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It was over thirty five years ago,
but I can still clearly remember pulling into the main gate at Fort
Wolters, Texas, in late January 1968. Driving down Lee Road past the
Post Headquarters, I pulled up to the Officer Student Company, which at
that time was located in the 300 building area. There were already a few
other new Student Officers hanging around the orderly room and I
remember that we tentatively introduced ourselves and chatted briefly.
That was my first introduction to some of my classmates, we were to
spend the next eight months flying and learning together in what was
perhaps the most interesting and exciting school available in the U.S.
Army— the Officers Rotary Wing Aviator Course (ORWAC).
 After
signing-in and noting the time of the first scheduled formation we were
released. Most Student Officers took the opportunity to head out towards
Mineral Wells to locate some off-post housing. Several rented units at
the Baker Hotel and a few were able to find apartments in Mineral Wells,
Weatherford, or the outskirts of Fort Worth. Many of us found
over-priced trailers to live in. Shattles Mobile Home Village and the
Johnson Trailer Village were probably the two most popular trailer
courts in Mineral Wells at that time.
There were several vacant World War II barracks around the company area
but they were not deemed to be suitable living quarters for the Student
Officers. This pleased us to no end because it entitled us to receive a
per diem rate of about $16/day. The average Student Officer starting
Flight School in 1968 was a 2LT with less than two years service, which
meant that in 1968 our monthly basic pay was $294.60/month, plus $47.88
for Subsistence and $85.20/month for quarters allowance (without
dependent). While flying we also received Hazardous Duty pay of
$110/month. There normally wasn’t much left after paying rent, our
Officer’s Club bill, partying hard, and of course making the payment on
the overpowered cars that we all seemed to drive.
At our first formation on Feb 5th, we were assigned to our flights and
told that we collectively belonged to ORWAC Class 68-24 (“Brown Hats").
I personally was pleased to learn that I was assigned to Flight B-2, the
only flight that would fly the Hiller OH-23’s. My trailer mate was
assigned to fly the smaller Hughes TH-55’s and I was to warn him many times that if he
was to let one “rip” in flight, the tiny “Mattel Messerschmitt” would almost
certainly turn inverted.
Looking around me as we stood at parade rest I observed my fellow
student pilots. On average they were about 20 - 22 years old and most
had graduated within the previous year from Officer Candidate School (OCS).
Perhaps 20% of the class were R.O.T.C. graduates and there were a
sprinkling of Warrant Officers and usually at least one Captain in the
class. Most everyone in our class who wasn’t a Lieutenant had already
served a tour in Vietnam. The senior Officer in our class was an
ex-Special Forces Captain who was made Student Class Commander by virtue
of his rank. He was the first line of liaison and discipline between the
Student Company Commander and the Student Officers. I don’t think he had
to dispense much in the way of discipline but he was a very positive
role model for all of us.
After a day or so for
in-processing and picking up our flight gear we settled down into the
routine of Flight School. We all merged together well and quickly
good-natured verbal barbs, made generally along Branch lines, were
zipping across the back of the buses as we headed out towards our first
classes. The Infantry types certainly didn’t look very bright, and
honestly, the Armor boys looked somewhat scruffy compared to those
fortunate enough to belong to the Artillery Branch (you know, Napoleon,
President Truman, General Westmoreland, etc,). Those who were in
the “non-combat” arms were quickly dismissed as either Truck Drivers
(Transportation) or Latrine Diggers (Engineers).
During Flight School half of the day was spent flying and the other half
at academics. The schedule alternated so that if you were flying
mornings one week the next week you flew afternoons. The ORWAC classes
did not have any pre-flight classes as such and we quickly started the
process of trying to learn to hover and fly. We of course had already
taken six months of leadership, military organization, tactics, etc. in
OCS. Our paths frequently crossed with those of our Warrant Officer
Candidate (WOC) counterparts. We saw them march in formation, and often
saw them on the receiving side of the “constructive comments” made by
their TAC Officers. I think that we almost universally sympathized with
the WOCs - we realized that learning to fly was hard enough without the
additional requirements of the living in the barracks and being
subjected to the very rigorous military discipline that they had to
comply with. Besides, we were virtually the same ages as the WOCs and
only a short period of time separated us from when we were the under
trodden at Fort Sill, Fort Benning, Fort Knox, and so forth.
