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With the engines screaming in the steep combat landing, it was hard for Captain Bruce Semanski to hear through his headphones. “Do you hear me, Leduc?” he shouted into his mouthpiece. The C-123 he was piloting shuddered and protested the demands being made of it to land at this speed and this angle in the attempt to avoid enemy ground fire. Semanski shouted a little louder, “Leduc, do you hear me?”
“I hear you, Captain, barely,” said Airman Second Class Carlton A. Leduc, Semanski’s loadmaster. “Things are a little chaotic back here.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Semanski. “I’m going to put this thing as close as I can to the side of the runway toward the compound. They’re standing by on the ground with ten dead and 17 wounded. They’re going to run them out to the plane as soon as we stop. You get the replacements loaded up with the supplies and ammo and kick them out as soon as you can.”
“Okay, Captain, I’ve got them standing by.”
“The situation on the ground is not good,” said Semanski, grimacing at his own understatement. “They’ve got VC on the other side of the runway. They’ve been getting small arms and automatic weapons fire from there all day. We can expect them to be shooting at us, too. We’re going to have a flight of A-1’s strafing while we’re on the ground, but keep everybody low and keep them moving. Don’t make me keep this plane on the ground a second longer than I need to.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Leduc, “I don’t think I want to hang around too long either.”
The outpost was Cao Xanh. It housed a little ARVN unit out in the middle of nowhere inside the Iron Triangle north of Saigon. They were there to show a government presence to the farmers and other villagers in the area, to try to form the illusion that the officials in Saigon were somehow in charge out here. It wasn’t working, because the villagers had never seen a Saigon official; but they had seen plenty of North Vietnamese and Viet Cong soldiers and political cadre.
Cao Xanh had been under attack by a combined force of North Vietnamese regulars and Viet Cong guerillas for several weeks, and their situation was fast becoming desperate. Not only had they lost too many men to enemy fire, but they had also used up the bulk of their ammunition and other supplies. The enemy force had them so closely surrounded that airdrops were not a reasonable option, because most of the drops would fall into enemy hands. Besides that, they had dead and wounded who needed to be evacuated. Bigger planes like the C-130’s that flew into larger installations could not land on the tiny runway at Cao Xanh. So the task of trying to resupply the beleaguered outpost and remove their dead and wounded fell to the Air Commandoes and their hardy little C-123’s.
Semanski broke off his talk with Leduc because he was receiving a call from his home base controller. “We just got some more feedback from Division,” said the controller. “All the data they’re getting says it’s too dangerous for you to go in there. They say chances of you getting shot up on approach are too great. They’re advising that you abort the mission.”
“I’m on final approach now,” said Semanski. “I guess I could still pull the bird back up and get out of here, but those folks on the ground need us awfully bad.”
“They don’t need a plane full of holes and a dead crew,” said the controller. “That’s not going to help them at all.”
“I still don’t like the idea of coming this far and not completing the mission,” said Semanski, “especially when they need us so bad.”
“Well, I’ll leave it up to you. You’re on site, so you ought to know what your chances are. But if you get yourself killed, it’ll certainly reflect in your OER.”
“Roger that, probably never make major then,” said Semanski. “Hey, I’ve got some stuff to do up here, so I’ll talk to you in a while,” and under his breath, “I hope.”
Semanski went back to his crew. “Hey, guys,” he said. “Listen up. Division thinks it’s too dangerous to land here. They want us to abort. I think a lot of the good guys are going to die if they don’t get the cargo we’re carrying. What do you think? Quick! If we want to abort, we need to do it now.”
Silence. “Anybody?”
“Land the goddam plane, Captain.”
He wasn’t even sure who said it, but it was immediately followed by a couple more voices, “Yeah, land the goddam plane.”
“Okay, you guys, be ready. Soon as I stop the plane, get everybody moving. Let’s don’t hang around here any longer than we have to.” Semanski turned to First Lieutenant William Rogers, his navigator, and said, “Willie, how about going back there soon as we touch down and help them get this stuff moved out as fast as we can.” He was glad Rogers was along since they wouldn’t normally carry a navigator on a mission like this, unless maybe an airdrop was planned. But Rogers needed some flying time and wanted to come along, so the Ops Officer had allowed it. Now it looked like he’d be able to earn his keep.
