Helborne 513

TREETOP A-4 SKYHAWK DRAMA AT HUE

2017-10-01 - By Eric Hammel

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Marine Air was as overworked and effective during the great Tet Offensive of 1968 as it had been at any other time in its proud history. Without it, even greater numbers of Marine infantrymen would have died. But it was an endless source of frustration to all concerned that weather conditions over Hue prevented all forms of air support for all but the first few and last few days of the month-long struggle by three Marine battalions to eject two reinforced North Vietnamese Army (NVA) regiments from the city. For all of three weeks, while Marines on the ground in Hue struggled forward without any air support whatsoever, Marine airmen waited for the sky to clear. By the time that happened, the battle inside the Citadel of Hue was nearly over. But the hardbitten NVA units facing the battle-worn remnant of Major Robert Thompson’s 1/5 were so desperate and so tightly compacted—fighting literally with their backs to the Citadel’s 75-meter-thick wall—that the Marine ground assault was in danger of bogging down. At that critical moment, the weather over Hue cleared—but only barely.

Citadel Inbound

At 1400, February 22, 1968, Majors Ray Latall and John Van Es were on strip alert, sitting in the cockpits of their VMA-211 A-4 Skyhawk light attack bombers at the Chu Lai Marine Corps Air Base, when they were warned that they might be launched to Hue to take advantage of clearing weather over the city. Each jet was armed with eight 300-pound Snakeye high-drag high-explosive bombs, two 500-pound napalm bombs, and a full load of 20mm cannon rounds. As the Marine Air Group 12 intelligence officer, Major Latall knew that it had been at least days and probably weeks since Marine jets had been in action over Hue. The weather at Chu Lai was clear, but a report on Hue indicated that the cloud cover was still pretty low.

The two-plane flight, call sign Helborne 513, was ordered to launch at 1430. After checking with the Direct Air Support Control center at the Hue-Phu Bai airfield, Helborne 513 was instructed to orbit at 20,000 feet twenty miles east of Hue. When the A-4s arrived on station, the tops of the clouds were only 1,500 feet beneath their altitude.

To a Marine rifleman fighting his way toward the Citadel’s eastern corner, the preparations by the two A-4 pilots would have seemed

inordinately relaxed and unhurried. While circling, Latall and Van Es checked and set their gunsights and arming switches for what they had been told would be a low-level bombing run. Then, as they awaited clearance into the target area, they continued to orbit and listen to the strike channel to monitor a mission that was in progress; an Army O-1 spotter plane was directing two other Marine A-4s against a target beside the Citadel. The exchanges between the Marine aerial observer aboard the O-1 and the A-4 pilots revealed that the ragged cloud cover began only 1,000 feet above the ground, and that even that margin was rapidly deteriorating. Latall and Van Es also learned that the other flight— the third Marine jet strike of the afternoon—had received fire during its run on the target.

Redefining Low-Level Close Air Support

A brief discussion was initiated by Hue-Phu Bai about the need to divert Helborne 513 to another target. It appeared that the minimum ceiling and visibility standards for an “emergency” mission—a 1,000-foot ceiling with three-mile visibility—had been breached. Nevertheless, Latall and Van Es discussed the matter on their squadron frequency and decided that they would hit Hue if they could get someone to guide them

onto a target right away, before the weather deteriorated further. Latall radioed Hue-Phu Bai with the offer and suggested they make the mission “mandatory” in order to skirt the existing weather minimums. At 1500, Hue-Phu Bai warned Latall that Helborne 513 was about to be assigned a close-support mission that was “mandatory” in precedence—an unheard-of level.

With their weather restrictions effectively lifted, the A-4 pilots joined up, extended their speed brakes, and began their descent over the South China Sea on instruments, without a clear idea as to where they were going to belly through the clouds. While the jets were descending, Benchmark 16, the O-1, came up on the frequency to tell his controller that he was in a “low-fuel state” and would have no choice but to depart the area immediately or face a forced landing in Hue. The descending A-4s were turned over quickly to Benchmark 15, another O-1 flown by an Army pilot and manned by a Marine aerial observer, Captain Bob Laramy.

