THE VHPA AVIATOR Magazine ran a story in their September/October 2015 issue written by Roger C. Baker. Roger was the commanding officer of C/229th Assault Helicopter Battalion during 1969-1970. YELLOW ONE is his story and it coincided with many of the events that are covered in my book FIXIN' TO DIE RAG. Mr. Baker was kind enough to allow YELLOW ONE to be reprinted on this website. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.
-Roy Mark
YELLOW ONE
-Roger C. Baker, Major, U.S. Army (Retired)
Before arriving at Tay Ninh base camp, Republic of South Vietnam in August, 1969, the term “Yellow One” had no particular significance and I had not a clue as to the unique and demanding assignment that lay in store. I had an advantage over my fellow rotary wing aviators arriving in Vietnam, in that I had lucked out and pulled a stateside assignment at Fr. Carson, Colorado right out of flight school. I gained 300 hours of flight time, a good share of which was mountain flying with Nam veterans. I made aircraft commander and then went through the UH-1 instructor pilot course at Fr. Rucker en route to Vietnam. So there I was, a seasoned aviator, fresh from the IP school, a definite plus for me, and I was about to be confronted with the most demanding challenge of my military career.
I had made captain just prior to arriving in-country, but from my experience at Fr. Carson flying with Warrants who had just completed their combat tour, I knew those captain bars wouldn’t mean much in the cockpit. I was assigned to Company C, 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, First Cavalry Division. This was a down and dirty slick company with the call sign “North Flag,” and a proud tradition of high standards, I was assigned as a section leader in the first flight platoon, but it was a couple of weeks before I flew my first real mission. I drew co-pilot in Yellow Two with the unit IP Jim “Lunchmeat” Lungwitz. Lunchmeat was none too happy about being assigned to the Cav on his second tour and he let everyone know he got the short end of the stick. That day I taxed all of his IP skills. We ended the day flying over ten hours of combat assaults, capping it off with a night mission to secure an LZ with a downed 1/9th loach in it and retrieving the bodies of the crew. Yellow two was a very busy aircraft and Lunchmeat had little time to tutor me on the finer skills of combat formation flying. He spent most of this time passing artillery clearances to Yellow One and I spent most of my time trying to keep Yellow Two behind Yellow One. We took fire several times, but I was so overwhelmed with the complexity of the operation I just didn’t have time to be terrified. Ignorance is bliss! When that day ended and I rolled the throttle off, I was convinced those guys were all nuts and I was in way over my head.
After flying another two or three weeks, I found I was being scheduled on a regular basis as co-pilot on White One (the back-up flight lead aircraft). It was during this period I had the opportunity to meet and fly with each of the unit flight leaders or Yellow Ones. Each of them took great pains to keep me informed as to what the flight leader was doing and why. Shortly after, I was told I had been chosen to commence training as a Yellow One. Being chosen as a North Flag Yellow One was a unique distinction. The selection process was based on the input of the unit aircraft commanders. I was both honored and overwhelmed. I can remember discussing it with the Jr. Yellow One, 1LT Thompson. He told me not to worry; he felt the same way and I wouldn’t be turned loose until I was so well trained I couldn’t screw up. I soon found out it was the only time he lied to me. The three Yellow Ones were CPT Hewitt “Buck” Lovelace, 1LT Larry Matchett and 1LT Don Robert “Thumpy” Thompson. I spent the next few months in the right seat of the Yellow One Huey trying to soak up all the info these three guys could throw at me. Each had his own distinct style of running the lift, but they were all very effective at accomplishing the mission. Buck Lovelace was one of the senior Yellow Ones. He was an impressive young man, handsome and well groomed. As a flight leader, he always seemed a little lax on his flight planning, but I soon found out this was a misconception and most of his planning was done in his head. He had somewhat of a photographic memory and an outstanding knowledge of the a/o. I believe he could have run most missions without a map. He smoked Camels and was very cool under fire. Next was 1LT Larry Matrchett, a tall lanky cowboy from Montana. Larry was really a Warrant at heart and never real concerned about military protocol, but he was all business in the cockpit. He was the most methodical of the flight leaders and probably the easiest to learn from. Larry had a system he never varied too far from, and it worked real well. Larry didn’t hesitate to show his concern if we were shot at. I related a little better to him than to Buck. He smoked Marlboros and an occasional Garcia de Vega cigar. Last was Thumpy Thompson, one of the most unforgettable characters I’ve ever met. From Arkadelphia, Arkansas, Thumpy was about 5ft 6in, with a gymnast’s build. He gave a mission briefing that would knock your socks off: “Flight this here’s Yellow One, we all gonna sashay up the blue a mite with a 6 plus 2.” No one ever needed to ask who the flight leader was. Thumpy was taught by Buck and Larry and seemed to exemplify the best of each of them. His planning was thorough, he was always able to adapt to tactical changes and he seemed to get better when things got worse. One of my most memorable flights with Thumpy was something less than an aviation triumph. In the midst of a combat assault, Thumpy began shifting around in his seat and cursing a blue streak. Next thing I knew he took off his chicken plate and his shirt, and was busy as hell killing red ants that were biting his chest and stomach. He had spilled coffee on his chicken plate the day before; the sugar had attracted the ants who made a temporary nest. Thumpy and I both smoked Winstons. All three of these guys led by example, they were my mentors and I would still follow them anywhere.
