Charles Johnson

A STORY OF A YEAR

After 32+ years, some of my memories are vague and if I forget someone or leave something out I apologize. I'm afraid I have the disease that many vets and older people have - C.R.S. - ask some of your older friends, they may know.
To tell this story I must start almost a year prior, I live in Asheville, N.C. and had graduated from the local Technical College. I received a call from a lady friend in early November 1966, she told me the Marine recruiter had just come thru' the local Selective Service Office. This was when the Marine corps was building up its forces in expectation of a very large buildup of forces in South East Asia so I knew there was a good chance I would end up a Marine.
I went to the Air Force recruiter and he talked me into joining the AF thru' the Delayed Enlistment Program. Since I had just completed 2 years of electronics Technology I tried to enlist in the maintenance field where I could get some experience in my field. The recruiter told me that his "quota" for that career field was full so I would have to enlist in the Administrative field. But I could transfer into electronics when I got to Basic Training, which was the first lie the government told me. I was unable to "transfer" so I took a chance and went into Ground Radio Operations, which sounded safe to me - little did I know. I finished Basic at Lackland AFB TX and have had no desire to return to Texas since, then the AF sent me to Keesler AFB at Biloxi MS for Radio Operations Training. About halfway thru' Radio School things started getting a little strange, this was the time period of the "Six Day War" in the Middle East. All of a sudden we get into aircraft flight following and tactical procedures as well as how to conduct search and rescue coordination from a ground radio station.
I finished Radio School and was then put thru' a short weapons training course on most of the NATO and some of the Soviet Bloc arms as well as all US weapons of that time. I, as well as about 20 others, recieved orders to the 21st Tactical Air Support Squadron, A.P.O. San Fransisco CA 96205. Our instructors gleefully (as in you are going so I don't have to) told us that was an assignment to Nha Trang Viet Nam. We were then sent to Survival School at the 3636th Combat Crew Training Squadron at Fairchild AFB WA. I must tell you it is VERY realistic training. We learned interesting things like unarmed combat, escape & evasion techniques, and resistance to interrogation, the Code of Conduct, jumping or ejection from an aircraft. As well as parachuting procedures and many other survival skills all in the mountainous terrain of eastern Washington State.
August 11, 1967 I stepped off a United 707 into a world of heat, strange smells and crushing humidity at Cam Rahn Bay AFB, now I'm a fellow from the mountains of NC so this was very different to me. I flew from Cam Rahn Bay to Nha Trang AFB on a C-47 that was older than I was according to the brass plate next to the door. When we arrived at Nha Trang we found an Air Base that looked like it was in Florida or Southern California. It had sand, palm trees, paved streets, sidewalks and whitewashed rocks bordering everything.
I thought to myself that if I had to be in Viet Nam then this would be a good place to be, (oh one of little knowledge) - wait! We were greeted by the First Sergeant's words of, "Somebody has made a serious mistake sending you people over here to be killed." Then is when we found out that our group was being sent piecemeal all over the Central Highlands to work with Army units. Steve Large was in the group and was sent to Cheo Reo.
I, along with Victor Romero (MIA 1967), and Ralph Dudley were sent to the 1st Cavalry (airmobile) Division at Camp Radcliffe, An Khe RVN.

*Camp Radcliffe, An Khe 1967*

We got there the last week of August 1967; I stayed at the Admin. section of the Air Liason Office because I had the highest typing scores. By this time it really chafed on me though because I was getting into the thought of "the quicker I fight the quicker I'll get home." I was assigned clerical duties as well as mail clerk and TOC (Tactical Operations Center) radio operator. I was also clerk for the Administrative Section of the Air Liason Office of the 21st TASS. Occasionally I got to ride in the back seat of an O-1 (single engine, high wing, Cessna style aircraft) as an observer, this was the way Vic Romero was lost. I got to do other duties like: fill sandbags, paint hooches, burn the "honey buckets" and help build other buildings around the AF compound. Then one day I found the path from our area down to the helicopter field, which was pretty close to us. I started spending a lot of my free time down there and became acquaintances and semi-friends, as much as AF & Army could, with some of the crew chiefs and pilots. Next thing I knew I was riding the choppers with an AN/PRC-25 and a ruck learning how to adjust artillery and call in air strikes from an Army point of view. Then in early November '67 I was sent to LZ Bong Son to replace a Radio Operator that had gone home.