The first small arms round tore through the fuselage the instant the wheels hit the runway. Several more hit as Semanski fought the controls to slow the plane down and turn it around. As he taxied back to the compound side of the runway and stopped, the A-1’s flew low across the other side strafing with their 20mm cannon. The ground fire directed at the 123 stopped. Semanski told his co-pilot, 1st Lt Jackie Adams, to keep the plane ready to takeoff at all times. Then he left the cockpit and went back to make sure everything was going okay with the offloading. The ramp from the cargo door was already down. Leduc and Morgan, the flight mechanic, were shoving crates into the arms of the replacements, screaming, “Didi Mao” at them. They thought that meant “Hurry up,” but they weren’t all that sure.
Semanski looked out the passenger door and saw a couple of wheeled carts being hurriedly pushed toward them. One was filled with what looked like body bags, and the other had wounded lying on it. There were also ARVN soldiers carrying body bags with more dead and stretchers with more wounded. As he watched, the front man on the nearest body bag fell to the ground. Almost immediately, he heard the “ping” of a small arms round strike the airplane followed in rapid succession by several more pings.
Semanski jumped from the plane and ran to the fallen ARVN soldier. His wound was obvious, high on his chest near the shoulder. His eyes were open, he was still alive. Semanski grabbed him up and started dragging him toward the plane. The other soldier dragged the body bag they’d been carrying. When they got into the plane, Semanski sat the wounded soldier down against the fuselage. “You’re going back with us,” he said. He motioned the other soldier toward the ramp door, “Grab a box and get back to the compound.” The soldier looked at him like the last thing he wanted to do was get back to the compound.
“Get that box and get your ass back to the compound,” said Semanski, advancing menacingly toward the soldier. The soldier took the supply box from Leduc and hurried down the ramp. “Stay low,” shouted Semanski at his back.
Rogers was busy securing body bags and wounded. Morgan and Leduc were overseeing the loading of the carts with ammo and supply boxes and stuffing the excess into the arms of the replacements and the soldiers who had brought down the dead and wounded. They were all wincing and grimacing at each “ping” that struck the plane. After the A-1’s pulled up from their first run, the ground fire picked up again, and the “pings” were pretty regular, even though it appeared that most of the ground fire was directed at the soldiers hauling the supplies back toward the compound. Semanski saw one of them fall. A couple of troops ran down from the compound to pick him up. Too bad I can’t wait around to take you out, too, thought Semanski as he scanned the cargo area to make sure all the supplies and ammo had been offloaded and the dead and wounded were as secure as possible under the circumstances.
“You guys ready to go?” he shouted at Leduc and Morgan. His question was punctuated by another “ping.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Leduc; “Hell, yes,” said Morgan as they both ducked the unseen round.
“Okay, buckle everything down; cause soon as I reach the cockpit, we’re moving.” He motioned for Rogers to follow him and made his way back to the cockpit. He found Adams slumped over in the right seat, eyes closed. “Jack, you okay,” he asked.
Adams opened his eyes and groaned, “Yeah, I’m okay. I caught a round in my shoulder, but I’m okay.”
Semanski glanced quickly at the shoulder. It looked like a lot of blood, but he knew he had to get the plane airborne before anyone could do anything about it. As he started his roll down the runway, the A-1’s began another strafing run which culminated as he lifted off the extreme end of the runway. A final “ping” somewhere behind him was the enemy’s farewell to the departing C-123.
“Leduc,” said Semanski into his headphone. “Is everybody okay back there?”
“I think so, Sir,” said Leduc. “The bird took a few hits, but me and Morgan are alright. We‘re checking the wounded now to make sure they‘re all still alive.”
“Okay, glad you guys are okay,” said Semanski. Rogers was already working on Adams’ shoulder wound, trying to slow the bleeding and bandage it up.
