Christmas 1968


I had been in vietnam for 51 days.  With about 5 hours sleep, I woke up and began to prepare for a busy day at the flight line.  I grabbed my shaving kit and towel and headed for the shit-and-shower shack, ...stopping briefly at the door of my hooch to rub the Christmas package from home;  1 more day and I could open it;  That might help make the day special;  Who knows, it might be my last Christmas.  I went and took care of my morning constitution, showered and shaved.  Someone had tacked a popular poster of an almost nude Raquel Welsh on the wall in front of the unpetitioned bench of toilet seats.  Our waste was collected below the seat holes in 55 gal drums cut in half, and were pulled out of their bins from outside the back of the latrine and burned daily with the help of our vehicles' & helicopters' fuel.  I wondered if any fellow Brothers would be on someone's shit list and have the honor on Christmas day of  being on the burning detail.  Back at my hooch I got dressed, primping my uniform a bit because I was still an F N G (fucking new guy), I still cared and didn't know better.  On the way out to go to work I again rubbed my hand across the Christmas package from home.

Walking to our mess-hall, that was made out of clapboard over 4'-centered 4x4's and roofed with corrugated tin, the air was new with the smell of bread and pies being baked for Christmas the next day.  The smell of pies and bread was mixed with the sweet pungent smells of burnt and leaking jet fuel and oils from our helicopter operations, and the signature odor of fires, mosquito coils and fishy gasses ...that were vietnam just about everywhere you went.

Our Mess Sergeant and Cooks were unsung heroes.  Breakfast was good and hearty at our homebase; ... occasionally not the case at our combat forward base near the Cambodian border, although our Mess Sergeant and Cooks did one hell of a good job with what they had the few times that what they had was a bit skosh.  At breakfast I began to mentally inventory last night's maintenance work on the helicopters and surmising what their status would be when I got to the flight line.  As soon as I had arrived in country I spent almost every night crawling over the Hueys to learn their every rivet, nut, bolt and washer.  I was commended and asked to be the platoon's maintenance liason officer;  and 2 weeks later was asked to "volunteer" to be assigned to the aircraft maintenance section as a line flying Maintenance Officer / test pilot ...to replace another M.O. whose tour in vietnam was ending soon.  I was still gung-ho, a FNG fresh out of a year of gung-ho flight school;  But the bigger truth was that I wanted to know the Huey like the back of my hand, as that could play a big part of keeping my young, ignorant, bullet-proof butt alive;  And I dearly loved that Huey and wanted to know her every nut-and-bolt and how she did the phoenominal things she did.  It was a very real love affair for most combat pilots (and thousands of Grunts whose butts she pulled out of the fire daily) that few other people would ever understand.

I had worked late the previous night (early morning) in the team effort of trying to the point of exhaustion to get as many Hueys airworthy as possible for the next day's projected quota from on-high.  Even now I was getting up with about 5 hours sleep after most of the flight crews had departed for their daily flights and the maintenance day shift was already at work.  I hoped the coffee in the giant mess-hall serving thermoses would not be too cold and rank since the last refill.  As was common, we had to often let some of the ships go fly that would not have been released for flight in civilian life ... but well within the safety parameters the army set for vietnam.  Those deeper "safety" margins would regularly try our duty and responsibility, and cause no small amount of conflict with higher command who's job was to provide helicopters for our Brothers on the front lines, ....a "battle" I would profoundly learn well before my tour was up.

Christmas Eve was evolving as a rather normal day, a bit more relaxed than normal in anticipation of opening our packages from home and the baking bread and pies that were sweetening the air, and the lighter combat missions slate common to Christmas.  Later in the day, after making my status inspection rounds in all the maintenance shops, and offering each Man a personal contact to vent any concerns and troubles, ...I even had time to pick a few tunes at my desk on an old guitar that had somehow wound up around the maintenance area along with a banjo ....with a few of us guys able to pick a few tunes.

