Page 11 - DFCS News Magazine Summer 2013

By Lewis Watt
All the flying was “distinguished flying” in the Deuces. We got them airborne day after day, and we carried everything every- where including places where we probably had no business being without gunship cover. It was some reward that many of the air- crew from other squadrons admired us for getting so much out of those greasy old beasts. The real reward for me was the privilege of flying with superb pilots and gentlemen like Bob Keeler, Bob Carlson, Frank Reynolds, and the rest of the Junkmen.
The resupply of Con Thien, a few miles south of the DMZ, became a regular event for us. We flew South Vietnamese troops in when they established an outpost there and kept them supplied. Later the Ma-
rines took over the site, and we continued the regular resupply. It was a large flat landing zone, so the landings were seldom challeng- ing. We were often under low ceilings, so approaches were not far above the tree tops. We were pretty relaxed about these missions, opening the big clamshell doors after landing to make the unload- ing easier and faster.
Then the construction of a short runway began. We enquired what that was about and learned that some genius thought that, given a bit of runway, the Caribous could fly supplies in directly from DaNang or PhuBai. The Caribou was an Air Force twin engine, fixed wing, cargo airplane that could land on very short dirt or grass run- ways. We watched the progress thinking that our days of serving Con Thien were coming to an end. Apparently the enemy mortar crews watched as well, for reasons of their own. And we were watching, as we approached with loaded Deuces, as the first Cari- bou arrived for what would have been the christening landing at the new dirt runway. The timing of the mortar fire was excellent, and the accuracy wasn’t bad. They were hitting in front of and just behind the Caribou. The pilot touched down but soon poured the coals to it, climbed, and turned south never to be seen again. And so much for our milk runs to Con Thien.
We should have seen the Caribou event coming. Days before, we were in that LZ, unloading, doors open, engines idling, not wast-
ing any time, but not pressing hard either.
I was piloting dash-two and had landed well behind Bob Carlson who was section leader. Bob’s crew was just finishing their unload- ing and closing up when a mortar round hit in the LZ. The Deuce was not supposed to be flown unless and until the big clamshell doors were closed and latched; they are a part of the structure of the aircraft. We sure cheated on that requirement, after waiting the eternity (seven or eight seconds) for the hydraulics to swing the doors nearly closed but not fully latched. If you could call anything a Deuce did a “maximum performance takeoff”, we did it then. Bob got his Deuce into the air almost simultaneous to mine, and fine flight leader that he was, then concerned himself with his wingman.
“Get out of there Two!” He called from a hundred feet of altitude. “Roger that.”
“Where are you Two?”
“At your six (behind him), we’re outta there.”
We never opened the big doors at Con Thien again, instead throwing the supplies out the passenger door and gunner’s window.
Within weeks of the mortar events at Con Thien, our luck changed. One of our Deuces got shot up while unloading supplies for the Ma- rines near the infamous Rock Pile. Zeke Lamascus, our unit’s Officer -in-Charge, took a round through the leg. Frank Weldon, his copilot, did a superb job of flying Zeke and the shot up Deuce out of harm’s way. Zeke got an early trip back to the World, and Frank got a DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross).
Weeks later, on a day when the helicopter resources where fully committed, and the CH-46’s were suffering from maintenance is- sues, a company of grunts found themselves low on ammo and other
supplies with considerable enemy pressure and darkness approaching. The operations scheduler knew this was a job for the more agile CH-46’s, but the only available resource was a pair of Deuces which I was leading. I was fortunate to have Bob Keeler as my copi- lot. We got the radio call to pass the mission information with the tone that indicated we could turn this opportunity down without disappointing our operations folks. I accept- ed the mission, and we loaded two Deuces
and made two round trips from the supply point to the grunt compa- ny. We had enough daylight to see the terrain on the first trip, so when the ground forward air controller specified a patch of high ground for me to land on, I suggested that I’d land a hundred yards away on lower ground using the ridge for cover. That seemed to piss off the grunts, but they were happy to get the ammo supply for the night, even if they had to hump it up the hill.
It always amused me to sit several feet off the ground behind three- sixteenths inch of aluminum looking down on grunts hunkered in their foxholes. I would not trade with them, nor them with me. We took our risks in compressed doses. They were exposed for days at a time.
I chatted later with a friend who was an airborne forward air con- troller. He had flown over as we were unloading the first loads. He recalled thinking: “What the hell is Junkman doing there!”
Many years later at Bob’s fiftieth birthday party, the topic of that mission came up. Bob recalled saying: “You really think we should be taking this one on, Lew?”
And I am alleged to have said: “Those Marines are relying on us. We’re not going to let them down.”
I got a DFC for that set of events, but always knew it was really for all that went on during those months.
(Louis Watt’s DFC citation is on the preceding page)
Page 11
The Distinguished Flying Cross News