A tribute to the Army's first generation of combat helicopter flight crews
Aug 17, 2017 21:41:12 #
A tribute to the Army's first generation of combat helicopter flight crews
Received this in an Email
(Yes, by God, we flew in Vietnam and we were winning when I left.)
By J.C. Pennington
As we get older and we experience the loss of old friends, we begin to realize that maybe we ten-foot tall, bulletproof Army aviators won’t live forever. We aren’t so bulletproof anymore. We ponder… if I we’re gone tomorrow, “Did I say what I wanted 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, wiseass, 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 a bar, 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’ or NCO’ Club full of my buddies and watching the incredible, unbelievable things that were happening. I miss the crew chiefs waiting 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 In-Coming! 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 team 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 really talented 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, clear vision, and having fun.
We box out bad memories from various missions and events 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 and CREWMEMBERS. We are Few and we are Proud to have been one of the first combat helicopter FLIGHTS CREWS the world ever saw.
I am Privileged and Proud to call you Brothers. Clear Right! Clear Left! Pullin' Pitch!
Received this in an Email
(Yes, by God, we flew in Vietnam and we were winning when I left.)
By J.C. Pennington
As we get older and we experience the loss of old friends, we begin to realize that maybe we ten-foot tall, bulletproof Army aviators won’t live forever. We aren’t so bulletproof anymore. We ponder… if I we’re gone tomorrow, “Did I say what I wanted 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, wiseass, 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 a bar, 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’ or NCO’ Club full of my buddies and watching the incredible, unbelievable things that were happening. I miss the crew chiefs waiting 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 In-Coming! 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 team 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 really talented 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, clear vision, and having fun.
We box out bad memories from various missions and events 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 and CREWMEMBERS. We are Few and we are Proud to have been one of the first combat helicopter FLIGHTS CREWS the world ever saw.
I am Privileged and Proud to call you Brothers. Clear Right! Clear Left! Pullin' Pitch!
Aug 17, 2017 22:07:56 #
What an incredibly well written, emotionally expressed bit of literature. Thanks for posting this.
--Bob
--Bob
Aug 17, 2017 22:14:31 #
I did not fly but greatly appreciated all you guys did while I was there!
Aug 17, 2017 22:15:43 #
Aug 17, 2017 22:21:43 #
Dan Downie
Loc: Rochester, NY
Amen! And, God bless you, brother! And, thank you for your service!
Although a little bit after your time, I was a Marine HUEY Crew chief (UH-1N) and eventually retired out of the Army. I served in various spots across the globe, as well as in Desert Storm. I read your post with a grin from ear to ear, and a chuckle here and there.
Nothing can compare with the experiences and comradery that our veterans enjoy. The experiences are often intense, almost unimaginably so. But the rewards of the adventures far outweigh the risks, and sometimes sacrifices, involved.
How nice to read such a relatable story. Thank you very much for sharing such a wonderful synopsis of your service, and envoking fond memories of my own! What a treat!
Although a little bit after your time, I was a Marine HUEY Crew chief (UH-1N) and eventually retired out of the Army. I served in various spots across the globe, as well as in Desert Storm. I read your post with a grin from ear to ear, and a chuckle here and there.
Nothing can compare with the experiences and comradery that our veterans enjoy. The experiences are often intense, almost unimaginably so. But the rewards of the adventures far outweigh the risks, and sometimes sacrifices, involved.
How nice to read such a relatable story. Thank you very much for sharing such a wonderful synopsis of your service, and envoking fond memories of my own! What a treat!
Aug 18, 2017 08:01:12 #
Great piece of writing Huey Driver. I served 1961-1970, USAF, so I can relate to some
of which you speak. Thanks for your service and what you did.
of which you speak. Thanks for your service and what you did.
Aug 18, 2017 09:16:54 #
As an Air Force aviator with both fixed wing and rotary wing time, I enjoyed your essay. Having served two tours in Vietnam, the only thing that I would add would be a comment about how, when a fellow aviators or troops on the ground were in trouble, the war virtually stopped until they could be assisted or rescued. It did not matter whether they were Army, Air Force, Navy or Marines.
Aug 18, 2017 09:37:45 #
rmalarz wrote:
What an incredibly well written, emotionally expressed bit of literature. Thanks for posting this.
--Bob
--Bob
Aug 18, 2017 10:31:53 #
Thanks but I can't take credit for writing it I just posted it.
Stash wrote:
Great piece of writing Huey Driver. I served 1961-1970, USAF, so I can relate to some
of which you speak. Thanks for your service and what you did.
of which you speak. Thanks for your service and what you did.
Aug 18, 2017 10:37:56 #
skylinefirepest
Loc: Southern Pines, N.C.
They never sent me to Nam...instead I got sent to the sunny Miami of the North, Sondestrom AFB, Greenland. I've never like cold weather since. Great story from a good storyteller. Thanks.
Aug 18, 2017 11:13:00 #
gary robertson
Loc: Now living in Sandpont Idaho, from So. Cal
Well written and on the spot. I was there in 68 and flew, just curious as to when you were there and unit.
Aug 18, 2017 11:20:37 #
I was there in May 1964- May 65. Was with the 117th out of Qui Nhon. As I said before I wish I could take credit for writing the tribute but I didn't. I just posted it.
gary robertson wrote:
Well written and on the spot. I was there in 68 and flew, just curious as to when you were there and unit.
Aug 18, 2017 11:39:49 #
Thanks for posting that Huey Driver. I can fully identify. I was there in '68-'69, with the 199th Lt. Inf. Bde, flying Hueys and OH-6A's, and in '71-'72 flying Ch-47 Chinooks with the 213th Avn. Co. out of Phu Loi, north of Saigon. Pretty much covered all of III Corps back then. I miss all of that stuff. I remember flying through bullets, bad weather and times when we wondered if the bird was going to stay together long enough to get back to base, then getting scared after it was all over. Seems that the job at hand required all of your attention and we didn't have time to be scared until after the fact.
I miss the flying, although less and less over the years, but I've never forgetten the adventure, the guys I flew with, and the comaradarie. I am proud of my service to my country and to the guys on the ground that we supported, the guys we lifted out and the wounded we medevac'd to the hospital out of seemingly impossible places and circumstances.
Again, thanks for posting that article. We remain, even after all the time that has gone by, a brotherhood.
1st WOC Co, Class 68-29,
Ft. Wolter, Tx, Ft. Rucker, Al.
I miss the flying, although less and less over the years, but I've never forgetten the adventure, the guys I flew with, and the comaradarie. I am proud of my service to my country and to the guys on the ground that we supported, the guys we lifted out and the wounded we medevac'd to the hospital out of seemingly impossible places and circumstances.
Again, thanks for posting that article. We remain, even after all the time that has gone by, a brotherhood.
1st WOC Co, Class 68-29,
Ft. Wolter, Tx, Ft. Rucker, Al.
Aug 18, 2017 11:55:02 #
Aug 18, 2017 11:56:20 #
I was probably a flight instructor with Southern Airways when you went through school. I miss the adrenaline rush of flying in combat although at my age now it would probably kill me. What I miss most about Vietnam was the brotherhood of fellow soldiers. Never will be anything to replace that: Never! Thanks for your service and stay well my brother.
Wingpilot wrote:
Thanks for posting that Huey Driver. I can fully ... (show quote)
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