My picking was halted as I heard a growing swell of distant shouting and voices that I had already learned meant something of immediate importance was occuring somewhere on the flight line.  So I put the guitar down, donned my cap and headed out to see what was occuring.  I was met by one of our maintenance-chief Captains rushing in the front door of our office shack, a bit short of breath, ... announcing that one of our ships had crashed near Dalat, about a 45 minute flight away.  He said all he knew was that the ship had burned and soldiers on the ground were searching for any survivors.  The captain mustered a Huey, and with no waste of time loaded it up with armament and crew, ...and headed for the crash scene to investigate the crash.  -------  It is amazing how quickly loud commotion and noise in war will give way to profound silence when the tasks and noise of hyper action are completed;  and just how distant a Huey could be heard and felt in such silence.  The air in vietnam was always being pounded by helicopters (and distant bombs and artillery most of the time) no matter where you were; and each of the countless helicopters in the skies of vietnam could be heard and felt several miles away.  Seldom was no helicopter heard; only the number and volume would change, which almost every combat soldier learned to guage for various reasons because most combat jobs revolved around helicopters and how far away they were.  Those distant Huey sounds were prominant in the silence of awaiting to hear more about our Brothers that just went down.  I was a FNG and it was my first exposure to this inevitable reality.

A "skeleton" crew of M.O.'s were left to run maintenance, ... and to deal with the silence ... in rounding up the records and whatever details we could around the maintenace shacks about the helicopter that crashed;  it would be needed by the investigators.  Burned? .......It would be a long and uncomfortable day.

As a few of our ships began to end short days and return home, some had already heard amongst themselves on their radios about the crash, and brought home the first word .... no survivors.  One of the crews relayed that official message to us that they got from our investigators at the crash site.

I knew 2 of the crewmen rather well, that crashed that day.  The Aircraft Commander Ozzy had already flown his "last" flight in vietnam before going Home;  But volunteered for this one extra flight to bring some Soldiers in from the field for Christmas.  Ozzy had delivered me and the rest of our crew with a squad of Infantry "Grunts" out of very heavy gunfire only several days earlier ... with piloting skills bordering on impossible, and beyond my comprehension as a FNG.  As soon as we were safely out of the immediate fire-fight, it was discovered that several Grunts had gotten separated and pinned down in the hail of gunfire and didn't make it into one of our ships.    Ozzy queried the crew on the intercom, "Guys ... we gotta go back in and get them"; which we all replied yes without hesitiation.  Ozzy informed the rest of the ships as he made an aerobatic turn back into the hot landing zone to find and pick up the several guys that had been left behind.  Our other slicks in the mission took on gun-ship roles in the mission's absence of gunships, ...and circled the LZ at low level laying down door-gun fire at the bad guys, ...while Ozzy found the good guys pinned down and sat the Huey down right next to them ... between them and the nearest bad-guys' gunfire so our door guns could provide fire-power while the Grunts clambered in;  THUMP THUMP THUMP, the last Grunt in pounded on the floor signaling us through the noise of the engine, transmission, rotor blades, gunfire and screaming ...that they were all onboard; ... GO GO GO I heard their screams bleeding into the Crew Chief's microphone as he said "we're up" (ready in the back to takeoff) ....and damned if Ozzy hadn't already yanked us into the air at the sound of the first THUMP, and again left me in awe with his impeccable and instantaneous planning, timing and aerobatic skill getting us out of there.  Infantrymen in the back are not strapped-in and have very little to hold onto on that slippery aluminum floor, ...so especially in aerobatic maneuvers the pilot has to keep all controls perfectly coordinated so that the G-force gravity remains perpendicular to the floor ...lest someone not strapped-in slides out.  Good pilots feel this in the seat of their pants;  And Ozzy was among the very best.  When one pilot is flying, the other pilot (non-flying-pilot ... NFP) monitors the instruments and has his hands lightly on the controls in case the flying pilot becomes incapacitated (or when a FNG is flying) , ....and the NFP applies slight resistance on the collective stick (power control) when max limits of certain instruments' have been met, so the flying pilot can feel that slight resistance as a cue along with the NFP simply announcing on the intercom the instrument(s) that have reached their limit such as "N1" / "torque" / "RPM".  I had announced N1 and torque to Ozzie ....and I watched in amazement as the RPM held steady and the torque needle dipped into the red danger arc for exactly the amount of time it was allowed to be there before watching it ease back down to it's normal limit under Ozzy's expert touch.  It was the first time I heard the Huey's banshee moan that was it's way of announcing all of the engine power had been dumped onto the limits of the transmission and held there.  FNG learns;  especially the thrill of amazement and remaining "calm" under a heavy dose of adrenaline's endorphine high.

