A Feeling of Inadequacy

submitted by: Alva Leon Matheson


It was nearly 40 years ago when I was so frustrated by our inability to rescue a downed warrior and bring him home. I have thought about this on many occasions and always with sadness. There is no shooting in this story, but it remains indelibly etched in my consciousness, as much as those missions where I was shot at but never hit. It was in Steel Tiger East in Laos and near what was, I believe, called the Dogs Head. It’s the best I can remember as to where it happened. One of our fighter aircraft went down and we could hear the beeper intermittently. The weather was solid overcast. The clouds were nearly hanging on the ground and we were mostly flying in IFR conditions with no way to reach him. It must have been two or three days or maybe more and the weather never cleared. I remember going to the Steel Tiger area daily and not being able to search for our downed warrior or deliver any ordnance in my area of operations. On one day the intermittent beeper could be heard no more. I never did hear a voice. Was he captured? Was he alive? Or perhaps the battery had just worn out. There was now only silence. The missions brought about a feeling of total frustration and loneliness and debriefing intelligence only increased the helplessness when telling them that there was no sign of our downed brother.
On this particular day, the weather in the western part of Steel Tiger was beginning to clear, but the skies in the east were still forecast to be overcast. I went through the normal drill at Nakhon Phanom, getting briefed on the day’s mission, receiving the latest intelligence, picking up my personal gear and being trucked to the flight line to pre-flight my OV-10. I was going to the same area where our brother went down and a thought kept appearing in my mind. I was thinking, “The weather is forecast to be somewhat better today, particularly in the western part of Laos; maybe I can get under the weather and search.” The thought got stronger as I continued preparation for flight and as I took off and flew toward my designated area in Steel Tiger East. While enroute, I noted the expected break in the clouds before entering Steel Tiger East. I had my maps and felt I could navigate to the most likely area where he went down. I don’t know why, but I just had to see if I could find anything. I thought, “Just give it a try. If he’s alive, he doesn’t have much time left to be found.” We knew nothing about his circumstances and we weren’t sure of his exact location, but we knew the general area where he went down. As I proceeded east in Laos towards my area near the Mugia and Ben Karai Passes, I started a descent through the broken clouds in the western part of Steel Tiger. As I descended, the weather looked good and I could easily get below the clouds and continue east to search. “Maybe I can find the site, and maybe I can find him.” Optimistic to a fault probably, but I had to try it.
As I proceeded to the east the clouds became more defined and the cloud breaks became fewer. Gradually, what were broken clouds now became overcast. The ceiling continued to drop as I proceeded. I said to myself, “No sweat, I’m still flying visual and my map reading will ensure I can navigate towards the area of our downed warrior. If the weather gets too low, I’ll just make a 180 and get out of here.” I continued to the east, being careful to track my location using my maps. But the ceiling continued to drop. I could now see the karst mountains above the level of my OV-10 Bronco, but I was still VFR and thinking, “I’m okay and I’ve got plenty of room, I can press on.” As I continued I suddenly found myself in IFR conditions. I started to descend further, but “how low can I go?” And since I can’t map read anymore, I can’t really be sure where the karst is. I have to abort this idea that I can continue the search. How about that 180? I’m in the clouds and not really sure where those karst formations are.” I finally said to myself, “I’ve got to climb!” I pushed the throttles forward to maximum and pulled the aircraft into a climb while holding the heading that I had when I entered the clouds. I remember allowing the aircraft to slow down to what I thought was the best climb speed. It seemed an eternity as I climbed straight ahead to get above the karst and the clouds. I was puckering as I continued to climb thinking I could run into the karst at any time. I finally reached an altitude where I knew I was above the karst and I suddenly felt relieved. Eventually, I was on top of the weather and I started to think about what I had done. I so desperately wanted to search and find our brother that I took actions that were ill advised at the least. Luckily I was able to get out of the predicament that I had put myself in. I chastised myself greatly for what I had done. However, a strong force was there telling me “maybe I could have located him.” Obviously I didn’t find him, and I’m not sure that anyone did. I continue to remember that flight, not so much because I could have easily have run into the karst, but because I felt so inadequate to do anything for a brother that had gone down.
But, so many of my FAC brothers put it on the line and I’m sure some exceeded their ability to recover and gave their all, or circumstances existed that the “golden BB” got them. I merely was unable to accomplish what I so much wanted to do. I continue to salute those that gave their all, and for those that gave some. I’m proud of every brother that served in Southeast Asia, regardless of their job. Whether it was as an aircrew member or in Intelligence, Maintenance, Weather Forecasters, Logistics or any job, ALL gave some. I salute all those that served, willing to lay their life on the line for their brothers, and especially for those that gave their all.