Air Commando Hunters on the Ho Chi Minh Trail

Snapshots from the Secret War in Laos

The Secret War in Laos is frequently dated as 1964 through 1975 and was a part of the Vietnam War. Its objective was to stop the supply of North Vietnamese weapons, munitions, fuel, and enemy manpower into South Vietnam and Cambodia. The U.S. intervened in this huge web of North Vietnamese logistical trails, named for North Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh, largely by aerial bombing and strafing. I can best explain the Air Commando efforts from 1966 to 1969 by snapshots of my own experience as an A-26K navigator of the 606^th Air Commando Squadron in 1967.

The USAF 606th Air Commando Squadron was equipped with A-26K Invader attack-bombers. Our base was Nakhon Phanom Royal Thai Airbase (NKP) in northeastern Thailand, near the Mekong River, the border between Thailand and Laos.  The 606^th was part of the highly diversified 56^th Commando Wing at NKP. The A-26K was a revamped model of the old World War II and Korean War Douglas B-26 Invader. This one and only squadron of A-26s, never having more than a dozen aircraft, proved to be the most effective enemy truck destroyer in the U.S. weapons inventory from 1966 to 1969.  One-third of the squadron’s aircrews, however, were killed or reported missing in action during that period. In 1969, the A-26s were replaced by the extraordinarily effective and less vulnerable AC-130 Specter gunships. 

As a twin-prop attack-bomber, the A-26 was used principally for night armed reconnaissance. The primary objective was to intercept and destroy enemy trucks transporting munitions and supplies from North Vietnam through Laos along the Ho Chi Minh Trail to South Vietnam and Cambodia.  In addition, the aircraft was frequently used for the support of ground forces and for combat support roles in air rescue missions.  

Although old and relatively slow, the remodeled A-26 had the advantage of being able to stay on station much longer than jet aircraft and was considerably more accurate in its bombing and strafing, especially at night. The aircraft had eight 50-caliber machine guns in the nose, but to reduce exhaust fumes in the cockpit, normally only six were loaded. This still delivered enough impact to send a large transport truck cartwheeling. We also had eight weapon stations on the wings and a bomb bay in which we usually carried two one-thousand-pound bombs. The squadron call sign for  the A-26s was “Nimrod,” a Biblical reference to an ancient Mesopotamian king described as “a mighty hunter” (Genesis 10:9).

For our missions, we generally carried only two crew members, a pilot and a navigator. The navigator was seated to the pilot’s right in the co-pilot seat and also performed many co-pilot, radio, and armament functions as well as navigation and map reading. For some special missions, we carried a third crewmember. The A-26K did not have an ejection system like most modern combat aircraft, so we picked up parachutes as well as radios, and personal weapons before each mission. The assigned missions were generally dangerous, and aircraft frequently returned with battle damage. Many never returned.  Aircraft commander and pilot, Captain James L. McCleskey, and I flew our first combat mission on January 7, 1967.  I was also a captain and brought an intelligence specialty and strategic intelligence background.  

We were first fired at by enemy antiaircraft guns on January 15. We were flying alone in an area of Laos just southeast of NKP to investigate intelligence reports of enemy trucking. We did not have a C-130 flare ship or a sister Nimrod with us, so we dropped flares and patrolled in a heavily forested area between two ridges. Nothing could be seen at night. I remember having an uneasy feeling as we dropped flares and flew down the valley trying to see any signs of a road or trucks. Suddenly the sky lit up with streams of white tracers from .50-caliber enemy antiaircraft guns shooting down at us from the ridges on both our left and right. We seemed to fly through a hail of enemy fire, yet miraculously we did not take any serious hits. It was, however, an unnerving and unforgettable experience. I now knew this was not an adventure; it was deadly serious business. Anybody that liked this kind of business did not understand probability.

January 18 was our first mission to the area we called “Barrel Roll” in northern Laos. We flew alone, as was the usual practice for such missions. Barrel Roll was a mountainous area, heavily forested, but with an occasional dirt road along the ridges or valleys. Reconnaissance in such a mountainous area was not ideal for the A-26. If we lost an engine in the black of night, we might not be able to climb out of the mountains. There were no lights on the ground, so we would have to pick our way through dark mountain passes by map reading and dead reckoning. 

