6:10 | The call went out. There was a unit in trouble and they needed casualties evacuated. Huey pilot Dick Dyer responded, but as he was taking off with the wounded, there was a loud boom. He settled back on the ground and then he heard from his crew chief. This helicopter wasn't going anywhere.
Keywords : Dick Dyer Vietnam helicopter pilot Ash and Trash Medical Evacuation (Medevac) gunship tail boom Escape and Evade (E & E) Douglas A-1 Skyraider A-1E McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II napalm gunship Bandits Slick Boeing CH-47 Chinook Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG) reunion Don Ward Tom Storey Rick Casper flashback
Dick Dyer was in college ROTC when he was offered the chance to learn to fly. The program was geared to a private pilot license but the instructor was a a World War II flying ace. This gave him an advantage when he was commissioned and sent to flight school to learn to fly helicopters.
After his initial aviation training, Dick Dyer was sent to Fort Rucker, where he learned to pilot Hueys, the Bell UH-1 helicopter used by the Army. He knew he was slated for Vietnam and he was prepared for that. What he was not prepared for was his father's reaction.
Dick Dyer and Jim Thorne were in flight school together and they both were deployed to Vietnam with the 145th Aviation Battalion flying Hueys. There was a great need for pilots and every one of them practically had a helicopter strapped on.
He received ground fire on his first combat mission. Dick Dyer was co-pilot in a Huey and he saw tracers for the first time which was a little unnerving. He felt sorry for the villagers caught in the battle, as he watched gunships blast away at the Viet Cong. Later, he noticed the pilot had let the engine RPM get much lower than he had been taught was safe. This was the beginning of a valuable lesson.
It was a forward element for purposes of quick reaction. Dick Dyer was part of a deployment of a few helicopters to a nearby rubber plantation without any additional security. That didn't last long. They went back to Bien Hoa air base, where the pilots and crew lived off base in an interesting arrangement.
In Vietnam, helicopter pilot Dick Dyer was reminded of what he was taught in ROTC, that you can't get too close to the enlisted men and non-commissioned officers. When he wasn't flying, he corresponded with his wife and family and even a few random citizens who got his name from the paper back home.
Helicopter pilot Dick Dyer was sent to pickup supplies from a ship in the Mekong Delta, but when he approached, the call sign and frequency he was given for contact elicited no reply. Circling the ship, he saw other helicopters land and take off so he went on in. Then he got an earful.
Asked to describe what happened on the mission when he was shot down, Dick Dyer has to ask, "Which one?" During the first incident, he had to land immediately, but everyone was OK. The second time, people were shot, but the aircraft was able to limp home.
During the Tet Offensive of 1968, Dick Dyer and other helicopter pilots and crew manned the berms with their personal weapons as the night lit up with fire of all kinds. The next day, there was a rush to transport many troops to new positions to respond to the widespread attacks.
When he returned from his first tour in Vietnam, The Beatles' Hey Jude welcomed him home. Nobody else did. After a couple of years stateside, Dick Dyer returned to the embattled country, this time north of Da Nang. He felt that the command structure there was always putting him in a bad situation.
What was Operation Lam Son 719 like? To helicopter pilot Dick Dyer, it was a "gaggle." There were so many aircraft flying at once, it seemed to him like hundreds. A recurring problem on these big troop movements was overloading caused by eager soldiers. On occasion, the pilots were tasked with transporting reporters.
The veterans today have it easier than Dick Dyer did when he returned from Vietnam. The mood is supportive, and when he wears his Vietnam Veteran hat, he gets a little of the love he missed back in the day. He is very proud of the role that helicopter pilots like himself played in the war.
After the column was devastated by an NVA ambush, wounded Americans were scattered in the darkness. After his captain heard one such group calling for help on the radio, Freddie Owens joined a patrol to find them, guided by a gunshot every few minutes. Once there, medic Daniel Torres volunteered to stay with those who couldn't move and protected them through the night with medicine and a machine gun.
They were hunkered down after fierce fighting when the call came from "Ghost 4-6." It was a group of wounded men who had pulled themselves together after the ill fated march to LZ Albany and were lost in the dark. George Forrest sent a patrol to find them, and in an incredible act of bravery, medic Daniel Torres stayed through the night with them and saved many men. Captain Forrest still had to write a gut-wrenching letter to the mother of a missing soldier. Part 3 of 4.
Marine aviator Bill Cunningham recalls his time in Pensacola practicing carrier landings, including the time his tailhook malfunctioned. Before departing for the next phase of training, the group was asked how many are going to the Marines. His hand was one of the few, but when the Navy bound heard what awaited them, the Marines gained some more.
