks anybody else.  It was proper Army protocol, but comical nonetheless.

          I was just standing there wide-eyed and scared to death watching these proceedings when in ran an out-of-breath Captain Deaton from our company.  When he arrived the other young officers seemed instinctively to know that Deaton was the highest-ranking officer.  A Captain out-ranks a Lieutenant!  It appeared from the looks on their faces that a great weight had been removed from their shoulders.

          Fortunately Capt. Deaton had a good since of humor.  He could sense the fear and apprehension in the room, and could tell from the looks on our faces that we were waiting for someone to do something.  We were all just staring at the door as if waiting for “Charlie” to come busting through any second.  So Capt. Deaton took a deep breath, stood up straight, and said in his best Captain’s voice:

            “Well I guess you’re all wondering why I called this meeting?”

              Laughter broke out, and everyone knew who was in command!

          Since no mortar rounds had fallen in the last few minutes we had a chance to assess our situation.  I was standing there half dressed with my shirttail hanging out, my fly open, my helmet on with no helmet liner, my weapon in one hand and my boots in the other.  After Capt. Deaton scanned the room for a moment or two his eyes stopped on me. 

             “Put your boots on soldier, and do you have any ammunition for that weapon?” He asked. 

             “Yes sir!” I said sheepishly.  “One clip!”

             “Then load it!” he said in a calm but firm voice.  We’re in a war here you know!”

            “Yes sir.” I replied, and began fumbling in my pockets for my one and only clip of ammunition.  It never occurred to me to load the damn thing! After a few seconds I found it, inserted it into my rifle, chambered a round, and then made sure that the safety was in the “On” position.

               Now that I was ready to defend our county with my 5 bullets, I figured it was time to get properly dressed.  After all if I were attacked I wouldn’t want to be caught with my fly open.  Why I didn’t put my boots on first I’ll never know.  But I didn’t!  I went about sticking in my shirttail, buttoning up my fly and tightening my belt.

               About that time Capt. Deaton looked at me again and said:

            “Jordan . . .you’re the new Crew Chief aren’t you?

            “Yes sir” I answered.  I didn’t think to tell him that I was recently promoted to Company Clerk!

          “Then you don’t belong in the Command Bunker!  You belong down on the line guarding the airplanes with the other maintenance personnel.  Get down there!”

            “Yes sir.” I replied, and out the door I went!”
 
             Those are my memories of Arlie Deaton.  I flew many hours in the backseat of Capt. Deaton’s O-1D Birddog.  He was a fine man and a superb Army officer quick to do his duty when the need arose.  We, in that bunker, needed Arlie Deaton that night.  We needed someone to  lead us, and Arlie Deaton was that man.  Rest in peace Sir…

"Target Fixation & Other Hazards"
Submitted by - Charley Barnes, Cpt, Headhunter 36, Pleiku May '67-May'68

After arriving at the 219th in May 1967, I was assigned to the 4th Platoon at Camp Holloway, under command of Major Vic Weber, which supported the 4th ID.  It was very quiet initially, with little if any enemy contact.  After two or three months, I made my first significant contact with the enemy.  While on recon just northwest of Pleiku, I spotted a squad of NVA soldiers hiding along a trail.  After confirming there were no “friendlies” in the area, I decided to engage with my HE rockets.  Rolling in from altitude, I aligned the sights, then threw the arming switches to hot.  When I pressed the trigger, nothing happened.  I looked out at the wings and saw several of the wires flapping loose in the breeze.  With the ground rapidly approaching, I armed the other two and fired.  They worked, but I found myself pulling out below tree level and flying through my own shrapnel.  Target fixation almost killed me early in my tour. 

Something I had been warned of during my orientation flights was not to recon up a valley.  A Birddog pilot could find themselves in rising terrain without room to turn around if they did this.  But what they didn’t tell you was to make sure you looked out the window on the uphill side of a mountain.  While this may seem pretty self-evident, one of our pilots, WO1 Ted Fiedler,  managed to fly right into the side of a mountain in VC Valley by doing the opposite.  Fortunately he and his observer were not seriously injured and were safely recovered. 

But it was dropping grenades out the window at low altitude that probably killed more Birddog pilots than anything besides enemy action.  This was really just another form of target fixation.  Scared myself a few times that way too, as well as low altitude stalls while engaging “VC” water buffalo. 

Lastly, there was an aircraft-related way to be killed by pilot error.  The Bird Dog had two fuel tanks, one in each wing.  When one was almost dry you switched to the full tank.  Forgetting to do this caused several harrowing moments for me, especially at low altitude.  Most of the time the engine would cough and sputter, giving you a few seconds warning, but sometimes it would just quit.  On one very memorable occasion I went through several restarts before the engine started.  I’ll bet there were very few Birddog pilots who didn’t experience this at some time during their tour.

