Story and Photography by Jim Roberts
Hill 887. You’re holding the Huey in a dead hover 150 feet above a firefight. Through the trees below, a critically wounded GI is strapped to a forest penetrator, dangling from the end of your hoist cable, but the hoist is jammed. The only way out is to “pull pitch” and slowly draw the patient up through the trees. The ship is taking hits and hemorrhaging precious hydraulic fluid, without which you will lose all flight controls. Just when it can’t get any worse, it does; rounds burst through the chopper’s nose, shattering the instrument panel and spraying your face with shards of plexiglass.
Paul Mercandetti, EAA 346300, is my hangar mate and good friend. His voice is steady as the tale pours forth, but the tension is palpable. For many like Paul, the soundtrack of their war was the distinct and haunting reverberations of rotor blades.
Nearly 7,000 Bell UH-1 Hueys served in the Vietnam War. Carrying a crew of four (aircraft commander, co-pilot, crew chief, and door gunner or medic), the bird was typically outfitted as a “Slick” transport, a gunship, or an aerial ambulance; the latter frequently bore the call sign “Dustoff.”
From June 1968 to June 1969, 20-year-old Paul Mercandetti was “Dustoff 39,” a UH-1 aircraft commander with the 283rd Medical Detachment at Pleiku, in the Central Highlands of South Vietnam. Unarmed except for sidearms and M16 rifles (for self-defense if they were shot down), their mission was to extract wounded troops from the field, often in the midst of active battles. Paul half-joked that the big red crosses on the chopper made excellent targets.
“The co-pilot thought I was hit,” Paul continued, “so he took control of the aircraft. The radios and intercom were shot out, so we were yelling at each other. He did a great job of flying while I cleared plexiglass out of my face.
“There was a firebase several clicks away, so I headed for that,” he said. “I came to a hover and waited for the patient to stop swinging on the end of the cable, and then eased the helicopter down until they could put the patient on the ground, then I set down next to him. I later counted the holes in the bottom of the aircraft, and stopped counting at 50.”
During his time in Vietnam, Paul said he was credited with over 1,500 saves, which included soldiers, civilians, and enemy combatants. “Dustoff took anyone that was wounded,” he said.
Paul enlisted in 1967, and he shared his motivation for doing so.
“I wanted to fly gunships and fight for my country,” he said. “My parents were immigrants, and my dad was in the Army, so I wanted to do my part.” Was he disappointed to be assigned to medevac duties and not gunships? “In the beginning I was disappointed, but after having been there a couple of weeks, I would not have traded it because it was such a rewarding experience. You know, saving someone’s life is incredible.”
Those saves came at considerable risk; nearly 5,000 service members — pilots and crew — were lost in what has come to be called “The Helicopter War.” Eleven UH-1 pilots and crewmen would be awarded the Medal of Honor.