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Sequel As Prequel

The Time: 0730 on the morning of a day three weeks prior to the vignette I recounted yesterday.

The Place: Flight Operations, 162d Assault Helicopter Company.

The Cast: The 164th Combat Aviation Group S2, three Copperhead Aircraft Commanders (gunship guys) and an Air Mission Commander (me) from the 162d, a Mission Commander from the 9th Division, Army of the Republic of Vietnam and his US counterpart.

“Gentlemen -- our old friends in Tay Do Two are at it again.”

Tay Do Two was what remained of the local VC battalion. The original Tay Do battalion had been all but destroyed during Tet ’69; the commander and his staff had survived, though, and were reconstituting, maintaining the original designation. We added the “Two” to remind them that their predecessors had been creamed, and we knew that they’d heard the message -- they had an *amazing* intel network. Tay Do Two "companies" had been fielding nothing larger than roving squad-sized elements for about a year, confining their activities to sniping at patrols (and sometimes at us during pre-dawn preflights), firing the odd mortar or RPG at the RVN forts scattered throughout Phong Dinh Province and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

“Agent reports indicate that they’ll be conducting a briefing for some visitors from up north this morning at 0900, and the meeting place is this patch of woods just across the river. If you climb up that water tower, you can see the area from right here. A three-klick long patch of woods extending from the riverbank to here has been designated a Free Fire Zone, beginning today at 0900 and ending at 1000. Beginning at 0800, civilian traffic southbound along QL4 will be held at a roadblock two klicks north of the Zone and northbound traffic will be held at the ferry slip on this side of the river. At 0830, two deuce-and-a-halfs will proceed from the north side roadblock to the ferry crossing to police up any stragglers on the road. At 0900, you guys will own the Zone -- no one except Tay Do Two and their guests will be in those woods, on the road, or in the paddies west of the woods. Captain Tuttle runs the show, but Dai-Uy Trung has final say on anything unforeseen that pops up. Questions?”

Yup.

I asked, “How far on either side of the woods does the Zone extend?”

“The edge of the woods is the boundary.”

Copperhead Three-Six asked, “How about evaders from the Zone -- are they righteous targets?”

“Anyone running along QL4 after the action starts will be picked up by 9th ARVN at the roadblock. And no one will take to the paddies -- nobody’s dumb enough to try to run through knee-deep swamp water to get away from helicopters.”

I looked at the Copperheads and they were trying hard to keep poker-faced. About two months previously, we’d caught fifty NVA west of Moc Hoa attempting to do just that…

At the aircraft:

“Back Seat, I’ll be flying from the right side, so you and Dai-Uy Trung can go ahead and strap in facing out to the right. I’ll take off first and the Copperheads will follow in trail, ten seconds later. They’ll be right behind us when we hit the Zone. We’re going in low and fast -- if you see anybody down in the trees, tell the crewchief to pop smoke on ‘em so the guns can engage.” We carried five red smoke grenades for marking targets. And two violet ones to mark our own position for the fast-movers in case we crashed…

We cranked at 0850, ran through power and commo checks, then stayed at full throttle until 0858.

“You’ve got the controls. Normal takeoff until we get to fifty feet, then level off, grab an armful of pitch and scream for the river. When you see the treeline, fly to the left of it and maintain speed and altitude, okay?”

“Roger that. I’ve got the controls.”

“Can Tho Tower, Vulture One-Five’s a single H-model in the Roost with a heavy fire team of Charlie-models in the Snake Pit – northeast departure in sequence across the blue, then we’ll be low, working the treelines parallel to the extended centerline.”

“One-Five and flight of three, from present positions, cleared for departure in sequence. You guys going after something I should be worried about?”

“Probably. One-Five and guns are on the go.”

Might as well let *him* sweat, too…

I saw the woods as soon as we passed through forty feet. Across 500 meters of muddy river, slight right turn to parallel the trees and--

“Geez! People, people, people!”

The woods erupted with running figures -- all splashing through the paddies toward the double-canopy woods a half mile away.

“Hey, Three-Six -- get some rockets into the Zone, fast!”

“Roger!”

“One-Five, Three-Three! Can we bust these guys in the open? I see at least seven carrying weapons!”

“Three-Niner’s got a guy with an RPG!”

Frack. The Zone ended at the woodline.

“Dai-Uy Trung! Can we engage those VC in the open?” I turned around and saw a very miserable ARVN back-seater grit his teeth and say, “They have escaped the trap.”

And he’d been put into one. If he allowed us to kill the runners, he would be crucified for disobeying orders. If he refused to allow us to kill them, he would be crucified for letting them escape unharmed.

“We can’t kill them? Even the ones who are armed?”

“No. No…”

I suddenly thought of a third option.

“Well, can we capture them?”

Dai-Uy Trung grinned. “YES!”

“Three-Six, take Three-Niner and see if you can scare Charles back into the woods! Three-Three, frag off and pick up an orbit on me – I’m going body-snatching!”

“I still have the controls, right?”

