To the Limit: An Air Cav Huey Pilot in Vietnam

21 A Shau Valley, Lair of Lucifer

3 3 1 A Shau Valley, Lair of Lucifer 21 April 17, 1968—Operation Delaware “Well, it’s not a rumor anymore,” I announce. I have just entered my tent and dumped my flight gear on the air mattress. “You mean A Shau?” “Yep. I mean A Shau.” “How do you know for sure?” a young pilot asks in disbelief. “I’ve just had a briefing at Battalion.” As I turn to face the young pilot, transistor radios fall silent. Someone goes into 2nd Platoon’s tent to pass the word along. Fifteen more pilots converge on my cubicle; they are hanging on my every word. Within minutes, my general area is overflowing with crew chiefs, gunners, and pilots. I am bringing the first word of a top level briefing. The air is heavy with consternation as I fumble to find my pipe tobacco. “Bandits will be one of the lead flights into LZs that I am not at liberty to divulge at this time. You will be supporting 1/8th people.” “Did Battalion say what type of weapons?” WO1 James Jackson asks. “I know they got some heavy crap in there.” “They do.” I pause, not wanting to tell all I know. I twist my body in one direction, then the other, still trying to locate the tobacco. “There are heavy cloud layers, so no high-altitude aerial recon, but Division is sure there are nests of 37mm antiaircraft throughout the valley. This is in addition to the .51-caliber stuff like we ran into at Khe Sanh, not to mention several thousand NVA.” 332 TO THE LIMIT “Johnson, your pipe tobacco is on your bed,” Bill Lee volunteers, pointing to the mashed up foil package of Cherry Blend lying on the cot and, for a change, not choosing to make any smart-ass remarks. Even if no one else can tell, Bill can see that I am rattled. “Thanks, Bill.” “Any SITREPS?” “The 1/9th boys flew into the valley this morning, but they couldn’t get in to the floor because of the cloud layer. According to their reports, they got the shit kicked out of them. Forty-some-odd were hit, and they had already lost eighteen aircraft when I left the briefing about an hour ago.” I light the pipe and draw a calming hit of the nicotine, then sit on my handmade footlocker, still perspiring from the flight back from LZ Evans. The tent is deathly quiet. Again I speak. “Division is trying to recall the 1/9th so they can Arc Light the whole valley.” “Arc Light?” a newbie warrant officer inquires. “B-52s, you idiot,” Bill Lee informs the newcomer. “Where you been, boy?” Larry Gore, who has pushed his way up front, asks, “When do we go?” “The way it stands now, depending on weather, day after tomorrow .” I again pause for a slow draw on my pipe. “The show starts tonight with Arc Lights and continues around the clock. On the morning of the 19th, theAir Force boys will drop twelve 10,000-pound ‘blockbusters .’ The idea is to create some LZs on the sides of the mountains. They’ll be the largest bombs ever dropped in Vietnam.” “How did you get into this briefing, Johnson? How come they didn’t tell us?” “Well, I tell you, Jackson. I wish it had been you instead of me.” “Why’s that, Tom?” Gore asks. “About twenty crews, and I’m one of them, have been attached to the 11th Aviation Support Group.” I pause to relight my pipe. “On the morning of the 19th, I have to report to LZ Evans to pick up four EOD (explosive ordnance disposal) engineers. We’ll take off ahead of the main assault and head for the valley on a solo mission.” “What the devil you mean solo?” “I have to find a single LZ and get the engineers into it. Division 3 3 3 A SHAU VALLEY, LAIR OF LUCIFER wants whatever debris is in the bomb craters cleared out before you guys make your final approach.” “S-h-i-t! You’re not kidding, are you, Johnson?” “I wish I were. I have to get them into the LZ by whatever means possible, hang around long enough for them to do their job, then extract them.” “Ah, man!” Bill mutters in disgust. “Is Division crazy? That’s suicide.” I stand on...