Slicks are for kids.  Yeah, right!

I had flown gunships since we formed the unit in Colorado.  We rarely flew above 1000’ AGL because we were always heavy and it took too long to get any higher.  I’ve looked at some of the pictures other unit members have put on the website and wondered why I never saw any of those things.  How could I, we never got out of the trees.

I did get to ride in a slick occasionally.  Once, when we were operating out of Duc Lap, we had a break in the action.  The ground commander told us we wouldn’t be needed until the afternoon so we collectively decided to fly back to Ban Me Thout for some chow.  Since our C-models were already fueled and armed, we decided to leave a guard on them and hitch a ride with our lift pilots.  On the way back, they decided they would show us dumb gunnies how helicopters were flown in formation.  I’m not sure that ole Dick Snow wasn’t one of those guys.

As we thumped along, they began to tighten things up a bit.  They definitely got my attention, but I knew we were getting way too close when I saw the crewchief draw back in his seat.  If he was beginning to notice, it was time to take some action.  Of course we couldn’t let them know they were scaring the shit out of us so I leaned over to my gunship comrades and told them to frantically look around when they heard the noise.  Then I took my 38-caliber revolver out and banged on the floor with the grip.  It sounded exactly like taking ground fire.  The pilot and copilot snapped their heads around so fast I thought they would hurt themselves.

Of course, all they saw in back was a bunch of guys frantically looking around and pointing at the ground.  The AC announced, “GROUND FIRE!” which filled the sky with Hueys, all going different ways.  By the time everyone got his heart rate back to normal we were at Ban Me Thout so everyone landed single ship.  We got to the front of the chow line because the slick crews were checking their aircraft for holes, which, of course, they didn’t find.  After lunch we flew back out to Duc Lap and as they were shutting down I called up to the pilot and thanked him for the ride.  Then I took out my pistol and added, “By the way – rap, rap, rap, - it sounded just like ground fire to me too.”  It’s a good thing we had our gunships out there.  I’m not sure I could have found a ride home otherwise.

Payback, as they say, is a bitch.  Sometime after that, my aircraft was down for an inspection.  Broderick had been assigned a single ship resupply mission and suggested I ride along in the left seat of the H-model.  He’d show me things that would amaze me, like hovering, and flying above 1,500 feet.  It would be great.  Well why not!  Everyone knows slicks are for kids, this should be a piece of cake.

The flight started just as advertised.  He let me take it out of the revetment, and the RPM stayed at 6600!  We weren’t even maxed-out on torque.  This was neat.  We hovered around Flanders and did pedal turns and everything.  My takeoff was a little shaky because the RPM warning didn’t come on and it confused me, but I quickly settled in and began to enjoy the ride.  As we climbed out I could actually see Cam Ranh Bay and the South China Sea.  As we continued skyward, another amazing thing happened, the temperature actually dropped.  It got cooler!

As we flew back into the hills, the clouds began to fill the valleys, only this time; we were on top of them.  What a concept.  We made contact with the unit on the ground and they confirmed their coordinates.  As we approached the area, Jim took the controls for the landing.  Well, actually, it wasn’t really a landing because the “LZ” was on the side of a hill.  They had cut down some trees to make room for the helicopter, but there wasn’t a flat place in there.

Jim carefully hovered forward until the front of the skids were pressed against the hill.  The tips of the rotor blades were just inches from hitting the ground.  One sneeze and we were all history.  Holding everything in place, he called back to the crewchief to start unloading.  The gunner passed the supplies to the crewchief, who stood on the skids and passed them down to the troops on the ground.  That meant that the weight and CG of the helicopter were constantly shifting and Jim had to continuously make adjustments to keep the ass-end of the helicopter in the air while the front end stayed stuck on the hillside. After about 10 minutes, it occurred to me to begin breathing, and I noticed my eyes were drying out because I hadn’t blinked.  You can’t when they get the size of golf balls!

Finally, after what seemed like an hour or so, the last box of goods went over the side.  I began to imagine that we might even survive this deal until I looked up through the overhead window.  The clouds were coming down on us.  To get out of this place we would have to go backwards, then up.  In the next few minutes, this part of the hill would be completely enveloped in fog.  There was no way out!  I mentioned our predicament to Jim and he snatched a quick glimpse at the clouds above with no apparent concern.  Then he said, “Is the tail clear?”  The crewchief reported that there was a tree directly behind us but if he’d kick the tail to right a little, he’d have room to back up, then he could go up.

GO UP??  Go up where?  The whole crew was crazy.  But before I could unstrap and jump clear of this lunatic asylum, Jim pushed the right pedal and began backing away from the hill.  “OK, you’re clear on the right”, called the gunner.  “Clear on the left, you can go up now”, responded the crewchief.  Jim pulled in some collective and the world went white.  I tried to make some sense out of the instruments but all I saw was the heading indicator spinning around 180º.  Then the nose dropped and I braced for the impact, but a second later we broke out of the clouds and into the valley.

I looked around in the cargo area to see if this thing had a bathroom.  I desperately needed one about that time.  Jim asked if I wanted to fly back to DBT, but I respectfully declined.  I’d be lucky to walk again much less fly.  You can have your damned cool air and grand vistas.  I decided right there and then that thumping around low level, dodging buzzards, and having every local with a slingshot trying to knock me down, was a hell of a lot safer than flying with these suicidal bastards.  Slicks may have been for kids, but they were for kids with really HUGE BALLS!!!

Fred Harms
Sidekick 3
Nov 67 - Oct 68