One Long Day in a Very Long War
submitted by: Alva Leon Matheson
This particular action took place during the big invasion of Laos (Lam Son 719). At the time I was a Prairie Fire FAC for SOG, a super secret organization that sent small SF reconnaissance teams “behind the lines” – in this case the infamous and deadly A Shau Valley. Our job was to insert these teams, protect them with supporting air strikes, and then rescue them when they invariably got in trouble.
On this specific day, I was training a very close friend of mine, Larry “Woodstock” Hull. Most of the diary entry is about what happened that day, but some of it involves my thoughts regarding the mission and other things that were going on in the barracks that night. Since it’s a snapshot of a single day, I’ve added a note at the end to shed light on the “rest of the story.”
Editor’s Note: The following diary entry is reproduced exactly as received.
18 Feb 71.
5 sorties: 8.1 hrs, Aircraft #831.
A very long day in the A Shau. The two teams Woodstock and I inserted on both sides of the valley have run head on into large concentrations of NVA. Where are all these guys coming from? Is this spill over from Lam Son? As usual, Lam Son has siphoned off all TAC air and most helicopter assets. This situation is really frustrating. In the past we’ve had the whole world respond to a SOG emergency; now our teams are clearly back burner.
After a lousy morning with no air, Woodstock finally relieved me. Things went down hill from there. Jim Butler and RT (Recon Team) Python were under a lot of pressure but are holding up well. Then, RT Intruder on the west wall requested an extraction, although I could never figure out if anyone had declared a Tac-E or Prairie Fire Emergency. The One-Zero (Team Leader) said he couldn’t move and wanted out – whatever that meant. Maybe part of the confusion was that Doc Watson is a brand new team leader. But the One- One (Allen “Little Jesus” Lloyd), and Sammy Hernandez are both old heads. At about that point I came back on scene just to see how Larry was doing, but I wish to God I’d flown straight home.
Larry and Bill Fernandez ended up having to pull (out) the indig team members on strings since there was no LZ close by. There was some moderate ground fire in the area, the heaviest pocket coming from up the slope about 500 meters due west of the team’s position. The smoke/haze was much worse than the morning; down sun there was almost no visibility.
While the lead Slick moved into position to extract the remaining SF troops using a ladder, Larry asked me to beat up the high ground to the west with HE rockets. As Snoopy 01 went into a hover, they called fire from three directions; Larry says the only stuff he saw came from the exact spot I’d just worked over – I didn’t see any. Pulling off the LZ, the Slick appeared to lurch from side to side (hit by ground fire?), then began moving forward down the slope dragging a ladder and our team through the trees. The chopper seemed to jerk to a complete stop, then nosed over almost to the vertical and hit the treetops. It was awful. At first contact, the rotor blades sent branches and wood chips flying in all directions. Then there was a big fireball. It went out within a few seconds, then there was nothing but pockets of smoke drifting up from a pile of junk scattered over roughly a 100 square meter area and right on the Laotian/VN border. YC 481786 is my best guess on the coordinates – all the ground fire coming up sort of broke my concentration, so I’m not 100% sure about them. But I am sure we’ll put in a Bright Light Team tomorrow to recover any bodies, but this is a heavily forested area and will be a bitch to get to.
At that point Larry sent the rest of the package back to PB (Hue/Phu Bai) and then we trolled the treetops looking for survivors. I got disgusted and tired of being shot at (counted five holes in my bird) and went home when the cockpit floor started filling up with hydraulic fluid and smoke, but Larry remained on station until dark, shooting off all his remaining WP and HE rockets at the sporadic fire still coming from the ridge. For all his troubles he caught a few AK-47 rounds in the passenger door, but only minor damage. It’s a miracle that Sergeant Fernandez in the right seat wasn’t hit.
When Woodstock returned to DaNang a couple of hours later, he looked beat and dejected; there were big puffy knots under both his eyes. He had asked RT Python to maintain a radio watch and I called and asked King and Moonbeam to do the same. But neither of us thought it would do much good; as Larry said, “No way anybody survived that crash.” I promised him I’d be on station at first light to continue the search.
This one has really gotten to me. More US killed on this one mission than on any one we’ve ever run (Doc, Little Jesus, Sammy on the team, and George Berg, Gerry Woods, Gary Johnson, and Walt Demsey on Snoopy 01). I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin. If I got those fine men killed, then I deserve to burn in hell for all eternity.
Skip Franklin is out in the Muff Divers’ Lounge playing his guitar and singing Tony Joe White songs (“Poke Salad Annie”) for a bunch of the guys; he’s really a good musician. He and Sherdeane Kinney came in the sleep room a few minutes ago. I guess I was kind of rude. Sher called me a “moody bastard” and walked out in a huff. Since Skip and Woodstock are good friends, he probably knows we had a bad day. At least he had the good sense to leave me alone. I need to apologize to Sher the next time I see her.
Note: Here’s “the rest of the story.” The day after this action occurred, I found one of the SF reconnaissance team members alive, and mounted the rescue that got him out. Later that afternoon, Larry “Woodstock” Hull, a man I loved like a brother, died a horrible death when one of the big anti- aircraft guns in Laos shot down his O-2.
In 1994, I had the honor to escort Larry’s widow and daughter (Laura was two years old when her father died) on their first visit to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC. They were understandably nervous, but these incredibly strong women held up with dignity and grace under what had to be a very tough emotional strain for them. In contrast, when I saw Larry’s name framed in my own reflection on that shiny black granite it was so eerie I choked up and started sobbing uncontrollably. Laura and her mom ended up comforting me.
Editor’s note: “The Covey rider’s body was recovered the day after the crash. But, “Woodstock’s” remains were not recovered and identified until 2006. He could not be recovered at the time because the engine was up against his chest. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery on November 13, that year, with many of his FAC “brothers” present.