reluctance to abandon his fellow pilot, Gurry had to leave the area before his fuel ran out or the rescue people would have two downed pilots to worry about. Dramesi acknowledged his wingmanâs message and simply said that he would see him later.
Almost immediately after the jet left the sky overhead, Dramesi heard the sound of the Sandys coming in. The Sandy was the call sign of the Douglas A-1 Skyraider aircraft, which were assigned to escort the helicopters of the combat search-and-rescue units. The radial-engined Skyraider was an attack bomber that had first flown during World War II. The prop-driven aircraft could only go about half as fast as the average jet fighter of the Vietnam War, but it carried four 20mm cannon in its wings and up to 8,000 pounds of ordnance on the hard mounting points under its wings. On top of the heavy punch it could carry, the Skyraider had a long loiter time over target. The fat, slow Sandys were looked at with real affection by downed pilots, as they stayed in the air overhead for close to ten hours at a time.
Trouble was, Dramesi didnât know where the Sandys were, and they didnât know where he was. Getting on the radio to call for help had been his first move, and the right one according to his training. Now he had to find that help, and they had to find him.
The engine noise of a prop-driven aircraft is a distinctive one. Dramesi could hear the planes in the distance, but didnât know in which direction they were coming from. Without that information, he couldnât direct the aircraft toward him; and he couldnât use any signaling device but his radio or the enemy would find him as fast as the planes would. There were enemy troops in the valley below, and they were already making their way up the hill. Soon enough they would reach the crest and the ridgeline where he was hiding in the brush. His only option was to stand up and try to locate the Sandys coming in to help him.
Cupping his hand over his ear to concentrate the sound, Dramesi turned his head to try and hear where the Sandys were. The loudest sound of the props was to his south, so he called over the radio to move them north, in his direction.
âTurn north, turn north!â Dramesi said over the radio. Then he saw the aircraft to his east. âSandy One, this is Lover Lead. Turn west, stand by, and I will direct you over my position.â
With his experience as a forward air controller, Dramesi knew how to apply the approaching Sandys against the enemy forces on the ground around him. Hearing the approach of the planes, he directed them overhead and identified his position. Now that the attack bombers knew where he was, they could address the North Vietnamese forces approaching him on the ground.
Telling the pilots of the Sandys to target the side of the hill rained hellfire on the approaching enemy. White phosphorus rockets roared out from under the wings of the Sandys, punching into the hillside and blooming into yellow-burning petals of white smoke flowers as they detonated. Only two hundred yards away from his position, Dramesi watched the 2.75-inch rockets explode in the brush, sending the enemy forces running back down the hill toward whatever cover they could find. He was in his element, the skills he had put to use for the 4th Infantry still fresh in his mind as he directed the air support units to his location. It wasnât a ground operation he was fighting for now, it was his own freedom. The Sandys were holding the enemy back while the slower rescue helicopters were on their way. The ground experience he had received while working as FAC with the 4th Infantry also helped Dramesi as he hid from the enemy while still maintaining a good observation position.
Every weapon in the valley seemed to open up at once. Now it was time to get the aircraft to a higher altitude, where they would be safe from the ground fire but still available for a rocket or gun attack. As he directed the
Almost immediately after the jet left the sky overhead, Dramesi heard the sound of the Sandys coming in. The Sandy was the call sign of the Douglas A-1 Skyraider aircraft, which were assigned to escort the helicopters of the combat search-and-rescue units. The radial-engined Skyraider was an attack bomber that had first flown during World War II. The prop-driven aircraft could only go about half as fast as the average jet fighter of the Vietnam War, but it carried four 20mm cannon in its wings and up to 8,000 pounds of ordnance on the hard mounting points under its wings. On top of the heavy punch it could carry, the Skyraider had a long loiter time over target. The fat, slow Sandys were looked at with real affection by downed pilots, as they stayed in the air overhead for close to ten hours at a time.
Trouble was, Dramesi didnât know where the Sandys were, and they didnât know where he was. Getting on the radio to call for help had been his first move, and the right one according to his training. Now he had to find that help, and they had to find him.
The engine noise of a prop-driven aircraft is a distinctive one. Dramesi could hear the planes in the distance, but didnât know in which direction they were coming from. Without that information, he couldnât direct the aircraft toward him; and he couldnât use any signaling device but his radio or the enemy would find him as fast as the planes would. There were enemy troops in the valley below, and they were already making their way up the hill. Soon enough they would reach the crest and the ridgeline where he was hiding in the brush. His only option was to stand up and try to locate the Sandys coming in to help him.
Cupping his hand over his ear to concentrate the sound, Dramesi turned his head to try and hear where the Sandys were. The loudest sound of the props was to his south, so he called over the radio to move them north, in his direction.
âTurn north, turn north!â Dramesi said over the radio. Then he saw the aircraft to his east. âSandy One, this is Lover Lead. Turn west, stand by, and I will direct you over my position.â
With his experience as a forward air controller, Dramesi knew how to apply the approaching Sandys against the enemy forces on the ground around him. Hearing the approach of the planes, he directed them overhead and identified his position. Now that the attack bombers knew where he was, they could address the North Vietnamese forces approaching him on the ground.
Telling the pilots of the Sandys to target the side of the hill rained hellfire on the approaching enemy. White phosphorus rockets roared out from under the wings of the Sandys, punching into the hillside and blooming into yellow-burning petals of white smoke flowers as they detonated. Only two hundred yards away from his position, Dramesi watched the 2.75-inch rockets explode in the brush, sending the enemy forces running back down the hill toward whatever cover they could find. He was in his element, the skills he had put to use for the 4th Infantry still fresh in his mind as he directed the air support units to his location. It wasnât a ground operation he was fighting for now, it was his own freedom. The Sandys were holding the enemy back while the slower rescue helicopters were on their way. The ground experience he had received while working as FAC with the 4th Infantry also helped Dramesi as he hid from the enemy while still maintaining a good observation position.
Every weapon in the valley seemed to open up at once. Now it was time to get the aircraft to a higher altitude, where they would be safe from the ground fire but still available for a rocket or gun attack. As he directed the
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