The attrition rates for the ORWAC
classes (10-20%) were less than the Warrant Officer Rotary Wing Aviator
Course (WORWAC) classes(2O-4O%) because it was unusual for the Officers
to get booted out for a non-Flight Deficiency reason. The myriad
categories for which the SERB (Student Evaluation Review Board) at Fort
Wolters would eliminate WOCs were only infrequently applied to the
Student Officers. Those who suffered from “Lack of Character”, “Lack of
Motivation”, “Lack of Aptitude”, etc., had usually been weeded out
earlier at OCS.
Few Student Officers failed the Academic part of the course. The
maintenance, aerodynamics, flying safety, navigation, weather training,
and radio work classes were the same as the classes that the WOCs took.
They were difficult, but not tremendously so. Not having a mandatory
study hall like the WOCs meant that we had to impose a certain amount of
self-discipline in the evenings. This of course was tempered by the fact
that our evenings were our own and we cruised around, chased the local
women, and generally had to contend with a series of distractions that
usually kept us from seriously hitting the books.
We were however, almost always prepared for class and the Flight Line.
If grades started dropping, the first step in re-focusing was always at
the Student Company area where a verbal “boot up the backside” was
generally enough to get the drifters back on course. Those who had
trouble flying were either setback to the following (or next following)
class or were eliminated and quickly sent to another duty station.
Failing for Flight Deficiency reasons was not considered detrimental
towards a future Army Career.
During Primary I our Academic and Flight Instructors were provided by
Southern Airways of Texas. Among other things, they also under contract,
provided the Bus Drivers, performed the maintenance on the training
fleet, and ran the mess halls for the WOCs. The Academic Instructors
included great many characters that could be counted upon to start every
class with a ribald joke. The Flight Instructors included those who had
learned to fly helicopters through a variety of means. Most were
ex-military pilots who collectively had flown anything and everything
including military aircraft in WWII or Korea. Others had learned to fly
at their own expense and had moved to Mineral Wells as an opportunity to
build hours in choppers. Overall, I think that the jobs that
Southern
Airways performed, and the people they employed were excellent.
My first Instructor was a fine gentleman named Mr. Popplewell. He was
also Warrant Officer in the National Guard, flying if I remember
correctly, out of Oklahoma. Mr. Popplewell flew smoothly, encouraged us
often, and always had time to go over some of the finer points of
airmanship with myself and the other two students he had in his group.
There was however, one Instructor in the Flight who had a bad reputation
as being a “screamer.” Mr. Popplewell couldn’t fly one day and the
“screamer” was detailed to instruct me. It was a windy, cold February
afternoon when I jumped into the Hiller at one of the Stagefields. I
struggled to control the chopper as we hovered across the field to the
take-off panel. My five or six hours weren’t quite enough experience for
the level of proficiency this stupid man expected me to already possess.
I had barely taken off when with a series of oaths he grabbed the
controls, kicked the pedals and graphically showed me how much I was
drifting off my ground-track. The rest of the instruction period seemed
to drag on forever, positive reinforcement being totally absent from
this man’s repertoire of training tricks. At the end of the instruction
I felt much more appreciative of Mr. Popplewell and was extremely happy
to see him back to work the following day.
Incidentally, the “screamer” got taught a good lesson a couple of weeks
later. We were in the briefing room waiting for the Instructors to
arrive. All of a sudden he came up behind us and yelled "ATTEN-SHUN”. We
all jumped up to a rigid position of attention. I expected it was
Colonel Huggins, the Post Commander, making an unexpected visit to
the training area. Nope, it was the civilian screamer who started to berate
us about our military deportment, attitudes and so forth. He only got
through a couple of sentences when our Student Class Commander hollered
“AT EASE” and invited the screamer to accompany him outside. We couldn’t
hear what was being discussed but Student Class Commander seemed to be
extremely angry as he made his points by jabbing his finger in the
screamer’s chest. He never bothered anyone else again and our respect
for the Student Class Commander grew even more. I was sorry that he
hadn’t used his Special Forces training and kicked the jerk’s butt
though!
Initially flight training took place at the many
Stagefields around Fort
Wolters. Students took off from either the
Main Heliport or
Downing
Heliport and flew to the Stagefields assigned for that day’s training.
Most Instructor Pilots (IP’s) had two or three students in their group.
If you weren’t scheduled to fly with your IP to the Stagefield you took
the bus with the other members of your flight. It was a good opportunity
to get some sack-time, or to review your manuals and notes.
Stagefields had been purpose built and generally were designed along
similar lines. On the edge of the Stagefield was a large tarmac area
used to park the helicopters so they could be re-fuelled, or to change
students. A medium sized hut with tables was used by the Student Pilots
to study while the others in their Instructor’s group were flying.
