Michael Craig Campbell

 A Week in Hell 
 by Mike Campbell

 I would like to dedicate this story to all my brothers and sisters who gave their all in the line of duty to our country. Also, to all the fine men that flew every day into the jaws of death. I am no hero, just a guy that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The real hero's names are on a wall in Washington DC.

 This story begins with a 17-year-old farm boy from the state of Idaho. In March of 1969 this year of our lord I joined the Army and for the first time in my life I traveled out side of my home state. After Basic training At Fort Ord California, and my other training, I was sent to Vietnam, in December of the same year as a helicopter Crew Chief. On the first of January 1970 I arrived at a place called Tay Ninh, Vietnam. Where I was assigned to the 187th Assault helicopter Co.  I spent the next year as a combat crew chief flying on UH-1 H Helicopters. I learned many things in that year. Such as the meaning of reality, Death, true friendship, and responsibility. When my tour of duty was up I was a seasoned combat soldier with a real chip on my shoulder. I had been shot down twice and had been in a lot of life and death situations.

I spent the next few months in the United States, at which time I put in a request to go back to Vietnam. I remember thinking at the time that this state side duty was not for me. Within a few weeks I was back in combat. The new unit which I was assigned to was my old sister company, the 116th Assault Helicopter Company.  After a few months of flying with the 116th, was shot down again, it was the third of June 1971.  My helicopter was ambushed as we tried to land in what we called an LZ, or landing zone. Our mission was to extract a company of South Vietnamese soldiers. Up on our short final approach to the LZ my helicopter came under very heavy, sustained mortar and small arms fire.  A mortar exploded on the right side of my aircraft that wounded my gunner and blew me over my machine gun on to the ground. The rest of my crew, two pilots and my gunner were in a small depression on the right side of the aircraft. It took me three tries under fire to get my M-60 machine gun and ammo off the aircraft. I finally got it and set up on the left side of my Bird. At about the same time I noticed a wounded South Vietnamese soldier about 20 feet in front of where I was. He had been hit in the right temple and the bullet had taken out his right eye and the bridge of his nose. The man was screaming in pain. At the time I could not do any thing for him. I kept firing at the North Vietnamese that were coming up the hill that were trying to flank us on the left side of our little hole in the jungle. If they had been successful we would have been caught in a nice little cross fire.

I don't know how many rounds I fired; it had to be close to 1000. I fired at the enemy until my gun got hot and jammed.  It seemed like hours but I know it was only a few minutes.  I could see another helicopter trying to land to pick us up, so I ran out grabbed the wounded man and ran around the right side of my helicopter, and waved to the rest of the crew to follow me. We all made it to the rescue ship just as it touched down.  Warrant officer Jerry Harlin had helped my gunner private first class Bob Corbett to the rescue ship. The cool air and the feel of power never felt so good. We flew straight to the 91st field hospital in Cu Chi. I had never seen so many enemy before. The tide of war was turning.

Our Commander in chief at the time was Mr. Richard Nixon.  Mr. Nixon was not replacing people that were ending their tours of duty in Vietnam, and as we pulled out, the North Vietnamese were moving in.   In late September 1971, the 116th Assault Helicopter Co packed up everything we had and moved from Chu Li to Da Nang . We had just gotten moved in and were starting to get use to the new home when on the 22nd of October a typhoon hit the coast of Vietnam. This typhoon was the worst storm to hit Vietnam in over 30 years, and it was right on top of us. My ship and crew made it back to Da Nang just before the storm hit.

Another crew was not so lucky. They had flown in to the side of a mountain in the damn thing. The date was October 22 1971. Killed were my best friend Sp-5 Daniel G. Dye/ W01 Royd D. Barnes / W01 Pat G. Brannon.  After the storm had passed we were able to piece together enough helicopters to go and look for the missing bird. We found what was left of them and the aircraft on October 25th 1971.

