Hugh Mills - Low Level Hell

“Yep, you sure as hell can, Sidewinder,” I answered the forward air controller in his OV-10. “We’ve got a helicopter and aircrew down danger close to a VC contact. We may have to do a RESCAP. You got any fast movers you can haul in here to put a cap on this thing?”

“Well, I don’t know, mate. I’m just getting off and haven’t checked in with my control yet. Stand by while I query. Meantime, I’m en route.”

Then I heard Fishman go up on UHF to troop ops. “Darkhorse Three, this is Three Four… in the vicinity of Quan Loi with a message from One Six. Darkhorse Three One has been shot down in the area of grid X-Ray Tango 660290. Crew is down near heavy contact between VC and 25th Division troops. Need to extract immediately before Cobra crew is overrun. Scramble the ARPs. Scramble gun teams 1 and 2. I’m en route and moving out ahead of my scout to make contact.”

While I waited, I mentally reviewed the situation. Sidewinder was on the way from Dau Tieng and was working on RESCAP. Three Four was on his way from Quan Loi, and scramble teams would soon be underway from Phu Loi. If only any one or all could make it to the crash scene before Charlie got on top of Sinor and Kauffman. This would be close!

The Australian came back up on the Guard emergency frequency and I heard him call in the blind: “This is Sidewinder One Five off of Dau Tieng at one zero past the hour. A U.S. helicopter and crew are down. Who can help me on a RESCAP operation?”

I overheard a series of transmissions back to Sidewinder offering help. A flight of four VNAF (Vietnamese Air Force) A-37 Dragon-flies in the area northwest of Saigon was diverting, a flight of four A-7 U.S. Navy aircraft operating somewhere to the northeast was en route, a flight of F-4 U.S. Air Force fighter-bombers operating up on the Cambodian border near the Fishhook was called in, and a flight of Spads, or Vietnamese Air Force A-Is, was diverted from down south around VC Island.

Sidewinder logged in the transmissions from the reporting flights and assigned them to various altitudes over the contact area. Knowing the basic characteristics and capabilities of each type of aircraft, Sidewinder stacked the flights according to which planes could stay longer and which had to do their thing fast and get out of the pattern. As cool as a cucumber, the Australian sequenced and layered all the air support over the contact point so that he could use each type of aircraft to its fullest capability. I had to hand it to him… he bloody well knew his business.

As all this was going on, I maintained a tight circle pattern over Sinor and Kauffman. For their own peace of mind, I wanted them to know that I was overhead and keeping an eye peeled for any sign that the bad guys were getting closer to their downed Cobra.

I really couldn’t see what the VC were doing, however, so I decided to make a run up to the last contact point and check out the situation. I radioed Sinor. “Get your heads down and keep ‘em down, you guys. I’m going to spread out my circles, see where the contact is, and try to find the U.S. troops. Be back in a minute.”

In less than two orbits I saw the ground fight. The VC were withdrawing and moving south rapidly in the direction of Sinor and Kauffman. I also caught a glimpse of another VC force of about fifteen men south of the leading VC element. They looked as though they were trying to swing around and come up in back of the downed Cobra.

I keyed the intercom. “Get on ‘em, Jimbo. Fire at will. If you can identify the target, fire at will.”

It was difficult to distinguish between VC and U.S. troops because they were so intermingled on the ground. But I immediately began to hear Parker’s M-60 open up in long bursts, and black shirts began falling. He would knock one VC down and without even releasing the trigger go on to another target and put him down.

“Keep stickin’ ‘em, Jimbo!” I yelled into the intercom. But I knew that nothing we could do from our bird would stem the tide of those VC. They were dodging, firing back at their pursuers, and running directly toward Sinor and Kauffman.

I flipped my radio over to Uniform and called Fishman. “Hey, Three Four, this is One Six. How you doin’, man? We’re in deep shit down here. How you doin’?”

“OK, One Six,” Fishman answered. “I’ve left my scout behind to catch up when he can. I’m hauling ass, coming up on Chon Thanh now.”

“Hurry!” I shot back. “I’m scared we aren’t gonna make it. I’ve got VC closing in on Thirty-one from their front and possibly their flank. We can’t hold ‘em off, and if somebody doesn’t get here damned soon I’m not sure we can get the crew out.”

“How about the friendlies on the ground? Can they get to the crew before the bad guys do?”

“Negative… negative,” I answered. “No way can our guys leapfrog the VC and make it to Sinor first. Besides, I’m not even sure that the 25th people know we’ve got a ship down, although they should have seen Three One going down, and sure as hell should have seen our little bird flying around up here. What’s your ETA here, Three Four?”

“Estimate eight to ten mikes, One Six,” Fishman answered. No way, I thought.

Just then Wayne McAdoo, lift platoon leader, reported in. “One Six, this is Two Six. I have the ARPs on board and am just clear of papa lima. Estimate fifteen to sixteen mikes your location.”

“Two Six, One Six copies. But you better put a burr under your saddle. I’m afraid we may just lose ourselves a gun crew if we don’t shake it out. Sinor and Kauffman have got all kinds of bad guys knocking on the front door!

“Break, break,” I kept on. “Three Four, I’m going to come up on Guard to the crew. Can you monitor? I need to tell them what’s happening and how I want them to set up for your rocket runs.”

Then I went immediately to Kauffman. “OK, Thirty-one, here’s the good news. ARPs are en route and are about fourteen to fifteen mikes out. Fast movers are en route and Sidewinder will be stacking them over you as they arrive, ETA working. Three Four is en route and will be here in eight to ten mikes, but I gotta tell you that the dinks are falling back your way and are closing on you fast from the northwest.”

“Damnit! Talk to me, One Six!” Kauffman obviously was not happy with the report. “How close are the bad guys?”

“Well, the bad news is that I’m beginning to take some random ground fire from Charlie now on the November edge of my orbits over you. They’re close, maybe forty to fifty meters to your front. They’re getting chased toward you by the 25th.”

“OK, OK, One Six,” Kauffman replied. “If it looks that bad, why don’t you come in and get us? Land and pick us up in the Loach.”

“Look,” I came back, “if I have to do that, I will. But I’d rather stay up here and try to keep Charlie off your backs until we can get some help in here.”

Worry showed in Kauffman’s voice when he answered. “We roger that, One Six, but we aren’t having any fun down here. Sinor’s finally got his piece out of his sock… if that doesn’t hold ‘em off, maybe it’ll scare ‘em to death.”

“Listen, here’s what I want you to do. I need you to move away from the aircraft a little to your rear and get yourselves flat on the ground. Get your butts in defilade because when Three Four comes in here, I’m not even going to bring him around for a look-see pass. Fm gonna have him lay some rocks square between you and the bad guys, right from his in-bound run.”

Kauffman really sounded worried now. “How’s Three Four gonna see where we are? We could end up with his rocks right in our laps!”

“Relax, Larry, don’t worry so much,” I consoled. Kauffman had just recently lost a wad of money in a hootch poker game bluff, so I needled him. “I wouldn’t dare let the dinks or a few little 2.75 rockets take down a poker player as good as you.”