Firebase 6

Company A

227th Assault Helicopter Battalion

1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile)

Firebase 6

The following series of stories and articles details the action on and around firebase 6 during the spring of 1971. During this action, A/227 lost WO Roger Reid, KIA and two aircraft (UH-1H 69-15277 and UH-1H 68-16367). Survivers of the shoot downs also had to E&E for a period of time before being picked up.

From Craig Tonjes
CE '70-'71

The crew of 277 consisted of Roger Reid, AC; Gordon Bellen, right seater; Mike Patterson, CE; and Craig Tonjes, DG. I was flying door gunner that day at Butler's request because my ship (051) was in the hangar for it's PE, and being new to the area, I had yet to get out so I said I'd do it. The crew on the other ship (367) was Frank Salazar, AC; Jim Guidone, right seater; John Jarboe & Orlando Carreras in back (I don't remember who was CE).

Firebase 6
by Craig Tonjes
CE '70-'71

I'm sure you've heard the old adage "never volunteer".

My bird was 051 (Photo of the 051 crew in the Lai Khe Photo Album). In the move from Lai Khe to Camp Holloway, 051 went over 100 hours...so when we landed from the move, we parked in front of the hangars, red X'd with a PE due. They hadn't set up the hangars yet, so I got to twiddle my thumbs while everyone else was flying around learning the AO.

Our 1st day of missions was March 31,'71, and the platoon Sgt asked me if I would fly door gunner (when we moved, they gave early outs to short-timers, and most our gunners were short, leaving us short handed). And stupid me...I said sure! Our first day, we had birds assigned to do some lift duties moving ARVNS, but I was put on 277 which was assigned for Chuck-Chuck. (An interesting side note, during my tenure to that date, the ONLY birds in the company to take any hits of note had the number 7 on the tail! So here I am, climbing on 277!)

To make a long story short, we were sitting on the runway waiting for low cover to lift when we were ordered to lift immediately to Kontum to pick up some PooBahs. FB6 was getting hit pretty hard (since about 5:30AM, with 3 US advisors already dead). We headed to Dak To, made an initial sortee of donut holes over 6 and set down at Dak To. There they asked us to get some ammo up to them ASAP.

When we agreed to take the ammo up, we asked (more like insisted, but that's semantics) that it be slung. The FB had been continuously hit all morning and a few bunkers on the FB were already occupied by bad guys, so we wanted to be able to "punch & run" to minimize our exposure.

FB6 overlooks the pass that runs from the tri-border to Dak To, to Kontum, Pleiku, through the An Ke pass and on to Quin Nhon on the coast, which would be the NVA's primary route to cut the south in half.

The FB was being hit on 2/3 of it's perimeter, with the 1/3 left located on the far side from Dak To, so we had to fly through the pass and come back to the FB along the unhit corridor, so we would be empty as we passed over the bad guys. The first trip in was "uneventful". We punched the load, took a few minor hits, and headed back for Dak To for a second run. We were joined by a second bird for that run.

Problem is, we were plainly visible traversing the pass to reach the corridor, so the bad guys knew we were coming and prepped this time. Right at the instant Reid punched off the load, he caught a round through the windshield which effectively took off his face. The impact threw him back and he pulled full collective, and pulled the cyclic all the way back. He also likely punched one of the pedals all the way. In any event, it threw us into an uncontrolled spin.

Sitting on the right side, I was thrown out of whack. My natural reaction, accostomed to sitting in the left well, was to look over my right shoulder to see what happened. Doing so, all I saw was the firewall. We were spinning counterclockwise, so my seat had me looking at the sky, spinning away, and all I could think of from that point on was "Oh Shit...I'm gonna die!"

We struck about 20 or 30 feet below the wire, in a semi-cleared area with bare stumps, shrubs and dirt. Of course, the blades hit first and we dropped on the left side like a rock. Oddly, neither the engine nor transmission broke their mounts, so the fuel lines didn't spew fuel and cause an explosion, and the transmission did not fall and crush Mike, who was braced on the pole, and had a seat belt on.

We all three crawled out, not sure where the bad guys were, but knew we were on the wrong side of the wire. We "met" at the nose, and could see Reid through the roof bubble. He was motionless and had no face. I remember wondering what happened to his moustache!

We crawled up to the wire on the perimeter where Lt Brian Thacker stood on the other side. He indicated that about 50 yards around the wire, there was a gate, but having received no fire yet at that location, we opted to go over/under/through the wire where we were. I remember scooting on my back under/through strands and concertina thinking "damn, some of my basic training actually is paying off!"

We sat in the command bunker about a half hour when Thacker advised us one of our birds was in-route to get us off, and we had to get to the pad. As it started to land, needless to say, all shit broke loose. We had Cobras flying cover and hitting the perimeter, and when they touched down, we hit the floor flying. Big Sal (Lt Frank Salazar, AC of our "rescue" bird), pulled pitch and we started up, when THUD, we hit the pad and had to bail. We had mortars dropping around us, and I even watched a B40 go through the tail boom, in addition to substantial AK fire. I screwed up my ankle dodging bullets...but it was back to the command bunker, now for 7 of us.

FWIW, the FB was eventually overrun, and we were found about 10 miles (15k) away, just before dark, getting chased, when we were finally extracted. For his actions that day, Brian Thacker was awarded the CMH...I fully believe he is the reason we survived.

