I, Lt. Mark Bumm, had been flying with the squadron for a month when Christmas Eve 1970 rolled around.  Even though I was a FNG, I had figured out that there were no days off.   Certainly, I had not been around long enough to appreciate what the Grunts in the field were going through.  We didn't have our normal mission line-up  for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.   We were scheduled to deliver warm  "B" rations, ice cream that was chilled in special containers made up by Maintenance, cold soda and mail to the Marines in the field.

It was a nice day, nobody was taking potshots, and I felt the Christmas spirit.  After 10 drops in as many landing zones, we developed some mechanical problems, and returned to Marble Mountain Air Facility.  I figured we were done for the day.  The Aircraft Commander, Capt. Dave Nelson, had other ideas; we got another helicopter and got loaded up again.  As the day wore on (14 more LZ's), I started to notice expectant and increasingly pleased expressions on the faces of the Marines we were playing Santa for.   By now, the ice cream was melted, the soda was warm, put the mail was still precious.

Our last delivery was at Hill 270, which was about 4 kilometers Southwest of LZ Ross.  It rose from the valley floor as a solitary peak with a landing zone barely big enough to contain the landing gear.  The best you could hope for was to hover over the peak and bounce the rear landing gear on the LZ.  We aborted approaches to the zone twice before Capt. Nelson told the crewchief to lower the ramp as we were going to back it in.  I had not seen (much less practiced) this maneuver back in the states.  As the crewchief, laying prone on the ramp, "talked" us in, I was able to observe the Marines jumping and clawing up the ramp to get their above-mentioned melted ice cream, warm soda (the "B" Rats were long gone) and mail.  This was my first lesson in why aviation exists within the Marine Corps . . . to support their ground troops!

As we headed back to Marble Mountain, I felt good;  I felt , for the first time in my short, adult life, satisfied; satisfied that I had finally done something in the true spirit of Christmas.

Submitted by:
    Mark Bumm, former Lieutenant USMC