I REMEMBER
The Year of the Rat - Pat Eastes
Pat's recollection of several incidents during Tet '68 combat operations
As 1967 closed out and 1968 arrived, there was a noticeable pickup in hostilities. Even though we had been busy, it appeared that every time we went
up, we were engaging the enemy. They seemed to be better armed, and there
seemed to be more of them. The incident described earlier where Smoky got shot
down and the 35 element got shot up occurred just two days prior to what is now
known as Tet of 68. As soldiers in the front, we had no knowledge of any
buildup other than what our intuition told us. I do not remember getting any
intelligence from our briefings that there was a major buildup of enemy troops,
but it was somewhat obvious that the war was accelerating. Cu Chi and Dau Tieng
were getting mortared pretty regularly, keeping us tired and irritable. Sleep
was never easy except with the help of alcohol, but now even the slightest noise
kept us awake. "Incoming" was a cry/curse that was even heard during the day,
which was out of character for the VC, who mainly mortared us at night.
31 Jan was the Vietnamese New Year, bringing in the year of the Rat. Having
lived in Okinawa as a kid, I was somewhat aware of the Oriental New Year, and
how each year was named the year of the Pig, Goat, Rat, etc., but it had no real
meaning for an Occidental such as myself. I knew that the ARVNs were probably
getting drunk in their celebration of the New Year, just as we did on the night
of the 31st of December, and that was about the extent of my understanding. The
North Vietnamese, much wiser, knew that this would be a perfect time to start a
major assault on the South, while the ARVNs were down on their guard. Of
course, we believed that the ARVNs had much to learn about how to fight,
anyway. My experience with them was never good. They were very happy to let
the Americans do the dirty work, and didn't seem to care much about whatever
might happen to their country. At any rate, the NVA knew that the alert level
of the ARVN would be even lower, making their job that much easier. Their
buildup had been going on right under our noses for some time, and while we knew
that there was more action, we had no real idea of what was going on.
I write this from the perspective of an individual of little rank, who basically
was out of the loop as far as long range goals. The generals no doubt had much
more that they knew, and the history books have proven that. But for the Warrant
Officer pilot, our world was from mission to mission, not really understanding
or even caring about an overview. We were trying to not get shot down, not get
killed or maimed in the mortar attacks, and make it through another mission
while counting the days to DEROS. This is pretty much the plight of the common
soldier in all wars; while the big guys with the stars on their epaulets
direct our lives and think about the big picture, the people in the shit just
try to make do, to survive to live and fight another firefight, while thinking
about where they would rather be.
On the night of 31 Jan, I was detailed to fly a LRRP extraction. The LRRPS
(Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol) were along the Saigon River, north of Saigon,
and they were reporting large enemy troop movements in their area. They
rightfully were scared of being detected, and made their way to a spot where
they could be picked up by one of our slicks. I flew gun cover, and I don't
recall any problems with the extraction. Put yourself in the place of the slick
crew, however. LRRP extractions were usually hot, you are landing in a spot
where your only point of reference is a flashlight or strobe, you cannot use
your landing light for fear of being shot, at any second you could be fired upon
by unseen VC who are just waiting to be the proud soldier that got an American
helicopter, and all the while the people that you are picking up are speaking in
frightened tones because they are surrounded by enemy troops. All I had to do
was give gun cover; the slick had to make the approach, get the LRRPS, and get
out in one piece. NO FUN!
During the extraction, we saw ARVN compounds all around the area welcome in the
Year of the Rat, pointing their weapons skyward and firing tracers into the air.
Of course, with us being IN the air, we weren't too impressed with their
lack of concern for our safety, but at the same time, the show was impressive.
On our return to Cu Chi after the completion of the extraction mission, we took
a wide berth around any ARVN compounds so as not to become a casualty of their
drunken revelry.
About 0200, while we were trying to get some Zs, we were awoken by huge white
flashes accompanied by tremendous explosions. My first experience with the NVA
and their 122mm rockets was just what they hoped for; something that would
scare the crap out of us, put us on edge, and generally disrupt our lives. As
those first rockets started to fall, we in the Centaurs who were not assigned to
fly made a mad dash to trenches which were in the process of becoming bunkers,
but now were merely holes in the ground. We lay there, covering up as best we
could, listening to a sound that in the next few weeks become all too
familiar; the WHOOSH of the incoming rockets, followed by the deafening
explosion and flash that made night into day for a millisecond. The enemy
was evidently targeting the flight line and runway, and since we lived on the
flight line, our area was nailed by the rocketeers. As the rockets came in, it
became easy to judge when they were going to land close or pass us by, and as
the close ones were about to hit, we hugged mother earth and hoped/prayed that
it wouldn't be the last thing that we ever heard. The initial attack was over
in a few minutes, and then, giving us a while to think that maybe it was over,
another barrage ensued. By the second attack, I was in flak jacket and pisspot,
but hearing the intensity of the explosions, there was little comfort in
wearing such protection. As yet, I had not seen the crater that a 122 left.
