Article Header
Home Page : Feature
Stories :
Last Updated March 27, 2005
The Last Day
by Allen Cates
Saigon…April 1975
The calls for help continued but the right words were not said and it
was obvious the caller had captured the radio. Darkness had set in and the
North Vietnamese Army was overrunning Saigon. The situation was hopeless.
An era spanning 30 years was ending. It was April 29th 1975.
The war in Laos ended a year earlier. Air America employees from
Vientiane and Udorn scattered like leaves in a wind. Several transferred
to Saigon where the work had always been routine compared to Laos, which
was paramilitary in nature. It was still dangerous, but the military
usually handled medical evacuations and rescues. That situation changed
near the end and it soon become evident that business as usual would not
continue.
During the height of the Vietnam War, the streets were filled with
American military vehicles and soldiers. But now, almost all of the
American troops had long since departed. It was obvious to everyone except
the American Embassy that Saigon would fall. Buon Me Thuot had been
overrun in March. Da Nang came soon after and then Nha Trang. For some
reason, it appeared the American Ambassador believed that Saigon would be
spared to remain a neutral enclave.
Denial
Meetings had been conducted a few days previously to pass on radio
frequencies, locations of ships off the coast and to establish a
contingency plan. U.S. Marine Corps General Carey told Air America
representatives that Marines were supposed to be stationed at the Air
America complex to protect the fuel depot at least 6 hours prior to any
evacuation, but his hands were tied. The Ambassador refused to give
approval until well into the afternoon. The Marines didn't show and the
closest fuel was on the ships off the coast... a full 80 to 100 miles from
Saigon. Fuel would prove to be a big problem on the last day. All the
plans made previously were now scrapped.
The day before, on April 28th, ground fire from unknown sources had
shot down several aircraft over Saigon. On the 29th, Air America's fixed
wing group took what refugees they could and departed. Shuttling in and
out of Saigon was now impossible for fixed wing aircraft. Air America's
helicopter crews remained to aid in the evacuation.
There were thirty-two designated helicopter pickup points on buildings.
Six were for Air America. Ralph Begian worked in Air America's Flight
Information Department. Just before the last day he and Nikki Fillippi, an
Air America helicopter pilot, worked relentlessly to prepare pickup points
in the city.
The Exodus no one believed would happen
But, every attempt to paint a large "H" on the tops of those buildings
and to station fuel was thwarted by the American Ambassador, his staff and
the Vietnamese police. The explanation received was that plans of this
nature might provide the wrong signal to the Vietnamese public and cause
panic. Air America's employees did their best to improvise and moved to a
single building to maintain communications.
The Saigon exodus began with a rush. The largest airlift of refugees in
the entire war started to unfold, ready or not.
One of the Air America
pickup points was the Pittman Building in down town Saigon, where Hugh Van
Es photographed the refugees climbing the ladder to the helicopter above.
You can't help but focus your attention on the man reaching his arm out to
help. No one knows for sure who the helicopter crew was. They didn't know
they were being photographed nor would they have cared. They'd been
hauling food, ammunition, water; fresh troops in and wounded out--you name
it... for years all through South East Asia. It was a snap shot in time; a
glimpse that epitomized the very essence of what America was really all
about.
Many years later the man you see holding his hand out wrote:
"We kept
telling them we would come back. And then we didn't."
His name is O.B.
Harnage. He was a CIA case officer and is now retired. I think that's what
bothered most of us who worked there. We kept telling them we would come
back and then we left and couldn’t return. We never had closure.
Photo from: Corbis Images
Photographer: Hubert van Es.
Tragedy
Air America's several hundred Filipino employees were last on the list
to get out of the city. Those with Vietnamese families were especially
vulnerable.
Like the Koreans in Nha Trang, the Philippine Government stationed an
LST off the coast of Saigon, but the Vietnamese police would not let them
board. Over a thousand of them were stranded on the beach.