"Which Tree?"
Submitted by - Cameron Sutherland, Cpt, Headhunter, Pleiku May '67-May'68

Tour: 1967-68.  On this particular day, Captains George Frazier and Bill Taylor, both from 1st Platoon, were on a dual-ship mission along the western border of Pleiku Province, an area in triple canopy.  I was up doing a Visual Recon (VR) mission south of those two.  About an hour into my mission, Bill, probably flying low ship, comes up on the company net & yells, "George, George, I've got a VC down here behind this tree".  There was an extremely long pause and then George came back with, "any particular tree Bill".  I thought my observer (Special Forces type out of Duc Co) was going to have a heart attack in his kidney.

"Get the Hell Out of Here"
Submitted by - CPT Dave Farenbach, Pilot, Kontum 8/67-8/68

Fletch Maffett was one of my heros. My most vivid memory of Fletch was produced on day 2 of Tet.  At about 1500 several of us 2d platooners were milling about our area at the Kontum airfield waiting for 2 of our birds to return from their mission so we could turn them around and join the fight.  We began to hear some sporadic small arms fire coming from the north side of the runway and very shortly thereafter, Larry Thompson who was HH 26 at the time, landed, hurriedly taxied into the ramp area , jumped out, and looking directly at me yelled, "Get a pilot in this airplane and get it the hell out of here".  I bloody well grabbed my hard hat and M-16, I got it the hell out of there heading east.  Immediately after breaking ground I put the airplane into a right turn, building airspeed but with a steep bank.  It was in this bank close to the ground that I saw several blue baseballs go flying in front of the nose and heard and felt something hit the airplane.  When I had enough altitude to look at the gas gauges, the fullest one had 1/4 tank, so there was no hanging around to lend a hand.  Thompson had expended the rockets and since I was alone I couldn't reach anything in the back seat either so I headed for Holloway.
 
I double-timed it from the ramp to Fletch's office and as best I could, told him what had just transpired and that's pretty much all I remember of that day.  But I soon found out that Fletch got to work immediately.  He scrounged a Chinook, flew in it up to Kontum, cleaned out our ops hut taking maps, maintenance equipment, whatever was deemed carryable and hard to replace, plus all of our enlisted guys and a couple of pilots and flew it all out of harms way.  And that night the Huey company that had recently moved into temporary encampment on the north side of the airfield lost 2 birds (quite possibly to the same big gun I encountered) and our building, revetments, POL and ammo dump went up in a giant explosion that could be seen from the bunkers at Holloway.  Could have been a flare; could have been a sapper--I never found out.
 
At our reunion at Rucker in 2009, I had dinner one night with Fletch, Arlie and a couple of other guys and I overheard him telling Arlie about this airplane that somebody flew down from Kontum with a hole in the right wing about a foot from the wing tip and inches from the aileron hinge big enough for him to stick his fist through.  It was really fun telling him that I flew that airplane into Holloway and telling those guys how it all happened.  And also to have those guys know the extent to which Fletcher Maffett's natural instinct was to take care of his people. 
 
He was a terrific man and I shall never forget him as long as I live. 

"Trees in the Trail"
Submitted by - Charley Barnes, Cpt, Headhunter 36, Pleiku May '67-May'68

I’m not positive of when this happened, but I think it was in January 1968.  1Lt Art Morecraft and I were on a two-ship mission to go from Pleiku to Cheo Reo.  What for, I don’t recall, but it seems it was administrative in nature.  Art’s observer was one of our crew chiefs, Marlin Wagner.  I don’t recall who I had in the back seat, if anybody.  The weather was overcast with a fairly low ceiling in Pleiku when we departed, becoming higher as we flew southeast toward Cheo Reo, and we were flying fairly high.

As always, regardless of the mission, a VR pilot has his head out the window looking for the bad guys.  As we passed over the escarpments that formed the Five Fingers area southeast of VC Valley, I noticed a well-worn trail with trees growing right in the middle.  That couldn’t be, so we dropped down to take a better look.  That’s when the trees stepped off the trail into the brush.  Before the day was out, we had put in 6 flights of A-1E’s on the target and coordinated a company-sized air assault of troops from the 4th ID.  Love those A-1E’s, they were SO accurate. 