*Bong Son Plain November 1967*

LZ Bong Son was on a high hill overlooking the Bong Son plain and was mainly an observation point for any type of movement along one of the major infiltration routes into the Central Highlands. It also provided a high ground for the 1st Cav prior to their move north to Chu Lai in late '68. LZ English was close by and was an important staging area for operations of the Cav during the last of '66 and all of '67. There were, I believe, 2 operations in the A Shau valley and one along the western edge of the Bong Son plain. These operations were very expensive in terms of human life for the Cav as it had very heavy losses in each of these three operations. Therefore it was necessary to maintain Bong Son for direction of any other operations that might occur in the area.
Just before I left for Bong Son Victor Romero and his pilot were reported MIA. We sent out numerous sorties to try and find them but with no luck, it was as if they had just ceased to exist. Vic was a great guy and there are no words to describe how we felt after they were lost. There has just never been a closure on that episode of my life and I think of it occasionally, wondering if I could have done more somehow. The "Moving Wall" has an extra meaning for me as it has a name I worked, joked and did other things with, Vic we miss you.
I helped build the AF bunking area during the day and worked the TOC at night maintaining radio contact with Division Headquarters. I also went to LZ English, which was very close, and rode choppers out of there doing things I had never dreamed of when I enlisted in the AF to keep from going to Nam. My memories of this time are vague but I have one clear memory of overnighting in an old French graveyard, moving out the next morning through' the fog and mist. I had the strongest feeling that we would not clear the edge of that graveyard alive, but we did and in fact had no contact on that insertion. This is still one of the most vivid of my memories of that time, I have others of Bao Loc but this was in the first of my tour so it stuck with me for that reason. Another memory I have is the moving from forward locations to base camps carrying radios and other equipment to be repaired at either Camp Radcliffe or 21st TASS at Nha trang. I hitched rides on AF C-123's, C-130's, C-7A's and Army helicopters. I got to cover most of the Camps & Bases of the Central Highlands like this. I remember one trip on a C-123 that had a spray attachment on it and being in a mist of whatever defoliant was being sprayed for most of the flight. I met a lot of people this way and enjoyed the flying except for the occasional "combat landing" while the steel mosquitos made holes in the skin of the aircraft. This made me glad I wasn't a crewmember because when I was on the ground I could find a hole, get in it and shoot back. I can remember meeting a lot of people flying around like this but cannot remember their names or faces. But, to all of you that helped me get from one place to another and between planes with all the equipment I had to carry, THANKS!
I spent Christmas and our New Years at Camp Radcliffe and then was transferred to MACV; II Corps headquarters at Pleiku where I was assigned to the DASC (Direct Air Support Center.) My job there was continued flight following for the Advisory Teams scattered all over the Central Highlands as well as requests for air support for "T.I.C."(Troops In Contact.) II DASC had the direct control and allocation of any aerial forces sent into II Corps and could call up any more forces available to provide support to any of the Army, Marine or ARVN forces in II Corps. We worked with Air Force, Navy, VNAF, Australian, and occasional Marine aircraft from all over II Corps, carriers in the South China Sea and air bases in Thailand.
I arrived in Pleiku mid-January 1968 and had just gotten settled in when the rumors of a large Communist offensive started flying.