When I did, in our troop area and in the Corral after first light, it was
obvious that if you were anywhere near the point of impact you could kiss your
ass goodbye. All of a sudden, mortar attacks seemed almost fun in comparison to
rockets.
Dawn of 1 Feb broke, showing overcast skies, weather indicative of our moods
after surviving our first rocket attack. The craters left by the 122s were
about 10 to 12 feet across, and maybe 6 feet deep. One had hit near my aircraft
that I had flown earlier that night on the LRRP mission, and the helicopter
would not be flyable for some time, having numerous holes ripped in it from the
rocket. We dug part of that rocket out of its crater, seeing ChiCom markings on
it. As we were looking at it, the SCRAMBLE horn sounded from Operations. I
didn't have an aircraft to fly, but went to Ops to see what was going on. Our
Ops officer was giving the Number One standby team their mission; a large NVA
force was attempting to overrun Tan Son Nhut Airbase, and they were to respond
to give air support to the ground forces.
NVA!? Up to now, we knew that we had been fighting some NVA regulars, but most
of our contacts were thought to be with VC. LRRPS had seen large movements of
troops just Northwest of Saigon; that's why we got them out last night. Now Tan
Son Nhut is being attacked. We always thought that TSN was out of the war; I had
been to the Air Force Officer's club there once, and everybody looked like they
were stateside. They seemed to regard us, in our worn fatigues, unshined boots,
and "bush" odor as some kind of apparition. Now, they were getting attacked. At
first, it almost sounded funny, and we could picture these guys in their
starched fatigues or TWs (tropical worsteds) scrambling around, getting some of
what we got, and not liking it.
Our Number One team cranked up, took off, and while still enroute to TSN called
back and told Ops that there were NVA everywhere and that all available gunships
needed to respond. All I could do was sit there, having had my ship
damaged by the rockets. I sat in Ops, listening to the battle, and heard Doc
saying that he was going in near the perimeter of TSN. Our squadron commander,
LTC Glenn Otis, had gotten one of our slicks to use as his C and C bird, and
they went in and got Doc and his crew. I will not get into specifics of what
happened with the 3/4 Cav
ground troops on this day, other to say that they literally saved Tan Son Nhut
from the NVA, and Ltc Otis, with his leadership and bravery under fire, received
the Distinguished Service Cross for his part in directing the ground units in
their run from Cu Chi to Saigon. Without his actions, it is likely that the NVA
would have taken TSN, at least initially. Other books have described what
happened there, and did it much better than I can. My hoochmate, Mike Siegel,
received a Distinguished Flying Cross for his actions as Aircraft Commander in
flying Col. Otis' bird. Acts of bravery that day were numerous, and many were
no doubt unheralded.
Meanwhile, I sat in base camp, a spectator in the first actions of Tet. That
morning was long and, to understate, stressful. Those of us without aircraft to
fly got sandbags and constructed makeshift bunkers. It seemed, after
events of that night, that we might be needing them in the near future.
By that afternoon, I got assigned to relieve one of the other ACs, who had been
on station most of the day and was more than ready for a break. I had heard
that on every run there was intense return fire, but I had also heard that
we were giving out heavy casualties to the bad guys, and while scared, I was
ready to get in the action. As I lifted off and started heading towards Saigon,
the smoke and fires from the battle were evident all along Highway 1. When I
got on station, I was told that we were needed to fire on a warehouse just off
of TSN, in the Cholon section of Saigon. Other fire teams were in the area,
shooting up the world. It seemed really strange to be rolling in on buildings
in the city of Saigon, but it was happening, none the less. At this point,
such things as "no fire zones" were not applicable - everything was a fair
target, because the NVA were seemingly everywhere. As I started my run on the
warehouse, we received heavy AK fire from it, and we returned with
rockets, minis, and door gun. As we expended our weapons into the building, it
quickly became a smoking hulk, looking a lot like pictures that we had all seen
of WWII bombed out buildings. Whoever had been in the building was no longer
returning our fire after our passes. And from the look of the building, it was
not a healthy place to be.