The next day we were invited to go to Phu Nhon, the headquarters for the 4th ID brigade that had been involved in the fight.  There were at least twenty NVA bodies collected there.  I don’t recall the exact number and I’m sure many more had been dragged away by the enemy.  From the intelligence that was gathered, we learned that we had happened upon a company-sized contingent of replacements headed for the NVA 95B Regiment that operated in the Pleiku area.  I often wonder why the NVA didn’t just step off the trail and then freeze when they heard us coming.  Must have been because they were newbies.

​"Kontum Evacuation - Remembering Fletch Maffett"
Submitted by - Cpt, David Fahrenbach, Headhunter Pilot, Pleiku & Kontum, Aug 67-Aug 68

My most vivid memory of Fletch was produced on day 2 of Tet.  At about 1500 several of us 2d platooners were milling about our area at the Kontum airfield waiting for 2 of our birds to return from their mission so we could turn them around and join the fight.  We began to hear some sporadic small arms fire coming from the north side of the runway and very shortly thereafter, Larry Thompson who was HH 26 at the time, landed, hurriedly taxied into the ramp area , jumped out, and looking directly at me yelled, "Get a pilot in this airplane and get it the hell out of here".  I bloody well grabbed my hard hat and M-16, I got it the hell out of there heading east.  Immediately after breaking ground I put the airplane into a right turn, building airspeed but with a steep bank.  It was in this bank close to the ground that I saw several blue baseballs go flying in front of the nose and heard and felt something hit the airplane.  When I had enough altitude to look at the gas gauges, the fullest one had 1/4 tank, so there was no hanging around to lend a hand.  Thompson had expended the rockets and since I was alone I couldn't reach anything in the back seat either so I headed for Holloway.

I double-timed it from the ramp to Fletch's office and as best I could, told him what had just transpired and that's pretty much all I remember of that day.  But I soon found out that Fletch got to work immediately.  He scrounged a Chinook, flew in it up to Kontum, cleaned out our ops hut taking maps, maintenance equipment, whatever was deemed carryable and hard to replace, plus all of our enlisted guys and a couple of pilots and flew it all out of harms way.  And that night the Huey company that had recently moved into temporary encampment on the north side of the airfield lost 2 birds (quite possibly to the same big gun I encountered) and our building, revetments, POL and ammo dump went up in a giant explosion that could be seen from the bunkers at Holloway.  Could have been a flare; could have been a sapper--I never found out.

At our reunion at Rucker in 2009, I had dinner one night with Fletch, Arlie and a couple of other guys and I overheard him telling Arlie about this airplane that somebody flew down from Kontum with a hole in the right wing about a foot from the wing tip and inches from the aileron hinge big enough for him to stick his fist through.  It was really fun telling him that I flew that airplane into Holloway and telling those guys how it all happened.  And also to have those guys know the extent to which Fletcher Maffett's natural instinct was to take care of his people. 

He was a terrific man and I shall never forget him as long as I live. 

"1,000 ft. RULE?"
Submitted by - 1LT David Miller, Headhunter 45, Pleiku & Kontum

1,000' rule??  When I was a HH (Pleiku & Kontum) the "rule" that was never followed was 1500' - ask Bill Silva who got written up for getting caught working too low, by someone from staff (I think). I still don't think we could've done our job up that high ... besides, the "cone-of-fire" was too big at that altitude.

While we didn't talk openly about it then, we did most of our flying "work" between the tree tops & about 200'. Dragging wheels thru the trees happened now & then, while dropping a sandbag of mail or a case of rations, to some isolated radio relay guys. Or while supporting LRRP's - the bad guys couldn't easily see what we were doing. Also, it's really hard to see the footprints in the dirt etc., when doing a BDA (Bomb Damage Assessment) after an "Arclight" (B52 strike) at altitude. Bonus: my observer (from Dayton, OH) could put a round (grenade launcher) in or damn close to a bunker if I was flying "coordinated."

Beyond that, I can talk about that business, just west of Dak To, where we were taking small-arms fire from above, while flying thru the saddles - some of us got gassed, too - I put Crazy Al Morton in for the Silver Cross after that all calmed down.

And, I have an issue with some who say that Army Recon Pilots weren't allowed to FAC or run air strikes etc. Whenever I had a hot target of opportunity, I'd go up on guard & ask if anybody, who could hear me (& be close enough), had any ordinance to drop. (Fighter bomber jocks didn't like to go home with ordinance onboard.) I ran airstrikes by Thuds & F-4's & gave them the BDA when they were done. Would've liked to fire the Missouri, if I'd have been closer to the coast.

