9SQN--OUR AIM WAS NOT TO PLEASE

An RAAF Iroquois helicopter crewed by 9 SQN airmen skimmed the tops of the rubber it's rotors leaving vortex swirls in the dawn mist. It was 0630hrs on the 14th of June 1970.Flt Lt 'Punch' Paterson (RNZAF) steered the aircraft on a north easterly course to locate a grid reference held by Australian 'grunts', the same GR also held a VC bunker and it had been under attack since early the previous night. Albatross 02 was on an OPDEM with a cabin full of 7.62 rifle and M60 ammunition, a couple of boxes of 'blooper' pills topped off the cargo. Short of ammo after an all night siege the Aussie unit needed to top up for the final assault. Punch established contact via FM with the platoon commander and we began to follow the radio compass needle to their loc. "We hear you Albatross you are to our south west".

Roger (call sign) we will hover and kick out your ammo, throw smoke to mark over"

"Smoke thrown over"

A blue haze began to drift over the rubber tops. Co-pilot Ron Mitchell made a final Arty check, (we didn't want to get hit by an incoming brick) while Wayne Sheer, my gunner and myself moved from behind the door guns into the cabin, it was my job to guide the pilot over the smoke marking the friendlies.

"(Call sign) this Albatross 02 I see blue smoke over"

"02 affirmative blue smoke thrown we have a quiet 'sitrep' and are ready to receive opdem."

"Roger copy that we are on long final"

"Thank you Albatross"

I poked my head out of the door and noticed that the rubber sliding beneath the aircraft was among the densest I had seen in Vietnam. I sighted the source of the smoke and began to call off the distance to run at the same time as taking the pilot as low to the canopy as possible in case of ground fire. Bringing the aircraft to the hover I nodded to Wayne and we began to kick out the ammo boxes.

The AK 47's snarled, all hell cut loose in the cockpit and cabin. Bullets slammed through fuel tanks, floor, and ammo boxes, pieces of chopper and fragments filled the aircraft as Punch reacted and got the aircraft moving. I managed to swivel the M60 door gun and sprayed in the general direction of tail hoping to keep their heads down as we began a very long, low and slow return to Nui Dat.

We counted 28 holes on landing, one round had taken a hunk out of Wayne Sheers chicken plate, and another had bent the armour plate under Ron Mitchell's bum. I had a peppering of fragments in my back. The rear intercom had been shot out along with the HF and UHF radios. Flight controls were chipped and bent and several 'AP's' had ripped through the engine bay and rotors. But, there we were standing on Kanga pad grinning at each other and chain smoking with nervous relief. Shit had happened in a big way.

What happened? The digger who threw the smoke grenade thought he was marking the enemy bunker as a target. We had hovered directly over the VC and kicked out boxes onto their heads, heavy boxes. Charlie resented this and got pissed off big time and quite rightly so as who needs that at 6.30 in the bloody morning. I never met the bloke wot threw the smoke but he was also responsible for four large hangovers the next day, a DFC for Punch Patterson and a brand new UHIH Huey for 9 SQN.

"Up the old red rooster"

 ALAN JONES 19 Wren St Norlane 3214 Vic Telephone/Fax (03) 5274 3014 E mail alrene@smart.net.au

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