We never saw much activity in Barrel Roll, but we were vulnerable to Soviet MiG interceptors from North Vietnamese airbases. Later in 1967, the squadron lost at least one aircraft there. We usually stayed on station alone for about four hours. The Meo tribesmen inhabiting this area were friendly, but because the area is near the North Vietnamese border, there were plenty of unwelcome insurgents. On these missions, I just kept watching the clock hoping the four hours would pass uneventfully. It was an eerie, vulnerable feeling. I never liked Barrel Roll missions for that reason.

On January 26, we departed NKP alone and flew almost due East into Laos for about thirty minutes until reaching our target search area. It was early evening and still light when we arrived. On a dirt road there was a single large truck trying to make it across a clearing into better jungle cover for the night. We made a strafing run on the truck with six of the eight .50-caliber machine guns in the nose of our A-26. This was our most accurate and most frequently used weapon. Our guns were usually loaded with incendiary tracer rounds for setting enemy vehicles on fire. We only got credit for a truck if it caught fire. Our third strafing run hit the truck on its left side, flipping it over, proving the immense force of six 50-caliber machine-guns and setting it on fire.

On February 7, we took off in late afternoon on a mission to provide close combat support for a rescue mission. About a week before, one of the O-1 Birddog observer aircraft from the 56^th  Air Commando Wing at NKP was hit by ground fire in the heavily defended Mu Ghia Pass between North Vietnam and Laos. The pilot was able to bail out of his severely damaged plane and signal his position to another USAF aircraft. 

Because he had not been heard from for several days, many feared he had been captured or killed. However, early in the morning of February 7, he had again been in radio contact with a USAF aircraft, and plans were made for his rescue. We were one of two A-26s and two A-1E Skyraiders (rather large WWII Navy, single-prop fighters) from NKP to fly this “Rescap” Mission. It was our job to provide close-in combat support for two Jolly Green Giant rescue helicopters coming from Udorn Air Base in northern Thailand. In the meantime, both USAF and Navy jet fighters were working over Mu Ghia Pass to suppress enemy resistance.

We could not see much of what was going on. We listened intently on their radio frequency as the mission proceeded. The first Jolly Green reached the area within a few minutes and reported, “We have him on board. We’re lifting off.” Then came the report: “We’re getting a lot of ground fire.” Speaking directly to the pilot of the second Jolly Green, following about 150 yards behind them, the pilot said, “We’re hit!” A moment later, in a very tense voice: “We’re going in! Get down here quick,’ calling the first name of the second helicopter pilot.  “Get down here quick!”  Then there was silence, as the first Jolly Green hit a steep mountainside and exploded into flames. Then came a determined voice from the second Jolly Green:  “We’re going in to see if there are any survivors.” At this point the second chopper was also experiencing a hail of groundfire. Having seen the crash and explosion, the second Jolly Green crew was astounded that there was a survivor. 

The O-1 pilot and three helicopter crew members were killed in the explosion, but a young rescue paramedic had been thrown clear as his helicopter hit the mountainside. He had just secured the 0-1 pilot in the helicopter and was not completely on board himself as the aircraft hit and exploded. Fortunately, the explosion threw him clear of the burning inferno. He stood there on the steep mountainside, waving at them. Despite their own mortal danger, the second Jolly Green, still under intense fire and taking hits, moved in, picked him up, and lifted off. The two A1-Es then engaged the enemy with a ferocious display of firepower, but we were held in reserve. Very shortly thereafter, more Air Force and Navy jets were taking an awesome vengeance on the North Vietnamese.

In the meantime, the second Jolly Green, carrying the young paramedic survivor from the first crew and still under fire, headed due west into Laos. Within minutes, they had to crash-land their heavily battle-damaged helicopter in the middle of Laos. They were not picked up until the next morning by a third Jolly Green. This time they made it back to home base in Udorn, Thailand.

The survivor  was young Sgt. Duane Hackney, who later received the Air Force Cross for his heroism on February 7 and became one of the most highly decorated Air Force enlisted men in the Vietnam War.