After three months of intensive training, I became painfully aware of the fact while the lead sled dog always gets the best view, he doesn’t always like what he sees. At any rate, the flight leaders and aircraft commanders agreed my time had come, and they turned me loose to see if I could cut it as a Yellow One. I was assigned aircraft 648, Crew Chief Dave Holte and a kid named Painter as my door gunner. Dave was a laid-back, skinny, twenty year old blond from Kanas, who made a career out of keeping pilots out of trouble. The aircraft was named the “Cherry Buster,” as a lot of pilots had received their baptism under fire while flying it. Initially, Dave and I had a difference of opinion as to the aircraft name. I wanted to change it to “Easy Rider.” Dave would have none of it, and convinced me that changing the name would be bad luck. As an aircraft commander, I quickly learned to heed the advice of my crew. It was a great aircraft and a great crew. My assigned copilot for that first mission was WO1 Neil “Beeper” Blume, form Herman, Minnesota. Neil had picked up the nickname “Beeper” early in this tour as he had accidentally beeped down the engine rpm instead of beeping it up when told to do so by the aircraft commander. He went on to be one of the best pilots in the unit, but he never shook the name. With the help of Beeper and the rest of my crew, we managed to struggle through that first day without any major blunders. It was strange, as the senior aircraft commanders, could be brutally critical, but they all seemed to do everything they could to make things easier for me that first mission. Many of them congratulated me and reserved compliments were given. I think I had to buy a round at the club that night — I was just glad it was over with!
After about six months in-country, many of us began to realize nothing was really being accomplished tactically. As time passed, I became more conservative as a flight leader and less willing to expose my flight to unnecessary risk. As we expanded our operations closer to Cambodia, ground-to-air fire became more frequent and intense. The NHVBA began to deploy what we referred to as an anti-aircraft battalion. This was three 51 CAL machine guns, supported by three infantry companies. It was very effective. In December, 1969, we lost our first pilot since the A Shau Valley. His name was CPT Jerry Swayze. I was leading the flight that day, and for the first time, I knew what it was like not to bring everyone home. We had a missing man formation flyby over the base camp the next day. Sadly, in the months that followed several more of these flights were flown. Because of the increase in our casualty rate, I insisted on maximum gunship coverage on every mission and instituted the “JUDGE.” This was one of our nighthawk aircraft, reconfigured with two miniguns, a 50 CAL machinegun and twin M60 machine guns. It carried no troops and flew tail-end Charlie in the flight. Its function was to provide close in fire support from a high hover in the pickup and landing zones. It was also used as a recovery aircraft for the recovery of any downed aircraft crews. It came in handy on a few occasions. After the death of our company commander and my close friend Bill Lorimer in March, 1970, I was chosen to take his position. This was a special honor as I was a junior captain and the position called for a major. It gave me the opportunity to continue the policies Bill had established. Our Battalion Commander, LTC Robert Patton was a great guy and other than his staff being a pain in the ass, he let me do things my way.
As I reflect back, I have to place being a Yellow One as the highest achievement of my thirty year military career. To be selected by your peers, buys like CWO Tom “Ogre” Agnew, CWO Wayne Miller, CWO Mark Panageotes, CWO Reggie Baldwin and the rest of the Warrants and Commissioned officers was a special source of pride for me. I must admit to being somewhat seduced by the power that was commensurate with being a Yellow One. Leading a gaggle of eight or ten slicks and four snakes on a combat assault was a unique and exhilarating experience. When I think back to all those radio calls of “Flight, H-1, we got two willie petes, door gunners open up” and simultaneously all those M-60s let loose and the Smiling Tigers and Blue Max gunships rolled hot, I’m reminded of what a spectacular and deadly game we played. The anticipation of the first lift into the LZ, and the apprehension never became routine. The adrenalin rush when those radio calls went out, “Flight is taking fire” or “LZ is hot,” or that call that grabbed the attention of every aircraft flying in-country, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday” will never be forgotten by any of us. Before I close my story, I feel compelled to pay tribute to those guys who never got a lot of credit for their contributions, but were as much a part of the fight as any pilot, the enlisted crewmembers: my crew Chiefs, Holte and later Larry Heale; gunners Painter and Jeremiah and all the rest: Townsend, Guest, Cristelli, Griffith, Zennie, White and Haskins to name a few. They were a special breed, they were hard core.