After their adventure on the ground at Cao Xanh, the flight home to Tan Son Nhut was uneventful. It was late in the duty day when they touched down. Ambulances and medics met them in front of Base Operations to take over the wounded. A doctor took a quick look at Adams’ shoulder and told Semanski that he’d be okay. Then Semanski and the rest of his crew headed for Squadron Operations for debriefing. Usually this time of day, Ops would be deserted except for the guys flying flares or other late flights. Today, however, the whole unit from the First Sergeant and his Orderly Room clerks through the Operations Officer and all the aircrews to Colonel Kenny, the Squadron Commander, were in Operations waiting for them. Col Kenny gazed at Semanski with that dour, wry look he used when he was ready to reprimand a subordinate. “Captain,” he said, “it’s a damn good thing you got back; because if you‘d gotten yourself killed out there, I was going to have your ass.”
“I thought for a minute the VC was going to have it, Sir,” said Semanski. “I’m not real sure which would have been worse.”
Col Kenny got serious. “We were getting second by second accounts of what was going on at Cao Xanh,” he said. “We were getting reports from everybody - the guys on the ground, the FAC’s, the A-1’s. They all thought you were crazy. And frankly, I did, too. But I’m damned glad you’re back. You did a great job, Captain, you and your whole crew. You did something today that this whole unit can be proud of. Thanks - and don’t you ever pull a dumb ass stunt like that again.”
“Colonel, I was - we were - just doing our job,” said Semanski. “And I for one was shaking in my boots the whole time. I’m just glad it turned out alright, and I sure as hell don‘t intend to do such a dumb ass thing ever again.”
“Yeah, I’m glad it turned out alright, too, Captain,” said Col Kenny. “Why don’t you and your guys go on back to quarters. You can debrief the mission tomorrow. I don’t think you’re going to forget too much about this one before then.”
The next morning, Semanski was in the middle of debriefing Intelligence when Col Kenny came in looking for him. “Capt Semanski,” he said, “they want to talk to you up at Division. They want to see you right away. Go directly to General Keefer’s office. He said he’d be waiting for you.”
“But, Sir,” said Semanski, spreading his arms, “I’m not dressed for it.”
“I really think the general wants to see you in your flying clothes,” said Kenny. “Get on up there right now.”
The general’s secretary was an attractive young Caucasian woman. Semanski enjoyed the sight; he hadn’t seen a woman like this for months. She did, in fact, appear to be waiting for him. As soon as he entered her office, she picked up her intercom and said simply, “He’s here.” Then she got up and opened the door to the general’s inner office.
All the way down to Division in the squadron’s Jeep, Semanski had been planning his military entrance into the general’s office, a precision approach to the general’s desk, a snappy salute from an erect stance, and the statement “Capt Semanski reporting as directed, Sir.”
General Keefer superceded all that by meeting Semanski at the door with his hand outstretched. “Come on in, Captain. Have a seat,” he said motioning toward the overstuffed chair in front of his desk. “How’s Lt Adams?”
“He’s fine, Sir,” said Semanski. “They say he’s going to make a quick recovery and be back to work in a couple of weeks.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Gen Keefer. “You folks did a great piece of work yesterday. I think everybody in-country has heard about it. We’ve been getting calls all morning. We also got word that the siege of Cao Xanh has ended. Evidently the enemy forces just faded away during the night. The people in that chain think your mission made the difference. They think the enemy was trying to starve the outpost out or run them out of ammunition. When you got in, that became much more difficult, so apparently they just wrote it off.”
“That’s great news, Sir,” said Semanski. “I’ll pass it along to my crew.”
“Yes, you do that,” said Gen Keefer. “And pass along my congratulations, too.” He paused a moment and then continued, “I think your mission is also going to get some big play on the news networks. There were some reporters hanging around here while it was going on, and they seemed very interested. Has anybody talked to you yet?”
“No, Sir. I haven’t heard anything like that,” said Semanski. “Maybe my commander’s holding them off till we get debriefed and everything.”
“Yeah, maybe,” said Gen Keefer. “No matter. I think you and your commander will make sure that my staff is involved in anything like that.” He leaned back in his big, leather, executive chair and looked intently at Semanski for a minute. “The biggest reason I wanted to see you this morning, Captain, is that I wanted to tell you that I intend to officially recognize the job you did on your mission yesterday.” He paused a minute for effect and continued, “I intend to put you in for the Distinguished Flying Cross.”