In my short time in vietnam I had become rather close to Kenny, one of the Door Gunners that lost his Life that Christmas day.  I had recently helped his best friend Joe / "Slim", the crew chief for the ship, touch up the ship's name "Born Free" painted in psycedelic art on her nose.  Being an artist I was using that skill around the company area to integrate into the company.  (To make the opportunity to get to know the Sidekick Gunship crews, ...I had touched up a pair of our rocket pod cans that had been previously painted like Coors cans, and I painted another pair like Budweiser cans).  Slim and Kenny were already one of the most concientious and best ship crews even though they had not been there very long;  working together every night until Born Free was meticulously cleaned and put to bed safe.  I had sat with them just the night before drawing a picture of their ship for them, during a break while waiting for their ship to come out of maintenance inspections & testing for Slim's write-ups that day for an oil leak and slow trend of declining max power readings (both of which were found to be within allowable limits).  Slim was quiet concerned about his ship that night and about our methods of entering same in the records for priority attention;  Premonition is not uncommon in war, and is paid attention to;  My job (and that of 8 other maintenance officers and as many NCO's) was to make sure our ships got thoroughly checked and ensure the Crews of same when they were concerned.  -------  I spent allot of time getting to know the Men in the crews that worked under us in maintenance;  And doing so encroached upon 2 "rules" we had been taught:  Don't make close friends and Officers don't fraternize with the Enlisted Men.  Our Commanding Officer understood the value of careful "fraternization", and was liked for his understanding command style.  Neither I and a few others understood as well as the C.O. did; 'nuff said.  FNG learns.

When we first learned of the crash I thought that Slim was onboard as the regular Crew Chief;  But we soon learned from the records that another Crew Chief was crewing "Born Free" that day.  Since I knew Kenny and Slim quite well and worked with them almost every day;  I went to the commanding officer and asked permission to be able to find and inform Slim of his best friend's death.  In flight school we were taught that officers the closest to men effected by a death was good protocol to inform them;  which now made uncomfortable sense.  Not being the most sought after duty, and certainly with some compassion, my request was approved.

Checking around the barracks looking for Slim, the few guys there said they thought he had gone to the Cam Ranh beach.  But I learned from the Orderly Room sign-in/out roster that he had gone to the dentist.  In either case I knew he  might be in the Enlisted Men's Club by now, ... and if he wasn't, he would most likely be eventually.  He wasn't there.  So I sat down to wait with 2 double Wild Turkey & Cokes.  Several of our Men came to the table to sit and chat, but I wanted time by myself to think.  This first duty for me of this kind was not going to be as "easy" as we passed such things off as in flight school, caring not to think about such things too much in flight school.  FNG gets some more exposure to the rapid schedule of lessons in vietnam.

Before I finished staring into, stirring and sipping the first drink, the Crew Chief, Slim, arrived and said he heard I was looking for him.  I looked into his eyes for a clue whether he knew about the crash; Obviously whoever sent him either didn't know (slight chance) or had also passed the duty on to me.  I ordered Slim 2 double wild turkey cokes and me another.  As usual we clicked glasses and toasted a heavy pull.  The whiskey had entered my blood with a new meaning it still has to this day (and why I am usually careful with it).  Looking up from inside my drink, I shot the rest of it down and again looked into the Chief's eyes;  My words slowly came out with some strained difficulty but surprisingly direct and "clinical":  "I'm really sorry Slim, but Born Free crashed today ..........and there were no survivors."  Without going into details here, Slim had his normal moments of denial, extreme emotions, and then began to blame me, maintenance, safety, the war, God, himself,.... and he brushed the drinks off into the floor with his arm and got up and left.  I don't think he ever talked to me again in any manner of friendship (until just recently after 35 years, and we are now very close). ----- Yet another lesson for the FNG.

