It was early February, probably around the 10th, 1968.  The weather was minimal for helicopter operations with low-lying scudding clouds and a twenty knot wind.  The enemy situation was active as always.

We had been humping cases of 105MM Howitzer ammunition up the hill to the gun pits from where an earlier flight, hit by anti-aircraft (AA) while inbound, had dropped an external pallet load outside our wire, down the southern slope.  Soon a long slit in the clouds drifted over us, and a North Vietnamese Army (NVA) forward observer (FO) spotted the working party.  We knew we'd been seen, and the troops dropped their burdens and started scurrying up the hill to the safety of the defensive trench line.

They didn't make it; 15-20 rounds of 120 MM mortar impacted around them.  The troops hit the deck, but there was no cover on the slope.  When the mortar barrage ceased, we had fourteen casualties, including one dead, seven emergency (mostly traumatic limb amputations or gut wounds) and six priority medevacs.  The clouds were now lifting above the top of the hill so we had no concealment for our five hilltop zones.  Since the FO could see those zones, we couldn't risk using them to stage and load our hurt Marines, and since both the FO and earlier AA fire had been from the south, we chose the north slope to stage our casualties for the medevac bird which we'd requested.

By the time we had our Marines on stretchers and in position, the medevac bird checked in with the tactical call sign of "Swift Medevac" and we knew we had another Purple Fox crew on final.  We temporarily guided him down on a hilltop zone at the east end of the hill about 100 yards from where the casualties were staged, and had him sit there for 10 to 15 seconds until a young Marine on the west end reported the "tube pop" of the mortars.  Then, we moved the bird down the north face of the slope and over to where he could back his ramp in beside our casualties on the steep slope, where the FO couldn't see him.  A few 120's landed in the zone we'd just left.  No harm done, we expected that.

The stretcher bearers began loading casualties, in order of their seriousness.  Tough work, since we could only use two bearers (to keep the numbers down in the zone) and because of the very steep slope we had to approach the ramp from the side to avoid the rear rotor blades which barely cleared the hill behind the ramp.  To complicate all this, the bird kept dancing around, bucking the strong wind sweeping up the slope.  I was standing down the slope with my helicopter support team (HST) radio operator at my side, his radio tuned to the pilot's frequency.  We were on the right side, almost under the nose of the bird, but still could see both the pilot and the loading operation at the rear.  The NVA tried to bracket us with their 120's but the rounds hit either on the hilltop or well down the slope.  It was just too steep for a good high trajectory mortar shot, especially in that wind.

We'd gotten three of the casualties aboard when some AA fire from the north, (probably twin 51's) cut loose.  I saw the rounds kicking up dirt behind the bird, above the rotor blades.  I recall the following radio transmissions (our tactical call sign was "India" for Company I, Third Battalion, Twenty-Sixth Marines):

"Swift, India, You're taking rounds above your blades!"

"India, Swift, Roger."  The pilot maintained his hover, holding the ramp against the hill.  Five casualties aboard now, then another burst from the NVA 51's.

"Swift, India, Hits in your right engine!"

"India, Swift, Roger."  The pilot continued to hold his hover.  The engine stated smoking.

Another burst.  This one hit the deck beside the ramp, catching a stretcher bearer in the leg.  The crew chief jumped off the ramp and pushed the stretcher in, then dragged the wounded bearer aboard.  One more emergency wounded to go.  We got him aboard, and my HST man waved the bird away (Two of the priority medevacs had been stretcher bearers, and had remained aboard.  The remaining four and one permanent routine medevac could wait for the next helicopter to arrive at the hilltop).

Just as the helicopter began to move away from the hillside, a couple of rounds from another burst of 51's went through the plexiglass above the pilot's head.  I didn't call, figured he knew about that!  The bird limped away, down toward Khe Sanh, black smoke trailing from the right engine.

"Swift, India, Thanks."

"India, Swift, Welcome, Anytime."

He meant it too!  Damnedest feat of pure guts, superb airmanship I'd ever seen!

And so it went for seventy-seven days.

A couple days later a recommendation was sent down for the pilot to receive a Silver Star.  Never heard back, don't know if he got it or if the recommendation ever got to the squadron, for reasons already mentioned.  Didn't have the tail number, too busy to get it, but date and time should have been enough.

Submitted by:
    Colonel William H. "Bill" Dabney,USMC(Ret) who, at the time of this incident, was Commanding Officer of India Co.

The 881S medevac narrative is compelling.  In praising the Purple Fox crew, Colonel Dabney takes little note of his own courage and that of his brave Marines standing in the midst of a mortar and machine gun barrage to provide all possible assistance to the aircrew.  We witnessed that kind of exceptional courage and determination of the 881S Marines every day in spite of the tremendous hardships they endured.  As a helicopter aircraft commander and Logistics Officer of HMM-364, I can unequivocally state on their behalf why we, the Purple Foxes could proudly say, "Anytime."

John A. "Al" Chancey, Lieutenant Colonel, USMC(Ret)