Robert Mason: Chickenhawk

This is a personal narrative of what I saw in Vietnam and how it affected me. The events all happened; the chronology and geography are correct to the best of my knowledge. The names of the characters, other than the names that are famous, and unimportant characteristics of all the persons in the book have been changed so that they bear no resemblance to any of the actual people in order to preserve their privacy and anonymity.

I’d like to put in an apology to the grunts, if they resent that term, because I have nothing but respect for them and the conditions under which they served.

I hope that these recollections of my experiences will encourage other veterans to talk. I think it is impossible to know too much about the Vietnam era and its effects on individuals and society.

Instead of dwelling on the political aspects of the war, I have concentrated on the actual condition of being a helicopter pilot in Vietnam in 1965—66. The events, I hope, will speak for themselves.

I want to thank Martin Cruz Smith, Knox Burger, Gerald Howard, Constance Cincotti, Jack and Betty Mason, Gerald Towler, Bruce and Susan Doyle, and Jim and Eileen Helms for their generous aid and encouragement.

I am particularly indebted to my wife, Patience, for her unflagging support in difficult times, both in the writing of the book and in the life that it’s about.

1. Heating Burner and Blower Unit

2. Engine

3. Oil Tank Filler

4. Fuel Tank Filler

5. Transmission

6. Hydraulic Reservoir (Pressure Type)

7. Forward Navigation Lights (4)

8. Pilot’s Station

9. Forward Cabin Ventilator (2)

10. Cargo Suspension Mirror

10A. Pitot Tube (Nose Mount)

11. Tail Rotor (90°) Gear Box

12. Aft Navigation Light

13. Tail Rotor Intermediate (45°) Gear Box

14. Synchronized Elevator

15. Tail Rotor Drive Shaft

16. Anti-Collision Light

17. Oil Cooler

18. External Power Receptacle

19. Cargo-Passenger Door

20. Passenger Seats Installed

21. Swashplate Assembly

22. Landing Light

23. Copilot’s Station

24. Search Light

25. Battery

26. Alternate Battery Location (Armor Protection Kit)

27. Pitot Tube (Roof Mount)

28. Aft Cabin Ventilators (2)

29. Stabilizer Bar

29A. Hydraulic Reservoir (Gravity-feed type)

30. Engine Cowling

1. Pilot’s Entrance Door

2. Sliding Window Panel

3. Hand Hold

4. Shoulder Harness

5. Seat Belt

6. Shoulder Harness Lock-Unlock Control

7. Collective Pitch Control Lever

8. Seat Adjustment Fore and Aft

9. Collective Pitch Down Lock

10. Seat Adjustment Vertical

11. Directional Control Pedal Adjuster

12. Microphone Foot Switch

13. External Cargo Mechanical Release

14. Directional Control Pedals

15. Cyclic Control Friction Adjuster

16. Cyclic Control Stick

17. Microphone Trigger Switch

18. Hoist Switch

19. Force Trim Switch

20. Armament Fire Control Switch

21. External Cargo Electrical Release Switch

22. Search Light ON-OFF Stow Switch

23. Landing Light ON-OFF Switch

24. Landing Light EXTEND-RETRACT Switch

25. Search Light EXTEND-RETRACT LEFT-RIGHT Control Switch

26. Engine Idle Release Switch

27. Collective Pitch Control Friction Adjuster

28. Power Control (Throttle)

29. Power Control Friction Adjuster

30. Governor RPM INCREASE-DECREASE Switch

31. Starter Ignition Trigger Switch

I joined the army in 1964 to be a helicopter pilot. I knew at the time that I could theoretically be sent to a war, but I was ignorant enough to trust it would be a national emergency if I did go.

I knew nothing of Vietnam or its history. I did not know that the French had taken Vietnam, after twenty years of trying, in 1887. I did not know that our country had once supported Ho Chi Minh against the Japanese during the Second World War. I did not know that after the war the country that thought it was finally free of colonialism was handed back to the French by occupying British forces with the consent of the Americans. I did not know that Ho Chi Minh then began fighting to drive the French out again, an effort that lasted from 1946 until the fall of the French at Dien Bien Phu, in 1954. I did not know that free elections scheduled by the Geneva Conference for 1956 were blocked because it was known that Ho Chi Minh would win. I did not know that our government backed an oppressive and corrupt leader, Ngo Dinh Diem, and later participated in his overthrow and his death, in 1963.

I did not know any of these facts. But the people who decided to have the war did.

I did know that I wanted to fly. And there was nothing I wanted to fly more than helicopters.

June 1964—July 1965

As a child I had dreams of levitation. In these dreams I could float off the ground only when no one watched. The ability would leave me just when someone looked.

I was a farm kid. My father had operated his own and other farms, and a market, in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and West Virginia. When I was nine he started a large poultry farm west of Delray Beach, Florida. Here, in between chores, I daydreamed about flying to the extent that I actually built tall towers to get off the ground.

By the time I started high school my father had switched from farming to real estate, and we moved to town. In my junior year a friend, a fledgling pilot, taught me the basics of handling a small plane. The airplane was a vast improvement over my dreamy mechanisms. It worked every time. By the time I graduated, I had a private pilot’s license.

In 1962, after two years of sketchy attendance at the University of Florida, I dropped out to travel around the country.

A year later, in Philadelphia, two very important things happened to me. I met Patience, my wife-to-be, and I applied to be a pilot candidate in the army.

I thought I had finally achieved my goal of-goals when I arrived at the U.S. Army Primary Helicopter School at Fort Wolters, Texas, in June 1964. I drove through the main gate. Helicopters flitted over the nearby mesas; helicopters crisscrossed overhead; helicopters swarmed everywhere. My companion, Ray Ward, craned his head out the window and grinned. He had also joined the army to fly helicopters.

We drove up to a group of concrete buildings that looked like dormitories. A sign out front said WARRANT OFFICER CANDIDATES REPORT HERE. We were impressed. Having gone through basic training at Fort Dix and a month of advanced infantry training at Fort Polk, we thought that all buildings in the army were World War II vintage, wooden and green. I stopped the car.