“You sure do! See those three running in a cluster at two o’clock? Come at them from behind, dust ‘em off and put us down between them and the trees! I want both -60s on the right side, now! Both Dai-Uy Back-Seats -- hang on to your weapons!”

And down we went.

Why did I pick those three? Well, the one in the white shirt and blue pants was obviously a woman by the way she was running and she was wearing sneakers, not sandals. That meant she wasn’t local and was someone important. The guy in the blue shirt and olive green pants to her right was helping her run, and he was wearing sneakers, too. That meant he was her bodyguard, which meant she was someone *very* important. And the guy in the black PJs to her left kept pulling ahead, then turning back to help, and he was barefoot. That meant he was local, he was their guide and babysitter and it’d be his neck if anything happened to her. Which meant that she was very important indeed…

Ever have a Huey slam into the ground directly in front of you? It can be disconcerting.

They were very disconcerted. And very confused. And very wet.

Three-Three roared past in a low orbit and the sight of the rocket pods, minigun and grinning gunners brought their confusion to a screeching halt. The woman appeared so relieved not to have been killed outright that she almost threw herself into Dai-Uy Trung’s lap. Her bodyguard shrugged and stuck out his hands to be pulled aboard, rather reluctan--

“Black shirt’s reaching for something behind his back!”

The local guide was trying to decide if he could grab whatever he had in his waistband, arm it and use it before he was shredded by the crewchief’s M-60. And he was wavering toward “yes”…

“Point the gun between his eyes, smile and wave at him!”

He stopped reaching for whatever he had and waved back. Works every time.

A sudden motion caught his eye. He glanced at the cockpit and saw my arm outstretched toward his head, with my M1911 attached at the end. His hands went behind his neck, very, very slowly. The gunner hopped out, removed the grenade from his waistband and helped him aboard.

“Holy…hey, Sir, Back-Seat’s been going through the female’s dittybag. So far, he’s pulled out a K-54 and a blade and about a dozen green GI notepads and some kind of ID booklet and a wad of cash that’d choke the Jolly Green Giant. We hit paydirt!”

“Good. Strap everybody in -- I don’t want these jokers trying for a high dive into the Mekong after we pull pitch. Hey, Back-Seat, did we make Dai-Uy Trung happy?”

“Hah. Every time he pulls out another document, his eyes get rounder and his grin gets bigger!”

“Good. Take a break -- I’ve got the controls.”

“You’ve got ‘em!”

“Three-Three, One-Five’s pulling pitch. Three-Six, it’s time to git outta Dodge…”

To be continued…

Heh. Surely you didn't think *that* would'a been enough to hack off a VC battalion commander, did'ja?

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Dawn Patrol from Mudville Gazette on February 20, 2007 10:46 AM

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15 Comments

hot damn, we got us a story going now.... gimme more.
 
Hmmm... Wonder if Mama-San there was the same viper that infested your shower stall.
 
Brilliant, Bill. I can't wait for the next installment.
 
Not bad ... Cheers
 
"Not bad..." he says. Tankers! *sheesh* Good tale, Bill. 'Please sir, may I have another?' - er - more... [lookee there... we have a never-been-in-the-military person cranking one off in a branch-related snark. Ahhhh, the power of the Castle... -the Armorer]
 
If I coulda got a export/import license for those bikes..ole Bill T mighta been Comrade Bill. RLO's tsk tsk, the trouble they get into, shameful. You'll notice when Bill grew up they made him a Warrant Officer! :-)
 
RLO's tsk tsk, the trouble they get into, shameful. Yeah, but don't forget who *taught* me. And I *still* have my suspicions as to who it was that planted the sign saying "Nguy Hiem! Dai-Uy Tuttle Live Here" outside my tent... Barb - 'Fess up -- it was the reference to the M1911, wasn't it?
 
I. Am. Offended. I Am Not A "tanker", I Am A ZIPPERHEAD!!!! Cheers
 
I. am. offended. too! that zipperhead ain't a tanker!!!
 
Aren't we being a bit disingenous John... taking advantage of your southron cousins. Zipperhead - armoured tank soldier, derived from their use of "zip up" to close hatches when under fire From here (see Military Nicknames).
 
Tankers rule,grunts drool....nanner nanner nanner. Great story!
 
Actually, "zipperhead" in the Canadian Army pre-dates the Vietnam War. And properly used, it is a nickname for a Strat. Cheers
 
So, Bill, was she good-lookin'?
 
So, Bill, was she good-lookin'? Late-twenties / early-thirties, hair chopped short, *dark* almond-shaped eyes, the whole been-rode-hard-and-put-away-wet look, a bit of mud fetchingly smeared across her pert li'l nose. And smelled a lot like Secaucus at low tide. Ummm, I never really noticed...
 
Yer just writin' that 'cause you think the Luddite Wife might be reading this. As is widely known, Vietnamese wimmin are famous for both good-lookingness and toughmindedness, just like the Mississippian wimmin, of whom my late Mom is one. I'll allow that you were more attracted to the ones who weren't trying to kill you.