Stagefields had a small control tower adjoining the hut, from which the
Flight Commander used to control the flying activities on the field. There
were a total of six lanes at the Stagefields, aligned with the prevailing
north-south winds in North Texas. These lanes, not surprisingly were
designated lanes 1 through 6 outwards from the tower. Lanes 1,2,4 and 5
were used to practice take-offs and landings from either the east or
west traffic patterns. Lanes 3 and 6 were for practicing autorotations.
Hovering practice would be obtained by moving between lanes and in the
tarmac area. To teach emergency procedures and air work, the IP’s and
Students frequently departed the Stagefields and flew in the nearby
vicinity, or moved off to areas over the flat North Texas terrain that
was less congested.
Hovering the aircraft was definitely difficult at first! Primarily an
effort in coordination, it required both feet to control the pedals;
your left arm moved the collective control up and down, while your right
arm guided the cyclic control. Because the OH-23D was ungoverned, your
left hand also controlled the throttle, attempting to maintain the
engine RPM in a relatively narrow RPM range. While taking-off, hovering
and landing the engine was operated at 3200 rpm. Normal flight required
the engine to run at 3100 rpm.
If hovering was difficult at first, autorotations were both difficult
and scary. They were initially practiced over Lanes 3 or 6, flying
downwind at 500’ above ground level (agl). The practice autorotations
were initiated by the IP rolling off the throttle and keeping it in the
closed (override) position. This allowed the rotor to continue to rotate
without engine power (“splitting the needles”). Collective pitch was
reduced immediately and remained in the full down position unless it was
necessary to prevent rotor overspeed. Of course the helicopter descended
like a ton of bricks towards the ground. At about 100 feet, the aircraft
was flared using the cyclic to reduce apparent groundspeed to a fast
hover. At about 10 to 15 feet, collective pitch was applied to slow the
rate of descent and assist deceleration. At between 1 to 3 feet
collective was applied to cushion the touchdown while at the same time
using the cyclic to place the helicopter in a skids-level attitude at
touchdown.
We practiced autorotations incessantly, and it was due to our
instructors thoroughness that many lives were saved in emergency
situations. We were taught to constantly be aware of the wind direction
as we flew away from the Stagefields. Smoke was a good indicator of wind
direction; observing the water in the numerous small tanks (ponds) on
the ground often showed the leeside and thus the wind direction. Failing
these signs, some wise sage told me that most of the cattle parked with
their butts to the wind. True or not, he made it sound believable and I
for one spent too much time eye-balling the cattle on the grasslands
below.
 As we flew, we were frequently
reminded to keep our heads always moving in a crosscheck inside and
outside the cockpit. Airspeed….... Altitude…... RPM…... Groundtrack.…
again….. Airspeed…... Altitude….. RPM….. Groundtrack... became our
mantra. As soon as we started to relax, it seemed the IP would “split
the needles” and we would have to initiate an autorotation. We would
then dump the collective and turn the aircraft into the wind calling out
when then rotor rpm was in the correct range: “Rotor RPM in the green.”
We also frequently practiced other emergencies such as tail rotor
failures in flight; tail rotor failures during takeoff or hover; engine
failures during flight, engine failures during takeoff or hover; engine
fire during start; engine fire during hover. These plus many other
situations were covered repeatedly and thoroughly.
The days moved quickly. On a blustery Friday afternoon I flew the last
period with Mr. Popplewell. We talked as we hovered towards the parking
area at the Stagefield. I wanted very much to solo that day but I was
still slightly under the minimum of 10 hours of flight instruction that
were required. I pleaded my case to Mr. Popplewell and he quietly
acknowledged that he felt I was ready. I set the OH-23D down and he
hopped out to talk to the Flight Commander in the Stagefield tower. A
few minutes later he ducked under the turning blades and plugged in his
helmet to the intercom. ‘Take her around for three circuits and pick me
here afterwards ..... and good luck!”
The first thing that I thought
about was the hope that I wouldn’t break anything - especially my neck.
The bus taking the non-flying students waited at the end of the
Stagefield and I could see my classmates cheering me on. Mr. Popplewell
had done his job well, and although I was very stiff on the controls I
managed to do what was required of me. I was ecstatic and the day was
made even more memorable when Mr. Popplewell told me that the Flight
Commander had stated that my solo efforts were among the best he had
seen recently. True or not, I really appreciated Mr. Popplewell’s
positive comments and professionalism.
After my three circuits, I picked up Mr. Popplewell and we headed south.