We returned with rearmed aircraft
and continued our assault on the city of Saigon. We were directed to targets of
opportunity by the ground troops, and worked in conjunction with the
"Razorbacks", the gun platoon of the 120 AHC, whose home base was Hotel 3, the
Tan Son Nhut helipad. They lived in villas, and in comparison to us had a pretty
good life, but they were in the War now, and they gave a very good account of
themselves. We also worked with some Air Force "Spookies", C47s equipped with
several Minnie-guns that were operated by hand by their
crews. As we received more and more fire, with a lot of 50 cal. mixed in, the
Spookies climbed higher and higher, until their tracers were burning out above
us, not doing a lot of good to the ground guys except moral support. In fact
they put us at risk several times from being shot down by their fire.
Try to picture this scene; there are the Spookies, circling the fight at maybe
5000 or 6000 feet. Below them are helicopter flareships, dropping flares to
illuminate the area in their eerie glow. We are below the flareships, along with
one or two other gunship fire teams. All the guns are flying blacked out, in
order to make less of a target for the 50s. We in the guns are dodging flares,
Spooky fire, the other fire teams, and the 50 cal and AK fire that showers us
whenever we make a gun run. On the ground are many diverse units of US and ARVN
troops, who are trying to stay out of our way and direct our fire on the best
targets. The NVA are seemingly everywhere; whenever we make a pass on a target,
Charles opens up on us from another position, not to mention those who we are
shooting at returning fire at us in a most convincing manner. Fires are all
around, from burning buildings, vehicles and the like. And while all of this is
going on, our helmets fill our heads with radio chatter from the grunts, the
Spookies, the other fire teams, our wingman, and our own crew, calling out such
niceties as "we just received .50 fire from that building" or "the gooks just
RPGd that APC down there!". All in all, the confusion of war was all around
us. The whole thing seemed at times to be surreal, like you were in some sort
of
dream but couldn't awake from it. It wouldn't get a lot better for a long time.
Upon returning to Cu Chi, we found that we had been rocketed again. This, too,
was to be an unpleasant fact of life for the next few months. Not chancing what
seemed to be inevitable, we went to our makeshift bunkers to try to get
some sleep. I had just dozed off when another rocket attack started. Laying in
a ditch, wet, tired, scared and pissed off does not make for deep sleep. Guns
on the perimeter opened up in force. The gooks must be attempting to breach our
wire. I really don't need this shit, I say to whoever is close by, being the
Master of the Obvious that I am. The guys on the wire are really shooting now,
and the rockets are still falling. I hunker up, trying to become small, but
knowing that a direct hit on my bunker and I am little more than a pink mist. I
just hope that the odds will go my way for this attack. Although I know that I
will never get used to this, in the months ahead I actually got to where I
could sleep through a rocket
attack unless they were landing right in our troop area.
The next day brought little relief. I flew in support of more troops on the
outskirts of Saigon, mostly Saber units that were cleaning up small patches of
ground, retaking what had been ours a couple of days ago. Each fight was fierce,
and while we didn't get shot down, we got many holes in our aircraft, requiring
some immediate repairs for such things as the tail rotor driveshaft that was
nearly severed by a 50, radios being shot out, and replacement of rotor blades
when they got more than three holes in them (or, one .50, which would cause the
aircraft to vibrate badly). On one of these numerous missions that all seem to
run together, my chopper lit up a "Hydraulics" warning light. On a UH 1C, there
are two hydraulics systems which allow for a backup system in case of a
failure of the other. Charlie models cannot be flown with no hydraulics, unlike
their other Huey brethren, because their larger rotor blades are just too
powerful to be moved by humans. So, when we got the Master Caution light, our
next procedure was to put the aircraft on the ground ASAP. We were only a short
way from a Saber laager position, and as the bright young Warrants that we were,
we decided to see if we could turn off the only functional system and see how
the aircraft would handle. I had the aircraft, and my Peter Pilot turned off
the switch for the number 2 hydraulic system (number one was the one that was
inoperable). The helicopter immediately went into a violent right
climbing turn, and I could not budge the cyclic, as much as I wanted to. As I
was yelling to get the operable hydraulics turned back on, the Peter Pilot was
reading my mind. As he flipped the switch back on, we both realized that if we
should lose both hydraulics, we were screwed. We put the bird down at the Saber
laager, hitched a ride back to Cu Chi in a passing slick, and left our aircraft
to be towed back by a Chinook.
We learned more than we ever wanted to know about NVA .50 Cal. antiaircraft
machineguns during this time. They were really .51s, being 12.7mm, but who was
counting. The NVA were very good at setting up triangulated AA positions, and
when we would roll in on one, two others would open up from other directions on
us. When the bullets went by, there was a loud "POP", and I swear that the
tracers looked as big as basketballs when directed at us. On one mission, I
remember getting shot at by 4 different 50s from four different directions at
the same time, with the tracers crossing each other and our ship as their
intersection point. When the aircraft took a 50 hit, it wrenched violently,
where with AK fire there might be a bit of noise and possibly you could feel the
hit through the cyclic. With a 50, there was no doubt.