Didn't we do it all? Shoot heavy artillery missions as well as mortars, cover convoys & Dustoff's when needed, make deliveries when the choppers couldn't fly, run Donut Dollies around to the various S.F. camps, cover LRRP's, cover ground unit movements, support radio relay teams etc. etc. ??? About the only times we would fly at altitude were on admin trips like taking a bird in for maintenance, or giving a familiarity trip to a new staff officer, or a milk run to Qui Nhon.

"Rocket Ridge"
Submitted by - CPT Bill Beckwith, Headhunter 14, Spaf 1, Kontum

In April 1968 1LT Steve Butler and I had flown to Dak To, located in the region known as the Tri-Border Area where Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia meet.  We were to pick up two sergeants from Dak To Special Forces camp as observers in the back seats of our aircraft and fly a dual-ship mission along the borders where the Ho Chi Minh Trail entered Vietnam from Laos.  My engine had been running rough on the flight north from Camp Holloway so after we landed I performed a common, but probably unauthorized, maintenance procedure.  Each aircraft carried a spark plug wrench, steel brush and a grease pencil (actually composed of colored wax) in a small pouch.  The Bird Dog's six-cylinder engine has a dual set of spark plugs, two in each cylinder, for safety reasons.  In case one set of plugs and its separate electrical system ceases to function, the other will keep the engine running.  If a spark plug in one or more cylinders happens to become fouled by gunk in the gasoline, a not uncommon situation, the engine will run rough.  The procedure was to open the cowling on both sides of the engine, mark each cylinder with the grease pencil, and briefly run up the power.  The cylinder with the fouled plug, having run at a lower temperature than the others, would not melt the wax grease pencil mark.  The fouled plug would be removed with the spark plug wrench, cleaned with the steel brush, replaced and with the engine running checked for proper performance. 

A ridge line just to the west of the Dak To airfield was known locally as Rocket Ridge.  This feature was so named because of the frequency of Soviet-supplied 122 millimeter rockets that were fired by the VC or NVA from the other side of the ridge onto the airfield, Special Forces camp and other US and Vietnamese Army facilities there.  Just as I was replacing the last cleaned spark plug in my engine and before our observers got to us, rockets began to impact the far side of the airfield.  It was either jump into a ditch along the runway or get in the aircraft and get out of there.  Steve started up first and hit the runway from the ramp at full power with me in hot pursuit.  We flew west around Rocket Ridge, climbing for altitude, and Steve immediately saw the rocket position that was firing.  He immediately rolled in on the position and fired four high explosive rockets carried under the wings, all of which impacted right in the middle of the position, stopping the attack and causing secondary explosions from stored rockets

That was one of the finest examples of what Bird Dog pilots were supposed to do.  However, Steve never received the award he should have gotten for probably saving lives and property in Dak To that day.

"Incoming Mortars!"
Submitted by - Al Paulsen, CWO, Headhunter, Pleiku

"My orders tell me that I was assigned to the 219th on 21 September 1967.  I left the unit on 20 June 1968. The incident that I described happened in January or Feb 1968.  I’m thinking that it happened shortly before the Tet offensive began in earnest, but I’m not positive. We had a lot going on during that period of time. The event I remember happened about the same time, in the early morning, as your event. We took a real beating.  In addition to the hit on the roof of the orderly room, we had 3 rounds hit the roof of the Headhunter hanger.  The wings and fuselages of three Birddogs in the hanger looked like sieves.  We also took a round on the ground just outside the maintenance office attached to the hanger. The round landed a couple of feet from the south wall and peppered the office with shrapnel.  The large water jug we had in the office was shattered and water flowed all over the floor inside. During another attack a couple of Headhunter barracks also took hits and shrapnel came through the walls of my hooch and tore through some family photos that I had under clear vinyl on top a small desk in my room.  I still have those photos too.  I’ve attached photos of the hanger roof and the south wall of the maintenance office where the mortar round hit. The guy pointing at the impact crater was a flight school classmate of mine that was with the 185th RAC “Pterodactyls.  He had RON’ed the night of the attack.  For some reason he never came back for a visit after that!  I’ve also included a hooch that took a hit.  It may have been the Officer’s Club at Camp Holloway."

"Dodging the Bullets"
Submitted by - Charley Barnes, Cpt, Headhunter 36, Pleiku May '67-May'68

Several months after arriving in Pleiku and being assigned to the 4th Platoon of the 219th, we received a very interesting intelligence report from the 4th ID.  It addressed captured VC instructional materials concerning antiaircraft fire, and specifically dealt with the O-1 Birddog.  The basic thrust of these materials was to fire in front of the aircraft and to lead it based on the visibility of certain items on the aircraft.  These included the tail number, the whisker antennae, etc.  I didn’t think much of it then, but as I thought about it over time I came to realize that perhaps you could trick them by putting your aircraft in a full slip and descending when you started taking fire.  That would make you seem to be traveling in a direction 90 degrees from your actual flight path. 

