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Medevac Mission The earth fell away below as the helicopter gained altitude, rotor blades churning and popping in the hot, humid air. Behind lay the lowlands, the savanna and the villages of the populated coastal plain. Ahead lay the mountains and triple canopy rain forest. The green below looked like some child's playground. Ahead lay Fire Base O'Reilly, and nine klicks south was Fire Base Ripcord. It always thrilled him to be on a mission into the mountains. The deep green vastness was enchanting, drawing him in like a sorcerer's spell. He imagined what it must be like beneath the leafy treetops. "Pure hell," he thought to himself, "and beastly hot into the bargain." He had no illusions. He had been a medic in a line company for too long. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he had extended his tour to serve with Charlie Medic out of Camp Evans. He told himself it was because he cared for his fellow soldiers and wanted to do good. Deep inside he worried that the real reason might be that he truly liked combat and the excitement that attended it. This day they had been called on to pluck a severely wounded man out of the rugged jungle near Fire Base Ripcord, a 1,000 meter high peak that dominated the Coc Muen massif. Ripcord had been a hot spot for over a week now. This morning, just an hour or two ago, one of the rifle companies working around the base had run into heavy enemy contact. One man had been killed and three wounded, one badly enough to warrant evacuation. "We'll get you out, pardner," he thought to himself, "that's what we do, get you out." The medevac chopper pilot was in contact with the company commander on the ground. Slowly they orbited the jungle, looking for the telltale smoke that would mark the company's position. "I've got goofy grape," the pilot finally radioed. "That's affirm," the company RTO replied. There was no landing zone, no place to set down to easily take the wounded man aboard. They would have to use a jungle penetrator--a metal cone with extending legs that served as seats to evacuate one or two GIs from the jungle. The medevac chopper came to a hover 300 feet above the company location. "That's pretty thick stuff down there," he thought, as he guided the penetrator and its tethering cable down into the jungle. But he knew what he was doing. He knew from experience what those on the other end had gone through. "Hang on," he whispered silently, "we'll get'cha out." The penetrator lowered, it slid through the thick tree branches and foliage and came to rest on the ground below. He couldn't see clearly, but knew what was going on. The wounded man was placed on the seat of the penetrator, then strapped to it, then the company RTO radioed to haul the wounded soldier up. The winch began to wine. Cable was taken up. The penetrator and its load of wounded human cargo left the jungle floor. "We got'cha," he said to himself, "we're gonna get ya up here and back to the aid station." The cable tightened, strained, wound upward toward the medevac. Time passed in great slow motion chunks. Without warning, enemy fire erupted from the surrounding hilltops. Small arms fire peppered the hovering medevac, slicing through its thin metal skin. The penetrator cable kept winding upward. "C'mon baby, we got you now," his mind urged, "C'mon, c'mon, just a few more feet. Then we're outta here." The pilot was talking on the intercom now, "Doc, you got him yet? We're going to have to get out of here ricky tic." He was focused on the man in the penetrator below, willing the winch to wind faster. "He's almost here, capt'n," he said into the mike, "Just another 20 feet." The enemy fire increased. "I am going to pull up now!" the pilot hollered, "we can get him in on the fly." The chopper surged upward. An enemy rocket propelled grenade flashed skyward, struck the helicopter's engine, burst with a thundering explosion. Doc was thrown to the floor of the chopper, losing sight of his wounded patient at the end of the steel tether. Instantly, the medevac began to sag toward the ground, and started to roll over. "We're going down," the pilot yelled. In split seconds ... Doc scrambled back to the winch and cable. The wounded soldier was just a few feet away ... the man's eyes looked at him, pleading, "Don't let me die!" "Not today, old son," Doc thought, "not today." And he punched the cable release and let the wounded man fall to the ground as the chopper keeled over in its death roll. The wounded soldier survived the fall and was later medevaced. The medevac chopper and all its crew perished on impact. This is what heroes are made of. Trav Copyright © 2001 |
The Medic I am writing this with tears of joy and pain running down my face at the same...my heart is pounding.. it feels like my chest will explode..............I never new who it was the terrible night that night the rockets rained down...like sheets of rain from hell..there was no place.. to hide... no place run.....no hole deep enough to hide the fear..shaking my whole body...as I lay there in my own waste..trying to dig a hole in the ground with my bear hands...screaming for help.......bleeding and scared...from the death..coming down from the sky.........someone came out of the darkess held me reassured me and treated my wounds..he braved the hell that was tormenting me.... without question...without regard for his life..he poured the very esseince of life through me...he held me ..brought me back to reality that I was alive....he never once asked for anything in return....he was the medic....I will never know his name ..but he is in my heart always.....I have only one thing to say God bless you and protect for your are a true Hero of the War.... The Combat Medic RVN68Copyright © 2001 |