The A-4s completed their letdown over the water and found the bottom of the overcast at a mere 400 feet. They commenced a turn to port and slowed as much as they could as they turned back toward Hue. They were actually over the city before either jet pilot saw Benchmark 15 for the first time. The dark green Army O-1 was barely visible and, to A-4 pilots flying at 350 knots, it appeared to be standing still one mile ahead and to the right. Captain Laramy radioed that he could see the A-4s just an instant after Major Latall first saw the O-1.

As Laramy was describing the target, Latall pulled back off Van Es’s wing but not as far back as he would have liked. The A-4s were painted light gray, just about the same color as the clouds they were skipping through. If Latall let Van Es get too far ahead, he would have lost sight of him.

Latall was impressed with the target description. Benchmark 15 sounded like a good, sharp controller, an important bonus in the dark, closed-in sky over Hue. Bob Laramy was that.

He had been over Hue every day since January 31, mostly to no avail because of the weather.

At the conclusion of his target description, Laramy said that he would mark the target with green smoke, a vital aid in that weather. As Ray Latall learned later, the Army O-1 was fitted out as a medevac bird, so it had none of the smoke rockets the spotter planes usually carried. It happened to be the only O-1 available at Hue-Phu Bai when Benchmark 16 had run low on fuel. To deliver a green-smoke grenade, Laramy had to ask the pilot to fly low and slow over the target, an extremely hazardous enterprise. It was then that Laramy learned that the pilot was making his combat debut; this was his first mission over Vietnam. The pilot was game for the effort, but his inexperience severely complicated a really tricky situation.

The jets’ final approach to the target was scary. Flying too low and too slow with very heavy ordnance loads, both A-4 pilots were acutely aware of the many high radio towers that dotted the Hue landscape. They could see none of them clearly and had no real sense of their position relative to their flight paths. A broad column of oily smoke from a U.S. Navy landing craft that was burning in the river, towering dust clouds from heavy artillery detonations, and rain all impeded visibility and competed for attention. There were even reports that helicopters were in the air nearby.

Benchmark 15 commenced his marking run over the target—the section of the Citadel’s southeast wall directly in front of Major Bob Thompson’s 1/5. As the green smoke billowed up, both pilots reported from their loose orbit that they could see it—and another greensmoke source. Neither of the jet pilots had any idea which was the one marking their target. Clearly, the NVA were monitoring the tactical air frequency, for only they could have set off the second green-smoke grenade. No problem. Captain Laramy knew which was the right marker, and he talked the A-4s into their target.

Going for It!

Van Es made a dummy run to confirm that he knew where the target was, and Latall followed. It was worth the extra risk. Neither pilot knew precisely how close to fellow Marines they would be dropping their bombs, but they knew it would be close. There was no margin for error.

Captain Laramy confirmed that the A-4s were on target. The NVA on the ground also confirmed by firing several .51-caliber machine guns at the Marine jets.

The Skyhawk pilots had the option of dropping

everything they were carrying on one run, but Van Es and Latall knew they were going to be the last flight of the day; the deteriorating weather would assure that. Latall asked Van Es if he wanted to do it on one run or go in several times to be sure the Marines on the ground would get the full benefit of the mission. Like Latall, Van Es had a clear picture of the fighting on the ground. He agreed to Latall’s suggestion, that they drop two bombs per run, beginning with the napalm.

They went in at 100 feet, in dead-level runs at 350 knots. Latall lost sight of Van Es during the first run, but the leader’s first drop was superb. As Van Es pulled off the target he radioed that the run had been “hot”—meaning that he had released ordnance and that he had taken fire. Benchmark 15 gave Latall a slight correction so a broader area could be covered. Latall also saw tracers coming at him, and he heard the thumkthumk as several rounds struck his airplane. Though concerned, Latall made another perfect drop. Major Bob Thompson later reported in a letter of commendation that the first four napalm canisters detonated only fifty meters in front of the Marine infantry battalion’s front line. Thompson felt their heat.