Months later, I was on a VR mission west of Plei Djereng Special Forces Camp and just north of the Se San River.  It was an area where the 4th ID had fought several battles with the NVA about a year prior to that.  There were many craters and old gun positions visible.  However there seemed to be evidence of some fresh digging, so I cranked up the 175mm arty at Plei Djereng and started a little recon by fire.  The NVA must not have liked it much.  I soon saw some movement and made another pass over the area when all hell broke loose.  I was the target of multiple AA machine guns while at an altitude of about 500 feet at most.  Here was the unwanted opportunity to test out my theory.  I applied a full descending slip and made it to tree-top level without taking a single hit.  That was the good part, obviously.  The bad part was having to look at all those tracers coming up right in front of you.  I then continued with the artillery.  After I left the artillery peppered the area with H&I fires all night. There were no friendlies in the area, so we never knew what damage we did. 

In later months I had several more “opportunities” to use the slip technique.  I don’t think I’d be writing this story today if I had not learned to do that.

"On the Ho Chi Minh Trail"
Submitted by - Charley Barnes, Cpt, Headhunter 36, Pleiku May '67-May'68

In early 1968 the NVA started converting the Ho Chi Minh trail from a dirt path into a highway.  Because of the barrier posed by the high mountains along the border between Cambodia and Laos, the trail had to come through a small portion of Vietnam just west and south of Dak To known as the Plei Trap Valley before turning west into Cambodia.  In an attempt to forestall this project, the USAF directed a multitude of B-52 strikes into the area. 

In April 1968, three weeks before my DEROS, Captain Stan Irvin and I were assigned to conduct a two-ship bomb damage assessment of the area.  We initially surveyed the southern portion of the Plei Trap.  We found evidence of fuel dumps and saw a few enemy troops, upon whom we wasted all our rockets.  As we moved further north and east, slightly into Laos, where there had been no bombing, the highway was in plain sight and had bunkers every 40 or 50 meters.  Just up the road we saw a platoon of NVA pushing a gun south.  It was pretty large and had eight wheels.  Stan had a case of CS grenades and his observer dropped a few.  Then we had to skedaddle because we were low on gas, so we headed for Kontum, but cranked up the 175mm arty and fired blind while enroute.  Of course, we had to fudge a bit on the border between Laos and Vietnam.  As we departed I noticed a nearby hill top where the bamboo had all been cut down and wondered what that was all about. 

After refueling and grabbing a bite of lunch, we headed back to the area.  Thinking we were being sneaky, we flew low level up a valley toward the ridge line where the road was located.  I was lead ship and as I approached the ridge line I drew heavy fire from the smaller ridges to my left and right.  All I could do was evade and get over the higher ridge and road to my front, while Stan had room to turn around.  As I passed over the road, all I could see was masses of humanity running for the bunkers along the road.  We both put a  little distance between ourselves and this area, then climbed to an altitude of 1500 or 2000 feet above ground level.  We cranked up the 175mm arty again.  While adjusting the arty, I noticed that the area of cut bamboo I had seen before was cut in a clover leaf pattern.  This looked ominously like what an antiaircraft position was supposed to look like, and my suspicions were soon confirmed.  I heard a continuous boom-boom-boom sound, looked down, and saw what looked like green baseball bats coming up from the ground in my direction.  The only solution was to get low again, so I went into a spin until I was low, flew a good distance away, and then went back to altitude.  It was then that a USAF FAC called us on guard and told us to get away, he was putting in a flight of F-4s on the AA position.  But they were jinking so much when they went in that they didn’t come anywhere close.  After that we headed back to our base in Pleiku. 

I’m told that this road became a very dangerous place when it was completed, because the NVA had truck-mounted AA guns all along it.

"The Observer"
Submitted by - Cpt David Farenbach,  Headhunter, Kontum Aug '67 - Aug '68

          About mid-afternoon on day three of the Tet Offensive I landed at Dak To for fuel and rockets.  I’d been in the airplane since just after dawn and had logged nearly twenty hours in the two days before this one.  The 2nd Platoon of the 219th Reconnaissance Airplane Company (mine) had to relocate from Kontum Airfield to Holloway under great duress the day before.   And that night, the Kontum airfield along with a temporarily resident American Huey company, had been overrun and our platoon’s entire physical plant--ops shack, revetments, POL and ammo dumps, everything—went up in a huge explosion that lit up the sky sufficient to be visible 30 miles away at Holloway, over the mountain range that rose 4,000 feet exactly half-way between the two towns.  On that day, the North Vietnamese Army was very much in control of everything in the city of Kontum except the MACV compound where I lived with a couple of hundred Americans, and the Province Chief’s residence.  (He kept all the tanks.)  I remember feeling very tired, filthy and scared to my toenails.  The fact that Dak To was out of rockets didn’t help.  And that was my emotional footing when I first heard his voice.

