Our Stories

On December 3rd, 1968. I was flying crew chief/door gunner with the 7th Squadron 1st Air Cavalry on a UH1-H troop-carrying helicopter called a Slick. Our mission was to pick up American soldiers who had been patrolling a thick tree line along a canal near the Cambodian border. It was early afternoon on a hot clear day. They had been out all day in the middle on nowhere frying in the blazing sun. The soldiers had moved eastward about 500 meters away from the canal into the tall elephant grass to be picked up. This was not supposed to be a “hot” landing zone. We approached with four helicopters in formation and my helicopter was the second in line. As we approached the green smoke grenade the soldiers had use to mark their location, they laid flat on the ground. Not what I’d expect for a cold LZ. The next moment our helicopters were fired upon from the tree line with a .51-caliber machine gun. All four helicopters took hits. The first round that struck my helicopter came through the left copilot’s windshield and exited the fuse panel located on the roof between the pilot and copilot’s seats. The second bullet struck the side of the helicopter just above my head and a few inches to the right at about a 45-degree angle. A hole about the size of a quarter appeared above the door. The bullet ripped a large gouge two inches wide and two feet long across the roof just above my head.

My son is a west point grad of 07 and an Army Ranger. He flew Apaches in Afghanistan and was the commander of the Apache Assault Helicopters at Ft. Carson, CO. He told me he wanted his kids and grandkids to know me for how I was, and not just as an old man. He asked me to write my Vietnam stories in a book and publish it. So, my fifth published book and first memoir, Fading Memories of an Old Soldier is now available on Amazon. It is a collections of missions I, or my units, were involved in when I was with the Blackhawks in 68-69, and with my Dustoff unit in the Central Highlands in 69-70. Some of you are mentioned in the book. If you remember any of the missions I write about, and was part of those missions, please let me know so I can amend the book to give you the credit you deserve. Fading Memories of an Old Soldier – Paperback https://www.amazon.com/Fading-Memories-Soldier-Elvis-Lynn/dp/B0C9SHBPW6/ Fading Memories of an Old Soldier: Vietnam 1968-1970 – Kindle edition https://www.amazon.com/Fading-Memories-Old-Soldier-1968-1970-ebook/dp/B0CBLF1XRL/

The 1968 Vietnam monsoon season had come to an end. From high in the air, the Plain of Reeds looked like an endless field of wheat swaying back and forth like gentle waves, half submerged in water. Hundreds of white cranes flew below our helicopter in no particular direction. High above large dark storm clouds from an earlier tropical rain slid eastward. The temperature was dropping as darkness approached. It would be a damp, dark, moonless night. A Green Beret sergeant sat in the open doorway of the UH-1H Huey helicopter with his feet resting outside on the skids. Behind him sat seven small Vietnamese soldiers. None looked to be over twenty years old. The sergeant had personally recruited and trained them. They were his men, and they would follow him to hell and back. That is exactly where we were taking them… deep in the Delta of South Vietnam near the Cambodian border. The Plain of Reeds had been designated a free-fire zone, and anything that moved got killed, no questions asked. The only creators that ventured here were snakes, birds, leeches, millions of mosquitoes, and the Viet Cong. The Communists had used these canals to transport supplies from Cambodia into Vietnam for many years. But tonight, the VC would have unexpected company. The Vietnamese soldiers wore the tiger-striped uniforms and red berets. They carried M-2 carbines, including their American leader. The Vietnamese looked tiny compared to the big, black Green Beret. He weighed twice as much as any of them. His bulging muscles