We landed at the Main Heliport and after the debriefing headed back
towards the Officer Student Company for release. This time however, the bus
headed out towards the main gate and then turned west for the short
drive towards the Mineral Wells Holiday Inn. My classmates
grabbed me and heaved me into the swimming pool. The water in late February was
pretty cold and I gasped as I went under. It took several attempts
before my “friends” let me pull myself out of the pool. The dunking
scene was to be repeated much more frequently as the rest of the class soloed with
increasing frequency over the next couple of weeks.
After we were released on Fridays it was always mass bedlam as we
departed quickly off-post. High-powered Mustangs, Firebirds, Corvettes,
and motorcycles, left in a surge towards the main gate. While the
married students relaxed around Mineral Wells or Possum Kingdom
Recreation Center, the single students wandered further afield. The
“Cellar” club was popular in Fort Worth and many drove over to Denton
where it was easy to meet co-eds. American Airlines had their Stewardess
Training Center by Greater Southwest Airport and some of the class
started dating (and eventually) married Stewardess Trainees. I was lucky
at Fort Wolters as my home was in Dallas about 80 miles to the east. All
in all we enjoyed a very active social life on the weekends and
generally enjoyed our stay at Fort Wolters immensely.
Periodically we had to fall-in for
an inspection at the Officer Student Company area. A new commander once
chewed us out royally for our appearance. We were berated several times
for tickets that had been collectively received on post and from the
surrounding areas. For a period of time motorcycle use was banned —
partly due to road accidents and partly because of concern that when
students had been asked to “join the needles and add power” during
simulated engine failures, they had rapped on throttle in the wrong
direction (i.e. the way their motorcycle throttles worked). Passing
through 100 feet didn’t always allow the Flight Instructor enough time
to take corrective action.
One of the Student Officers in another Class had been fairly beat-up
when the nag he rented from the Boots and Saddle Club ran him into
some tree limbs in the riding area on the east side of the Fort. We also
lost a student who accidentally wounded himself in the foot in a weekend
hunting accident. Besides these scrapes I remember that there
were also a few flying fatalities at Wolters. These fatalities generally
numbered between 6-12 a year and seemed to be clumped together. A
Student Officer had crashed in a night cross country just before we
started and it took several days before the wreckage was found on
desolate ranchland by Newcastle, Texas. Considering that at this time
there were in excess of 1,100 choppers flying out of Wolters, the
fatality rate seemed very low.
The training at Wolters was divided into the Primary I and the Primary
II phases. We were instructed in primary flying techniques which
included pinnacle, confined area, slope operations, autorotations,
emergency procedures, navigation at normal and low level (not below
500’) and night operations. Students received a total of about 110
flying hours during their stay at Wolters - 50 hours of dual instruction
and 60 hours of solo flight. When we went through Flight School the
Primary I phase (50 hours) was taught by Southern Airways, Inc., while
the Primary II phase (60 hours) was conducted by Flight Departments “A”
and “B” of USAPHS. At periodic points during our flight training the Flight Evaluation
Division evaluated us and it was necessary to pass the checkride before
proceeding to the next phase. Our first night flights were certainly
sobering experiences, particularly when undertaking night auto-rotations
or when flying solo. Ground mists frequently sprang up during that time
of the year and many times I wished that the US Army had thought it fit
to equip the training fleet with artificial horizons for night flying.
We eventually completed Primary I - the gift bottles of whiskey that we
gave our civilian instructors inadequately conveyed the gratitude we
felt towards their efforts. Primary II was conducted from the facilities
at Dempsey AHP, which was to the west of Mineral Wells near Palo Pinto.
Here we met out military instructors for the first time and immediately
started the more exciting advanced training activity. All of the
instructors were Vietnam Veterans, divided into approximately 70%
Warrant Officers and 30% Commissioned Officers.
The flying instruction was conducted in a relaxed but professional
manner. Many of the single Warrant Officers chose to live in Fort Worth,
which was about 45 miles to the east of Mineral Wells, because of the
more active social life. The Flight Instructors often joked among
themselves along the Real Live Officers (RLO’s) versus Warrant Officer
lines. “Do you know how the Warrant Officer got his name? - he ‘warrant’
good enough to be an enlisted men and he ‘warrant’ smart enough to be an
officer, so they called them Warrant Officer.” This frequently repeated
comment made by the RLO’s usually resulted in several spirited
rejoinders being made by the “Wobbly Twos”.
