Huey Driver Loc: Texas

A tribute to the Army’s first generation of Combat Helicopter Pilots



As we get older and we experience the loss of old friends, we begin to realize that maybe we ten-foot tall, bullet-proof Army aviators won’t live forever. We aren’t so bullet-proof anymore. We ponder...if I we’re gone tomorrow; “Did I say what I wanted to say to my Brothers?” The answer is “No!” Hence, the following random thoughts:



When people ask me if I miss flying, I always say something like, “Yes, I miss the flying because when you are flying, you are totally focused on the task at hand. It’s like nothing else you will ever do (almost). ” But then I always say, “However, I miss the unit and the guys even more than I miss the flying.”



Why, you might ask? They were a bunch of aggressive, wise ass, cocky, insulting, sarcastic bastards in smelly flight suits! They drank too much, they chased women, they flew when they shouldn’t, they laughed too loud and thought they owned the sky, the bar, and generally thought they could do everything better than the next guy. Nothing was funnier than trying to screw with a buddy and see how pissed off they would get. They flew helicopters that leaked, that bled RPM, that broke, that couldn’t hover, that burned fuel too fast, that never had all the radios and instruments working, and with systems that were archaic next to today’s new generation aircraft.



But a little closer look might show that every guy in the room was sneaky smart and damned competent and brutally handsome in his own way! They hated to lose or fail to accomplish the mission and seldom did. They were the laziest guys on the planet until challenged and then they would do anything to win. They would fly with rotor blades overlapped at night through the worst weather with only a little position light to hold on to, knowing their flight lead would get them on the ground safely. They would fight in the air knowing the greatest risk and fear was that some NVA anti-aircraft gunner would wait 'til you flew past him and open up on your six o’ clock with tracers as big as softballs. They would fly in harm’s way and act nonchalant as if to challenge the grim reaper.



When we flew to another base we proclaimed that we're the best unit on the base as soon as we landed. Often we were not invited back. When we went into an O’ Club, we owned the bar. We were lucky to be the Best of the Best in the military. We knew it and so did others. We found jobs, lost jobs, got married, got divorced, moved, went broke, got rich, broke some things, and knew the only thing you could count -- really count on -- was if you needed help, a fellow Army Aviator would have your back.



I miss the call signs, nicknames and the stories behind them.

I miss getting lit up in an O’ Club full of my buddies and watching the incredible, unbelievable things that were happening. I miss the crew chiefs saluting as you got to your ship for a Zero-Dark:30 preflight. I miss pulling an armful of pitch, nosing it over and climbing into a new dawn. I miss going straight up and straight down. I miss the tension of wondering what today's 12 hours of combat flying would bring. I miss the craps table in the corner of the O-Club and letting it ALL ride because money was meaningless. I miss listening to BS stories while drinking and laughing until my eyes watered. I miss three man lifts. I miss naps on the platoon hootch porch with a room full of aviators working up new tricks to torment the sleeper. I miss rolling in hot and watching my rockets hit EXACTLY where I was aiming. I miss the beauty and precision of a flight of slicks in formation, rock steady even in the face of tracers flying past you from a hot LZ. I miss belches that could be heard in neighboring states. I miss showing off for the grunts with high-speed, low level passes and abrupt cyclic climbs. I even miss passengers in the back puking their guts up.



Finally, I miss hearing DEAD BUG! called out at the bar and seeing and hearing a room full of men hit the deck with drinks spilling and chairs being knocked over as they rolled in the beer and kicked their legs in the air—followed closely by a Not Politically Correct Tap Dancing and Singing spectacle that couldn’t help but make you grin and order another round.



I am a lucky guy and have lived a great life!

One thing I know is that I was part of a special, really talented bunch of guys doing something dangerous and doing it better than most. Flying the most beautiful, ugly, noisy, solid helicopters ever built ... an aircraft that talked to you and warned you before she spanked you! Supported by Mechanics, Crew Chiefs and Gunners committed to making sure we came home! Being prepared to fly and fight and die for America. Having a clear mission. Having fun.



