Rattler/Firebird Newsletter May 2018

VOL. XXV NUMBER 1 ASSOCIATION NEWSLETTER MAY 2018

A veteran – whether active duty, retired, national guard or reserve – is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to “The United States of America,” for an amount of “up to and including my life.”

“Like the book said, we may be through with the past but the past is not through with us!”

DUES STATUS / ADDRESS DIRECTORY

Check the mailing label of this newsletter. To the right of your name your dues status is shown. In order for you to receive the address directory that will be mailed on July 16th, that status MUST be 2019 or higher or say Life. A 2018 status expires on 30 June 2018. If you owe dues, I advise you to send in two years’ worth to be assured of getting notice of the 2020 address directory mailing.

Remember, the ADDRESS DIRECTORY is only printed every other year.

If you have an idea that we may have your address wrong in our database, please email the Association [email protected] with your current information to [email protected]. If you are staying in your “summer” home and our database has your “winter” home address, this directory WILL NOT BE FORWARDED to you by the post office. It will be sent back to us and we will be charged $1.75 to receive it. Then we will not re-mail it. The initial postage would have been paid, then the $1.75 paid to get it back and then another $1.75 first class mail postage paid to mail it again.

TAPS


Jerry Tippitt	Phil Wood and Jan Krueger 1969

The Association has been notified of the following deaths since our last newsletter:

Joe Bruce (EM 66-69) died on 21 January 2018 from heart failure.
Mark Dobbs (WO 70-71) died on 28 January 2018 from cancer.
Chester Henson (OF 68-69) died on 26 March 2017 of unknown causes.
Kenneth F. Hoyt (EM 69-70) died on 6 March 2018 of heart failure.
Raymond Sunberg (OF 71) died on 4 January 2018 of unknown causes.
Jerry Tippett (EM 67) died on 1 September 2015 of lung cancer.
Philip Wood (EM 68-69) died on 1 September 2017 of a brain aneurism.
Ray Young (OF 64-65) died on 9 September 2017 from advanced Parkinson’s disease.

REUNION 2018

We did Nashville again! You guys cannot keep on saying, “This is the best reunion we have ever had!” I feel like a very good time was had by all who attended.

At the Thursday women’s meeting, Paula O’Quinn reported an attendance of 40 with a very good time had by all. The grand prize of a $50 gift card was won by Gloria Reis.

A couple of reunions back, three ladies, Marsha Malek, Brenda Gardiner and Barb Engel came up with the idea of furnishing pizzas for one meal to the group. On Friday afternoon twenty assorted extra-large pizzas were brought in and enjoyed by everyone. I’m not sure, but I think the girls rotate paying for this among themselves and I think it was Marsha’s turn in Nashville. It is a grand gesture in the spirit of comradery that we find so refreshing in this Association. Earlier in the week, Deb Collins had shown up with hundreds of her home-made cookies that seem to disappear quickly!

Friday night almost 200 of us went to the Grand Old Opera for a fun time (in 2010 we were not able to be at this facility because of the floods and had watched the show in a Baptist church).

Our Saturday morning Memorial Service once again paid homage to our fallen brothers we will never forget.

The Association business meeting held Board of Directors elections with David Hunter (EM 69-70) leaving the board due to term limits and Don Lynam (OF 70-71) being elected in his place.

The group photo followed and then our people went on the boat tour.

Our Saturday night banquet was attended by 276 people. Ron Seabolt’s Platoon Leader, Rattler 1-6 George Jackson had an astounding 26 family members counting himself at the banquet. Chuck Carlock’s family and friends totaled 23 by itself.

Our own Firebirds provided the Color Guard and again did a fine job. Especially touching was former POW Jim Pfister doing the honors with the POW/MIA flag.

At the close of the meal the drawing was held for our five prizes. The first winner was Dewayne Williams who chose the tail-rotor chain bracelet. This item is valued as high as $1000 on the internet. The second winner was Mila Veeningen who chose a $200 gift card. The third winner was Kathryn Halsey who also chose a $200 gift card. The fourth winner was Doug Starkey who chose the Joe Kline print “Have Guns, Will Travel”. The final winner was Sandy Spencer who took home the Joe Kline print, “Magic Carpet Ride”.

