The entire month had been one long boring day after the another. Pre-flight at 0600 hrs. In the air by 0630 and touching down at Dak To by 0700. The long boring hours of resupply made the days even longer. The monsoon season was coming and the firebases needed extra supplies to hold them over once the rains began and our flight hours would be limited.

I had learned the names of the bases and theirs locations as if they were the names of the streets in my hometown. FSB 29, FSB 6, Ben Het, Dak Peck and a dozen others. The supplies were always the same. On the first sortie of the morning we would haul in hot coffee along with C-rations and water. We would pick up guys headed for sick call and the mail for the return trip. Ammo, barbed wire and sand bags were the main cargo which was taken out during the morning. By the afternoon, most of the bases had received their daily supplies. We would there put LRRPs into the bush and extract the teams which we had put in a few days before. The reports were always the same. Negative contact. The NVA had melted back into the jungles across the border and were no where to be found.

The later afternoon sorties were always the same. We would bring hot chow into the bases and replacements. The last sortie this day was into FSB 29. While we sat on the pad, a grunt came running over to the ship. He handed me a couple of letters which hadn't made it into the red mail bag. I took the letters and placed them in my pants pocket. He smiled and gave a "Thumbs Up" as we lifted off as he headed back to his bunker near the landing pad.

That night, I placed his letters in the mail slot before I headed for my hootch. I was tired and glad that I didn't have guard duty that night. I hoped that there was still some water for a shower and that chow was something other then liver tonight. I had just gotten into bed when the CQ runner came into the hootch. Something was happening at Dak To and we were being put on alert. It was 2300 hrs and the night was as black as it could be. By the time we arrived in the Swamp to pre-flight our ships, the Crocs were already in the air headed towards Dak To. By 2330 we were also headed in that direction. The radios told the story as we flew into the darkness. FSB 29 was under attack by a very large enemy force. They had been hit by rockets and mortars and the enemy was probing their perimeter.

We were told to set down near the "Hot Spot" for a briefing and be loaded with supplies. While the pilots were briefed, we loaded ammo and medical supplies into our ship. Two medics also waited by my ship for the pilots to return. A Dust-Off idled in its revetment while we loaded the supplies. We were then told to shut down. The medics were pissed. They knew there was wounded that needed their help and now we were delayed for what ever reason. The NVA had over run part of the base. The fighting was now inside the wire. Gunships were returning to rearm and refuel as we sat there. Finally we were told to get into the air.

Circling to the north of the base, I watched as flare ships dropped their cargo over the base. Fast movers and gunships worked the area around the base. Tracers and mortars both going in and going out of the base could be seen. The radios told the desperate story which was unfolding in front of my eyes. The two companies needed ammo and medical supplies now. They had secured the western side of the bases and wanted a ship to come in there. The entire time we circled, the medics kept asking me "When are we going in?" I said I didn't know but I thought soon. Finally we were told to try to land. We headed in and I knew we would never make it. Suddenly in front of us, some brave fool was standing on top of a bunker with a flashlight guiding us into the base. The tracers continued to pierce the sky as we neared the ground. We no sooner touched now when one of the medics jumped off the ship and disappeared into the darkness. Myself and my gunner along with the other medic pushed the supplies out of the door. The next thing I knew we were garbing arms and legs and pulling wounded into the ship. We pulled five or six guys aboard and got out of there. The medic worked on one the guys as we headed back to Dak To. Touching down near the "Hot Spot" the wounded were pulled off the ship and taken to the aid station. A fuel truck filled our tank and again supplies were loaded. We made one more trip into the base. By this time, the fighting had died down and we were able to get into the base with little trouble.

The morning sun was a welcome sight as we sat along the runway at Dak To. The wounded had been evacuated and replacement were being taken into the base. I was sitting in my gun well, drinking the cup of hot coffee which someone had given to me when a voice said that he needed a ride into the base. I opened my eyes to see a LTC standing in front of me. My pilot almost fell out of the ship when he looked from his cat nap to see this man standing there. Quickly, we got ready for take off. One of the young LTs told me to put the seats in the ship. The LTC told the young LT we didn't have time for that "Bullshit" and just get into the ship. As we flew out to the base, the LTC asked me if we had gone into the base the night before. I said yes, twice. He then shook my hand and told me thank you. We landed at the landing pad. This was where the heavest fighting had taken place. I looked towards the bunker that the grunt from the day before had come from to give me his letters. The bunker was completely destroyed as was several others. Lined along the pad were ten body bags. I often wondered if that young soldier was in one of those bag.