*Perimeter fence, MACV New Pleiku*

The MACV command structure placed the AF contingent out on the perimeter in groups of 2 or 3 with 25-30 yards between us. Since we had M-16's and their troops had M-14's (a slower shooting rifle) we were the mini-machine gun emplacements to reinforce them. We were rocketed and mortared 3 or 4 times in the next week or so and then the TET offensive of '68 started. The first night was very intense as we had sappers trying to come through' the wire to destroy the II DASC building that was right at our back. The next day during the "cleanup" the compound barber (who was a local) was found hanging in the wire with a rucksack full of explosives. I spent the next 2 or so months there and then was transferred to Advisory Team 38 with MACV at Bao Loc where I took over the duties of the senior radio operator. Phil Dunton who is the driving force behind this web page had been there also. He left before I got there but it is strange to meet over the Internet, someone who has walked the ground halfway around the world that you have.
Editorial Note: I also spent many months at II DASC where Charlie worked. Phil Dunton
At Bao Loc I was responsible for the flight following of the FAC's (Forward Air Controllers) and calling for any air strikes they needed. I also was the generator operator/repairman, and rode rear seat in the O-1's as well as other duties that will be named later. We, the AF team, also augmented the MACV personnel on guard duty and I have pulled many a long night walking the perimeter line between bunkers.

*Bao Loc Airfield August 1968*

The airfield our planes flew out of was nothing but red dust or red mud, I'm from the mountains of NC and we have red clay but this was a bit too much. The runway was PSP (pierced steel planking) as well as the ramps but everything else was red clay and when a plane or helicopter took off or landed it took a couple of minutes to be able to see again. Air America/Air Vietnam even had a thrice weekly run into there and transported RVN forces & civilians into or out of the area. Bao Loc was the province headquarters for both the military and political regimes so there were many people who came into the area. I do not have fact to the following so you will have to judge for yourself. Bao Loc was rumored to be one of the places where Viet Cong forces rested and replenished, there was very little hostile activity in the area though. The population varied widely on a month by month basis, depending on VC activity in other parts of the country as related to me by an AF Intel person whose name I cannot remember.

*Advisory Team 38 Headquarters August 1968*

My days ran along two different schedules: at 1200 (noon) I went on duty at the MACV/ARVN Combined Forces Headquarters there until 1800 (6 PM) at which time we returned to the MACV compound. We were not off duty then though for we had to pull command bunker if we were atacked during the hours of 1800-0600, we were also required to make an occasional radio check with II DASC at Pleiku. At 0600 we went back to Combined Headquarters and began the normal morning duty routine. The daily routine for the radio operator on Headquarters duty was maintaining radio contact with II DASC, discussing the days flight operations with the pilots that were flying that day to ensure we were on the same page. We went over the areas where the pilots would be flying and these were determined by any enemy activity reported overnight (first priority) whether it was a probe on a company or so of troops or one of the compounds. Second priority went to any information passed to us through our intelligence section or the ARVN's. Third priority went to reconning our operational area for signs of movement, etc. that would indicate the VC were in the area. Sometimes this consisted of firing a rocket ath the herds of water buffalo, if they were calm then they had been trained by the VC to carry loads under fire and they were then classified as hostile and this information passed to the local RVN forces who took appropriate action.