Yellow One was never one person, it was teamwork and cohesiveness and camaraderie at its finest. My goal as a Yellow One was to always bring everyone home at the end of the day. Unfortunately, I didn’t always achieve it, but I did my best. Here’s to all those Yellow Ones that set the standards for the rest of us and here’s to the ones that followed. And most of all, here’s to all those flight crews that followed me; without their support, it would have been impossible.
I had made captain just prior to arriving in-country, but from my experience at Fr. Carson flying with Warrants who had just completed their combat tour, I knew those captain bars wouldn’t mean much in the cockpit. I was assigned to Company C, 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, First Cavalry Division. This was a down and dirty slick company with the call sign “North Flag,” and a proud tradition of high standards, I was assigned as a section leader in the first flight platoon, but it was a couple of weeks before I flew my first real mission. I drew co-pilot in Yellow Two with the unit IP Jim “Lunchmeat” Lungwitz. Lunchmeat was none too happy about being assigned to the Cav on his second tour and he let everyone know he got the short end of the stick. That day I taxed all of his IP skills. We ended the day flying over ten hours of combat assaults, capping it off with a night mission to secure an LZ with a downed 1/9th loach in it and retrieving the bodies of the crew. Yellow two was a very busy aircraft and Lunchmeat had little time to tutor me on the finer skills of combat formation flying. He spent most of this time passing artillery clearances to Yellow One and I spent most of my time trying to keep Yellow Two behind Yellow One. We took fire several times, but I was so overwhelmed with the complexity of the operation I just didn’t have time to be terrified. Ignorance is bliss! When that day ended and I rolled the throttle off, I was convinced those guys were all nuts and I was in way over my head.
After flying another two or three weeks, I found I was being scheduled on a regular basis as co-pilot on White One (the back-up flight lead aircraft). It was during this period I had the opportunity to meet and fly with each of the unit flight leaders or Yellow Ones. Each of them took great pains to keep me informed as to what the flight leader was doing and why. Shortly after, I was told I had been chosen to commence training as a Yellow One. Being chosen as a North Flag Yellow One was a unique distinction. The selection process was based on the input of the unit aircraft commanders. I was both honored and overwhelmed. I can remember discussing it with the Jr. Yellow One, 1LT Thompson. He told me not to worry; he felt the same way and I wouldn’t be turned loose until I was so well trained I couldn’t screw up. I soon found out it was the only time he lied to me. The three Yellow Ones were CPT Hewitt “Buck” Lovelace, 1LT Larry Matchett and 1LT Don Robert “Thumpy” Thompson. I spent the next few months in the right seat of the Yellow One Huey trying to soak up all the info these three guys could throw at me. Each had his own distinct style of running the lift, but they were all very effective at accomplishing the mission. Buck Lovelace was one of the senior Yellow Ones. He was an impressive young man, handsome and well groomed. As a flight leader, he always seemed a little lax on his flight planning, but I soon found out this was a misconception and most of his planning was done in his head. He had somewhat of a photographic memory and an outstanding knowledge of the a/o. I believe he could have run most missions without a map. He smoked Camels and was very cool under fire. Next was 1LT Larry Matrchett, a tall lanky cowboy from Montana. Larry was really a Warrant at heart and never real concerned about military protocol, but he was all business in the cockpit. He was the most methodical of the flight leaders and probably the easiest to learn from. Larry had a system he never varied too far from, and it worked real well. Larry didn’t hesitate to show his concern if we were shot at. I related a little better to him than to Buck. He smoked Marlboros and an occasional Garcia de Vega cigar. Last was Thumpy Thompson, one of the most unforgettable characters I’ve ever met. From Arkadelphia, Arkansas, Thumpy was about 5ft 6in, with a gymnast’s build. He gave a mission briefing that would knock your socks off: “Flight this here’s Yellow One, we all gonna sashay up the blue a mite with a 6 plus 2.” No one ever needed to ask who the flight leader was. Thumpy was taught by Buck and Larry and seemed to exemplify the best of each of them. His planning was thorough, he was always able to adapt to tactical changes and he seemed to get better when things got worse. One of my most memorable flights with Thumpy was something less than an aviation triumph. In the midst of a combat assault, Thumpy began shifting around in his seat and cursing a blue streak. Next thing I knew he took off his chicken plate and his shirt, and was busy as hell killing red ants that were biting his chest and stomach. He had spilled coffee on his chicken plate the day before; the sugar had attracted the ants who made a temporary nest. Thumpy and I both smoked Winstons. All three of these guys led by example, they were my mentors and I would still follow them anywhere.
