“These things we do that others may live” is the current motto of the US Air Force combat search and rescue team, or Pedro as they are called when deployed to Afghanistan. They fly into the battlefield with their smooth Pave Hawk helicopters and evacuate the wounded infantry soldiers and Marines. On a recent evacuation of two Danish soldiers in the middle of a battle with the Taliban, the Viking ancestors made a memorable difference to the 129th American Air Force Pedros crew.
It was a hot day in June even though it was still early in the morning. The traditionally dry heat of the southern Afghan desert, combined with the humidity of the green vegetation known as the Green Zone around the Helmand River, made the Danish infantry soldiers from the Danish Royal Husars drip with sweat as they patrolled in the green fields with heavy equipment and body amour. The squad, also known as Charlie Coy, soon got engaged in a heavy battle with Taliban fighters. Two Danish soldiers were shot by the Taliban and the medic called for evacuation””the so-called medevac. The American Pedro team 129th responded to the call.
The U.S. Air Force MEDEVAC hnelicopters, call sign “PEDRO,” saved many lives in the Mekong Delta during the war against the communists in South Vietnam.
In June 1969, I was OIC of a detachment of ten sailors charged with the mission of hand emplanting and monitoring Duffel Bag, AKA Igloo White, sensors and remotely detonated minefields along the the South Vietnamese-Cambodian border in the vicinity of the intersection the Giang Thang River, AKA Bernique’s Creek, and the Ha Tien Canal.
I was also in charge of a Mobile Riverine Force monitor equipped with a 105mm howitzer turret which we used to fire on sensor activations.
At about 2300 one very dark night we began receiving strong sensor indications of an enemy column about 2 kilometers away, crossing from Cambodia to South Vietnam. We plotted the range and azimuth of the target, maneuvered the monitor into a firing position, set the howitzer’s elevation with our gunner’s quadrant and commenced firing 105mm rounds at the target.
Suddenly, firing from the 105mm howitzer stopped and the cry went out “Personnel Casualty!” The monitor crew carried the body of the second class gunners mate who was the gun captain and laid him on a Stoke’s stretcher on the main deck. A 105mm round had failed to “fire” and the the gunners mate had leaned over the gun mount in the dark to check on a ‘hung up’ firing latch. The howitzer then fired and the expend steel 105mm shell casing ejected from the gun mount and struck the gunners mate squarely in his sternum.
By the time I examined him, he was breathing rapidly in shallow breaths and his skin was beginning to turn green.
Our location was remote, to say the very least. There were was a South Vietnamese outpost nearby which had zero medical capability for severe trauma and the nearest U.S. military facility with any night time combat rescue MEDEVAC capability was about seventy miles away in Can Tho.
The combat rescue capability was necessary because we were located on our monitor about 150 feet from the Cambodian border which ran along the Vinh Te Canal at that point. Overflight of the canal would probably draw fire from a Camboldian outpost about 2 kilometers away. Just locating a darkend MRF monitor on a canal on a black-dark night would be an amazing night navigation feat. But then, locating us out in the middle of a nearby field would be even more difficult.
PEDRO was the gunners mate’s only chance. We had no other choice. Immediately after assessing his condition, I went up on the VRC-46 mounted on the monitor and contacted our remote sensor monioring team on Mount Nui CoTo about thirty-five miles away. Luckily they received our MEDEVAC call and contacted our main Duffle Bag team at U.S. Special Forces Camp, Ba Xoai, A-421. They went up on their SSB tranceiver and contacted the Navy TOC at Binh Thuy which contacted the Air Force MEDEVAC team at Can Tho Airfield.
The word came back to our lonely little riverine force monitor that PEDRO was on the way. I was given a FM frquency to monitor on my PRC-77 and sat in the dark and quiet night waiting for PEDRO to contact us. The gunner’s mate was still breathing with difficulty and experiencing deep pain in his chest. His skin color was still a lousy green.
After about 15 minuutes, PEDRO contacted me on the radio and I began to talk him into our location. As he drew closer, I described the terrain features that he might see at night and soon I could hear the rotors of his helicopter.
Then the next phase began. Once he had located us near the intersection of the canal and river, he had to then locate the small field into which we had carried our wounded sailor and land on it without hitting any of the palm trees lining it. Further, he had to avoid flying over Cambodia which was just 200 yards away. All of this in the dark. With no lights. The only light to be used was our flashlight with a red filter on it.
PEDRO did it! Four of us rushed forward with the Stokes stretcher and loaded our wounded sailor aboard.
The gunners mate lived and its pretty certain that PEDRO saved his life!
Good piece from Michael Yon in theatre. Also, that’s an amazing story, AnglicanFirst, and bless you for telling it. Sounds like you did some pretty calm and collected liason work talking PEDRO in to your location.
One of the units I currently serve as chaplain is 413 Transport and Rescue Squadron here at 14 Wing, Greenwood, NS. I can’t say enough good about the SARtechs – as far as I’m concerened, angels wear bright orange jumpsuits and berets. MP+