In late November or early December 1967 we were returning from a morning patrol, it was about 1:00 in the afternoon. Just as we approached the main gate of Delta 4 our CAP unit we heard what sounded like .50 caliber fire about a click away from our compound's position. We looked off to the Southwest and saw tracers firing at an F-4 Phantom that was banking toward the Northwest in the direction of Danang. Suddenly it was in flames and trailing smoke.
'Doc' John Newman our Corpsman had come out of the doorway of the Comm (Communications) bunker to see what was happening. We could see the pilot eject and his parachute open. 'Doc' John rushed back into the bunker and emmerged with his medical bag. As 'Doc' ran across the compound he was joined by a few more Marines and two of the P.F.'s (Vietnamese Popular Forces Militamen). That increased the size of our Reactionary Force to eleven or twelve men, a large force for a Combined Action Platoon patrol.
We headed West in the direction of the drifting parachute. We saw the plane crash in a ball of flame and smoke as we started, at a dead run, down the road that led into our compound. Highway 1 was about two miles West of us. I was on point and trying to keep a site line on the parachute as it descended. I was paying very little attention to the area surrounding the road. Another P.F. who was in the local market joined us as we ran past. We crossed Highway 1 by then we had lost site of the parachute, so we proceeded straight West down the road. We were in the Western most area of our TAOR (Tactical Area of Responsiblity) and an area we weren't all that familiar with.
All the time I had been on the radio with our Company Commander Lt. Sylvia, at our CAP Company Headquarters in Dien Ban, North of our position. I was also, carrying the radio, as I often did on our short handed daylight patrols. Lt. Sylvia's transmissions were getting weak as we got futher away and he said to switch over to the air craft frequency. By now I had come upon a large opening with sand dunes running all the way to a wide river. The sky was filled with helicopters and fixed wing aircraft.
I could see the pilot's chute hanging in a treeline West Southwest of us and I stopped and kneeled down to take off my radio and switch frequencies when I noticed I had been all alone. It was one time being a fast runner had nearly been my undoing. I changed frequency and immediately heard Lt. Sylvia's voice, "Mother 4 Bravo...Mother 4 Bravo this is Motherhood 6 Actual do you copy?"
I replied as I strapped my radio bach on. "Motherhood...this is Mother 4 Bravo, go."
Lt. Sylvia said, "Mother 4 Bravo your air contact is..."
Suddenly another calm voice said, "Bird Dog, Mother 4 Bravo...this is Bird Dog."
"Bird Dog...this is Mother 4 Bravo, go!" I was getting exciting as we moved out into the open sand dunes, in an area I really wasn't familiar with. Then there was that calm voice again.
"Mother 4 Bravo, what is your location?" He must have seen me reaching for my map and checking our coordinates.
"Mother 4 Bravo, have you got something down there with you to mark your position?"
I fired back, "Bird Dog, I can pop a green smoke!"
The voice was there, "Pop it." By now we were spread out and well into the sand dunes as I tossed the smoke grenade beside me and proceeded on. I could now see the spotter plane flying slow and low just over head. Before I could tell him the smoke was popped, his voice was back.
"Mother 4 Bravo...got ya son."
Suddenly from the treeline across the river we started receiving small arms fire and light mortars. I immediately keyed my handset, "Bird Dog, Bird Dog...be advised we are drawing small arms fire and 60 mike mikes...or mike 79's!" Everyone immediately took cover behind their individual sand dunes and the mortars were having little effect in the loose sand. It was still disconcerting.
The voice was there again. "Mother 4 Bravo, have you got something with you to mark those critters' position?"
I immediately replied, "Bird Dog...got a red pencil flare!"
That older voice, with a Southern accent, was back, "Well son, you just shoot that thing right at them critters." I grabbed for the pencil flare hanging from my neck, screwed in a red flare, pulled the trigger mechanism back and fired it in the direction of the firing acrossing the river. The spotter plane came around and flew right over the treetops across the river, he even tipped his wings for a better view.
"Mother 4 Bravo, I've got your critters spotted...gonna bring in a 'big boy' now." His plane seemed to go almost straight up and banked off to the Northwest. Suddenly he was back on the air, "Mother 4 Bravo, now you boys keep your heads down."
Seconds later an F-4 jet came streaking down on its bomb run. I hadn't seen a Phantom airstrike up close and personal. So, I peeked over the sand dune just as the jet made its bomb run, a napalm bomb run. I saw the treeline go up in flames through my singed eye lashes. It smelled like my Grandmother's when she dressed chickens. I should say I smelled like those chickens. The treeline was smoldering as the spotter plane flew low and slow over it. Then that ever calming voice said,
'Mother 4 Bravo...Be informed your Critters...are Crispy Critters." I had to chuckle as I responded, Crispy Critters sounded like a breakfast cereal.
"Bird Dog...copy you last, will proceed toward the chute in the treeline and try to find the pilot!"
"Mother 4 Bravo...no need, helicopters extracted pilot...he'll be fine, now you boys better head on home now. Thanks for your help." I thought, what help. Unless, maybe we had drawn fire away from the pilot. It seemed to take longer getting back to the Delta 4 compound than it had taken us to get there.
I thought about the cool, calm courage of that 'Bird Dog' pilot all the way back and many times since.
(Second Draft - October 14, 2000. Anyone with specific information; names, dates etc. please e-mail me so I can revise and amend this story)
In late October 1967 we were returning from a daylight patrol. We were on the North side of our Delta 4 CAP compound on the path next to the wire approaching our main gate on the perimeter's West side. We heard the sound of an aircraft enigine sputtering overhead and looked up. A Cessna spotter plane was struggling to stay airborn as it flew over our compound. We stopped dead in our tracks as we watched the plane cross the river and it looked like the pilot was going to bring it down safely in the flooded rice paddies. However, as soon as his plane's wheels touched down the plane's nose slammed into the mud and it came to an abrupt stop. We knew we had to get over to the plane before the enemy got to it. 'Doc' John Newman was with us on the patrol. He had been in the villages preforming a Medcap. We knew we would need him if the pilot was injured.
A few more Marines and P.F.'s joined us as we ran past the gate of the compound. The river was to high and the current to swift to wade across so we proceeded to a boat landing a short distance from our compound. There we found some Vietnamese fisherman who had also watched the plane go down. With our broken Vietnamese and using sign language we commandeered a two of the sanpans. I crossed in the first sanpan and had the remaining men cover us as we crossed.
Once across the river we started wading through the flooded rice paddie toward the downed plane about a half a mile away. It took some time to accomplish this in the knee deep water. When we reached the plane the nose was deep in the mud and its tail section was sticking ups at a 45 degree angle. There was no sign of the pilot. We proceeded to a group of hooches in a treeline about 300 yards away. We entered the ville and there in one of the hooches sat the pilot, a Captain, an old guy, probably 35 years old. He was sitting there visiting with a Vietnamese family, completely unconcerned with the situation.
I approached him and said, "Sir, are you O.K.?"
He looked up and calmly replied, "Oh yea, I'm O.K."
I was amazed, he was just sitting there with only a .38 caliber pistol in his shoulder holster. We immediately set up a perimeter around the hooch and I said, "You know sir...this is a kinda Sh##ty neighborhood!"
He smiled and said, "Oh, I saw you guys coming and more help is on the way."
We visited for a little while and more help did arrive. Helocopters were all over the place. His plane was lifted out by Helicopter and he was flown out in a Huey. We went back to our unit without further incident.