          I was up on the step pumping AVGAS when I heard him ask if I was going anywhere near Dragon Mountain, the 4th Infantry’s base camp somewhere South of Pleiku.  I’d only heard about it—didn’t even know if the place had a runway.  I explained in what must have sounded like a royal wimp-out that I was going in that general direction, that this load of fuel would last until just after dark, that the airplane needed to be at Holloway for the night, and that what we would encounter on the way was anybody’s guess.  I did mention that good ole’ 690 been accumulating bullet holes for the last three days and things were still pretty iffy where I was headed.  He said that was fine.  He said, “You see, sir, I got separated from my spare pair of glasses in a firefight in the bush yesterday and I can’t see shit.  Gotta get to base camp to get a coupla more pairs.”    It would soon be dark in the central highlands and he’d be one helluva lot better off at Holloway than Dak To.  I told him, “Jump in.”

          The only clean thing he brought with him was his M-16 which we tied next to mine behind the door.  His boots and web gear were funky and his personal persona was pretty ripe from being in the bush for a little over 3 weeks; his fatigues hard-caked mud sheets at the knees and elbows.  He was one of those people whose face seemed frozen in a permanent smile, which when combined with his myopic squint gave him an air of optimistic intensity that you had to see to appreciate.  Since this was the first time the observers’ seat was to be occupied in at least three days it was, therefore, the first time I had reason to inspect the only observer’s helmet on board—and found it wanting.  All padding, save the earmuffs, was AWOL.  His smile seemed to imply that the dirty bandana surrounding his head would suffice just fine and where did you plug this thing in?  We had a little chat about how to drop stuff and took off.

            My memory of what happened over the next 3 hours has become a somewhat fuzzy over the last 43 years.  But for the sake of brevity it can be summarized by saying that we played out a version of a standard scenario common to countless Birddog pilots throughout the Vietnam war: somebody on the ground was in a bind; two other Headhunters showed up, helped out and we were able to make the difference that got the job done and a few dozen innocent people got to go on living.  But in doing so, there was a lot of yanking, banking, low flying and dropping stuff.  Years later, it occurred to me that I had had in my backseat an observer who could see nothing and had every right to be scared to his toenails, too, but if he was it surely didn’t show.  He performed like he did this every day and every time I glanced at him in the mirror the look on his face said, ‘Man, if you gotta go to war this sure beats the hell outa what I been doin’.  In short, he was in hog heaven, thoroughly enjoying the experience and this was going to make one helluva good story to tell the folks back home.  Or not.   I remember thinking that this chap was much more comfortable in my world than I would have been in his.

​           After we landed at Holloway, he donned his pack, picked up his M-16, said, “Thanks for the ride, sir”, and started out across the PSP.  Needless to say, I never saw him again.  But the man’s slightly crazy smile has never left my mind in all these years and I’d surely give a lot to be able to buy him a beer.  I don’t think I even asked him his name.  

​"Not My Machine Gun"
Submitted by - Charley Barnes, Cpt, Headhunter 36, Pleiku May '67-May'68

During my year with the Headhunters I replaced one set of rocket tubes on my O-1 Birddog with a machinegun on several occasions.  The Air Force would get wind of it before long and an edict would come down from on high to remove all machineguns.  Seems they were worried we were encroaching on their close air support role. 

In early 1968 the third platoon of the 219th was formed to support the 52nd Artillery Group in Pleiku.  I was assigned as platoon leader and began to develop a close relationship with the S-3 Section.  They always sent forward observers and assistant S-3 on missions as backseaters.  Finally one day the S-3 himself, a major, went on a mission with me in the back seat.  This was during a period when I had removed the machinegun.   We did the usual registrations and then began some visual recon in the mountains to the northwest of Pleiku.  The area had patches of open fields where the Montagnards had exercised their slash-and-burn agriculture and there were craters and old antiaircraft positions here and there. 

Having been in the area recently, my attention was drawn to a field on the crest of the mountain.  There had previously been digging along the edge of the jungle that I thought had been fresh.  Now it was nowhere to be seen.  So I made a low pass down the edge of the woods, all the while just seeming to wander around.  Sure enough, there was a camouflaged antiaircraft position there, fully manned and ready to shoot. 

