The Year of the Rat

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 Reconaissance 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 basecamp, 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 minieguns 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 eery 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
gunrun.  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 closeby, 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 courtmartialed, 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 miniegun 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.

Pat Eastes

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