That Christmas day was not the special day we anticipated, for any of our Brothers, ...not even with the pies and grand spread military mess-halls always manage to lay out on Thanksgiving and Christmas, even in war.  I did not open my Christmas package from home until over a week later;  Some of our other Brothers didn't either.

After an extensive 2 month crash investigation it was determined that the ship showed no signs of malfunction and had been developing full rated power when it crashed, ...hitting power lines and sliding down them for some distance before flipping inverted, crashing and burning.  Thanks to the vigilance of another maintenance officer, ....evidence of gunfire upon the ship was found in the crash site wreckage.  The crash investigations reported that all occupants were Killed In Action due to hostile enemy fire.  Slim continued to intimate that he blamed maintenance safety margins, himself, and certainly the filthy war of no apparant purpose.

On this Christmas day, I ask you to take a moment to remember and honor this young crew of very brave mean who left their homes to do what they thought was their duty, ... along with 60,000 other American boys / Men and girls / Women, ... who gave their all, in most part to allow us to be able to enjoy this Christmas in whatever manners we might.



IN THE HIGHEST OF VERY SPECIAL HONOR TO:

CW2 JIM "OZZY" OSBUN, 21 years old.  The Aircraft Commander.
WO1 ROGER ROSS, 22 years old.  The Pilot In Command.
SP4 , LEE BROOKS, 23 years old.  Acting Crew Chief / Door Gunner.
SP4 , KENNY DEVORE, 18 years old.  Door Gunner.

-------  May they rest in eternal Peace with the highest of Honor  -----------



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Scenes from the 92nd Assault Helicopter Company
Stallions pass by the Maintenance area, departing our Dong Ba Thin homebase for a day's mission.
Our jet-fuel powered hot shower and
lavatory shelf, hose & cup at our Bao Loc forward base out near Cambodia.
Our lovely tents estate and sandbag bunkers at Bao Loc.
A Gunship, at Bao Loc; ....and one of our digested beer waste pits in the foreground.
Gunship #741 lumbers into the air at our Bao Loc mud heliport, loaded to the gills with lead.
The Ultimate Sacrifice
U.S. Army Disposition Report
( As in " disposed of " ):

Lee Brooks

Name: SP4 Lee Murray Brooks
Status: Killed In Action from an incident on 12/24/68 while performing the
duty of Crew Chief.
Age at death: 23.0
Date of Birth: 01/03/46
Home City: Shreveport, LA
Service: regular component of the U.S. Army.
Unit: 92 AHC
Major organization: other
Service: U.S. Army.
The Wall location: 36W-071
Short Summary: Downed by enemy ground fire near Lien Khang airfield.
Aircraft: UH-1H tail number 67-17460
Service number: 15979165
Country: South Vietnam
MOS: 67A1F = Aircraft Maintenance Apprentice
Major attributing cause: aircraft connected not at sea
Compliment cause: fire or burns
Vehicle involved: helicopter
Position in vehicle: crew chief
Started Tour: 12/06/67
"Official" listing: helicopter air casualty - other aircrew
Length of service: 01
Location: Tuyen Duc Province II Corps.
Reason: aircraft lost or crashed
Casualty type: Hostile - killed
single male U.S. citizen
Race: Negro
Relgion: Baptist - other groups
The following information is secondary, but may help in explaining this
incident.
Category of casualty as defined by the Army: battle dead Category of
personnel: active duty Army Military class: enlisted personnel
This record was last updated on 07/27/96