*Shade Tree Mechanic August 1968*

The radio operators were also responsible for the maintenance of the generators, which provided power exclusively for the radios we used. We had to insure they would start when needed, run as long as needed, that the fuel was clean, the oil was at the proper level and not contaminated, lubrication carried out as needed, and the area around them was kept clear. Another duty was to replace the sandbags that had "mysteriously" sprung leaks through the night and the revetments were kept in good repair. At 1200 the other group of radio operator, intelligence specialist and pilots arrived to take over the next 24 hours. But, we were not automatically off duty at that time, I often went down to the airstrip and helped the crew chiefs, who were understaffed, go over our airplanes or whatever else that needed to be done. Most days I got to go flying after those duties and got to fly rear seat to the pilot who had the afternoon duty; sometimes he would let me attempt to navigate the bird or practice taking over if he got hit. I have a few landings from the back seat under my belt and through every one I was scared to speechlessness. but he & I are still alive so I must have done things right. This was exciting, broke the monotony of being there and provided the pilot with an extra set of eyes to scan the ground looking for sign of enemy activity. After I got back from flying i ate chow then took a nap so I would be alert for guard duty on the perimeter that night. Another duty was to pull Compound command Post duty if we were hit and call in any air support or artillery that was available. Many times the air support was the AC-47 called "Spooky" and that plane could lay down some serious firepower for us. One time it was hitting a VC position just west of us and we sat there and watched "Spooky" rain rivers of fire down to the ground, the strems of fire were just constant orange beams that came from the plane and went to the ground.
During the time I was there I had the privilege of controlling some of the Free World's best fighters and pilots in action. There were F-100's, F-104's, F-105's, F-4's, A-1E's, A-6's, B-57's from the Australians and a couple of others I cannot remember the numbers from. The pilots of these planes cannot know how truly grateful we were to have them support us and from all of us on the ground to those of you in the air THANK YOU!!!
I have another memory of the MACV/ARVN Joint Forces Command Bunker, which was completed in July 1968. I was down in the radio room of the bunker setting up the radios we would use there when one of our FAC's came in and asked me if I smelled anything strange. After a minute or two I realized we could smell the "grass" the ARVN radio operators were smoking. I got a free "contact" high from being in that closed breezeless bunker with them.
I do not remember too much of my tour of duty in Nam nor do I remember many names to go with the many faces I saw over there, if I was enough of a memory to you please e-mail me at csj135@att.net.
I will share two more stories with you before I close; A story of a kid and a Montangard guard and a story of my greeting at SeaTac Airport. The first story takes place in mid-July '68 at Bao Loc compound and is of one of my rare days off. I had a little over a month to go before I DEROS'ed (Date Estimated Rotation Over Seas). This is a time every G.I. looks forward to with anticipation and trepidation for he will be returning to the "World". War changes everyone it touches and the way a person reacts to any given situation intensifies drastically so one of the biggest thoughts in my head was, "How will I feel?" Therefore my complete attention was not as "tuned in" as it should have been. I missed noticing the nervousness of the Montangard guard, the absence of the villagers on the road in front of the compound, the lack of people on the section of the street into town from the gate. My thoughts were on going home and I almost went home early, in a body bag. I did have my weapons with me, a rifle & pistol, as well as my helmet on as required whenever we went out of the compound. It finally came to me, as I was 5 or 6 yerds past the gate that there was a kid of 6 or 7 about 20 yards away from me. All of a sudden the 'Yard guard started yelling at the kid and at me trying to tell me something and I found out later, telling the kid to stop. I started to turn around but I heard the guard unsling his weapon, charge it and shoot. I immediately dropped to the ground still not knowing what was going on but bery scared now. Within an instant I heard a WHAM-WHAM and felt the shock wave push debris over me. this stunned me for a second or two and I was enveloped in a cloud of red clay dust and other red particles. Troops came out of the compound and grabbed me as I was rising and helped/hustled me back inside the wire. I looked back and the kid was gone, just gone, I stopped, pulled myself erect and saluted the gate guard who had just saved my life.
August 13 1968 Continental Airlines brought me back to Ft. Lewis WA where I was ready to kiss the ground. A group of us took the shuttle to Seattle Tacoma Airport to catch a ride to our homes and say goodbye to each other. We finally split up and went our separate ways toward the homes we were yearning for. As I walked down the concourse toward the Delta section a young (18 or so) girl who was very pretty came up to me. "Have you just returned from Vietnam?" she asked. I replied that I had just gotten in earlier that day, as I stood there in my uniform with decorations I had earned thus far in my career feeling proud. "Well I think YOU should have been the one who should have died, you damn baby killer!" she said and spat on my decorations. I was totally stunned, I did not know what to do, I looked around. A policeman was walking up right then and I turned to him and he said, "Move along, no loitering in the concourses." I asked if he had seen what had just happened and he told me to move on or he would arrest me for being a public nuisance. I took discretion as the best course of action and staged a strategic withdrawal from the arena of battle. It took almost 20 years before I relly began to tell anyone of my part of the Viet Nam War and I still have no respect for cops who abuse their power.
Charles S. Johnson
Asheville, N.C.
Copyright © 1999 All Rights Reserved

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