Ron Alexander - Taking Fire: The True Story of a Decorated Chopper Pilot

THE TRUE STORY OF A DECORATED CHOPPER PILOT

RON ALEXANDER
AND
CHARLES W. SASSER

St. Martins Paperbacks

TAKING FIRE

Copyright 2001 Ron Alexander and Charles W. Sasser.

Cover photograph Photri

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2001019159

ISBN: 0-312-98017-5

Printed in the United States of America

St. Martins Press hardcover edition / July 2001
St. Martins Paperbacks edition / April 2002

St. Martins Paperbacks are published by St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

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This book is dedicated to my wife, Sandy, who lived through much of this with me, and to my daughters, April and Angela.

R ON A LEXANDER

And to Commander Roy Boehm, U.S. Navy SEALs (retired), and to Sergeant Major Galen Kittleson, U.S. Army Special Forces (retired), heroes and friends.

C HARLES W. S ASSER

This is a personal narrative of the helicopter war in Vietnam. Actual names are used throughout this book except in those instances where names could not be recalled or where public identification would serve no useful purpose. Dialogue and scenes have by necessity been re-created in various instances. Where those occur, we have tried to match personalities with the situation and action while maintaining factual content. The recounting of some events may not correspond precisely with the memories of all individuals. Much time has passed since the events in this book occurred. Time has a tendency to erode memory in some areas and selectively enhance it in others. Where errors in recollection occur, the authors accept full responsibility and ask to be forgiven.

The authors apologize to anyone who has been omitted, neglected, or slighted in the preparation of this book. While some interpretational mistakes are bound to have occurred, we are certain that the content of this book is true to the spirit and the reality of the pilots and aircrews who served in the Vietnam War with the Air Cavalry. To that end, we are confident that we have neglected no one.

Captain Ron Alexander was one of the most highly decorated helicopter pilots of the Vietnam War. Among his awards are two Distinguished Flying Crosses; Bronze Star with V device for valor and one oak leaf cluster; Army Commendation Medal with V device and two oak leaf clusters; and twenty-six Air Medals, each with a V for valor.

Firefights, I was always surprised to discover, were silent if you flew a helicopter. What you had instead were vibrations and deafening noise. You only heard the bullets when they struck the birda tick! soundand you never heard them if they hit you inside the bird. I tried not to think about all that. The night snapped and cracked with rifle and machine gun fire. Green tracers streaked silently past as I tapped the Hueys skids on the black forests leafy roof. Clouds of leaves and small branches blown about by rotor downwash rattled against the ships belly.

Radios were going ape shit. Three separate channels and they were all going ape shit.

You got to get us outa here, Mini-Man! Fuckin gooks are all over us!

Nothing like getting shot at to make you sound like someone was yanking up on your shorts. You got shot at, you got excited. Those were the game rules.

I triggered the radio switch on the cyclic stick between my legs. Trying to sound calm, to get through to our five guys down there in the trees. It required cooperation and concentrationand luckfrom everybody if we hoped to jerk their asses out of there before the bad guys overran them.

Four-One? I snapped into my helmet mike. Awright, listen up. I gotta find out exactly where you are down there, understand? Im down on top of the trees. Gimme a long count and Ill home in on you. Roger that?

Roger, Mini-Man. Youre gonna have to hurry, man!

How far away are they, Four-One?

I smell fish on their breath. I smell their armpits

Okay, start the long count...

Immediately: One...two...three... four...

Chief Warrant Stockton, my copilot in the right seat, kept an eye on the RDF gauge. When the two bars met, it meant the radio transmission was directly below. He looked stiff and tense in the faint red glow from the instrument panel. He looked like a giant insect, with his helmet and face bubble reflecting back the instruments like burning eyes. His hands rested lightly on his controls, in case one of us got it and the other had to take over.

Seven... eight... nine

A helicopter was not like a truck. It was never designed for close-in maneuvers, but we did whatever we had to do to get our guys out. They would have done the same for us.

I looked out over the black ledge of the instrument panel or peered intently down through the chin bubble at my feet where foliage swirled dimly violent in the glow of my position lights. I floated the Huey slowly forward, concentrating. Feet on pedals, left hand squeezing the collective and throttle, right on the cyclic. Steady... steady... One fuckup and the chopper became a jungle weed eater.