Read Online Nam Sense by Jr. Arthur Wiknik - Free Book Online
Authors: Jr. Arthur Wiknik
Tags: Bisac Code 1: HIS027070
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grass.”
“Knock it off!” shouted Lieutenant Bruckner. “They’ll be plenty of time to worry about the NVA when we get to where we’re going.”
No one said anything else.
After an hour-long wait, sixteen Bell-UH1D slicks arrived to take us to our destination. We piled aboard, six men to a bird, our feet dangling out the open doors. The ships lifted off but didn’t go very far. We simply flew above the valley in a huge circle. When I asked the door-gunner why we weren’t heading in any direction, he pointed to a desolate mountain, saying that we couldn’t land because the LZ (landing zone) was taking small arms fire. Just what I needed to hear—my first helicopter assault would drop us into a hot LZ.
I gazed at the mountain with its oddly brown slopes against the otherwise green backdrop. We circled about a mile away and on each pass I stared at the mountain with its limbless trees standing like twisted telephone poles after a violent storm. As the flight continued, I looked down at hundreds of water-filled bomb craters on the valley floor. None of it looked good. Man how I wished I was back in the flatlands.
Suddenly our chopper dove toward a hillside LZ about a half-mile from the mountain. The co-pilot told us we were not going to touch down because the NVA were still shooting at each aircraft that came in. Instead, we would be given a scant five seconds to jump out. As we approached, the door-gunner fired his M-60 into the jungle while two machine gunners on the ground did the same. We were already standing on the skids when the chopper began hovering, but we didn’t get any closer than ten feet above the ground. The door-gunner yelled at us to jump, but I thought ten feet with a full rucksack and extra ammo was too high. I was about to tell him so when my five seconds expired and he shoved me. I landed flat on my face.
As the helicopter sped away, I scrambled to the tree line where Major General Melvin Zais, commander of the 101st Airborne, grinned as he watched our unloading acrobatics. He seemed to get a big kick out of it. I gave him a “What the fuck are you smiling at?” glance, but he looked right past me, still grinning. Then it hit me. A US Army general was way out here? I looked around to see at least 300 other GIs also assembled for action. That was when I realized we were in the middle of something big, and playing for keeps.
We moved a short distance from the LZ and spent the rest of the day digging in and rebuilding damaged bunkers and fighting positions to protect us against mortar or infantry attacks. I thought we would go into battle that day, but we remained in our defensive positions and set up for the night.
“Wow,” Freddie Shaw commented, “there are a lot of guys here. I wonder how bad it really is?”
“Pretty bad,” answered Alcon. “Look at the shrapnel scars in the trees. I bet the NVA have been mortaring the place.”
“Did you guys see that two-star General?” asked Jimmy Smith. “I don’t think a guy like that will still be here after dark.”
“Do you blame him?” added Scoggins. “I don’t even want to be here in the daylight. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like at night.”
As darkness approached, strange noises were heard from the jungle below us. It sounded like enemy movement, but we later discovered it was only splintered bamboo reacting from previous artillery barrages. High on the hill, the NVA came out of their tunnels and bunkers to light dozens of small cooking fires. They kept them burning through the night as if to taunt us. In response to the fires, our artillery and mortars shelled the side of the hill at random intervals just to let the NVA know we were not going anywhere. Since both sides knew exactly where the other was, the normal discipline of keeping quiet after dark was sometimes ignored. Despite our rival forces positioned so close together, the night passed without incident.
Just after sunrise, a pair of F-4 Phantom
“Knock it off!” shouted Lieutenant Bruckner. “They’ll be plenty of time to worry about the NVA when we get to where we’re going.”
No one said anything else.
After an hour-long wait, sixteen Bell-UH1D slicks arrived to take us to our destination. We piled aboard, six men to a bird, our feet dangling out the open doors. The ships lifted off but didn’t go very far. We simply flew above the valley in a huge circle. When I asked the door-gunner why we weren’t heading in any direction, he pointed to a desolate mountain, saying that we couldn’t land because the LZ (landing zone) was taking small arms fire. Just what I needed to hear—my first helicopter assault would drop us into a hot LZ.
I gazed at the mountain with its oddly brown slopes against the otherwise green backdrop. We circled about a mile away and on each pass I stared at the mountain with its limbless trees standing like twisted telephone poles after a violent storm. As the flight continued, I looked down at hundreds of water-filled bomb craters on the valley floor. None of it looked good. Man how I wished I was back in the flatlands.
Suddenly our chopper dove toward a hillside LZ about a half-mile from the mountain. The co-pilot told us we were not going to touch down because the NVA were still shooting at each aircraft that came in. Instead, we would be given a scant five seconds to jump out. As we approached, the door-gunner fired his M-60 into the jungle while two machine gunners on the ground did the same. We were already standing on the skids when the chopper began hovering, but we didn’t get any closer than ten feet above the ground. The door-gunner yelled at us to jump, but I thought ten feet with a full rucksack and extra ammo was too high. I was about to tell him so when my five seconds expired and he shoved me. I landed flat on my face.
As the helicopter sped away, I scrambled to the tree line where Major General Melvin Zais, commander of the 101st Airborne, grinned as he watched our unloading acrobatics. He seemed to get a big kick out of it. I gave him a “What the fuck are you smiling at?” glance, but he looked right past me, still grinning. Then it hit me. A US Army general was way out here? I looked around to see at least 300 other GIs also assembled for action. That was when I realized we were in the middle of something big, and playing for keeps.
We moved a short distance from the LZ and spent the rest of the day digging in and rebuilding damaged bunkers and fighting positions to protect us against mortar or infantry attacks. I thought we would go into battle that day, but we remained in our defensive positions and set up for the night.
“Wow,” Freddie Shaw commented, “there are a lot of guys here. I wonder how bad it really is?”
“Pretty bad,” answered Alcon. “Look at the shrapnel scars in the trees. I bet the NVA have been mortaring the place.”
“Did you guys see that two-star General?” asked Jimmy Smith. “I don’t think a guy like that will still be here after dark.”
“Do you blame him?” added Scoggins. “I don’t even want to be here in the daylight. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like at night.”
As darkness approached, strange noises were heard from the jungle below us. It sounded like enemy movement, but we later discovered it was only splintered bamboo reacting from previous artillery barrages. High on the hill, the NVA came out of their tunnels and bunkers to light dozens of small cooking fires. They kept them burning through the night as if to taunt us. In response to the fires, our artillery and mortars shelled the side of the hill at random intervals just to let the NVA know we were not going anywhere. Since both sides knew exactly where the other was, the normal discipline of keeping quiet after dark was sometimes ignored. Despite our rival forces positioned so close together, the night passed without incident.
Just after sunrise, a pair of F-4 Phantom
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