departure for Clark!”
That was enough time to shit, shower, shave and pack, but not enough time to go to the chow hall. Well, nobody said it would be easy.
We all made it to the waiting bus on time, and were shortly deposited at the Phan Rang terminal. We checked in at the passenger counter, and learned that the C-130 aircraft that would take us to Clark was on a Maintenance Non-Delivery, called MND. They expected to have a replacement airplane around noon, but it was possible that a plane would be ready sooner. We would all need to hang around the terminal, since the plane would be leaving ASAP whenever it was ready to go.
This was my first exposure to the expression, “Hurry up and wait.”
We looked around and found a very austere cafeteria, basically donuts and coffee, then sat around in the plastic chairs, waiting. And bitching about waiting. Nobody mentioned Mitch, but everybody was thinking about him.
Finally, around 1100, we were marshaled into a C-130, and were on our way to Clark.
When we arrived, there was a Sergeant from the PACAF Jungle Survival School waiting for us with a military bus to take us to the VOQ. We were given about 15 minutes to check in, then we were whisked off to an afternoon class at PJSS.
As we assembled in the classroom, Major Vandenberg, the chief instructor of the school, welcomed us. “Gentlemen, I apologize for the screw-up that had you going to Vietnam before coming here. I don't know how it happened, but it's history, so let's get to work. We're holding a special class for you, and we'll be giving you two days’ worth of instruction today. Your instructor is Sergeant McCoy”
Sergeant McCoy was a Para Rescue Jumper – a PJ – with two tours of duty in Vietnam and numerous actual rescues in South Vietnam, North Vietnam and Laos. On one of his rescues, he had been lowered to the ground to help an injured pilot, and then the rescue helicopter had been forced away by enemy ground fire. Sergeant McCoy spent the entire night nursing the injured pilot and fighting the enemy until another chopper could come back the next day for the pickup. Here was a guy who really walked the walk.
For the rest of the day, we had hands-on instruction about how to use every item in the survival vest. Stuff I never would have figured out on my own. Like which end of the signal flare is for day use, which end is for night.
“The night end has these little bumps,” the instructor said, “They feel like little nipples. You feel the nipples at night. Any questions?”
We learned about the beeper. It turned out, the beeper was more than just a sweeping tone transmitted by the survival radio. If the sweep goes from high frequency to low, it means it was set off by an ejection seat. “High to low, just like you're traveling when you come down in a parachute,” commented the instructor.
The beeper that is transmitted when the URC-64 is manually placed in the BEEPER position sweeps from low frequency to high.
“You're on the ground, and you want to go up in a rescue helicopter. Questions?”
After the survival vest instruction, we mounted a platform about 20 feet high and practiced using the Tree Lowering Device that was a part of the parachute harness.
“You're going to be operating over triple-canopy jungle,” Sergeant McCoy said, “and there's a good chance you'll come down in trees, so you need a way to get down. This TLD will get you down from 50 feet up.”
I had to ask the obvious question, “What if we're higher than 50 feet in the air?”
“Well then, Lieutenant,” he replied, “you're fucked.”
After TLD work, we went to a lower platform, probably about 5 feet high, and practiced our parachute landing falls. We didn't get totally proficient in the PLF, but, what the hell, chances were we'd land in trees anyway.
It was getting dark when we got back in the bus. We expected to return to the VOQ, but the bus drove us off the base and accessed a winding mountain road. Sergeant
That was enough time to shit, shower, shave and pack, but not enough time to go to the chow hall. Well, nobody said it would be easy.
We all made it to the waiting bus on time, and were shortly deposited at the Phan Rang terminal. We checked in at the passenger counter, and learned that the C-130 aircraft that would take us to Clark was on a Maintenance Non-Delivery, called MND. They expected to have a replacement airplane around noon, but it was possible that a plane would be ready sooner. We would all need to hang around the terminal, since the plane would be leaving ASAP whenever it was ready to go.
This was my first exposure to the expression, “Hurry up and wait.”
We looked around and found a very austere cafeteria, basically donuts and coffee, then sat around in the plastic chairs, waiting. And bitching about waiting. Nobody mentioned Mitch, but everybody was thinking about him.
Finally, around 1100, we were marshaled into a C-130, and were on our way to Clark.
When we arrived, there was a Sergeant from the PACAF Jungle Survival School waiting for us with a military bus to take us to the VOQ. We were given about 15 minutes to check in, then we were whisked off to an afternoon class at PJSS.
As we assembled in the classroom, Major Vandenberg, the chief instructor of the school, welcomed us. “Gentlemen, I apologize for the screw-up that had you going to Vietnam before coming here. I don't know how it happened, but it's history, so let's get to work. We're holding a special class for you, and we'll be giving you two days’ worth of instruction today. Your instructor is Sergeant McCoy”
Sergeant McCoy was a Para Rescue Jumper – a PJ – with two tours of duty in Vietnam and numerous actual rescues in South Vietnam, North Vietnam and Laos. On one of his rescues, he had been lowered to the ground to help an injured pilot, and then the rescue helicopter had been forced away by enemy ground fire. Sergeant McCoy spent the entire night nursing the injured pilot and fighting the enemy until another chopper could come back the next day for the pickup. Here was a guy who really walked the walk.
For the rest of the day, we had hands-on instruction about how to use every item in the survival vest. Stuff I never would have figured out on my own. Like which end of the signal flare is for day use, which end is for night.
“The night end has these little bumps,” the instructor said, “They feel like little nipples. You feel the nipples at night. Any questions?”
We learned about the beeper. It turned out, the beeper was more than just a sweeping tone transmitted by the survival radio. If the sweep goes from high frequency to low, it means it was set off by an ejection seat. “High to low, just like you're traveling when you come down in a parachute,” commented the instructor.
The beeper that is transmitted when the URC-64 is manually placed in the BEEPER position sweeps from low frequency to high.
“You're on the ground, and you want to go up in a rescue helicopter. Questions?”
After the survival vest instruction, we mounted a platform about 20 feet high and practiced using the Tree Lowering Device that was a part of the parachute harness.
“You're going to be operating over triple-canopy jungle,” Sergeant McCoy said, “and there's a good chance you'll come down in trees, so you need a way to get down. This TLD will get you down from 50 feet up.”
I had to ask the obvious question, “What if we're higher than 50 feet in the air?”
“Well then, Lieutenant,” he replied, “you're fucked.”
After TLD work, we went to a lower platform, probably about 5 feet high, and practiced our parachute landing falls. We didn't get totally proficient in the PLF, but, what the hell, chances were we'd land in trees anyway.
It was getting dark when we got back in the bus. We expected to return to the VOQ, but the bus drove us off the base and accessed a winding mountain road. Sergeant
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