I guess it was near the first of November 1971 when about 12 or 14 of the men from the 116th assault helicopter company were ordered to report to the flight operations building.  Among the men were Captain Jim McDaniel, Captain Eugene Johnson, W0-2 David Daugherty, and myself, Sergeant Michael Campbell. A one-star General gave us a briefing. He told us that since the war was being turned over to the Vietnamese our unit would not be getting new helicopters to replace the ones destroyed in the typhoon. Also we were being reassigned to the first Vietnam air wing and that we would be under the control of MACV which is a special operations group. Our mission was to train Vietnamese to fly and work on UH-1H helicopters and then fly combat missions with them.

Captain Johnson was given the dubious task of being our commander. For the next two months we trained day and night with the Vietnamese crews to get them ready for combat, and I must say many of our team started to gain real friendship with our Vietnamese counter-parts. I for one spent a great deal of my time learning the language from the people I was working with.  I even learned a few Vietnamese songs and learned to play them on the guitar. When we were not working we were getting drunk with our newfound friends.

On about the 5th of February 1972 we were ready to start flying combat missions with the Vietnamese. I was assigned an aircraft and crew, and also an area of operation. It was a small hole it the jungle called Buon Me Thuot, which had been a Special Forces compound, but was now a staging area for South Vietnamese troops.

This small compound had a short runway and a helicopter pad just big enough for two helicopters.  I ate, drank, and lived Vietnamese for the next few weeks. It seemed like the North Vietnamese and the Vietcong attacked us every night. It also seemed like the only guys on our side that wanted to fight our enemy were the Montegnard Special Forces and these guys were tough.

We began to fly operations into Laos and Cambodia in support of Vietnamese Special forces operations.  I don't think that any one in our small group knew it at the time but the North Vietnamese were starting a large build-up of troops in Laos. The offensive that the North was preparing for was to come in March of 1972. I had heard from some of the U.S. Army Special Forces guys that were going on reconnaissance missions with the Vietnamese that they were seeing large numbers of enemy building up just over the Vietnam border in Laos.

On the tenth of February 1972 while flying in support of a Vietnamese recon team, we received an urgent radio call from the team that they were in need of a rapid extraction. In rough to the Landing Zone, that had been decided on, we lost radio contact with the team. I remember thinking at the time "things don't smell right" every one was speaking Vietnamese, and it was too late by that time anyway as my ship was on short final into the pickup zone. I could see red smoke filling the spot where we were to land. All at once the world around us exploded with green tracer rounds. I heard one of my crewmen scream as the Helicopter began to spin violently and shake. I remember every thing becoming a blur as the ship crashed on its left side.  It pinned me against my machine gun that was for the most part buried in the dirt and grass. The aircraft was filling with smoke and the smell of burning hydraulic fluid and jet fuel. The engine was at high speed running out of control.

As I regained myself I knew I had to get out and the only way was to crawl up the now vertical cargo floor. When I got to the top of the floor I could see my gunner was covered with blood and dead. The two pilots were also crawling out of the right side pilot’s door. It didn't take me long to realize that the men on the ground standing around our helicopter were not the familiar tiger striped camouflaged uniforms of the recon team.  These were North Vietnamese regulars and some were obviously Viet Cong gorilla fighters. In the next few seconds a thousand things went through my mind. Were they going to execute us?  Are we going on a long trip to Hanoi?  My God I am a prisoner.  A North Vietnamese Captain stepped forward shouting at us in Vietnamese while waving a Chicom pistol "get down get down!" the three of us un-assed the helicopter in a big hurry. As we stood in front of the Captain with our hands on our heads I began to shake with fear and maybe shock. I couldn't help myself. Several of our captor's saw this and started to laugh at me. I could feel the fear crawl through me like ice, while my heart was pounding in my ears and throat.  We were then searched and put on our knees with our hands over our heads.  I could see two of the enemy carrying several extra M-16 rifles and a bunch of bandoleers of ammunition.  I knew right then that our Recon team was all dead.

