POSTSCRIPT

Vietnam in 1969 was a place where America’s young people went because their country asked them to. While there, they did their jobs the best way they knew how, then looked forward to going home to their friends, families, schools, jobs. Hopefully, also, to the welcome and general approval of the American public.

As a new helicopter pilot, I felt fortunate to be assigned to D Troop (Air), 1st Squadron, 4th Cavalry, and the 1st Division’s crack hunter‑ killer teams. I was proud to be a member of that unit then, and the years since have only deepened that feeling of regard.

In writing Low Level Hell, I have been fortunate to locate and talk to a number of the other young men who were in the troop with me in 1969. They were most supportive. First, for urging me to accomplish this task. But, more importantly, for their gentle prods to tell it the way it really happened, and to avoid making a “war” story out of it. I have done my best to do that.

It was my intent from the start to use real people, real names. To also–as nearly as I could–recount real situations happening under the circumstances and conditions that existed at the time. To do anything less seemed unfair to those I served with in the troop.

My sincere thanks go to all my comrades for reaching back in their memories, to help sharpen my recalling and recounting the events of 1969. Thanks, especially, to former Four Six, Bob Harris. He took the time, and the special effort, to give me his vivid reflections of that horrendous 28 July day that found him in a bomb crater, and me hovering over it with a box of medical supplies.

My appreciation, also, to Marianne Thornton of Morrison, Colorado. The hours she so willingly spent transcribing many of my audiotapes contributed greatly to keeping the creative process on track. Sandra Irelan and Jan Allgire spent a great deal of their own time typing and retyping drafts of the manuscript. Their gentle prodding kept me on course for nearly five years.

When basing a writing on fact, one obviously tries very hard to be as accurate as possible in all things. If inaccuracies have worked their way into this narrative, be sure that they are not there as the result of any intent on my part to misrepresent the facts. Of course, memory and records do not document the precise words spoken in casual conversations, radio transmissions, and other verbal exchanges. Much of the dialogue that I have written in this story, therefore, has been extrapolated from what the actual words spoken may have been. The reason, while always trying to keep the words in character with the person speaking them, was simply to make the dialogue more understandable and meaningful to the reader.

To further refresh my memory, and to maintain as high a degree of accuracy as possible, I have referred to numerous printed works, primarily operational and casualty reports of the units concerned.

In September 1971, I would return to Vietnam as a Cobra pilot for C Troop, 3d Squadron, 5th Cavalry working from Quang Tri airfield in I Corps, ranging from the A Shau Valley to the string of fire bases along the DMZ. When the unit deployed to the United States in February 1972, I elected to remain in‑ country and look for another cav troop. I was a single captain and intended to make the service my career. I was ultimately assigned to C Troop, 16th Cavalry operating out of Can Tho in the IV Corps tactical area. To my surprise this was again Darkhorse. The troop had remained in country in 1971 when the Big Red One went home to Fort Riley, Kansas, and had been redesignated as an independent troop of the 164th Combat Aviation Group.

My new position was aeroscout platoon leader–Darkhorse One Six–and asleep on my new bunk on the day I arrived was my new wingman, Captain Rod Willis.

Hugh L. Mills, Jr.

LTC, Aviation, U. S. Army

* * *

Shortly after his first tour in Vietnam, Hugh Mills jotted down the following thought: “Many volumes have been and will be written on the Vietnam conflict, for Vietnam was the environment in which doctrine for the employment of the helicopter in airmobile and air cavalry operations was written. This doctrine was written not by the major commanders in the Pentagon, but by the young officers and enlisted men in their daily struggle to complete the mission of combat. ”

As one of the army helicopter scout pilots who helped significantly in the writing of that doctrine, Hugh Mills flew over 2, 000 combat hours in Vietnam, most of them logged in his near idolized OH‑ 6A Loaches. He believed that going to Vietnam was just another chapter in his army career. But while he was there, he was going to carry the point of the bayonet to the enemy’s throat every way he could, every time he could. Not for the glory, but in the honest hope that U. S. servicemen and women could soon go home victorious, and that the people of Vietnam could, after being ravaged by war for so long, reclaim their country and live in peace.

Though it is not in Hugh Mills’s disposition to speak of the honors that came to him flying scouts in Vietnam, one simply can’t overlook the fact that Lieutenant Colonel Mills completed his service in Southeast Asia by being awarded: three Silver Stars, four Distinguished Flying Crosses, two Bronze Stars for Service, one Bronze Star for Valor, three Purple Hearts, seventy‑ two Air Medals (six with V for valor), three Army Commendation Medals (all with V device), one Vietnam Service Medal, one Republic of Vietnam Campaign Medal (six battle stars). And from the Republic of Vietnam government: Republic of Vietnam Cross of Gallantry (with Silver Star and Palm), Republic of Vietnam Technical Service Honor Medal First Class, and Republic of Vietnam Civic Action Medal First Class.

There’s another thing about Hugh Mills that can’t be overlooked, and that’s the pride he takes in his own work, and in all those who worked with him in Vietnam. The men of D Troop (Air), and especially the aeroscouts of the Big Red One’s Outcasts platoon, hold to this day a very special place in Hugh Mills’s heart. In Vietnam, the life of a Loach crewman was only as good as the other guy in the ship. They depended upon each other to stay alive–there was probably no closer military comradery than that between the aeroscout crew chief and his pilot.

Mills, in my observation, has never lost the spirit of that comradery even though his tours in Vietnam ended some 22 years ago. He still tracks those who survived and made it back home, and takes pride in knowing the whereabouts of his fellow Darkhorsemen:

Tom Chambers A corporate pilot now living in Texas.

Bob Davis Retired from the army as a CW‑ 4, now a corporate pilot living in Ohio.

Al Farrar Now lives and teaches school in his home state of Rhode Island.

Jon Gregory Retired from the army, currently a civilian airplane pilot for the U. S. Army.

Stu Harrell Now lives in Arizona and works as an investment planner.

Bob Harris Went to flight school after his Vietnam tours, became a pilot, and now serves in the army in Texas as a lieutenant colonel.

Bill Hayes Now works as a police officer in Washington, D. C.

John Herchert Lives and works as a sales representative in Missouri.

Bob Holmes Retired from the army, now an airline pilot.

Larry Kauffman Lives in Texas and is a regional sales manager.

Chuck Koranda Currently serving as a CW‑ 4 in the Wisconsin Army National Guard.

Tim McDivitt Now lives in Florida where he is in business.

Major Charles Moore Lives in Tennessee where he is a county executive.

Jim Parker Lives in Georgia where he is a factory supervisor.

Dean Sinor Lives in Kentucky where he is a corporate helicopter pilot.

Ken Stormer Currently living in Texas where he is a rancher.

Doug Veitch Retired from the army, now an investment planner in Colorado.

Rod Willis Retired from the army as a lieutenant colonel, now a consultant for army programs in Kansas.

Mike Woods Retired from the army, now a plant manager in California.

My association with Hugh Mills began in August 1986, when Low Level Hell went from an abstract idea to a tangible effort. My work with him over these past five years has been a rich, fulfilling, and thoroughly enjoyable experience. I marvel at his vivid recall of those Vietnam days, at his sly sense of humor, at his heartfelt anguish in recounting the loss or injury of one of his fellow Outcasts.

My days of military service are long since behind me, and I still look forward to the day when sound political judgments can eliminate wars. But until then, I can only hope that our country continues to generate and be blessed with people like Hugh Mills, a man with whom I heartily agree when he appraises Vietnam’s controversial aftermath by urging, “Blame the war, not the warrior! ”

Robert A. Anderson