I know that on at least three different occasions that I destroyed .50 cal
positions. Once, on a night flight in support of ground troops, we rolled in on
the enemy which was engaging our grunts. As I touched off the first rocket, two
50s opened up on us. One of them was almost on line with my line of attack, and
with a small adjustment, I put the ship right on this particular gun crew and
dumped all my rockets right on top of him. At the same time, my wingman took on
the other 50, nailing him with rockets, as well. There was no more fire from
either of those positions, and I knew that my rockets had been on target.
Another occasion was when we were again fired upon by a triangulated position,
and one of the positions had the misfortune of being directly in front
of me as I started my gun run. He, too, got several 2.75" rockets poured on top
of him. This one was in the daytime, and not only did we not get any return
fire, but we also got a secondary explosion, which indicated that the NVA also
had other armaments in that position.
Another time, also during the height of Tet, we got scrambled to assist an ARVN
company between Cu Chi and Saigon. It was reported to us that they were pinned
down in a villa, and needed air support. When we got in the air, we made
contact with the ARVNs US advisor via FM radio. As soon as we talked to him, we
learned that he was wounded, laying in the courtyard of the villa, and that his
ARVN troops had retreated to a safe area. They refused to make an attempt to
retrieve the wounded American, wanting us to soften the enemy. We learned from
the advisor that there was probably a platoon sized NVA element in a villa
building about 30 yards from him, and as we made a low pass over the American's
position, we received heavy AK fire, and a single .50 opened up on us, as
well. We told the American to take whatever cover he could, and made a pass
directly at the NVA building, breaking back over the wounded soldier. Again, we
and our wingman took heavy fire, and my aircraft was rocked by a hit from the
50. But now we had the 50's position, and on my second pass I placed about 6 or
7 rockets right on top of him. The American, who could see what had happened
from his very close position, told us that one of the rockets had been a direct
hit on the 50 crew's position. The AK fire lessened, as well, and we called
upon the ARVN to go after the advisor. They weren't about to budge. The
American was trying to maintain radio contact with us, but it was plain that he
was badly wounded, and our orders to the ARVN leader became more and more
demanding that they go after him so that we could get him medevaced to Cu Chi,
which was only a 5 minute flight away. No, they would not go after him. It was
at this time that we seriously contemplated rolling in on the ARVN troops, since
the cowardly little bastards were not about to save the poor American. Not
wishing to be court-martialed, we decided that we would not kill our supposed
allies, but it was Oh so tempting. Our crew was fuming, screaming every kind of
obscenity at our Brothers in Arms, who were going to let that American soldier
die because of their cowardice. We flew ever lower and slower over the wounded
American, firing Minnie-gun and door guns at the NVA position until there was no
return fire. Even then, the spineless bastards refused to retrieve what was now
the body of an American serviceman, there in their country to save them from
Communism. We left, helpless, without ammo, furious, and hoping that the NVA
would kill every cowardly ARVN in that contingent. When I returned to our
Operations, I gave an angry account of our allies' fighting ability, which I was
assured would be forwarded to a higher authority. I don't know if anything
happened to that ARVN unit, but I hope that they were all killed. They richly
deserved it.
Tet rolled on. Day after day, the battles, rocket and mortar attacks, sleepless
nights and constant contact became a blur. It is amazing that when under this
type of combat stress, the body seems to be on auto pilot, and exhaustion from
lack of sleep becomes almost normal to the point that we seemingly could still
perform well for days on end. I am sure that our combat readiness suffered
badly, but we were all so tired that nobody seemed to notice. The Offensive
lasted a month, and during that time my unit alone was in on the deaths of many,
many VC and NVA. Our losses were zero killed, but several wounded. In the war of
attrition, there can be little doubt as to who the victor was. While we
decisively won the battles during Tet, and put such a crimp in the enemy that
the VC were virtually wiped out during the time, the press corps and the
anti-war protestors gave the victory to the North. The political ramifications
were harmful to the war effort, and the high officials did little to make
it better. Tet became a political victory for the Communists, despite them
getting their butts severely kicked militarily. Those of us who were doing the
fighting and saw how both sides were faring never could understand how the
NVA/VC got one in the Win column for this fight, but that is how the history
books record the Tet Offensive.
Return to top of this section Return to I REMEMBER main page Return to Centaurs History Project main page Return to Centaurs.org main page