We box out bad memories from various missions most of the time but never the hallowed memories of our fallen comrades. We are often amazed at how good war stories never let truth interfere and how they get better with age. We are lucky bastards to be able to walk into a reunion or a bar and have men we respect and love shout our names, our call signs, and know that this is truly where we belong.



We are ARMY AVIATORS. We are Few and we are Proud to have been the first combat helicopter pilots the world ever saw.



I am Privileged and Proud to call you Brothers. Clear Right! Clear Left. Pullin' Pitch.



By J.C. Pennington

letmedance Loc: Walnut, Ca.

GregS Loc: Central Illinois, USA

As a Navy pilot with orders to HAL-3; (Navy Attack Squadron in Vietnam), but first transitioning to the Huey, qualifying in guns and rockets at Ft Rucker with Army Aviators, I can say you nailed it with those comments.
It is something that will never be forgotten.

sr71 Loc: In Col. Juan Seguin Land

Mr. Pennington I salute you Sir!!! from a grunt who was medvac'd by a loach pilot from the plain of reeds.

PH CIB

From a Guy on the Ground ThanK GoD for the 11Charlie Cannon Cockers,,,,Artillery saved a Lot of Lives,,,,Those Jet Jockeys,,,,the Air Force saved a Lot of Lives,,,,and Those Pilots and Crews of those Helicopters,,,,Dust Offs and Fire Missions saved a Lot of Lives.....To The Men Who Never Made it Home,,,,,,

Michael1079 Loc: Indiana

Excellent!

DPERDELWITZ

I sat here for 5 minutes with the hair on my arms standing at attention and the tears rolling down my cheeks. Darn you :)

Frank1 Loc: Shorewood, MN

Because of this wars story lines and political ineptitude, you may be missing something I personally feel important. Of all those faces you carted to and fro, I was one of them. We never met, never shared a beer, never hugged or shed a tear.
I was assigned to aircav through Americal, my mos was grunt medic, based out of Chu Lai and later on DaNang. My hours were 24/7 for about 13 months 23 days. I was the happiest man on earth when you picked us up from that hell hole, and the most scared shitle$$ 19/20-year old when you'd drop us in/off. I was the guy whispering in your ear when you'd be slugging down that cool whatever refreshment, thank you. Thank you for landing, thank you for dusting off my friends, thank you so very much for giving me a ride, thank you for cooling me off with the blast of wind from the rotor blades, thank you for recognizing my color of smoke, thank you for coming during the frightful storms, fog, and the fire. We never got to shake hands and two I still have thank GOD; so thank you chopper pilot. I cringe to this day every time I hear the blades chopping away at the sky, somethings will never leave me. I thank you, and my comrades in arms thank you. My wife thanks you, and my children, for all of them know who the heros are, and the bravery expelled each and every flight. Thank you. Frank Gertz, combat medic, retired, Private/Major. (My rank is a long story)

olddutch Loc: Beloit, Wisconsin

AMEN.. THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SERVICE..

Huey Driver Loc: Texas

Your appreciation and thank you is well received but not necessary. Thanks to you and others like you lives were saved. Thank you.

Plieku69 Loc: The Gopher State, south end

Thank you Huey Driver, from a tank driver.

Huey Driver Loc: Texas

Your welcome, thanks for your service.

BamaTexan Loc: Deep in the heart of Texas

Thanks to all you amazing bastards who served in combat zones.

sr71 Loc: In Col. Juan Seguin Land

Your welcome! I resemble that remark!!!!

skylinefirepest Loc: Southern Pines, N.C.

OOOORAAAH Dude! I was Air Force Weather during the VN era...didn't go there...spent a year in Sunny Sondestromfjiord, Greenland, the Miami of the North. But I was also stationed at Seymour Johnson and Pope and met a lot of chopper dudes and a lot of guys that jumped out of perfectly good planes.