I was having a hard time understanding the North Vietnamese they were talking so fast. It didn't take them long to tie our hands behind our backs and then tie another rope around our necks linking the three of us together. The most of that day I was blind folded, and if I fell the rope made us all fall choking our air off.

This seemed to give a great deal of amusement to our enemy. We walked all day until it was almost dark. My feet were swollen to the point that my boots were cutting off the blood flow to my feet.  I don't remember feeling hungry or even thirsty. As every one began to settle in for the night my hands were untied for a while and I was allowed to drink from a rain puddle.  I think I drank the whole thing and it tasted good. The NVA and VC solders were eating rice with what looked like vegetables; the two pilots and myself weren't offered anything to eat, which was OK with me. The aircraft commander Captain Tue had been talking to the North Vietnamese captain.  I caught some of the conversation and I didn't like what I heard.  I think the North Vietnamese Captain had it in mind to just shoot us rather than waste manpower guarding us.  I was so tired that I started to fall asleep only to be awoken with a rifle butt in the face.  Two of the Vietcong dragged me to my feet and tied me to a tree with my hands behind my back.  Between the pain in my shoulders and the taste of warm blood it was hard to get back to sleep that night.  I listened to the sounds of the jungle while thinking about home, and wondering if anyone was looking for us.

The next morning I woke to the sounds of people talking.  I think every bone in my body hurt. Some of the pain was from crashing and some from being kicked around, falling and being struck in the face. My eyes were swollen almost closed, mostly from hundreds of mosquito bites.  I remember thinking that I had to keep my mouth shut and not let the enemy solders know I could understand most of what they were saying. I was feeling a little sharper now that the reality of being a prisoner had sunk in and I counted 14 of the enemy solders. We headed out after the enemy ate, and had tied the three of us together again.  After a short while we were ordered to hide under some palms that had low branches.  I could hear several helicopter fly overhead and then they were gone.

I felt my heart sink and my spirits drop.  I had a bamboo pole between my elbows and my back and my hands lashed together.  If I didn't stand straight the pole rubbed on my back. I already had a bleeding sore from the pole so when we stopped and I was allowed to sit down. It felt good.  At about midday we stopped and the NVA captain sent out a patrol in front of the rest of us. After several hours the patrol returned and we started out again.  This time the three of us were blindfolded again.  We must have been near a friendly base because I could hear helicopters in the distance.  Every bone and joint in my body hurt by this time and I caught my self beginning to cry. But I had to be strong - I thought about basic training and the things I had been taught if I ever was captured; name, rank, and serial number. What a crock. If you sink low enough and are sick enough, you will talk, even if what you tell them is a lie.

A million things went through my mind like where are we going and if they were going to shoot us surely it would have been over with by now.  When we stopped for the night it was the same thing all over again. But this time, there was a small stream to drink out of, and we also got about a teaspoon-full of cold dirty rice. But it tasted like a steak. As the sun went down I could hear monkeys and other sounds of the jungle, I don't remember ever feeling so alone before. Even though I was tied to a tree sleep came quickly as I listened to Captain Tue talking to the NVA Captain.

I woke before light the next morning with a fire in my stomach, and some dry heaving.  Bugs had eaten me up during the night and I hurt all over.  Our captors were already on the move and having their rice.  Just as it started to get light, all of the Vietcong packed their things and left. I guess they had another mission to perform. There were goodbyes all round and they were off. That left just 6 North Vietnamese solders to take care of the three of us. As a parting shot one of the Vietcong spit on me and acted like he was going to hit me in the head with his rifle butt.  Real tough guy while I was tied up. When we were untied for a short while and allowed to drink some water.  I felt so sick that I couldn't keep the water down. As the NVA solders were tying us up for the days journey Captain Tue gave me the thumbs up sign. I didn't under stand what he meant at the time, and I didn't care either.  As the day went by I felt sicker. I had diarrhea and a stomachache.