Rank on the flight line was usually
forgotten, but the Student/Instructor relationship rarely was. Although
the Instructors (particularly the Warrant Officers) were as wild as we
were, we never socialized together after hours. I frequently had my butt
vigorously chewed out by my Warrant Officer Instructor (CW2 Atkinson
from Rhode Island) after a less than adequate period of instruction. The
chewing-outs were all completely deserved, not so much for the way I
flew, but more because I was becoming complacent and developing the
“big-head” syndrome as my skills improved.
The long daytime cross-countries that we participated on were greatly
enjoyed. On one of ours we flew up to Fort Sill which was about 150
miles trip over the various doglegs we followed. I had told several of
my friends from OCS and the 3/38 Artillery when I was arriving. They all
seemed appropriately envious at my newly acquired skills and I decided
to give them a major thrill when I demonstrated an “airspeed over
altitude” take-off when I departed. My effort can best be described as
awful as I rocketed across the grass and converted too much speed into
altitude. The OH-23 was normally pretty forgiving aircraft, but I am
sure that I came close to introducing my main rotor blades to my
tail-boom as I lurched into the sky.
We were all pretty competitive and vocal about our developing flying
skills. During Flight School at Wolters we generally flew with two or
three students to an Instructor. Occasionally you would fly with
somebody besides your normal “stick buddies.” On one such occasion I was
flying with another student for the first time on a night cross-country.
He had a dry sense of humor and we needled each other incessantly as we
tried to find Strawn, Mingus, Gordon and the other towns along our
route.
As we returned to Dempsey we were both looking forward to de-briefing
and then hitting the sack. He was flying and I looked over my shoulder
as he turned from Base onto Final and increased the RPMs from 3100 to
3200. A great big flame shot out the exhaust pipes, which scared the
hell out of me. ‘Cripes” I exclaimed, ‘I think we are on fire!” My
fellow student strained his neck and also saw the flames shooting out of
the exhaust. Quickly, with a quavering voice he radioed in an in-flight
emergency to Downing tower, which by now was only a couple of hundred
yards away. Halfway through his call reality hit us both simultaneously
- it was NORMAL for flames to be visible at night when you rapped on the
throttle in the OH-23! He tried to cancel his declaration of the
in-flight emergency but by now the Fire Trucks were rolling, and worst
of all, most of our class had heard us make chumps of ourselves.
We were both razzed incessantly for quite a while but I escaped a lot of
the heat by professing not to know why the “simpleton” flying declared
the emergency. “Heck,” I told anyone who would listen, “any nitwit knows
that the OH-23’s engine shoots out flame like that at night - I don’t
know why he wet his pants and put out the call.”
Class 68-24 graduated at the Post Theatre on May 23, 1968, and while we
knew how to fly we still had a long way towards becoming Army Aviators.
Outside the theatre we said good-bye to those of our class who had been
assigned to Hunter-Stewart for advanced helicopter training. Most of us
were heading east towards Fort Rucker for advanced training. A few
Student Officers, like myself, took the opportunity to get married
enroute. However the rest of training is another story....
|
ORWAC 68-24 - Role
of Honor |
|
Name |
Home of Record |
Date KIA |
Province |
Age |
|
1LT Stanley A. Brown |
Albany, NY |
11/1/1969 |
Tay
Ninh |
23 |
|
1LT Daniel B. Cheney |
Bellingham, WA |
01/01/1969 |
Hua
Nghia |
21 |
|
1LT Billy G. Creech |
Chamblee, GA |
03/06/1969 |
Thua
Thien |
22 |
|
1LT Jimmy W. Crisp |
Meynard, TX |
06/05/1969 |
Hua
Nghia |
23 |
|
CPT Charles B. Draut |
St. Joseph, MO |
12/19/1969 |
Binh
Long |
22 |
|
CPT Raymond R. Dulak |
Corpus Christi, TX |
05/12/1970 |
Pleiku |
26 |
|
1LT Thomas E. Jones |
Beltsville, MD |
03/21/1969 |
Hua
Nghia |
25 |
|
CPT Luther Lasater III |
Garland, TX |
02/13/1972 |
Ben Hoa |
24 |
|
CPT James M. Lyon |
Indianapolis, IN |
02/06/1970 |
Thua
Thien |
21 |
|
1LT Willard D. Richardson |
Memphis, TN |
08/21/1969 |
Thua
Thien |
23 |
|
CPT Donald L. Swanson |
Millbrae, CA |
01/31/1970 |
Thua Tien |
26 |
|
1LT Deane A. Taylor Jr. |
Atlanta, GA |
01/15/1969 |
Quang Ngai |
22 |
|
CPT Robert L. Wehunt |
Lincolnton, NC |
12/23/1969 |
Long Khanh |
22
|
|