Marius Burke, an Air America Helicopter pilot, was able to convince
Filipino Minister of Affairs, Mr. Sabolones, to bypass the dock and
airlift them to the ship. They were able to evacuate over 600 people this
way. The other 400 were evacuated by barge during the night. Air America
tried to get its Vietnamese employees on the same ship and assistance was
requested from the U.S. Embassy.
There was plenty of room and Mr. Sabolones gave his blessing, but the
Embassy said no! They were afraid that ARVN soldiers would board.
Cooperation was not received and many of Air America's Vietnamese
employees were left behind.
Tragedies were as common as boards on a
picket fence, but spontaneous heroics occurred as well.
On one occasion, Ralph Begian ended up hanging out of the helicopter
with out a safety strap to enable a Vietnamese man to be pulled inside to
safety. Unheralded and unknown, Ralph was performing acts of heroism for
no other reason than it was the right thing to do.
Nikki and Ed Reid,
another Lao helicopter pilot veteran, maintained a communication post
throughout the day. They had to move it twice due to enemy activity and
finally evacuated to the USS Hancock that evening.
Miscommunications
The ships were supposed to know about Air America but a communication
gap and their own problems created an emergency.
Many South Vietnamese helicopters headed out to sea hoping to land and
escape the North Vietnamese. Groups of aircraft with no advanced warning
and no radio communications were trying to land all at once. They paid no
attention to standard flight patterns or landing protocol. Dangerous was
not the word for it.
The Commander of the USS Blue Ridge took extreme measures to protect
his ship and crew. He ordered the pilots of the helicopters to ditch at
sea and had a small boat standing by to pick them up when they surfaced.
He demanded the same for Air America crews, not knowing they were part of
the evacuation.
Photographer Dave Routson
Adapting to a changing situation
The procedure called for the removal of the doors so the pilot could
have an escape advantage. Chauncey Collard was then 55 years old and
piloted every thing the Navy had since 1936. Chauncey had been an Air
America helicopter pilot for several years. He was about to experience a
new adventure. As soon as he landed, the ship's crew removed his doors and
ordered him to take off and ditch. Ditching at sea is actually an
emergency maneuver and dangerous.
It didn't seem like good idea to Chauncey and he headed back to Saigon
for another load after refueling at a ship that was more lenient. He told
me years later that he remembered it being a little breezy flying the rest
of the day without doors. For several people, who remembered how he saved
them, the decision was a godsend, but it nearly cost him his life.
Photograph Submitted By Scott Phillips
Coping with hysteria
Chauncey was returning to Saigon on one leg and noticed a group of
Americans frantically waving from a roof. The landing area was tight with
trees very closely situated in the only spot available. Very carefully, he
was able to thread his way through the trees to pick them up. The
procedure is much easier with a flight mechanic to provide another set of
eyes, but he was flying alone. The Americans told him that North
Vietnamese troops were close by and they should hurry.
Chauncey had moved the copilot seat as far forward as possible to
prevent people mobbing the aircraft from getting in the cockpit. One of
the Americans weighed about 300 pounds and was going to sit up front
regardless of what Chauncey said. He was able to wedge himself in the seat
but there was no room for Chauncey to move the flight controls. Finally,
Chauncey could see the man was not going to get in back and he motioned
him to pull the lever that would allow the seat to slide rearward. Instead
of the seat release, the passenger grabbed the collective lever, which
moves the helicopter up and down. He pulled straight up and Chauncey found
he was shooting threw the trees he so carefully avoided when landing!
Chauncey was screaming at him to turn loose and was practically standing
on the control stick trying to push it down.
They were going to crash!
There wasn't anything Chauncey could do to prevent it. Finally, the fat
man realized what he was doing and released the controls. Chauncey was
able to prevent a needless accident and fly them to safety.
Air America Profile
Dave and Ruth Kendall and their kids, Bobby and Vicky, were well known
in Air America. Originally from Hornbeak, Tennessee, Dave started with Air
America in Saigon, transferred to Laos for several years and was now back
in Saigon. He had two brightly colored shirts that he alternately wore
with bib overalls when not flying.