On the next run, Van Es put a pair of 300-pound Snakeyes right on the target. Latall turned in to do the same. By then, the black smoke from the napalm and familiar landmarks made finding the target a snap. The overcast was lower—200 feet—and the NVA machine guns were firing again. As Latall continued toward the target, taking care that the O-1 was not in his way, he glanced down and was shocked to note that, in jet-jock terms, he was eyeball-to-eyeball with thousands of people—obviously civilians fleeing the city; they all seemed to be carrying their valuables on their backs. At the release point, Latall again saw and felt rounds impacting

on his A-4. He pulled up slightly after releasing his bombs so he could check the jet’s flight controls. Everything was running fine, but there were holes in the fuselage near his feet, and cockpit pressurization was lost. Latall also determined that his navigation equipment had been shot out.

On the way back to the target, Latall passed Benchmark 15. The O-1 was to his left, flying straight and level, going in the same direction. As Latall was turning downwind to position himself for another bombing run, his earphones rang with the warning, “Benchmark One Five! Pull up! Pull up!” Fearing that he was somehow on a collision course with the O-1, Latall pushed his airplane’s nose down and dropped to only 50 feet. But the frantic call was repeated. Latall knew that he was nowhere near the O-1 by then, and he was aware that Benchmark 15 had not answered the first call. It even

dawned on Latall that Captain Laramy had not described his last hits on the target, either.

Now It’s a Rescue Mission

Latall throttled back as much as he dared in order to get a better look around. Over his left shoulder, he saw an airplane behind him, staggering from his left rear to his right rear. It was the O-1. There was no smoke or flame, but Latall could clearly see orange fluid streaming from the O-1’s nose area. It was obvious Benchmark 15 was going to crash or crash land. At that moment, Van Es broadcast that Helborne 513 was available for a ResCAP—rescue combat air patrol—ready to orbit over the O-1 until a rescue helicopter could get there.

By then, both A-4s had used more than their allotted fuel for the mission. Any further flying over Hue would endanger their return to Chu Lai. Nevertheless, the A-4 pilots decided to stay longer. No sooner was the decision made than the O-1 broke out of it glide toward the Perfume River. Its nose pitched up and it fell to earth.

As the O-1 fell, Latall once again came over the target, but he did not feel he could drop more bombs blindly, so he turned off his master armament switch and just made a dummy run. If nothing else, the dummy run would put NVA heads down, thus affording the friendly infantry some small respite.

Latall was coming off the dummy run when someone called on the radio to report that a ground rescue party was on the way to the crash scene. Helborne 513 was directed to drop the remaining bombs on the target and head home.

The A-4 pilots ignored those instructions and radioed that they were remaining over Hue. They made several more dummy runs over the target and passes over the O-1, discouraging both NVA movement against 1/5 and any efforts by NVA soldiers to get to the downed spotter plane. Before the A-4s could drop any more bombs, Hue-Phu Bai

Frantic calls from Chu Lai that evening revealed that the Army O-1 pilot had been shot and killed as Latall was making his second hot pass.

firmly ordered them to fly home because the weather was nearly solid from the ground to 20,000 feet. Latall happened to catch sight of Van Es at the last minute, and he joined on the lead A-4, which was important because Latall’s navigation equipment had been shot away during his second bomb run. They climbed out on instruments. On the way home, Latall notified Van Es that fuel was leaking from a hole in Van Es’s main fuel cell.

Both A-4s made it back to Chu Lai, though both arrived with very little fuel. Van Es’s A-4 had been hit in the main fuel cell, port wingtip, and port landing-gear door. Latall’s A-4 had sustained hits from the aft section of the nose on back to the rudder and elevator.

Frantic calls from Chu Lai that evening revealed that the Army O-1 pilot had been shot and killed as Latall was making his second hot pass. Captain Bob Laramy, a Marine infantry officer who had received rudimentary flight training, had tried to fly the airplane, but the controls failed and the O-1 crashed. Laramy walked into an ARVN [Army of the Republic of Vietnam] position, but he had been critically burned in the crash and eventually was medically retired.

The next day, February 23, Majors John Van Es and Ray Latall heard that they had been credited by 1/5 with killing seventy-three NVA soldiers within 150 meters of the Citadel wall.

Also on February 23, 1/5 broke through the last NVA strongpoint in its zone and reached its objective, the Citadel’s southeast wall. The day after that, organized NVA resistance throughout the Citadel of Hue collapsed.

Excerpted from the book Fire in the Streets: The Battle for Hue, Tet 1968 by Eric Hammel (Pacifica, Calif.: Pacifica Military History, 1997).