A Spiritual Warrior's Journey

Author's note: There are some events in life that hang with you for years and years afterward...this was one of those emotional experiences.

Out, Out, Damn Spot!

The 1^st Infantry was involved with a big operation called "Operation Billings." They were inserting troops into some very hostile areas. The dense jungles held not only VC (Viet Cong) but also a large number of NVA (North Vietnamese Army) troops fresh from their trip down from the north. Our company was engaged in supporting this operation from the beginning. We had been landing in some very hot (under fire) LZs and had experienced lots of damage to our helicopters over the first several days of the operation. We had been coming back into those same LZs to resupply ammo and food, and to bring in replacement troops. We often left with wounded and dead, taking them back to the base camps or to the closest MASH (Mobile Air Surgical Hospital) units.

One day we received a frantic call for assistance from a group of about 100 men who were trapped and fighting for their lives in an LZ that was being fiercely defended by the enemy. There were NVA and VC units surrounding this group of men in the beleaguered LZ. In some places the LZ's perimeter had partially collapsed. There was hand to hand fighting on the edges of the clearing that was being used for our Hueys to land in.

We could tell from the voice of the radioman that they were in the thick of a firefight. We could hear the gunfire and explosions in the background as the guy yelled over his radio. They needed a dust off (medical evacuation) as soon as possible. As it turned out, we were the only available aircraft in the sector, so we turned around and raced to their location. We were not sure what we were going to find when we got there.

When we approached within close proximity to the LZ, we saw the yellow smoke that they popped to guide us to our pickup point. We could also see red and white tracers bouncing off the trees and the ground. Looking back at it now reminds me of battle scenes from the Star Wars movies where they are firing lasers at each other; the tracers were lighting up the sky and the ground in much the same manner. There also were several explosions from enemy mortar rounds falling into the LZ. I assumed some of the explosions in this open meadow were from hand grenades. It was a living hell for those men inside that LZ. The smoke drifted through the broken trees that had fallen and were on fire. Men were running and moving in all directions. There seemed to be no organized plan of action...it was total chaos unfolding below us. No area in this lethal place looked secure or safe from the action.

We were flying at treetop level as we pulled into the LZ. This made us an easy target for the VC and NVA troops in the surrounding jungle. We could feel the belly of the helicopter taking hits. Tracer rounds also were flying through the open areas of the ship where we had taken off the doors. The ship rocked and bounced along the treetops. Intermittent, violent upheavals from ground explosions rocked our aircraft. I thought it was going to be torn apart by the pounding of the blasts. Every explosion caused our helicopter to rock and roll as if it were going to suddenly drop out of the sky and into the trees a few feet below us.

I had my machine gun fully at the ready but could not pick out any clear targets below. I could not fire since the good guys and bad guys were mixing it up in the LZ. There was no way to see who was whom. I had to sit there while the enemy took his potshots at us. It seemed to take hours to travel that last 100 yards to where our soldiers had popped smoke for us to land. By the time we set down, we could see hand-to-hand combat taking place a short distance from us. We were the biggest target in the LZ, and we could not hide anywhere. We needed to load the wounded and get out of there as fast as possible.

There were more explosions just yards away from us. I could feel the dirt and pieces of tree branches hitting my face and body. All around me, men were dropping. Their bodies were being ripped apart by automatic gunfire and mortar rounds. The green grass was turning red from all the flowing blood. I unplugged my communications line from my flight helmet and jumped off the ship as soon as we were parked on the ground. I ran about 20 yards to the medics who were dragging wounded men toward our ship. I grabbed someone's leg to help out. There were bullets hitting the ground all around us, and some were hitting the wounded men we were trying to evacuate. It was a miracle that all of us were not killed.

The pilots were yelling at me to hurry up and get back into the helicopter. Every second we were on the ground, we allowed enemy mortar teams to sight in on our ship. All it would take was about 30 seconds or less before they could get us in their range and drop a round or two on the helicopter. Getting out of the LZ as fast as possible was our key to survival.

To make matters even worse, the trees and the grass had caught on fire. We now had a raging forest fire engulfing the area. It was hot and the smoke made it hard to breathe. I kept going back to help load more bodies onto the floor of my Huey. There was nothing gentle in this act as we threw these men in the ship as fast as we could. Within about half a minute we had loaded six wounded soldiers on the floor and two more on the canvas seats.

By now, all hell had broken loose. The mortar rounds were landing just yards away, and we were the focus of attention for all of the automatic weapons' fire. There was a wall of tracers coming at us, which we had to fly through to get out of there. I jumped back onboard and looked at the medic who stood watching me as we began to hover and lift off. His eyes were full of tears that rolled down his face, turning his dirty cheeks muddy, as he raised his hand to wave goodbye and to somehow bless his men. It was the saddest goodbye in the world. He knew he was probably not going to make it out of there alive. He got his buddies on the ship and that must have given him some satisfaction at the time. Our eyes connected for a brief moment, and I raised my hand to bid him goodbye...but it was more than that. I knew and he knew that he might not be alive when I came back. I silently sent him my prayers. We were all in God's hands now.

The pilots pulled up on the collective stick and tried to rise out of the LZ as straight up as we could fly. However, the heat of the day, the height of the trees, and all the extra weight onboard forced us to fly directly over the f