When everyone had taken a break, Ron Seabolt took the podium in place of our normal host, Vic Bandini. Some good old down home self-depreciating humor was spread across the room ending with the line that a few weeks back, Magen Margle had achieved every young girl’s dream…she married a combat helicopter pilot!

On a serious note, Ron told of throughout his marriage to his now deceased wife Kay, many times in many places he would catch her eye and then casually rub his index finger by the side of his nose. This meant to “stop and smell the roses”, for there is no other place in the world that I would rather be at this time than right here with you.

A challenge was then issued to the macho men in the room to look across the table at which you are sitting, at the men you defied death with over 50 years ago, and if you feel like it, brush your nose with your index finger. No words are necessary.

The program started with the recognizing of special guests starting with our single WWII and Korean War veteran in attendance, Jerry Meader (OF 66). All other wars were called out along with Army Nurse Larue Keller.

First time attendees Paul Flannery, Dean Lind, Tom Pudlo, Tom Semmes and Kilfred Walley were called forward and presented with envelopes with a cash bonus over $100 from a new donor for the purpose of encouraging more first-timers to atend in the future.

The Jesus Nut Award went to Rich Lohman for coming the longest distance to the reunion of 2269 miles from Madras, OR.

The Unsung Hero Award, which honors someone whose primary job was not as a flight crew member, went to Richard Rodriquez for his fine work on the aircraft we had to fly on every day.

The Rattler Legend Award was presented by Frank Anton to his fellow POW Jim Pfister for his unrelenting attitude in horrible conditions which kept Frank and others alive for over five years in captivity. As Frank said, “Jim refused to allow me to die!”

A number of years ago when Joe Galloway spoke to us at New Orleans, we had stumbled upon the recording of Galloway’s “God’s Own Lunatics”. Boy, did it touch a nerve with flight crewmembers and many others. I (Ron Seabolt) vowed to NEVER have a speaker come to the podium at a Rattler Firebird Reunion banquet without that being his lead-in as long as I had a say in the running of the banquet. It just means too much to us who lived it.

“God’s Own Lunatics” was played and Chuck Carlock introduced Frank Anton. Chuck told of how Frank had just returned to Vietnam from R&R and was due to take a few more days getting back to the company when he learned that his buddy and schoolmate, Mark Leopold, had been shot down. Frank bribed his way onto an aircraft going to Chu Lai to get back into the fight. This was January 4, 1968. Frank was shot down on January 5 and captured on the morning of January 6. Thus began over five years as a POW, three of which were in the mountain jungle camps west of Chu Lai.

Once in the north, the prisoners no longer feared starving to death but that did not mean it was easy by no means. Then the peace accords were finally signed and in March of 1973, Frank began his way back to the world.

Our banquet was closed by our Chaplin Eric Kilmer. The 2018 Reunion was in the books.

THE VIETNAM HELICOPTER PILOTS AND CREWMEMBERS MONUMENT

Ron Markiewicz (OF 70-71) &
The Vietnam Helicopter Pilots
& Crewmembers Monument at
Arlington National Cemetary

On April 18, 2018 America righted a long existing wrong, the only monument recognizing the service of our Vietnam veterans, especially the helicopter pilots and crew members that manned our helicopters during the Vietnam War was dedicated at Arlington National Cemetery (ANC). One of our own Firebirds, Ron Markiewicz (Firebird 97 ‘71) and his wife Emily were instrumental in installing this monument. They initially developed the organization needed and along with other members of the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association (VHPA) Legacy Committee walked the halls of Congress twice to gain the needed Congressional support needed to influence the approval of the monument. Once the approval was received, Ron coordinated with ANC over many months to install the monument foundations in preparation for the installation of the actual monument. As Ron told me “it was truly an honor to participate in this effort to finally recognize the bravery demonstrated by these men.”

Good job Ron Markiewicz!

THE REST OF THE STORY
by Doug Cahill (WO 68-69)

Doug Cahill
at 2014 Reunion

I have been inspired to put the pen in hand after reading Chuck Carlock's book “Firebirds” and the exact accounting of dates and times in the Firebirds during our tour, which followed flight school for both of us in 1967. For 40 plus years, I didn't talk about Vietnam that includes not attending a reunion. Thanks Chuck for your book.

