Experiences of a 68th AHC Pilot
    

In late 1967 in Vietnam , I was in the 334^th Attack Helicopter flying night “Fire Fly” Missions.  Basically, this was a three ship mission with a command and control UH-1H armed with a 50 cal mounted in the side door, a UH1C gunship with a door mounted cluster of C123 landing lights that shown on the ground, and another UH1C gunship that flew without lights outside the cone of the C-130 lights.  The three ships flew at 1000’, 500’ and 200’ above the ground.  The “Fire Fly” mission flew at night and was effective at spotting and destroying sampans, trucks, carts, and enemy forces that were detected moving along trails, rivers, and roads.  This was before the time of the present day night goggles and forward looking infrared radar.  We had and used only our eye balls.  Its purpose was to take away control of the night by the VC.

 Additionally, we also were available as an airborne reaction team to go to the aid of any American and Vietnamese troops or outposts being attacked at night.  I can also remember picking up other downed helicopter crewmembers, Air Force pilots, Navy SEALs, and wounded soldiers because we were usually the first help to arrive.  My “Fire Fly” teams have destroyed up to 100 sampans loaded with enemy troops and equipment, and have helped two Vietnamese outposts repel attacks all in one night of flying.

With that “Fire Fly” mission background, one night we had been flying the rivers along the edge of war Zone D (a Viet Cong stronghold) and the road leading from An Loc to Loc Ninh.  We had engaged and sank two sampans but overall it was a fairly quiet night.  Because it was almost dawn and we were headed home, the US advisor at Loc Ninh asked if we could stay and do a dawn recon of the road leading out of Loc Ninh toward the Cambodian border.  If I remember right, that is Highway 13.  I was flying the low ship that night so I agreed to do a dawn patrol from the border back toward Loc Ninh.  Since it was almost dawn, I let the high ship land, refuel and go home.  I led the two UH1C gunships at tree top level out over the jungle purposely away from the road a good mile until we came up to the border.  Once we were in sight of the Cambodian border outpost, I did a 180 degree turn still flying at tree level but now flying just to the left of the road.  After we had flown about 4 miles, I noticed a dust trail on the road ahead of us.  I alerted everyone that we had something traveling the road just ahead of us.  As we came around a curve, there in front of us was an individual on a motorcycle.  I slowed the aircraft down so I could “sneak up” on the motorcycle.  If you have ever heard a Huey fly, you don’t sneak up on anything.  Low level flying enables the trees and hills to block some of the popping noise that the blades make in flight.  Flying at 50 feet, I pulled up just behind the motorcycle and was surprised to see an NVA officer in full uniform on the motorcycle.  The noise generated by operation of the motorcycle and the wind at about 50 mph was so much that the NVA office did not hear us coming.  Suddenly, his sixth sense made him realized that something was very wrong.  He looked up at me with a surprised look on his face that said—uh oh, Buddha I am in deep trouble.  I had the door gunner shoot him and we continued the recon.  When we were in sight of Loc Ninh, I said to my crew that I sure would like to have that motorcycle; the copilot said he wanted his AK47, the crew chief wanted his pith helmet and the door gunner wanted his web gear.  I called my wingman and told him we were going back and get that motorcycle.  After a quick recon, we landed beside the motorcycle, stripped the officer of his map and all valuable papers and items we wanted.  Because we had been flying a while on the mission, we were only about half full of JP4 fuel.  This is important because our UH-1C gunships were always flown at or slightly above the maximum weight.  The reduced fuel weight sure helped us make a good take-off.  Before we flew home, we landed at Loc Ninh and gave them the officer’s papers and other intelligence items.  The items we wanted stayed on the aircraft because the Americans at Loc Ninh didn’t want them.  OK, I forgot to tell them we had them!  The US advisors and my crew figured out that this officer had been in the village seeing his girlfriend and just didn’t get through and back in his hideout before dawn.

We triumphantly landed at Bien Hoa and off loaded our souvenirs.  After we filled out the mission report in Operations, we all headed toward our quarters to go to sleep.  It was on the way to go to our quarters that I first got a good opportunity to inspect the motorcycle.  It was a little Honda 90cc with a fake tiger striped seat that had one bullet hole in it.  That was the only bullet hole on the whole machine.  So I filled the Honda with gas and drove it to our villa.

From that time on, I used the motorcycle to do all kinds of things.  If we had someone in the hospital, I hopped on it and away I went to see them.  If I had a day off, I drove to Saigon .  I also used it to inspect the flight line, the perimeter guard positions, and of course I drove it back and forth to work.  I also used it to go over to the Air Force side of the base where the Base Exchange (like Kmart) was located.

One day a couple of months later, I was at the far end of the flight line checking out the status and stowage of our rockets and minigun ammunition.  It started to rain lightly and I could see this huge thunderstorm right on the other side of the base coming my way.  I finished what I was doing as quickly as possible and jumped on my captured motorcycle.  It was going to be close—getting wet or making it to the shelter of the operations building about ¼ mile away.  Here I was with full throttle open, wind and light rain blowing in my face, and all I had to do was make a right turn and there would be the safety of the operations building.  It momentarily slipped my mind that I was on PSP.  PSP is pierced steel planking and was used extensively during World War II to build airfields.  As is all steel, when it is wet it is slick.  The PSP at Bien Hoa was put there during the French-Indochina war in the 1950’s and it showed its age and wear and tear.  As I made my turn, guess what?  You are right.  The motorcycle lost grip on the PSP.  As a result of that, I rode the bike, then it rode me, I rode it again, and it rode me again.  This survival wrestling match was suddenly ended when the two of us crashed into side of the 68^th Assault Helicopter Company maintenance hanger.  Everyone came running to the wreckage site to see what had happened.  There in a heap was Ron intertwined with the war trophy Honda.  After determining that I was alive, they helped me get untangled from “VC” Honda.  With their help I was able to stand up and evaluate the results of the wrestling match.  I was scraped from my shoulder to my toe.  My fatigues were a torn, bloody, mess.  I was taken to the Flight Surgeon and the motorcycle was unceremoniously pushed over to the side of the 334^th maintenance hanger.  The flight surgeon cleaned up my wounds, gave me all kinds of shots, put me in the ambulance, and took me to the 24^th Evacuation Hospital .  After being admitted to the hospital, they put me under sun lamps to dry out the scrapes.  After 2 and 1/2 days, I was sent back to the 334^th and put under the care of the flight surgeon.  The flight surgeon cleared me to fly about a week after the accident even though I still had a large number of scabs.  That down time really broke my heart!  I wasn’t getting shot at nor having to fly night missions.  But I have to tell you it sure got old sitting in the sun and dodging the rain showers for those 4 and 1/2 days.  Because it was war, someone has to do it.

At last, I was put back on flight status.  It was now time for pay back.  On the way to my return to flight status aircraft checkout, I pushed the now scraped and bruised Honda 90 out to the flight line and with the crew’s help loaded “VC Honda” into the Huey.  We took off and climbed up to 1500 feet.  I flew right down the middle of the Van Co Dong River.  As I slowed the aircraft to a hover, an interesting thing happened.  By some mysterious force (a crewchief pushing), “good old VC” Honda decided it wanted to do a high dive into the river.  I would have rated it as a 10 dive, but the entry left too big a splash.

My first and only motorcycle crash/wrestling match/bronco ride was now rated a draw so why take another chance?  Maybe there was a continuing curse on that motorcycle. Honda 90 now rests in peace at the bottom of the river.  I have healed and have no permanent damage.  And wisely “good old Evel Knievel Ron” no longer rides off in the sunset on any motorcycles

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Revised: June 29, 2012 .
 

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