After three months of intensive training, I became painfully aware of the fact while the lead sled dog always gets the best view, he doesn’t always like what he sees. At any rate, the flight leaders and aircraft commanders agreed my time had come, and they turned me loose to see if I could cut it as a Yellow One. I was assigned aircraft 648, Crew Chief Dave Holte and a kid named Painter as my door gunner. Dave was a laid-back, skinny, twenty year old blond from Kanas, who made a career out of keeping pilots out of trouble. The aircraft was named the “Cherry Buster,” as a lot of pilots had received their baptism under fire while flying it. Initially, Dave and I had a difference of opinion as to the aircraft name. I wanted to change it to “Easy Rider.” Dave would have none of it, and convinced me that changing the name would be bad luck. As an aircraft commander, I quickly learned to heed the advice of my crew. It was a great aircraft and a great crew. My assigned copilot for that first mission was WO1 Neil “Beeper” Blume, form Herman, Minnesota. Neil had picked up the nickname “Beeper” early in this tour as he had accidentally beeped down the engine rpm instead of beeping it up when told to do so by the aircraft commander. He went on to be one of the best pilots in the unit, but he never shook the name. With the help of Beeper and the rest of my crew, we managed to struggle through that first day without any major blunders. It was strange, as the senior aircraft commanders, could be brutally critical, but they all seemed to do everything they could to make things easier for me that first mission. Many of them congratulated me and reserved compliments were given. I think I had to buy a round at the club that night — I was just glad it was over with!
After about six months in-country, many of us began to realize nothing was really being accomplished tactically. As time passed, I became more conservative as a flight leader and less willing to expose my flight to unnecessary risk. As we expanded our operations closer to Cambodia, ground-to-air fire became more frequent and intense. The NHVBA began to deploy what we referred to as an anti-aircraft battalion. This was three 51 CAL machine guns, supported by three infantry companies. It was very effective. In December, 1969, we lost our first pilot since the A Shau Valley. His name was CPT Jerry Swayze. I was leading the flight that day, and for the first time, I knew what it was like not to bring everyone home. We had a missing man formation flyby over the base camp the next day. Sadly, in the months that followed several more of these flights were flown. Because of the increase in our casualty rate, I insisted on maximum gunship coverage on every mission and instituted the “JUDGE.” This was one of our nighthawk aircraft, reconfigured with two miniguns, a 50 CAL machinegun and twin M60 machine guns. It carried no troops and flew tail-end Charlie in the flight. Its function was to provide close in fire support from a high hover in the pickup and landing zones. It was also used as a recovery aircraft for the recovery of any downed aircraft crews. It came in handy on a few occasions. After the death of our company commander and my close friend Bill Lorimer in March, 1970, I was chosen to take his position. This was a special honor as I was a junior captain and the position called for a major. It gave me the opportunity to continue the policies Bill had established. Our Battalion Commander, LTC Robert Patton was a great guy and other than his staff being a pain in the ass, he let me do things my way.
As I reflect back, I have to place being a Yellow One as the highest achievement of my thirty year military career. To be selected by your peers, buys like CWO Tom “Ogre” Agnew, CWO Wayne Miller, CWO Mark Panageotes, CWO Reggie Baldwin and the rest of the Warrants and Commissioned officers was a special source of pride for me. I must admit to being somewhat seduced by the power that was commensurate with being a Yellow One. Leading a gaggle of eight or ten slicks and four snakes on a combat assault was a unique and exhilarating experience. When I think back to all those radio calls of “Flight, H-1, we got two willie petes, door gunners open up” and simultaneously all those M-60s let loose and the Smiling Tigers and Blue Max gunships rolled hot, I’m reminded of what a spectacular and deadly game we played. The anticipation of the first lift into the LZ, and the apprehension never became routine. The adrenalin rush when those radio calls went out, “Flight is taking fire” or “LZ is hot,” or that call that grabbed the attention of every aircraft flying in-country, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday” will never be forgotten by any of us. Before I close my story, I feel compelled to pay tribute to those guys who never got a lot of credit for their contributions, but were as much a part of the fight as any pilot, the enlisted crewmembers: my crew Chiefs, Holte and later Larry Heale; gunners Painter and Jeremiah and all the rest: Townsend, Guest, Cristelli, Griffith, Zennie, White and Haskins to name a few. They were a special breed, they were hard core.
Yellow One was never one person, it was teamwork and cohesiveness and camaraderie at its finest. My goal as a Yellow One was to always bring everyone home at the end of the day. Unfortunately, I didn’t always achieve it, but I did my best. Here’s to all those Yellow Ones that set the standards for the rest of us and here’s to the ones that followed. And most of all, here’s to all those flight crews that followed me; without their support, it would have been impossible.
