Killed in Action on July 4th.

On July 4th, 1970, I witnessed one of the most shocking and horrible scenes that a helicopter pilot can witness. I was flying co pilot that day and Wollman was the Aircraft Commander. We were on standby at Mace as we had drawn the duty of flying the Colonel on one of his tours around the AO. The sense of having a day with no combat was always nice as we generally didn't run into trouble when the Colonel was on one of his inspection tours.

Any degree of calm was totally blown away when we received the word that one of our convoys was involved in an ambush and a huge fire fight was underway. We ran to the helicopter followed by the Colonel who was also running. The sight of the boss running toward the Huey wasn't exactly the kind of thing that inspires a laid back attitude. I had only been in Vietnam for six weeks and even though I'd had some combat time, this seemed to be a totally different atmosphere than the one you have when you are sitting in front of a map planning a mission for the next day.

The Colonel didn't explain the size and scope of the battle. He only said that there was an ambush not far away and that Wollman should "fly up the road". I remember that Wollman had the Huey up and running and did one of those military take offs that we knew was one that was only done when the situation was one of life and death.

I could see a couple of helicopters orbiting the area and I heard the Colonel tell Wollman to stay west of the road and make north south passes. I'd already witnessed that kind of holding pattern and I knew that the Colonel was aware of artillery shells being fired into the scene where the NVA were fighting from.

That holding pattern put the copilot's seat on the side of the helicopter closest to the firefight. It's like riding shot gun in a car when your driver turns in front of on coming traffic that's very close. Usually, a comment follows that kind of turn in a car where the passenger says something like: "Hey that's on MY side".

I could see a line of vehicles on the road with alot of men taking cover behind them. I also saw alot of tracers going back and forth between the vehicles and the jungle where the NVA were firing from. Wollman didn't slow down on this pass as we were real, real close to the battle.

At the northern end of his holding pattern, after we had flown over the ambush site and passed it, Wollman made a 180 degree turn and flew back to the northern end of the fire fight and continued south until we had to make another 180 degree turn to continue closing the loop on the holding pattern. I was glad of that because when we were heading south, I couldn't see as much as I could when we were heading north.

As we reached the ambush site, I looked out the right window of the cockpit and saw a Cobra gunship in a screaming dive as he prepared to make his gun run. I hadn't flown a Cobra at that time but had heard they would come in at 190 MPH which was the maximum speed allowable.

At exactly that time, a 51 caliber anti aircraft position opened fire on the Cobra and I watched it scream to the ground and explode with a fireball that reached roughly half the height of where we were flying. It was the largest ball of fire I ever saw during my entire tour. You may well imagine that all I have to do is close my eyes and rerun the horrors of that sight. We couldn't tell for sure but it appeared that the 51 caliber had gone through the cockpit and almost certainly killed both men instantly.

I say that because the Cobra never changed attitude. If they had taken a round in the rotor system, the ship would have gone haywire and been completely out of control. Regardless of where the rounds landed, when you are in a dive at 190 miles per hour and only flying at 1,500 feet, the time to hit the ground is nothing. It all happened in a flash and every bit of it was happening right outside my door.

The Colonel came on the intercom and ordered us to "Get the hell out of here". Initially, I didn't like the order as I wanted to let the gunners do their thing and kill as many NVA as possible. Despite the thoughts I had about leaving the area, I later learned that the Colonel had been cautioned by MACV to NOT be killed in the field like General Bond which had been the case just a short time before that.

As soon as Wollman banked away from the battle and did as the Colonel ordered us to do, he told us all that he was very sorry to see that we had just lost "our brothers". I knew he wasn't running from a fight because I'd already seen him command another battle from our ship and realized that it was a much wiser thing for him to do than get killed and leave the battle field without a commander to run things.

Many years later, when computers became available, I found the "Brigade Summaries" from the 199th and, as a curiosity, read them to see what was there. I saw that there was a report that an AH 1G Cobra was lost on that day. I knew I had found the report of the shoot down but was somewhat disappointed that it didn't have more detail to it.

When the Virtual Wall came about, I went to the section of all KIAs on July 4th, 1970. I found the listing of a couple of Cobras that were shot down on that day. When I looked further into the report, I noticed that it gave the Province where each had been shot down and knew that one was the Cobra I saw. That led me to the names of the two pilots that were killed in action that day.

When I went I went to their site on the Wall, I entered a memorial statement for CWOs Jernigan and Stearns and did the best I could to deliver an eyewitness report of the battle that took their lives. I eliminated the details of the battle and focused more on the size of the battle and the bravery of the two men. At that end of it, I left my name, my unit and my email address.

I was quite surprised to receive an email from Stearns son. He had been trying for years to find out what had happened to his father as the only thing he remembered came from the day that the Army sent a chaplain with the notice that his father had been killed on a "routine air patrol".

Stearns son explained that he and the rest of his family, had that empty feeling that comes with hearing the news that your brother and father was killed in action and the further emptiness that comes with not having a clue of how it happened.

When I received that email I could almost hear the pleading of his son to find out how his father died. I totally eliminated the horrors of the moments they spent in the last seconds of their life. I focused on the size of the battle and the fact that his dad and Jernigan had been strafing the enemy with their Cobra and after their last gun run, with the death of so many NVA, the battle had ended.

For several years, on July 4th, we exchanged emails and wished each other well. He even sent me news of Stearns grand kids and that he had given his Uncle, Stearns brother, the news that I had passed along to him. I've always hoped, in some way, that the news we shared gave the family some relief in knowing the truth about their last moments on earth.

I didn't get into the details from the ground as was reported to me later by one of the guys in our unit that made it to the Cobra to see if there was anyone who survived. I have often wondered how many families of men killed in action, suffered from not knowing anything about their son except he was killed. I've felt pretty good about doing that and each July 4th, I go through those memories again. Tough day for all.