The moral...never volunteer! :-(((

'Chicken Men' Outrace NVA In Flight From Fire Base 6
By SGT. JOHN MUELLER
S&S Staff Correspondent

Reprinted from Pacific Starts & Stripes
Wednesday, April 14, 1971
Article provided by Steve Atkinson

PLEIKU, Vietnam
When the pilot was ordered to land his helicopter on the small landing zone he reportedly replied: "What, me?"
"What's the matter?" the man on the ground asked. "Are you chicken man?"
"Yeah, I'm chicken, man," the pilot replied.
With that little exchange several years ago, one story goes, the nickname of A Co., 227th Assault Helicopter Bn. , was born.
For the past 11 days the Chicken Man, along with a Vietnamese Air Force (VNAF) helicopter squadron here, have been supporting ARVN operations around Fire Base 6 in the central highlands.
The unit, which had been slated for stand down, was transferred to the 52nd Combat Aviation Bn. here from the 1st Air Cav. Div. just before Fire Base 6 was temporarily abandoned March 31. The first day of flying in the new area of operations, Chicken Man resupplied the firebase, losing two choppers and one man in the process.
Perhaps the hairiest times for the Chicken Man came that day when 1st Lt. Frank Salazar led six fellow helicopter crewmen off Fire Base 6 as it was being abandoned.
A Chicken Man helicopter had been shot up over the base and was spinning when someone called into the radio "Oh, my God, he's been shot," Salazar heard the call while at Dak To and said he was coming to the base to rescue the downed crewmen.
He guided his chopper up the mountainside and circled the firebase before starting in for the downed crewmen. "About 200 feet out we started taking rounds through the cockpit," he said. "A couple came between my legs. Some hit our console and our seats. My engine was OK so we kept going in.
"No one had told me the NVA were overrunning the place already," he said. "They were inside the perimeter and in some bunkers. I lost my engine and auto-rotated in. They had us pinned down because the bullets were hitting the chicken plate (steel protectors on the sides of the seats). We waited until the fire calmed down and then leaped out."
Salazar said he thought someone would come in to get them. It wasn't until eight hours later that he and the crews of both downed choppers were pulled from the darkened jungle floor.
The downed Chicken Men hid in bunkers on the firebase and withstood flamethrower attacks by North Vietnamese Army troops who were running about the base.
The order was given to evacuate the base and the seven crewmen, 70 ARVN: soldiers, an American lieutenant and two en- listed men started off the hill.
They ran for an hour before NVA troops trailing them ambushed the fleeing column. "You could hear AK47 fire over us. So everybody cooled it for about five seconds. Every time they attacked us we changed course. The time we stopped we could hear them behind us," Salazar said.
Another crewman, 1st Lt, Jim Guidone, said they tripped over field phone wires several times during their flight. "One time we stopped to rest and we heard a field phone ringing not more than 20 meters from us," he said. "That shook me up."
After two and a half hours of running down ravines and up hills, they heard helicopters overhead. Salazar said he called for help on the survival radio. He called Cobra gunship strikes 50 yards behind him. "We feel that the Cobras gave us the time we needed," he said.
After four hours of running through the jungle, helicopters reached them and pulled them out under cover of darkness.
Chicken Man was back, ready to fly again.

Pilot, Rotor Hit ... But Helo Makes It Home
By Michael Putzel

Reprinted from Pacific Starts & Stripes
Wednesday, April 14, 1971
Article provided by Steve Atkinson

FIRE BASE 6, Vietnam (AP)
The Huey helicopter spiraled down from 9,000 feet and touched down on the few square feet that were left of the landing pad on beleaguered Firebase 6.
Four men crouched in a trench as the chopper kicked up dust and the debris left by a week of fighting for the ragged hilltop.
The shooting started just as they began the long 20 steps to the chopper, and the crew chief waved frantically for them to hurry aboard.
The four scrambled on, and the helicopter lifted off, its two M60 machine guns burping back at the chatter of the enemy ARV assault rifles in the trees 50 yards away.
W.O. Jim Thomas, the command pilot, jerked straight in his seat. His hands ﬂew up from the controls and his helmet smacked against the armored seat back.
"I'm hit," he screamed.
Blood poured from his right leg just above the knee and seeped into the seat pad.
The Huey's left landing skid hit the top of a bunker and bounced the chopper off to the side.
W.O. Bruce English, the copilot, jerked the ship back into line and careened down the hill, picking up speed as the incessant chatter of the AK's followed him.
Finally, the Huey soared out over the treetops and began climbing to safety out of range of the enemy fire.
Spec. 4 Joe C. Meno, the door gunner, swung out of the right gun well into the passenger compartment and jumped forward to pull the safety latches behind Thomas' seat. The seat back swung down, and Meno dragged Thomas back into the hold and stretched him out on his back.
Spec. 5 Gary L. Potts, the crew chief, was out of the left gun well and checking the wound in Thomas' leg.
He borrowed a pocket knife from a passenger and cut away Thomas' pant's leg to expose the holes where the bullet had pierced his thigh as it went through the cockpit and out the other side about four inches from English's face.
Meno pulled a first aid kit off the wall and tossed it to a passenger who ripped it open and handed a bandage to Meno. The gunner and crew chief wrapped the bandage around the wound, pressing it in place to stop the bleeding.
Thomas winced and murmured into his flight helmet microphone.
"Get him a Darvon!" Menu shouted over the roar of the rotor blade."
English passed back a survival kit and someone tore it open and found the Darvon, a painkiller.
"Water!" Meno cried, a canteen was given him.
The gunner propped his pilot's head up, and Thomas swallowed the capsule.
The pilot closed his eyes and rested his head on a bloodstained "chicken plate," an armored vest, on the floor.
"Is he conscious?" someone asked.
"He's okay," Meno answered. "He just asked for the instrument readings."
The 40-minute flight to the medical dispensary at Pleiku seemingly took forever. Then two medics were pushing a litter onto the floor behind Thomas' head and pulled him into it.
English shut off the engine, and the crew checked for damage. There was the hole through the cockpit, another through the tail boom and one in the main rotor blade. The bullets had missed the critical main shaft and tail driveshaft by fractions of an inch.