Flying to work in Southeast Asia
My wife, child and I served two interesting years during the overseas posting to Clark Air Base, The Philippines. We experienced up close and personal the ambiance of that tropical island nation, first living off base among the Philippine people in the Diamond sub-division of Angles City. Later moving into on-base quarters where we occupied one of the homes, because of the size and construction, nicknamed The Barns, which made up part of the NCO family housing options. The barns were of tropical design, airy and spacious homes.
Our assignment to Clark came late in the trajectory of the Viet Nam War, January nineteen seventy-one, until January 1973. The US involvement in that horrific mistake was being rapidly unwound and our ground forces had already been drawn down by then. I did only four temporary duty trips into Viet Nam during those two years and made a couple of other less exciting trips; to Bangkok, Thailand to rebuild the Don Mueang International Airport air traffic control center and to Hong Kong. We also made several military aid visits to locations within the Philippines.
First assigned to the 605th Tactical Control Squadron of the 5th Tactical Control Group and later during the ongoing reduction and consolidation of forces in Southeast Asia to the 1st Mobile Communications Group, AKA 1st MOB. The primary mission of both the 605th and 1st MOB was depot level installation, repair, replacement, relocating or recovery of the U.S. Air Forces’ Southeast Asia radar and radio sites. We flew three of my trips in-country via C-130 Hercules. Normally, for a mission we would receive several days advanced notification. Allowing the team time to assemble the parts and equipment to support and implement the mission aim. With everything collected it was normal that the day before deployment we would load the planes with our mobile radar and portable radio sets, equipment support vans, M-35 trucks and palletized equipment. The morning of departure we Air Force electronic technicians and the other support teams’ members would board the waiting planes as our wives and children bid us teary goodbyes near-by from the tarmac. We could not say where we were heading but the families were well aware of our country of destination, just not the exact location in country..
Once on the plane we would settle in, seated shoulder-to-shoulder, on the web seats slung from the fuselage side. Shoe-horned in, our knees almost touched the wheels of our trucks and equipment vans lashed down in the middle of the fuselage. Cooped up in the dim cargo hold we droned about 3 hours across the South China Sea heading to work. We could not see out, just mushrooms riding in the dim interior.
Several of our Air Force radar sites in South Viet Nam were located as far north as possible to allow for the control of combat air traffic far into North Viet Nam, Cambodia and other places our planes were said not to be flying. If there were no Air Force Air Base or Army Air Field at or nearby our final destination we landed on the nearest improvised dirt strip, carved out of the countryside when making a service visit to the sites. The radar sites were situated on or adjacent to a landing zone or fire base with either U.S. Army or Marine units stationed there and acting as guards.
The most northern site we serviced, Detachment 3 of the 620 Tactical Control Squadron, call sign Pamper, north of Quàng Tri City, was just south of the Demilitarized Zone. Guarded by the Army of the Republic of Viet Nam by the time we were dropped off there in June of 1971. Under the protection of the ARVIN did not contribute to the most comfortable feeling but, we were there only to decommission the MPS-11 radar set, its ancillary equipment and communication sets and move it all south, to a more secure location at Camp Evans. High pucker factor time during the few days it took us to uninstall the technical equipment and get it mobilized to move south.
We took our convoy east to Highway 1A and turned right, passing moonscape areas of repeatedly bombed fields that surrounded site Pamper, now being abandoned by the U.S., leaving only the sullen ARVIN troops to fiend for themselves. First passing through Quang Tri City then many dusty villages, full of gaunt little people and their kids throwing rocks and sticks as we passed. Crossing rivers on badly broken jury-rigged bridges that now make me cringe to recall. That route, soon after our trek south, would become known World wide as the infamous Highway of Horrors. Camp Evans, our destination and Pamper’s new home, was under the command of what remained of the US Army’s 101st Airborne Division. We were more comfortable and far less vulnerable feeling installing our radar and radio site in the midst of American Airborne soldiers.
That late into the war Viet Cong insurgents and North Vietnamese Army regulars were frequently equipped with the state-of-the-art Russian made, shoulder launched, SA-7 Grail, an accurate, surface-to-air, anti-aircraft missile. To lessen the chances and minimize the envelope of becoming a target of opportunity for any VC or NVA soldier with an SA-7 that might be lurking near landing zones the pilots of our C-130s would approach the landing strip using a maneuver that the Air Force called a combat assault approach, also referred to as the Khe Sanh or overhead approach. The combat assault approach, a precise, rapid, descent from altitude toward the landing strip, pulling out of the steep dive just as the aircraft crossed over the end of the runway and sticking the landing, applying full prop reverse thrust and maximum braking effort, coming to a stop as short and quickly as possible.
For the mushrooms in back just along for the ride those landings were exciting with a definite adrenaline rush. We were alerted, better yet, warned, by the aircraft crew chief to tighten our lap belts just seconds before it happened, “We are going in!” Feeling the aircraft dropping and then flaring out, hitting the landing strip with a jolting whomp and bang got your attention, white knuckle time even for the experienced airman. For the first-timers it could be a full-on physical and mental assault, hearing the sudden and intensifying roar as the pilots applied reverse pitch to help decelerate and feeling the plane lurch, shake, shudder, thunder and groan going from flying to a stop in a few seconds and a couple hundred yards.
With the plane still coming to its wrenching, wallowing, noisy stop the aircraft loadmaster, his assistant and the aircraft crew chief would be lowering the rear drive-off ramp and sliding up the side passenger doors in preparation of getting us offloaded with little delay.
Though the plane now safe on the landing strip away from any SA-7 threat the pilots were just as wary of becoming a ground casualty from mortar rounds or rocket fire from unfriendlies that might be in the area. The aircraft crews took every precaution to lessen their time as ground targets as well.
While still rolling after the loud, rough landing our individual personal equipment packs and jungle kits were tossed out the side passenger doors while the trucks and vans were unshackled and prepared to be driven off. At the moment the plane stopped our team drivers with trucks’ engines started would drive down the ramp and off to the side of the landing strip.
Within moments the plane would be taxiing away to get lined up for an immediate take off run. From the aircraft crew there were no waves, no good-byes, no hand shakes, no good luck…nothing. They had delivered the goods and were getting the hell out of Dodge. We, the left behind, would be gathering our packs and jungle kits from along the strip where scattered during the rapid off-loading and marshaling the rolling equipment to get off the bulls eye ourselves. By then the planes would already be diminishing dots in the sky heading back to Clark Air Base usually via Cam Ranh Bay or Danang for a refueling stop on the way.
We were in our element, dressed in our jungle fatigues and boots, flack vests, webbing gear, steel helmets and M-16s slung from our shoulders. At first glance looking more like the typical ground pounding grunt of that era than the skilled Air Force electronic technicians and engineers we were. On closer inspection however, our military expertise was easily apparent because, we had a jungle kit in one hand and our electronic tool kits in the other, we were ready for work, chasing down electronic gremlins in radar and radio sets but, willing and able to join in and help defend the site if the need arose. We wing-nut technicians always joked we would throw our PSM-6 multimeters and oscilloscopes at them and fight with our 7-level screwdrivers if they ever dared launch an attack while we were there.
Romeo Bravo
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