It is incredible how things happen. The one thing I regret most of my Military Career, especially the days in Combat, is that I did not keep a daily log of events. I was not smart enough back then. It was my pleasure to be a Rattler and a Firebird. My way of dealing with the horrors of War was just like my adopted Dad, a WWII Vet, who flew 31 missions in a B17 during WWII and a Korea Vet. He never once commented on his combat experiences. I emulated my Dad and never talked about Vietnam to my family or friends.

My next duty station was Division (A) at Hunter Army Airfield, assigned as an Instrument Instructor Pilot. Two other former Firebirds were also assigned there, Jim Malek and RP Taylor. We worked together and played together, and to the best of my knowledge, not a single word was ever spoken about our time in the 71st. Both RP and Jim were sword bearers on the 15th of February 1969 when I married my bride (Joan). In fact RP, after my bachelor party on Valentine’s Day 1969, totaled his brand new Corvette, thus breaking it into three pieces. His girlfriend at the time and later his wife (Marie) were both banged up; however, not seriously hurt and were present at the wedding.

Later that year, I lost contact with both RP and Jim, as I was returning to Vietnam for my second tour. It was not until I received the blanket email from Ron Seabolt did I learn of RP’s death. I called Ron and asked him if the 71st was doing anything for his funeral and offered my assistance. I was extremely saddened to learn that RP only lived 90 miles away from my home. I attended that funeral and represented our Association. When I gave the eulogy at his funeral, it was the first time I ever spoke about my time in the 71st. Both of RP's sons wanted to know all I knew about RP. It was then that I decided to attend the next reunion. I attended the 2014 reunion, and Chuck gave me a copy of his book.

Before joining the 71st, I was a Minuteman in the 176th at Duc Pho. Before I continue, I must apologize for telling a story (at the reunion) that happened in the 176th and not the 71st, which a fellow pilot called BS to. I now have proof of that story if that person would like to hear it. I guess that being my first reunion ever, I talked too much. I am sorry guys. After reading Chuck's book and 49 years after the day I started flying with the Firebirds, I figured out some interesting things. My very first flight with the Firebirds was 23 March 1968. The following tells why this date is important to me.

The following is my account of the day and the weeks that lead up to that date.

Our Commander at the Time was Major Joe K. Bell. I was a very proud Aircraft Commander (Rattler 18) in the slicks flying a UH-1D in combat operations for over 550 hours from July 1, 1967, to March 1, ST 1968. I had a six month flying period including taking off a month for hospitalization. I was shot down while in a sister unit, before being transferred to the 71st. That is an average of over 110 hours a month flying time. Under today’s standards, that is quite a feat. However, it was something we all did back then.

I had served four years as an enlisted Marine before going to flight school. Due to this, our Commander, Joe K. Bell was short real live commissioned officers and asked this Warrant Officer to work in the orderly room as the Administrative Officer. He wanted someone with prior enlisted experience. A job I did not want. I was a Combat Helicopter Aircraft Commander and loved flying. The boss kept after me and one day, I had a really bad day and that night while drinking and playing poker with Joe K. Bell, Ken Wiegand and five other pilots in the Officers Club he again hounded me to be the Administration Officer. I finally told him, Sir, I am a pilot, not a paper pusher. He told me he could order me in the job. I knew he was close to doing so. I said, tell you what, Sir. If you let me fly at a minimum of two days a week in the "Firebirds" our third platoon of gun-ships, I will accept the job.

As a requirement to fly in the Firebirds one had to be accepted by the rest of the platoon. I was put up for a ride on the 23rd of March, according to my flight records and flew 9.8 hours that day with ten landings. Usually, a ten hour day in the slicks would be at least 40 landings. I remember that day very well. I was sitting in the left seat of an XM-23 system, mini gun ship on my orientation flight. We were extracting troops from a so-called cold LZ and inserting them into a possible hot LZ. I was busy learning and looking through the gun sight at everything. Now having made more than a thousand landings into similar LZ's, there were always women and children in and around the area. (The first thing I noticed was there were no women and children in sight). This worried me. However, I was pre-occupied with shooting up tree lines on approach to the expected hot LZ. I was happy, doing something I often dreamed of doing, ever since spending that month in the hospital courtesy of the Viet Cong. I was shooting back.

