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These stories are true, but the names may be "Friendly Fire" occurs in all wars. Not having studied the phenomenon, I couldn't say whether it was more common in 'Nam than in other wars. I only know that it was always something we dreaded. Late in '69, the 283rd MedEvac, callsign "Dustoff", moved from their base just down the road from us onto the 71st compound. They moved into a couple of hooches near the helipad and kept their birds parked just off the pad. I don't remember how many personnel or choppers were there, but I remember it gave us a little more notice on incoming. Whenever we'd hear the choppers' turbine engines spooling up and the slow "wup wup wup wup" of their rotors, we'd know we had some work headed our way. The Huey was a funny kind of bird. It was a wonderful workhorse, but the version they were flying in 'Nam at the time was quite underpowered. Pleiku was located in the Central Highlands at about 4500 feet above sea level. The air tended to be a little thin all of the time, but even more so in the dry season, when the temp would climb dramatically. I remember seeing Dustoff crews being unable to lift off our pad on a really hot afternoon and having to have ground crews lift on the skids and "skip" the ship toward the edge of the pad, where there was a short downhill stretch. Once over that lip, the ship would move just enough to develop enough lift to get airborne. It seemed kind of marginal to me, since they were headed out to pick up a few hundred pounds of wounded soldiers, often at elevations greater than ours at the hospital, but I guess it worked out okay. On the subject of Hueys, sort of, the first movie I saw when I returned to the World was "M*A*S*H". It made me quite homesick for my friends back at the 71st. Compared to the 71st, however, the M*A*S*H* unit's "hi-jinks" were pretty tame. One character, "Radar" O'Reilly, had the ability to hear (or sense) choppers long before anyone else. It was funny only because I could do the same thing. I don't know what it was, but I could hear, or feel incoming choppers almost a minute before my buddies. I think it must have had something to do with the rotation frequency of the Huey rotors. There would be a definite sensation in the air long before my ears would register the sound. I've talked to others who've experienced this sensation, so it wasn't just me. I'd especially notice it when I was on guard duty because the guard towers were typically located in areas away from the noise of the hospital. Strange, but true. Back to "friendly fire": Early one morning in '70, I was sitting outside the ER, yakking and telling "war stories" with the ER crew when we heard the radio crackle. "Dustoff, dustoff, immediate pickup needed at grid coordinates XYZ...sixteen casualties". Sixteen casualties, that definitely got our attention RIGHT NOW! We could hear the Dustoff ground crews running around, getting the Hueys ready for takeoff. Soon the air was full of the sound of jet engines and rotors turning up. Then the birds were off, heading out into the dark, filling the night with dust and noise. Everyone on post had heard the birds taking off and knew exactly what that meant, so pretty soon all of the off-duty OR, ER, X-Ray, Lab and PostOp staff started showing up. We got the ER ready for "MASS CAS" (mass casualties), with sixteen ER gurneys ready and supplies loaded, everyone anxious to get to work on these guys. As we worked, the ER nurse working the radio began to get more details about the wounded. Here's the story, as I remember it, pieced together from talking with the wounded and getting radio reports: The night before, a US patrol (I'll call them Alpha) out in "Indian country" had bedded down just before dark and radioed in their position. The only problem, and it was a doozie, was...they'd called in the wrong coordinates! "Indian country" is just what the name implies, enemy territory...Charlie's House! It also means that it's a free-fire zone...if anything moves, at least anything that you don't know is friendly, you have permission to "fire it up" (kill it). At about midnight, another American patrol ("Bravo"), had bedded down a short distance from the first and sent out a couple of teams as LPs (listening posts). When Alpha changed its' guards, they had made a little sound, heard by one of the Bravo LPs. Bravo had been fully briefed on all friendlies in the area...nobody was reported to be within a couple of miles of their position. Their assumption was that they'd found an enemy patrol and had the element of surprise on them. Quickly, they called in the coordinates of the "enemy" patrol, requested and received an air strike on the Alpha position. A flight of three Cobra gunships was launched and was soon inbound on the target area with mayhem on their minds. The first indication that anything was happening was when Alpha's soldiers were blasted awake by the impact of rockets in their camp...LOTS of rockets! Mingled with the rocket fire was 20mm high-explosive cannon fire. The peaceful camp had been instantly transformed into a horrible, too-real version of Dante's Inferno and Alpha was getting burned! A Cobra gunship is an awesome and terrible weapon, able to rain down a veritable wall of hot lead and rockets. Carrying two rocket pods on the sides and an eyesight-guided