----------------------------------------

Kenny Devore

Name: SP4 Kenneth Roy Devore
Status: Killed In Action from an incident on 12/24/68 while performing the
duty of Crew member unspecified.
Age at death: 18.4
Date of Birth: 08/01/50
Home City: Fullerton, CA
Service: regular component of the U.S. Army.
Unit: 92 AHC
Major organization: other
Service: U.S. Army.
The Wall location: 36W-072
Short Summary: Downed by enemy ground fire near Lien Khang airfield.
Aircraft: UH-1H tail number 67-17460
Service number: 18861003
Country: South Vietnam
MOS: 67A1F = Aircraft Maintenance Apprentice
Major attributing cause: aircraft connected not at sea
Compliment cause: fire or burns
Vehicle involved: helicopter
Position in vehicle: passenger
Started Tour: 09/10/68
"Official" listing: helicopter air casualty - other aircrew
Location: Tuyen Duc Province II Corps.
Reason: aircraft lost or crashed
Casualty type: Hostile - killed
single male U.S. citizen
Race: Caucasian
Relgion: Protestant - no denominational preference
The following information is secondary, but may help in explaining this
incident.
Category of casualty as defined by the Army: battle dead Category of
personnel: active duty Army Military class: enlisted personnel
This record was last updated on 07/27/96

----------------------------------------

Jim "Ozzy" Ozbun

Name: CW2 James D. Ozbun
Status: Killed In Action from an incident on 12/24/68 while performing the
duty of Aircraft Commander.
Age at death: 21.2
Date of Birth: 10/25/47
Home City: Fairfield, CA
Service: AV branch of the reserve component of the U.S. Army.
Unit: 92 AHC
Major organization: other
Flight class: 67-21/67-19
Service: AV branch of the U.S. Army.
The Wall location: 36W-073
Short Summary: Downed by enemy ground fire near Lien Khang airfield.
Aircraft: UH-1H tail number 67-17460
Service number: W3158901
Country: South Vietnam
MOS: 062B = Helicopter Pilot, Utility and Light Cargo Single Rotor
Primary cause: Hostile Fire
Major attributing cause: aircraft connected not at sea
Compliment cause: fire or burns
Vehicle involved: helicopter
Position in vehicle: aircraft commander
Started Tour: 01/16/68
"Official" listing: helicopter air casualty - other aircrew
Length of service: 02
Location: Tuyen Duc Province II Corps.
Reason: aircraft lost or crashed
Casualty type: Hostile - killed
single male U.S. citizen
Race: Caucasian
Relgion: Baptist - other groups
The following information is secondary, but may help in explaining this
incident.
Category of casualty as defined by the Army: battle dead Category of
personnel: active duty Army Military class: warrant officer
This record was last updated on 07/27/96

---------------------------------------
-
Roger Ross

Name: WO1 Roger Alan Ross
Status: Killed In Action from an incident on 12/24/68 while performing the
duty of Pilot.
Age at death: 22.6
Date of Birth: 05/06/46
Home City: Moorestown, NJ
Service: AV branch of the reserve component of the U.S. Army.
Unit: 92 AHC
Major organization: other
Flight class: 68-517/68-31
Service: AV branch of the U.S. Army.
The Wall location: 36W-074
Short Summary: Downed by enemy ground fire near Lien Khang airfield.
Aircraft: UH-1H tail number 67-17460
Service number: W3162316
Country: South Vietnam
MOS: 062B = Helicopter Pilot, Utility and Light Cargo Single Rotor
Primary cause: Hostile Fire
Major attributing cause: aircraft connected not at sea
Compliment cause: fire or burns
Vehicle involved: helicopter
Position in vehicle: pilot
Started Tour: 12/13/68
"Official" listing: helicopter air casualty - pilot
Length of service: 01
Location: Tuyen Duc Province II Corps.
Reason: aircraft lost or crashed
Casualty type: Hostile - killed
single male U.S. citizen
Race: Caucasian
Relgion: Protestant - no denominational preference
The following information is secondary, but may help in explaining this
incident.
Category of casualty as defined by the Army: battle dead Category of
personnel: active duty Army Military class: warrant officer
This record was last updated on 07/27/96


------------------------------------------------ Lest we ever forget ------------------------------------------------
by Denny Turner
CW2; Line Flying Maint. Officer
92 Assault Helicopter Co. Vietnam
10 / 68 - 10 / 69
A Stallion slick holds one skid on the ground and extracts
some Infantry "Grunts" from a hilltop too rough to land on.
^
v