There was a substantial number of infantry to be moved, and everything was normal until that last lift out of the (so-called cold LZ). I found out where the women and children were; they were hiding. All hell broke loose on the last approach of the slicks to extract the remaining lift. On my first day in the guns, I was told to go hot. It was easy to tell where the remaining infantry was directing their fire. I joined in with our miniguns. I was shooting at hootches, people running in black pajama's etc. Then came the word, "Cease Fire, Cease Fire” as I was squeezing the trigger on a rice cart that was barely moving with a man in black pajama's trying very hard to push it. It had already gone through my head that the SOB didn't have rice in that cart, as I squeezed the trigger. The Cease Fire and the squeezing of my finger were simultaneous. Then the rice cart exploded into a fireball, followed by a stern voice on the radio asking who is firing. I again squeezed something. This time the mike switch to transmit. I said I did; the SOB didn't have rice in that cart. We continued on our mission escorting the infantry into the other LZ and landed that evening flying 9.8 hours and logging ten landings. Nothing more was ever said about me shooting the rice cart and its human motor in the black pajamas.

Following that day, I became a Firebird PP. I would be flying two days a week at a minimum. I loved the miniguns and hated the Hog gun ship. In that capacity, the second pilot does nothing important except waiting for the Aircraft Commander to become unable to perform his duties. I spent a lot of time with my hands folded between my legs looking down at the chin bubble. Someone asked me why I do that. It was probably Ken Wiegand. Stating if I ever get shot in the testicles, I will have ten broken fingers and won't be able to scratch them. I quit that practice that day. I acquired an M2 Carbine, with banana clips taped up-side-down on each other and would shoot the Carbine out the door, on hot gun runs with tracers every other round. They were slow moving bullets and to hit the area alongside the left side of the gunship you had to fire in front of the gun-ship and watch the rounds curve into the area I wanted to hit. I used to walk to the aircraft with a thermos full of ice water, a double bandolier of ammo over my shoulders, and all the other crap one had to carry, plus my helmet bag full of non-melting candy bars. I could hardly move. I also acquired the Firebird skill of wearing your pistol between your legs. I spent many a night on the mission of a gun team or gunship parked on hill 35, a forward LZ to give support if a unit was overrun, or gunships were needed. One pilot and one crew member slept with their boots on to run to the aircraft when the phone rang and start the aircraft, the other to the phone getting the location where we were needed while tying your boots.

I knew that I would never make aircraft commander in the Firebirds as I was only flying on the average of two days a week. I was stuck in the Orderly Room as my full-time job. However, I was allowed to fly great missions, with tremendous and fantastic, superbly qualified Aircraft Commanders and crews. I was accepted by these “Firebirds” as a pilot and gunner. I received an Army Commendation Medal with (V) device for Heroism on a mission and like the rest of us, awards and medals came at a much later date. I was back in the states when I received mine. It never dawned on me until I read Chuck's book, “Firebirds” that the date of that award was dated March 23, 1968. This was the first day of my orientation flight in the Firebirds,when I blew up that rice cart. Now that award is very special to me. 100 times more today than before as someone thought I earned it on my very first day in the Firebirds. If you look at my 759 for that period one will notice, I cheated on my orderly room duties as I flew a lot more than two days a week.

In honor of my best friend, WO David Lee Blattel, whom I went to flight school with and we were stationed together in the 176th. David was the Flight Lead of the slicks on the initial approach of troops into (Location Quang Tin Provence I Corps) on the 5th of May 1968. His UH-ID was hit with a 50 caliber in the fuel cell at 2,500 feet blowing the rotor off. All on board were killed. David's wall location is 55E-002. His UH-ID tail number was 66-17075. (More information available from the Army battle dead Category of personnel: Active Duty Army) David had two weeks left in country. On page 163 of Chuck Carlock's book "Firebirds," Chuck describes the scramble to the crash site by our Firebirds. I won't repeat the incident here, and the aftermath explained in his book. What a horrible day. I will, in fact, write a few paragraphs on where I was that day to clarify one of Chuck's statements.