I informed the S-3, we alerted the artillery, and I decided to surprise them first with a few HE rockets.  The approach was low level, this time over the length of the field.  After I dipped my nose and fired two rockets, a machinegun opened up on me from the other side of the field.  (Memory lapse dummy, they always operate in pairs.)  Being on the crest of the mountain, I did a diving wing over to the left, masking the fire.  All the while, the S-3 was cheering me on about giving it to them with my machinegun.  When I said that it wasn’t my machinegun but theirs making all that noise, I thought he was going to pee in his pants.  Subsequently we plastered the area with 155mm artillery, but I don’t think that S-3 ever took another ride in the back seat of a Birddog.

"Ground Pounder to Pilot with the 219th"
Submitted by - 1LT Eugene Kobes, Headhunter 26
Editor's Note: Many 219th personnel had prior tours in Vietnam. These prior experiences are important to know because they also helped shape how these individuals contributed to the success of the 219th's overall mission.

"Before my assignment to the 219th RAC in early 1969 I had a previous ground assignment as a platoon leader with the 3rd Bn 8th Inf, 1st Bde, 4th ID supported by the 219th RAC.  It was always a comforting feeling in practically any engagement that some birddog was overhead to direct supporting fire whether it be artillery or TAC air. 

In this particular case in early 1967  from recollection occurred when our company C was attacked by a North Vietnamese Regiment.  We lost Charlie Barrett’s whole platoon with the exception of one man that was patrolling in the direction of the attack.  Two other platoons were patrolling off our respective flanks.  My platoon at company base was hit next and caught in the crossfire between the enemy and our Company B that had moved up to support the engagement.  The combat was very intense lasting a good share of an afternoon.  Rockets, artillery, close air support, machine gun fire, grenades, you name it, were in play.  Over four thousand rounds of artillery were fired in our support.  Other statistics of the battle are recorded in the book, “War of Innocents” by Charlie Flood who incidentally was in the thick of the battle.  My prayer for the circumstance occurred after the battle.  It was a prayer of thanksgiving, thanking God that I was able to lead men through the chaos and confusion of battle when thought, planning and sense seemed to be brushed aside for instinctive action.  It is my belief one does not know how he will act in those conditions until you actually experience it.  Than to be able operate, to make decisions and act on them must be God given for I do not believe it is anything you could possibly train for. 

During the course of the battle I could not recall how many times I rose up to fire my weapon or to shout commands.  Once to execute the claymores and the word came back we just did.  I do not know how many times I shouted at my machine gunner to hold down his rate of fire or he would burn up his barrel.  Well he burned up both barrels and went forward to pick up an enemy machine gun to continue the battle.  I do remember just getting down in my foxhole when the back of my not to deep foxhole was stitched with machine gun fire.  In fact the antenna of my radio was shot off about two inches from the base.  I do remember getting up a little to look behind me to make sure I was not in the line of fire by B Company machine guns.  It was one of these times I saw the 500 lbs bombs tumbling through the air.  You see the TAC air and gun ships were brought in from behind us as opposed to parallel with my front because  the artillery was not lifted.  Enemy pressure was so great the Battalion was concerned both companies would be overrun so all supporting fires were continuous.  Enemy mortars and rocket were coming in volume and now we are also throwing hand grenades back and forth.  The intensity was unimaginable.  I do not remember if nor when I screamed to my unit to fix bayonets or whether they just instinctively just did it.  The din of battle is still etched in my mind. 

I believe the body count later that day was over 358 enemy along with a pile of enemy weapons. Many were just meters away from our positions.  Later, a platoon of tanks from the 4th moved in.  Can I tell you how comforting this was?

Incidentally, at the morning planning meeting of Company officers before the battle my platoon was scheduled to patrol the area of where the attack took place.  Charlie wanted to switch with me because his platoon was scheduled to be company lead in our company movement the following day.  He wanted to have firsthand knowledge of the terrain.  I suggested we both patrol the area, each with two squads, leaving two squads behind for company security.  Well, Charlie wanted his whole platoon with him so the decision for the switch was made.

An unusual circumstance that occurred over the course of the battle as well was that my platoon did not suffer anyone killed in action while facing a far superior force in numbers whereas B Company positioned behind my platoon did.  There was a memorial service for the fallen the next day.  I helped the chaplain hand out small hymn books in the calm breeze as I seemed to feel the whisper of God, He cares.  From what I remember, my prayer that day was for all the families and loved ones of those we lost.

The other unusual fact from my ground duty over the course of a year was that my platoon did not incur anyone killed in any action while I was with them in the field.  At one point I was detailed to Division but volunteered to return to my unit after another major battle and the loss of two more officers, one of which was the company commander. The platoon leader that had my platoon was severely wounded.