“The DFC,” said Semanski, a little breathless at the idea of receiving the most prestigious of all honors awarded to flyers. “Sir, I am overwhelmed. I never expected anything like that. We were just trying to do our job.”
“Don’t be too modest, Captain,” said the general. “What you did at Cao Xanh was definitely above and beyond the call of duty. You risked your own life, and you saved quite a few other lives in the process. You voluntarily took on a huge challenge, and you met it efficiently and courageously. Your performance fully justifies the Distinguished Flying Cross.”
Semanski felt himself getting choked up. His eyes got watery. Damn, I hope I don’t start crying in front of a general, he thought. Out loud he said, “I don’t know how to thank you, Sir. My crew will be floored. They all - every man - did a marvelous, courageous job, but I’m sure none of them ever thought anything about a DFC.”
The general’s smile faded a little. “I think there might have been a little bit of a misunderstanding, Captain,” he said. “While I’m sure your crew did a good job supporting you and we can arrange some kind of recognition for that, I’m not talking about awarding the Distinguished Flying Cross to your other crew members, just you.”
“But, Sir,” Semanski protested, “every man on my crew did the same thing I did. Without every man’s wholehearted effort, the mission would have failed. They all risked their lives. My crew was urging me to complete this mission when everybody up the chain was telling me to abort.”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” said Gen Keefer, “but you were the person in command. You had to make the hard decisions. You supervised the whole mission. You’re the one who earned the Distinguished Flying Cross, and you’re the one I’m putting in for it - only you.”
“That hardly seems fair, Sir,” said Semanski. “My crew had as much to do with this mission as I did. And it wasn’t just my decision to go into Cao Xanh. It was all our decision. I know the military is no democracy, but all my crew members were in favor of landing that plane. They had more to do with this success than I did. I certainly couldn’t have done anything without them. If I deserve the DFC, they deserve it more - every man.”
“I’m sure you believe that, Captain,” said the general, “but that’s not how other people see it. I want to put you in for this award first, and then we’ll determine the proper recognition for your crew.”
For a minute, Semanski studied the general’s awards on the wall behind his desk. He thought that a DFC would sure look good someday on the wall of his own office. But not like this, he thought, not like this. If he accepted the medal under these circumstances, the DFC would serve forever as a symbol of his betrayal of his crew. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he said, “but I can’t do it. I can’t accept an award higher than my crew gets. I’d feel like I was breaking faith with them. We went through that mission together, and I have to stick with them on this. So I guess I respectfully decline your offer to put me in for the DFC.”
Gen Keefer said, “Just when you think you’ve seen everything . . .” He paused for a long second, “I’ve never seen anybody turn down a DFC, Capt Semanski. I respect your loyalty to your crew, but I have to wonder a little about your career goals.” Again he paused, seemingly considering what he should do in the face of such an unexpected occurrence. Finally, he raised his head to look straight into Semanski’s eyes and said, “I also respect your decision, Captain. You did a helluva job at Cao Xanh. I congratulate you for that, you and your whole crew. You can return to your unit now.” He turned his attention to the papers on his desk.
Semanski didn’t know how he was going to explain this to Col Kenny, but he needn’t have concerned himself about it. The grapevine on a military installation is as good as anywhere in the world, and the news that he had turned down a DFC beat him back to his squadron. When he walked into Operations, everybody was waiting for him again, even Col Kenny. “Are you nuts, Captain?” he asked. “You can’t turn down a DFC. It just isn’t done.”
“I think I just did, Sir,” said Semanski. “And I feel good about it.”
Col Kenny shook his head and got that same dour, wry smile on his face. “You probably need a little down time to get over this.” he said. “Get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and as an afterthought, “and take your crew with you. They’re probably going to be useless today, too.”
Rogers, Leduc, and Jordan immediately surrounded Semanski. “Come on, Captain,” said Leduc. “Let’s go over to the hospital and break the news to Lt Adams that he’s not getting a DFC either.”
“Yeah,” said Rogers. “Then we’re going to take you to Saigon and buy you the biggest water buffalo steak you’ve ever eaten.”
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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