At the time of this horrific event, I was grounded with self-inflicted wounds and also had two weeks left in country. The first wound was in a volleyball game; I was barefoot in that game and a pretty good spiker of the volleyball. We were playing jungle rules; (no rules) get the ball over the net. I jumped up to spike the ball and was kicked in the ankle by a person wearing a boot on the other team. The next morning I had a walking cast. I say that this was a self-inflicted wound, if I had I not joined the game, this would not have happened. On the second wound, since I was a short timer, I decided I needed some sun. I began lying on my bunker outside my hooch for ten minutes after lunch. Well, any other day as the Admin Officer, I was needed for something every ten minutes. The day before this horrific day, for some reason, no one needed me when I lay on my back on the bunker. I fell asleep and laid there in my shorts for over two hours. I woke to find out I was a Red Skin. The next morning, I was in the orderly room monitoring the radios with the cast on the trash can, one foot on my desk, only wearing shorts. My hand was against the wall, thinking things could not get worse when the May Day call came in. The radios were lit up asking for any type of help, slicks, guns, etc. First Firebird 9-2 was down, and then the call from battalion headquarters screaming for help. The lead aircraft on the assault into Quang Tin Provence lost the aircraft rotor. David's name was mentioned by someone as flying lead aircraft commander. It was that moment that I knew my best friend was killed.

I immediately called "Snake Doctor" at the maintenance office, and said, “What do you have that will fly?” He stated, "I have nothing up," I said, that is not what I asked; I say again, “What do you have that will start and fly?” He stated, "I have two guns, one Hog rocket ship down for bore sighting and something minor and one minigun down for an over temp engine.” I said, “Fuel them, and arm them. You have the enlisted crews there working; I will have pilots there in 15 min.” Checking the roster, we had two, well three counting myself, non aircraft commanders in guns, two new guys and me. We also had one prior aircraft commander, who was grounded for an incident and was awaiting final disposition before he could fly again. This individual had just walked into the orderly room to check his mail., I said to this Firebird AC, get your flight gear, you have two minutes to get back here. He said, "I am grounded." I said, not today, "It is a good day to die." I was pulling on my flight suit at the same time. It was a two piece, no T-shirt rig, as I didn't put one on that morning. One boot and a walking cast. It was then that the Commander came out of his office and said, “What the hell is going on?” I said, "Sir, I will brief you in the jeep, we need a ride to the flight line." He gave us that ride. He did not attempt to stop me from flying as an Aircraft Commander that day. I think he knew I had to be in that fight.

I would like to say that I absolutely have no idea who that grounded Firebird A/C was and would like to add that he was an outstanding pilot and I sincerely hope he was returned to full flight duty and awarded for his bravery. If you are still with us, please call me. Thanks.

With the adrenaline flowing and knowing my best friend was just killed, I just took charge. I told the other grounded pilot to take the "Hog" gunship as he was an Aircraft Commander in that type and this Gunner, Pilot, and this non aircraft commander took the other bird with the piss-poor engine. We arrived on site fully armed as Chuck states on page 166, of his book. Yes, Chuck, there was another Firebird Gun Team on site. I will never forget that day. Not so much the intense battle that followed, but, my aircraft and every time we broke left after a gun run, the Exhaust Gas Temperature, (EGT) was way past the redline. Now someone will ask, why break left, it takes more power. The gun run was north to south, as the slicks approached. Charlie owned the West; I remember going into the gravel dump to refuel and re- arm. I had to slide this (sick) ship in and out, because we didn't have enough power to hover, causing the hurricane with it. I had no T-shirt on which meant gravel and dirt flying, getting under my chicken plate and rubbing up and down on my red chest. I do remember two specific things about the battle. We spent the next four hours escorting slicks into the site, building up the infantry on the ground. I remember squeezing the trigger to give a hootch a 3-second burst of fire. Just as I squeezed the trigger, an individual ran out of the hootch pointing a gun at me as the burst of my fire hit him in the chest.