twin 20mm cannon in the nose, the Cobra was one of the most feared sights a ground warrior could envision. Cobras fought in flights of two or three, establishing a circular attack pattern in which first one ship, then another, would roll in on target, firing it up, then rolling out and coming around to take another turn "in the barrel". This enabled almost constant fire to be directed at the enemy, with no relief until all ammunition was expended or the enemy was completely destroyed, which usually happened first. Cobra crews rarely returned to base with unexpended munitions when they encountered enemy positions, figuring they might as well unload it on the bad guys as haul it back to base. In the case of a surprise attack, such as this, the enemy would usually be wiped out in less than a minute. On the ground, Alpha had lost much of its' force in the first Cobra pass. Most were veterans of many patrols and knew about ground fire. It didn't take long for them to realize they were being attacked from the air ... and they knew who owned the air...we did!! Frantically, one of them found the radio, along with the bodies of the radioman and several others. Keying the mike, he screamed that Alpha was under air attack and another ship was opening fire.. Back at HQ, the radioman sat stunned. He was aware that Bravo had called in an air strike, but it was nowhere near where Alpha had reported themselves. Instantly realizing what had happened, he got the Cobra leader on the radio and told him to cancel the attack. With his number two ship midway through the run, he commanded his flight to abort. Immediately the attacking Cobra ceased fire and rolled off target. They continued to circle the area, trying to see what was happening on the ground, assessing the damage and fearing the worst...that they'd fired on US or friendly troops! They were trained to destroy everything they targeted and they were very good at what they did! Back on the ground, Alpha was a destroyed unit. Almost every man was badly wounded or dead. The living were either writhing on the ground in pain or just lying where they lay, unable to move or comprehend what had happened. Bravo, having been briefed on the radio of the friendly fire incident, had immediately pulled in their LPs and was marching to Alpha's location to lend whatever assistance they could. Within minutes, Bravo arrived at the Alpha camp. Shocked by the destruction everywhere and the moaning, bleeding soldiers lying, scattered around the area, they stood in numb silence for a few seconds before the Sergeant started barking orders. Bravo's medic, the first to recover, jumped into action and started binding wounds, giving morphine, starting IVs, directing the others in their first aid efforts. Of the sixteen men, 9 were dead, 4 had serious wounds and 3 had moderate wounds. This information was relayed to the 71st and the Bravo radioman notified us that Dustoff was on its' way. At the 71st, we received the grim news and waited for the choppers. The first one landed with the most seriously wounded aboard and we swarmed over them, running them into the ER. We had six teams waiting and they sprang into action. The first task in processing multiple wounded patients is triage. The physician or nurse in charge examines each patient quickly, categorizing them. The highest priority patient is one who needs immediate medical attention AND has a high probability of survival. Next are those who need care, but can wait. Then come those with minor wounds, who can wait even longer. Finally, there are those who stand little or no chance of recovery, even with treatment. These we set off to one side, out of the way... then, when everyone else has been treated, we work on these guys...if they're still alive. As we worked our way through the survivors, it was clear that a couple of them weren't going to make it. One had a serious head wound, very serious. Much of his brain had been blown away, but he continued to have pretty strong vital signs...for a vegetable. His brainstem hadn't been injured, but the rest of it was mush. We cleared his airway, intubated him so he could breathe easier, then parked him in the corner and put a curtain around him. He would wait.. The others were badly chewed up, but most would survive, perhaps minus a limb or two. All would be evac'ed. They were going home. A day or so later, the Cobra pilots came by to visit the Alpha wounded. Some of the patients were angry, but most understood that it was an accident, just a particularly nasty one. I don't know how the pilots felt, but can only imagine it was a nightmare with which they had to live. When we finally worked our way through all the wounded, we returned to see if our "percolator" (the breathing tube triggered secretions in the trachea, which caused a bubbling sound as the patient breathed) was still alive. Mercifully, he had died during the night and joined some his buddies in the morgue. This was the worst case of friendly fire that I recall. There were others, but none so disastrous or involving so many casualties. Here's a link to another Friendly Fire (or "Blue on Blue", as they call it now) incident by John Messerly... www.covey-fac.com/warstories/FriendlyFire_JohnMesserly.html Comments: E-mail me Thanks for visiting ...SP5 Steven Streeper
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