My second tour started with the 183 RAC in Phan Thiet.  It was an interesting three or four months before I was ranked out of my position as platoon Commander and moved to 219th 2nd Platoon in Kontum early 69.  But in those four months I had much excitement.  On one occasion I was attacking a VC tax point on Hwy 1.  Well the wood line was full of VC as well and my aircraft and I got shot up pretty well.  You see until then I could not get any fire support.  My aircraft was still flyable and I was not seriously wounded but my excited call went out.  Catbird 7 this is Seahorse 26, I have just taken fire, now can I get some type of support!!  Roger, you have pair phantoms that we have diverted to your area.  After I put them in as well as direct a Cav Troop from Task Force South I came back to Phan Thiet and landed.  I checked into the dispensary soon thereafter.

There were a number of 219th stories out of Kontum.  The short side of one is my returning to Kontum late after a mission in darkness (Kontum was an unlit airfield) and the portable GCA was inoperable.  Anyway I had a partial engine failure over Kontum city and my only one ever Mayday in my flying career call went out. “Mayday, mayday partial engine failure.”  I had full power on and was losing altitude. The tower operator asked me if he should shoot a flare.  Yes, yes I excitedly called back, do it now.  Well as if by answered prayer the flare lighted the area for me to locate the field.  I just made it to the end of the runway and landed.  Can I tell you that in two tours in Viet Nam one as an Infantry platoon leader and one flying reconnaissance, God was looking after me.

On another occasion, I, well my Marine observer adjusted main gun fire from the New Jersey.  I felt good about the target area.  It was where I was shot up.  Incidentally, my flight pattern in adjusting fire gave a wide berth.  You can see the rounds from the main guns in the air and the impact is special. On low level flying I guess after forty years it is safe to divulge. I was covering a convoy on Hwy 1 low level crisscrossing the hwy at varying intervals.   Well,  I did not catch the rise in the road as I was skimming tree tops when all of a sudden the command track is just meters in front of me as I initiate a climb.  Not soon enough however, as I hear a ping.  I am very quiet and perhaps praying as well, until the commander comes on the radio.  Seahorse 26, are you alright? I am asking because you took about three feet off my 125 antenna.  I promised to replace it I radioed back.  A post flight check revealed a slight nick in my propeller.

In the 219th, I am now flying over areas I trudged about.  Biggest battle for me there was in Dak Siang.  Enemy artillery was adjusting on our artillery base which I was using.  Enemy mortars were going off below me where I just got mirrored by some of our LRRPS.  Enemy P76 armored vehicles were engaging our outer defenses and enemy masses were emerging from the border area.  I do not know who replaced me on station when low on fuel but Dempsey  and Ritz do not remember the that particular battle.  I met them at last reunion and found out things I am glad I did not know about at the time. After three or four months with the 219th I took command of HHC 52nd Cbt Av Bn. in Plieku.  Ah the memories."

"Mayday! Mayday!"
Submitted by - 1LT Eugene Kobes, Headhunter 26

Late one afternoon in early 1969 I was to fly a troop from Kontum to the airbase in Plieku to catch a hop to Saigon.  He was going on emergency leave back to the states.  I had not flown into the airbase before and it was kind of neat with the ground control instructing me to taxi up to the C-130.  It was waiting on me with props turning.  Anyway, after my pax debarked I have clearance to taxi and takeoff.  Only issue is that darkness is settling in and I know Kontum does not have runway lights.  Oh well, maybe I will have sufficient moonlight I thought.  Poor decision, for now as I approach Kontum it is really dark as I call our mobile  GCA for landing.  I had not used it before since from memory we did not launch at night that often.

The GCA operator picked me up and gave me a glide path and I thought, this isn’t so bad and I am proceeding with letdown.  Well, when I turn on my landing light all I saw were bunkers.  The operator had me in heading on glide path from what I remember.  Anyway, I radioed,  go around and began my climb for traffic pattern altitude.  Everything was still okay except that on downwind my engine sputtered as I was still added more power.  Now, I am at full power and losing altitude as my call went out, “Mayday, Mayday partial engine failure!!  GCA operator, “What do you want me to do? (Pause) Shoot a flare?”  Yes, yes, yes I radioed back a bit excitedly as I see the lights of Kontum coming up just beneath me.

I do not remember how close I was to the ground or the obstacles I had to clear before touchdown but my roll out was not far from our ramp.  With a sputtering engine I just made it back to our ramp for shut down.

That was my only Mayday in a flight career that went along with a few fuel emergency landings