I was hurting, my chest oozing blood, mad, pissed off, among a few other things that I will keep to myself. There were radio calls for medivac. There were wounded aircrews on the ground along with the ten bodies, Dave and his crew along with six infantry troops he was inserting. Finally, after several hours on location, I was close to being out of fuel again. I was almost out of ammo. It was at this time that Chuck and his fire-team returned to the battle. I decided we were no longer needed here, expended our ammo, headed for re-fuel and then home. On the flight back to Chu Lai, I realized how horrible I was hurting. I also gave a thought of the engine blowing up, or being shot down, and how I would have survived on the ground with a walking cast and my toes sticking out.

My flight records, for May 5, 1968, show 4 hours flight time, seven landings. I landed back at Chu Lai, filled out the log book, went to my hooch, drank a lot and cried. I was never debriefed, or asked a question, or commented to about that day to this day. I didn't remember the date, of all this until I read your book Chuck and checked my Flight Records and the day my Friend Warrant Officer David Lee Blattle died and put the facts together. Once again Chuck Carlock thanks for writing your book. I have no idea who was flying with me, who our crew was or who was flying the other aircraft. I did have my one Day as a self-proclaimed Firebird Aircraft Commander, and I often wonder what call sign I used that day. Almost 49 years ago.

It was 27 June before I flew again. My cast was off; my sunburn was gone, I thought I might live. I was semi-sober. I was given a one hour training flight in a UH-IH. It was my first flight in an H model. Then I flew on the 3rd and 4th of June as a plain old Firebird PP. I departed for the states on the 5 June at the end of my first tour.

I hope I haven't bored anyone with this story and accounting. I hope someone enjoyed reading it. Chuck, your book brought back a lot of things I spent 47 years trying to forget. It was time I talked about them. Thanks and thanks to Cathy for bringing that book from your home that you autographed for me at the reunion.

In closing, I would like to thank Ron Seabolt for his devotion and dedication to our association and his outstanding ability to keep the Association intact.

Douglas Cahill Rattler 18, Firebird, ( PP/ no call). And Admin Officer 67/68
As my card says, I am an asshole, and I approve this message

“Stan the Snatch” by Jim Adams (OF 68-69)

Jim Adams
in Chu Lai 1968

In the spring of 69, I was flying PPilot with Stan Edwards, AC on an ash & trash, flying west of LZ Baldy. We took small arms fire so Stan called in artillery. No, we can’t fire there, that’s a control fire zone… No Bad guys. This didn’t quell Stan’s resolve so he decided to find out who was shooting at us. We flew down and hovered over a grass hootch, a door gunner Nick ??? dropped a Willie Pete on the hootch and burnt it down. Under the grass was a bunker, made with GI Sandbags. Stan started snooping around the area and came upon a unit of uniformed North VN regulars bivouacked. He flew down the middle of them and they scattered like wild turkeys. They must have thought we were a secret weapon or they were new recruits, so startled, they just ran. Stan kept his eye on one and flew over to where this soldier was hiding, behind Huey wreckage.

Stan’s words (as I remember) were “You know what to do, Nick?” “Yes Sir”. Nick got out & left his M60 mounted, walked over to this NVA & took him by the elbow. Since this was happening on the right side of the chopper, I was watching this with nothing between me, Nick and this soldier. Nick brought him to the right side, like a little old lady and threw him in the chopper.

They were stunned when we landed at our supported fire base with a captured NVA soldier. I had never seen that uniform before, sort of a bluegreen wool.

The point of this story is Stan was one hell of a good pilot and totally fearless!

HUMOR ON COLOR:

My friend told me he was about to have a circumcision done. I told him I had had that done also. The friend asked, “Was it real bad?” I answered, “Was it bad, hell I couldn’t walk for a year!”

HUMOR – OFF COLOR:

After his helicopter was hit and he was forced to autorotate, the Army helicopter pilot finally regained consciousness. He was in a hospital, in a lot of pain. He found himself in the ICU with tubes/IV drips in both arms, a breathing mask, wires monitoring every function and a nurse hovering over him, looking. It was obvious he was in a life-threatening situation.

The nurse gave him a serious look, straight into his eyes. Knowing he was not only a helicopter pilot, but a Soldier, she spoke to him softly and slowly, enunciating each word: "You may not feel anything from the waist down."

Somehow he managed to reply, "Can I feel your tits, then?"

And that, my friends, is a real positive attitude.