OL' DOC AND THE POKER GAME Your deal, Lord, My last hand was a bust. An' the one before that. I done sat around this table all night, an' not one card could I play. C'mon, Lord. Deal me somethin'. Anythin'. Gimme a chance to break even. You at least owe me that, Lord. Are You listenin'? I got stuck with really bad hands, Lord, while the North Vietnamese have taken practically ever' pot on the table. I been good, Lord, mostly. Went to Basic an' AIT, like You said to do. Even went to Chapel, once or twice. I've tried, Lord. Got sent to Nam, an' didn't gripe. Got sent to the airborne, an' then out here in the mountains next to the A Shau Valley, an' all the time I tried to do what's right. Ya see, Lord, fer two weeks now we've been in constant contact with the enemy. Steady, gut-wrenching contact. An' this mornin' we took a bad lickin'. We was outnumbered, Lord, a lot to a little. An' they hit us with ever'lovin' thing they had--mortars, rockets, satchel charges, grenades, an' a lot of machine gun an' small arms fire. An', so help me Lord, they come at us in a massed attack. We fought back like devils, Lord ('scuse the word), an' gave a good account of ourselves. You'd'a been proud--that is, if anyone can be proud of men killin' and woundin' each other. But that's not my point, Lord. We're all just tryin' to do our jobs--them as well as us. Thing is, Lord, I got this small problem that, mebbe, only You can help fix. Y'see, Lord, I'm a medic by trainin'. Ol' Doc they call me. An' Ol' Doc fixes their hurts, an' gives 'em malaria pills, an' cleans jungle rot, an' picks out shell fragments, an' puts on field dressin's, an' ties tourniquets, an' gets 'em on medevacs, an' listens to 'em gripe 'bout ever'thin' there is to gripe about. That's me--Ol' Doc. An' so, Lord ... about this here problem. We come outta' this thing a bit worse than we went in. Got 14 dead an' 56 wounded outta' 76 grunts altogether. Fifty-six wounded men, Lord! But that's not the problem, Lord, I believe most of 'em are gonna' make it, 'cept for mebbe one guy. He's my problem, Lord. Got him set up in the corner of two tree roots, You know, the big ironwoods they got over here in Nam. Half his face is gone, an' I've got that bandaged. His right arm is burned, bad, and that's wrapped up. He took mebbe four AK rounds in the gut--guys say he charged a machine gun position--but I've stopped most of the bleeding, an' got my last IV pumpin' into him. But he's gut-shot, Lord. Right through to the back, an' I think he's gonna' die. I don't even know his name. But you cain't never tell, Lord. Some men were meant to die before we figure it's time, an' others not. But as many as I've seen go, Lord, I reckon this one's goin' rather than stayin'. An' that's the thing, Lord. I don't want him to go. There's somethin' about him, somethin' that needs to live. An' I need Your help. So, if You could just deal me one more hand, Lord. One more hand. An' if You ever had a mind to cheat at cards, or anythin' else, this'd be the time to do it. I need some aces, Lord, an' I'm prayin' You'll oblige me, an' him in particular. Well, You got the picture, Lord. Whatever You can do, we'd appreciate. Amen. That next day, choppers lifted 76 men out of the rocky jungle near the A Shau Valley. Fourteen in body bags, only six unwounded, and the others were alive, as if by a miracle--or a winning hand. Trav Copyright © 2001 |
NOT A NORMAL PLACE TO BE Dirt, dust, windswept mountain top. Hueys come and go, Chinooks drop heavy loads Of ammo, wire, blivets of water, fuel oil for the generators. We labor under the sun and wind, Stringing barbed wire and concertina And digging holes in the ground. Holes for our protection. Something nags at us, Something inhuman floats above our labors And tugs at our souls. This is not a normal place to be. Denny Heinz digs, and digs, Lifting dirt from a place he will call home For the time we are here. Shovel-full after shovel-full he digs. He does not know, can not know That where he digs has been dug before. Metal strkes metal, but he feels it not, And lifts another shovel-full of earth. The grenade explodes. Lifted to face level, It blasts Denny Heinz with the force of demons. How could he know it had been there Since the last occupants buried it? Doc is there immediately, So is Foret, the sergeant, I am close behind. Heinz is shattered, dying. Gasping, Doc gives CPR, A medevac is called ... anxious moments. The clatter of rotors slap the air, Heinz will be saved. I remember this as clearly as if it were yesterday. The medevac hovered over our position. We loaded Heinz on the chopper, fixed to a stretcher. The transfer from one medic to another took place. The medevac huey lifted off, and Doc began to cry, "Give him CPR, give him breath!" But it didn't happen. The chopper medic was too new, a cherry, and was shocked by the sight of his first casualty. Doc was inconsolable, and for good reason. In a few minutes we knew. Heinz had died in route to the aid station in the rear. There's a Wall now, in D.C. A place we go to remember heroes like Denny, A place we go to remember all those who died, Serving their country in a dirty little war. The Wall, too, is not a normal place to be. Trav Copyright © 2001 |
IF YOU HAVE A VIETNAM COMBAT MEDIC STORY AND WOULD LIKE TO SUBMIT IT FOR POSTING,SEND TO: |