The very next night we flew a solitary truck-hunting mission in a heavily forested area just southeast of the Ho Chi Minh trail. After dropping a few flares and making a few strafing runs on a suspected target, we suddenly came under intense fire by at least one .50-caliber antiaircraft machine gun and a 37 mm antiaircraft flak gun. In order to avoid the flak and machine gun fire near the target, we kept our A-26 close to treetop level. While we were still only a few feet above the trees, which we could see by dim moonlight, two flak bursts went off just above and to the left of us. We could hear the bursts and the metal hitting the plane. It was so close we both instinctively ducked. We barely missed one huge tree looming before us, but stayed at tree top level until out of range of the antiaircraft guns. When we landed at NKP, there were plenty of shrapnel souvenirs in the fuselage, the left wing, and especially the tail of the aircraft. 

We flew again on the night of February 10. When we returned to NKP, the ground crew reported several shrapnel hits. We didn’t even know the enemy had been shooting at us!

On February 13, we flew a daylight mission in the early evening. Intelligence had reported a Pathet Lao battalion in an area only about forty miles east of NKP in Laos. The Pathet Lao, or Communist Laotians, had a reputation for ruthless intimidation and murder of their own people and also for grotesque and inhumane torture of downed USAF and Navy flyers. The target was an area of thick jungle near a dirt road. We could see nothing, but we strafed and bombed the area as requested, as did several USAF aircraft over a few days. Later friendly intelligence reported about 150 Pathet Lao killed in the area. 

The next week was more routine and without incident. We flew four hours each night scouting for some sign of enemy trucks or activity, but found none. Soon things would change dramatically.  

On February 22, two A-26 Nimrods from the 606^th were assigned an armed reconnaissance mission on the border of southern Laos and North Vietnam, The first aircraft, designated Nimrod 36, took off just after sunset, and we followed and joined them in Nimrod 37 about an hour later. We arrived to find Nimrod 36 had intercepted a large convoy of North Vietnamese trucks just south of Ban Karai Pass. Nimrod 36 had set a least a half dozen on fire, but was receiving anti-aircraft fire from at least four anti-aircraft guns: a 50 caliber anti-aircraft machine gun, two 37 mm AA flak guns, and a multi-barreled Russian ZPU-4. It became our task to silence the enemy anti-aircraft guns. Fortunately, we were able to avoid the range of the ZPU-4. We made two attacks on the first 37 mm AA gun. Firing rockets from both wings on the first pass. It  seemed like a direct hit, but it resumed firing within a few minutes. On our second attempt, we dive-bombed them by releasing one of our two 1000-pound bombs from the bomb-bay. The blast was so terrific that the shuddering of our own aircraft was alarming as we pulled out of the dive. That 37 mm AA gun was not heard from again. We also tried rockets on the second 37 mm AA gun, but they were firing again within a few minutes. We dived our remaining 1000-pound bomb on it, less alarmed by the shuddering blast wave. That silenced the second 37 mm enemy gun.

Having silenced the two 37 mm guns, Nimrod 36 directed us to the 50 caliber AA gun, which seemed be firing from or near the truck convoy. We could see its tracers following Nimrod 36 and did a strafing run on it using our own six nose-mounted 50 caliber machine guns. We thought we had destroyed it and began strafing the trucks on our next pass. A few more trucks were burning by that time. Nimrod 36, however, alerted us that the gun was still firing and at us. Determined to eliminate this gun, we made a long low-level staffing pass, continually firing at it, and pulled up no more than 50-feet over target to miss the trees. As we pulled up, the enemy gun’s white tracers were all around us and scoring clanking hits on our right engine and wheel-well. I noticed we are also losing fuel. We feathered (shut down) our right engine and climbed to 5,000 feet altitude. Nimrod 36 came under us and determined that we had a burning tire in the wheel-well that was being fed by leaking fuel.

We headed back to NKP, followed by Nimrod 36. We attempted to extinguish the fire by triggering two remote fire-extinguishers. Neither worked. Several minutes later, we jettisoned our wing armaments and wing-tip fuel tanks on a designated safe area. Clear of that area, we put the now one-engine A-26 in a straight down 90 degree vertical dive from 5,000 feet to 1,200 feet in an attempt to blow out the fire. Nimrod 36 came under us and told us our wheel-well was still burning. With no ejection seat, the A-26 had proved very dangerous to bail out of, especially with destabilizing battle damage. We started preparation for a crash landing at NKP, a pierced-steel planking runway, having only one engine, and a fire in our wheel-well.