The RPG that severed Joe McDonald’s foot didn’t kill him. The machine gun fire that hit him as he still tried to help others didn’t kill him. The grenade taped to his hand might have killed him if the VC had found his hiding place.
In a letter home, Tommy Clack expressed his worry that something bad was going to happen and it did when his unit engaged the NVA near the Cambodian border. He saw the enemy soldier stand and fire the RPG that changed his life forever.
Marine aviator Bill Cunningham tells a couple of stories about the man who took over his squadron, Walt Leadbetter. The events begin with the profane and then move to the sacred, an incident that resulted in a Medal of Honor award.
As Marine Captain Ron Christmas fought to regain the city of Hue, he found the enemy adept at concealment and surprise. Every soldier in a spider hole was armed with a rifle and a RPG launcher. He also encountered a nun with an AK-47. His action during this time earned him the Navy Cross.
Navy F-4 pilot Don Chapman was carrier based in the Gulf of Tonkin. His missions were all carried out over North Vietnam. Photo escort was his favorite mission because you could fly really fast. He saw a lot of tracers, but was never hit. He never got one of those MIG's he chased, either.
After his combat tours in Vietnam, Marine aviator Bill Cunningham served in several assignments that gave him a lot of chances to travel. In Africa, he helped manage drought and famine relief as part of a relief operation and, back home, he made readiness inspections of Marine air units.
Navy F-4 pilot Don Chapman had to stand two hour watches in his cockpit, waiting for word to go when needed. When he was in action, the rules of engagement really grated on him and, from his experience, hindered the progress of the war.
The big twin rotor helicopters flown by Marine pilot Bill Cunningham in Vietnam had door gunners with 50 caliber machine guns. As he approached a landing zone on a night mission, he heard one of the weapons fire. The gunner thought he had spotted an enemy muzzle flash. Unfortunately, it was not.
Bill Cunningham recalls his friend Gene Brady, who always beat him at gin rummy. The two Marine helicopter pilots commanded sister squadrons in Vietnam. Once, he was Brady's co-pilot and that turned out to be a memorable mission. Another memorable mission involved a rig called a jungle penetrator.
It was all business aboard the USS Constellation in the Gulf of Tonkin, with around the clock operations. F-4 pilot Don Chapman was also the scheduling officer and he was always looking for a little sleep. At least the accommodations were luxurious compared to the bush.
Bill Cunningham made sure every pilot in the squadron rotated in the search and rescue missions because they were the most dangerous and he wanted to spread out the risk. The Marine aircraft were accompanied by gunships for security and he always seemed to be paired with the same gunship pilot, call sign Hostage Jack.
Navy F-4 pilot Don Chapman explains why medals are a sore subject with him. What were they worth when you were encouraged to write yourself up to receive them? He does have a warm appreciation for the Navy, which taught him the skills to make a good living after his service.
He'd always wanted to fly, so when Don Chapman found out that the Navy would accept cadets with two years of college, he left engineering school in his third year and enlisted. He made his way through flight schools and aircraft until he was flying the fast jet fighters.
Marine helicopter pilot Bill Cunningham was paired with a gunship pilot called Hostage Jack on many of the search and rescue missions he flew in Vietnam. The missions were dangerous but it was a little weather scouting flight that cost Hostage Jack his life.
Drafted in 1968, Larry Jennings spent almost a year at Fort Hood before drawing overseas duty. He asked if he was going to Germany. No such luck, it was Southeast Asia. The air base was under rocket fire when he landed and he had to crawl to a bunker, weaponless. Soon, he was up to speed and assigned to the 82nd Airborne as a supply sergeant.
The USS Constellation carried an entire air wing with fighters, attack aircraft and all the support aircraft needed to carry out missions over North Vietnam. F-4 pilot Don Chapman describes the action when one of his fellow pilots was shot down right at the waters edge and nearby villagers came out shooting.
Larry Jennings saw some of the younger soldiers in Vietnam going astray with the local women, which he attributed to the very young age of the men. Out in the field, friendly fire was sometimes a problem, affecting our Australian and Korean allies as well.
There were 87 men on some high ground surrounded by Viet Cong and Marine helicopter pilot Bill Cunningham had a problem. There was only room for one ship at a time to land in the tiny landing zone they had hacked out of the bush. It would be one at a time so he spiraled down for the first load. Then he felt like a sledgehammer hit his leg.
Marine aviator Bill Cunningham's first overseas assignment was at the Naval Air Station in Oppama, Japan, where he ferried troops and flew search and rescue missions. After 14 months, he returned to Pensacola where he became an instructor and honed his skills flying numerous different helicopters.