A Caribou Landing Story

Jonn, your reference to Caribou landings reminded me of a time when I did land in one but another passenger almost didn’t. I was battalion CBR NCO for 2d/327th in 1966 and on a mission for the battalion commander to find some missing CBR equipment. I had just boarded an already crowded Caribou at the airstrip in An Khe headed for Nha Trang, when our departure was held up for four really raggedy ass, very exhausted looking, SF troopers who pushed the rest us further to the front of the cabin as they took the last two web seats on either side of the fuselage.

Just as we were preparing to taxi, the engines were feathered again as an ambulance pulled up behind and loaded a couple of litters on the rear deck with the last one being right at the boots of the special operators. On the litters were strapped in, wounded VC. The dude on the rear litter was conscious and looking around fearfully at all the fierce enemy looking down on him, especially those glaring Green Berets.

Finally we began taxiing and then the nose came up and we were in the short takeoff typical of the Caribou. As was normal in Vietnam, the crew had left the short, lower portion of the rear ramp partially open, level with the flight deck, for ventilation. As soon as the aircraft rotated, the rear litter began to slip toward that open ramp. As it inched closer and closer, every troop on board sat fascinated and unmoving, realizing that any one of those four SF guys could stop the slide with a firm jungle boot on the litter.

But none of the four did. They just sat there grinning at the terrified VC who had craned his neck up to see what was happening. Both litters slowly slid almost two feet toward that open ramp before the aircraft finally leveled out. By that time the conscious VC was screaming and fighting against his constraints as the SF guys just sat there grinning demonically. Mind you, this was all a silent tableau for me and the other passengers. We couldn’t hear anything because of the roar of those big radial engines but we could sure see the terror being experienced by the terrorist and the grim, smiling response of the SF troopers. And there was no mistaking the cold, hard, direct, meaningful stare fixed on the rest of us by the biggest, fiercest looking SF trooper, which clearly said, “Butt out!”

Would any of us have interceded if those litters had slid any further? It’s doubtful. Speaking for myself, I’d spent several months as a line NCO before getting promoted to battalion so I’d fought these bastards in the mud and the mountains and I’d seen first-hand, many, many times the vicious cruelty and atrocities they were capable of inflicting upon helpless civilians. My mercy quotient for VC and NVA was pretty low at the time although apparently not as low as the SF contingent. I was at least relieved when the guy didn’t make his first jump as opposed to the four guys who could have stopped him. They looked rather disappointed.

As the Caribou began its descent into Nha Trang, the litters slid forward and the smell wafting up indicated the almost jumper had crapped himself. I remembered that I’d almost done that myself on my first jump.

And I had a parachute.

Category: Who knows