Nam Sense by Jr. Arthur Wiknik Page B

patrolled from the air. With ten GIs already on the ground, everything was going as planned until the third helicopter hovered over the site. Just as the men started down the ropes, hidden NVA soldiers opened fire on the aircraft in an effort to make it crash and block the LZ.
    The pilot was shot through both legs. The door-gunners answered back, spraying the jungle with long bursts of machine gun fire. As the co-pilot struggled to take control, a member of Echo Company dropped into an intense firefight on the ground. A second was even less fortunate. He was halfway down the rope when the helicopter suddenly sped skyward, yanking him several hundred feet into the air. The GI dangling fifty feet below the chopper hindered the co-pilot’s evasive action, which allowed the NVA to score several hits on the aircraft. When the helicopter began smoking and losing altitude the co-pilot turned back toward the firebase. As the chopper whined its way toward us, we scattered for cover, figuring it could crash anywhere on the tiny outpost. The co-pilot maintained a heading that allowed the dangling GI to hit the ground running and slide free from the rope. It almost worked, but the GI was so terrified when he touched down he forgot to let go. His momentum dragged him headlong over the top of a bunker, depositing him in the concertina wire. He was hospitalized for lacerations, bruises, and shock. The co-pilot’s attempt to land on the chopper pad was no more successful. The helicopter landed in a heap on an embankment and rolled over on its side. Miraculously, there was no fire and the crew escaped without additional injuries.
    Meanwhile, back at the LZ, the Cobra gunships fired into the jungle and broke up the NVA attack. Three GIs were wounded, but none seriously. There were no enemy dead or wounded left behind. The attacking force was estimated at less than ten men.
    Several hours later, the LZ cutting was complete and the operation resumed. We were nervous about going in, but our company landed without incident. After the last of the helicopters flew away the area became eerily quiet.
    “The A Shau is a very bad place,” observed Tu Huong, a Kit Carson scout we had brought along. “Beaucoup NVA. This is very, very bad.” His words made the hair on my neck stand up. Since he was a former VC soldier, Huong was worried about what would happen to him if he was captured by the NVA. His gloomy speculation didn’t inspire much confidence in us, either.
    Since the NVA knew where we were, it was too dangerous to remain near the LZ because they could easily launch an attack or mortar us. Our only option was to head into the jungle. When our lead element moved out, they came upon a well-used narrow trail along the top of the ridge. Adjacent to the footpath was a set of NVA field telephone communication wires that were severed during the LZ artillery prep. We tapped into the lines, hoping to intercept a message our scout could interpret, but they weren’t being used. Rather than wait for a transmission that might never come, we decided to follow the wires.
    We quietly advanced about a quarter mile until a full burst of AK-47 rounds sent us scrambling for cover. The bullets struck and badly wounded our point man, PFC Kristoff. He had walked into a well-camouflaged bunker complex where one or two NVA soldiers had been waiting to ambush us. We returned fire, but no more enemy shots were heard and no soldiers were seen. The NVA gave us a taste of their deadly game of hit and run. Kristoff was in bad shape with wounds in both legs and in his lower abdomen. Luckily, the LZ was close enough for us to carry him back for quick evacuation.
    A search of the complex revealed twenty bunkers and a command post, enough room to house fifty or more men. We figured the site was used as a rest area, as it offered no military advantages and there were no fighting positions. For many of us, this was the first enemy bunker complex we had seen, and we were