We were on approach, only about 700 feet from the ground, when Nimrod 36 made a final inspection.  “Your wheel-well is still on fire. My God, your whole wing is on fire, get out, get out!”

I pulled the lever to blow the canopy and positioned myself to leap for the wing, but I was knocked back in the cockpit by the wind stream. I made a second desperate but successful attempt assisted by McCleskey. He was out on the left side in a few more seconds. Three seconds later the aircraft, which already seemed to NKP personnel on the ground  to be barely flyable and enveloped in flames, blew up in mid-air. The parachutes barely opened before we hit the ground. We were both injured but were picked up by two Jolly-Green Rescue helicopters from Udorn Air Base withing 30 minutes.  The Pararescue Medic who carried me to the helicopter was Sgt. Duane Hackney, who himself had been miraculously rescued from the helicopter crash near Mu Gia Pass on February 7.

Tragically, the debris from Nimrod 37’s mid-air explosion hit our heroic good friends in Nimrod 36 and killed them instantly. The courageous flying and warning by Nimrod 36 aircraft commander, Captain Dwight Campbell, and navigator, Captain Robert Sholl had saved us from almost certain death.  

In a few days, McCleskey and I were headed to the USAF Hospital at Clark AFB in the Philippines.   

Years later, Brigadier General Harry C. Aderholt, who had been a colonel and commander of 56^th Air Commando Wing at NKP, told me that he had seen our burning hulk of an aircraft in the night sky and witnessed the explosion, which he said, “was the brightest flash he had ever seen, brighter than the sun.”

In August 1967, the 606^th Air Commando Squadron (ACS) became the 609^th ACS.  According to the Invader Historical Foundation (IHF) , in just over two years,  A-26 Nimrod sorties  were credited with destroying 4,268 trucks and damaging 696 more. The Nimrods also destroyed 201 enemy gun emplacements and silenced an additional 696. It averaged slightly better than one truck destroyed or damaged for each one and one-half sorties flown. This was significantly higher than any other weapon system currently in use in the Southeast Asian theater from late 1966 through 1969.

The 609th ACS was inactivated in December 1969,  but it achieved distinction and suffered heavy losses. It was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation for gallantry.

By late 1967, monthly destruction of North Vietnamese war supplies exceeded monthly shipments. The Nimrods were replaced in 1969 by AC-130 gunships.

In November 1968 the U.S. began a series of interdiction campaigns on the Ho Chi Minh Trail each named “Commando Hunt.”

In February 1971, a South Vietnamese expeditionary force of 15,000 under Lt. Gen. Hoang Xuan Lam moved into Laos to destroy enemy war stockpiles at their annual maximum and delay a planned North Vietnamese Army (NVA) offensive into South Vietnam. This South Vietnamese Army (ARVN) force was supported by a wide range of U.S. airpower. North Vietnam counterattacked with over 36,000 first-line NVA troops  The ARVN was nevertheless able to destroy the major NVA stores at Tchepone and surrounding areas but were forced to withdraw from Laos. Fighting was intense, involving tank battles and hand-to-hand combat.  However, North Vietnam suffered such heavy losses, 15,000 dead, that it had to postpone its scheduled offensive into South Vietnam. The ARVN force had a 50 percent casualty rate, including 2,000 dead. NVA anti-aircraft fire was much heavier than expected. In evacuating ARVN troops, 107 U.S. Army helicopters were lost. USAF tactical aircraft made more than 10,000 strikes, and B-52 bombers dropped 46,000 tons of bombs.

During 1971, the U.S. also introduced new detection and weapons technologies. These included infrared sensors, night-vision equipment, and laser-guided bombs. Commando Hunt missions ended in March 1972, when North Vietnam launched its Easter Offensive in South Vietnam.  U.S. air support was then concentrated inside South Vietnam. Starting in 1971, there was growing Congressional pressure to limit American involvement in Cambodia and Laos. President Nixon decided to use strategic air and naval power to bring down North Vietnam. This was actually successful with Operation Linebacker II in December 1972, but Congress began to throw the victory away to appease anti-war political activists, and by April 1975 had abandoned Laos, Cambodia, and South Vietnam to Soviet-backed Communist dominance and brutality, resulting in an estimated 3.5 million civilian deaths.