I don't know how long we walked that day when you're sick it's hard to tell time. I think it was mid afternoon when we stopped. The North Vietnamese Captain and Captain Tue talked for a few hours but they were far enough from me that I couldn't here much of what they were saying. I had been sat down with my back against a small tree with my hands tied behind my back. I drifted in and out of sleep as I sat there. I did wake up long enough to see a young cobra snake crawl past me. It was only about two feet long and it never paid any attention to me at all.

Captain Tue who had been untied walked over to me and said very quickly that he would be back, that is all he said. I was feeling like crap but the good Captain didn't look so good either. His eyes were sunk in their sockets and he looked very pale.  What did he mean I'd be back?  He then just walked away and disappeared in the jungle.  The next few hours seemed like a dream; at least I felt like I was in a dream state. I seamed to be drifting in and out of reality. Nothing made since to me and in my mind I was having a hard time processing information. I not only hated the North Vietnamese solders that had taken me prisoner but I also hated Captain Tue for running out on me.

The jungle, lack of sleep, dehydration, hundreds of bug bites, trauma from the crash and other things were taking a toll on me.  It was about an hour before dark when one of the North Vietnamese solders came into our little nook in the jungle and told his Captain that Captain Tue was coming. The copilot and myself were hurried to our feet and lead through the under growth, I don't know how long we walked, as time and distance were not making any sense.  After a while we stopped and were told to set down. Both the copilot and I were untied and our blindfolds removed. I must have looked like hell because the copilot really looked bad. He had dried blood on his face and was covered with dirt.   One of the North Vietnamese walked about fifty yards in front of us and stopped in a dirt road. Soon a three quarter ton truck pulled up and was led back to where the rest of us were waiting in the trees. Captain Tue got out of the truck and was met by the North Vietnamese Captain.

The rest of the North solders had their guns on us. I thought to my self, "this is it. We are dead. They are going to shoot us" I remember starting to shake again and being angry with myself for it. Two of the North solders unloaded the back of the truck and took inventory. I counted about twelve large bags of rice they were about fifty pounds apace. Also among the goodies were somewhere around twelve cases of C rations. The good Captain, the copilot and myself were marched to the road where the North Vietnamese stopped and we were ordered to walk down the road. God no!  I am going to get a bullet in the back. Captain Tue said very quietly just keep walking and not look back. I had to be putting one foot in front of the other on adrenalin alone because I had nothing left in me. We walked down the dirt road in to the darkness and to the main gate at Buon Me Thuot. Two Quin Con or South Vietnamese military police came running out to meet us. They helped us to a jeep and on to the medical dispensary. I can remember showering; I looked at my chest and saw nothing but solid black and blue from smashing into my gun when we went down in the helicopter. It was nice to get all the dirt, dried blood and diarrhea off me.

We spent the next two days in bed where we were treated for cuts, bites and dehydration. Captain Tue told me to not say anything about the food. This man had just saved my life. If he had asked me to eat some dog crap, I would have. After two days in bed my stomach still hurt me so the medics had me give them a stool sample. Great news!  I have a parasitic worm in my stomach.  I had to drink some green syrup like liquid three times a day for the next two weeks and crap in a Dixie cup every day for these guys.

After that, I was put on a helicopter headed back to Da Nang and my unit where I was debriefed my Major with a MACV patch on his shoulder. After I told him my story he said to me. "As far as the Army in concerned you escaped and evaded the enemy," He told me how it would be bad for moral and would be bad press if the folks back home found out that we were giving the enemy food. So I kept my mouth shut as ordered.

There were a lot of rumors flying around the unit about what really happened to us. Some were close some were not. I had become dead weight.  I'd been fighting that Damn war for two years and I had enough. My nerves were shot I couldn't fly any more. And didn't want anything but to go home back to that little farm in Idaho. I was given a one-month early out of the Army.

I left the land of rice paddies and emerald green mountains never to fight the war again, or so I thought, but that is another story. I often think of Captain Tue and Vietnam.  Time has dulled the memories but not the pain. Some times when I am alone and it is quiet, in the dark halls of my mind I can still see my friend, Captain Tue.

Michael C Campbell