Flying out of uniform was strictly forbidden, but Dave figured this
last day was exceptional and the overalls seemed more comfortable. When he
landed with refuges at the USS Blue Ridge the ship's crew took one look
and ordered him to ditch the aircraft.
The recommended procedure is to land in the water and turn the
helicopter on its side while the blades are still turning. Dave decided to
do it different and he trimmed the aircraft nose down about 20 feet above
the water and jumped out. You can watch him do it on ABC's presentation
"Last Chopper Out." When he jumped out, the aircraft center of gravity
changed and the blades almost hit him. They scooped him out of the water
and sent him below where he changed shirts, but kept his overalls.
Air America helicopter pilot Larry Stadulis was told to stand down at
the ship and went below. A short time later he was told he was needed to
go back and fly an unattended helicopter. By this time, the Blue Ridge was
able to sort out who the rogue helicopters fleeing Saigon were and Air
America who was carrying refugees.
Stretching the limit
Dave saw that Larry was going back and he climbed in with him. They
shuttled back and forth the rest of the day.
By nightfall, they were
mentally and physically exhausted. They were in the middle of the South
China Sea in light rain trying to find the carrier Midway and they could
not see any visible light outside the cockpit. The situation required the
US Navy to create a black out and all light was extinguished. To make
matters worse, the 20-minute low fuel light had been on for 15 minutes and
no one actually knew how accurate the light was.
They were in trouble.
Ditching at sea is difficult at best during the
day. At night... even if you survived the ditching, you would probably
drown shortly thereafter. They were calling for help from the Midway. The
ship's radar could see them but they could not see the ship. The low fuel
warning light kept getting brighter and brighter. Throughout the day, it
was obvious that Air America's key role in the evacuation was not clearly
understood. Cooperation from those who were supposed to be informed was
slim and none.
The Navy came through at the end.
The situation was critical. Larry told the Midway they could not be
seen and they needed a light. It was time for the Midway to make up their
mind about who was friend or foe and they needed to do it fast.
With
only a few minutes of fuel remaining the Midway relented and turned on
every light. Larry said it looked like a Christmas tree and it was
definitely a gift. They landed mid ship on fumes.
Epilog
Over 30 Air America flight crews stayed and flew the last day. One
writer said the picture of the helicopter on the Pittman building
signified America's failed policy. Echoing that opinion, many have felt
that those who risked their life to save others did so only as a work
ethic with no thought toward the plight of their fellow men. Others feel
that all of us have a social responsibility and that values such as
integrity and kindness are what make’s America great and those values are
inherently obvious during occasions when least expected. I take the latter
view.
Life is not always fair, but one cannot abandon hope and leave
consequences to those who are clever.
There were over three million
casualties in the war in Vietnam and Laos. It would be difficult to
justify the carnage that took place there. But, neither Air America, nor
the other soldiers that fought there started that war . . . nor did we
perpetuate it. Right, wrong or indifferent we did our job and often
performed duties above and beyond their assigned task. Air America was
non-combatant and their work was humanitarian, but we were still soldiers.
Joe Galloway, co-author of "We Were Soldiers Once...and Young” perhaps
said it best when he wrote, “We Were Soldiers: That's the way it is,
that's what we were. We put it simply, without swagger, without brag, in
those three plain words. We speak them softly, just to ourselves, just for
ourselves. If you can't hear those echoes, you weren't, if you can, you
were.”
Dave Kendall hired on with a helicopter outfit in
Louisiana when he came back to the United States. On his days off he
commuted to Tennessee where Ruth and the kids stayed. On a trip home, he
was killed in an automobile accident. Years later, Ruth visited her sister
in Chicago where they dined at a Vietnamese restaurant and conversed with
the owner. She was very proud of her business and her successful children
who were educated in America. Ruth said, "My husband used to work in
Vietnam. He was a pilot for Air America."
The owner replied, "I was rescued from a rooftop in downtown Saigon on
the last day. I will never forget the pilot. He didn't wear a uniform like
the others. He had a colored shirt and overalls."
Tears welled in Ruth's
eyes. "That was David," She said. The emotion was too much and they all
broke down in tears.
