Remembering a Little-Known Veteran

And a request for all readers to support a deserving veteran with a comment below.

OH-6A, Photo courtesy Pina Air & Space Museum

Today is Veterans’ Day and we appreciate the support from millions of Americans. I have seen West Point Classmates and others write eloquent tributes to veterans of all wars, and I always am moved by them. But for my contribution today, I am asking all my readers to remember and honor a veteran whom they have never heard of and likely will never read about, other than here. His is a story of valor, of courage, and of unfair treatment by U. S. Army bureaucrats far removed in time and distance from the blood and rigors of combat in Vietnam.

Today I honor Mike Perry. As a relatively unknown veteran, Mike exemplifies the thousands of combat veterans who simply did their duty as they were called to do, often at great risk to their young lives. They did this in return for no special recognition, even when it was earned and merited. I will tell some of Mike’s story here. A part of that story is the Army’s refusal to officially recognize Mike’s heroism despite the recognition of his commanders at the time. Because of that lack of official recognition, I am asking all readers to take the time to add a short note to Mike in the comments section below, with whatever sentiments you wish to convey. Mike is a subscriber, so he will see them all, and perhaps it will fill some of the void created by the Army’s intransigence.

Mike was a trooper in my unit, Bravo Troop, 1st Squadron, 9th Cavalry. We were part of the famous 1st Cavalry Division. Mike was the door gunner on a LOH (“Loach”), an OH-6A, sometimes called a “little bird.” They had a crew of two — a pilot who sat in the right-hand front seat and a gunner, who sat behind the pilot in the rear compartment. The gunner did not have a seat. He sat on the floor of the aircraft with his legs dangling outside, over the edge of the bird. The gunner was armed with an M-60 machine gun, which he cradled in his lap when not shooting or getting ready to shoot. In addition, he had a wooden ammo crate next to him that held smoke grenades to mark targets as well as while phosphorous and conventional hand grenades.

The little birds typically worked in tandem with a Cobra gunship, an AH -1G.

AH-1G Cobra

Their mission typically was to try to locate enemy forces, often hidden beneath jungle canopy. Sometimes the enemy were first located when the little bird was fired upon. Because they operated low and slow, the pilot constantly kept the aircraft jinking and moving to throw off the aim of unseen enemy gunners. The LOHs stayed very low — at or below treetop level in order to be able to spot footprints or other signs of the enemy. They would use their rotor wash to blow aside tree branches in order to be able to see what was on the ground. And all this time, the gunner is leaning out the door of the aircraft, checking the terrain that might be as little as 20-30 feet below him, all the while ready to fire his M-60 in an instant, if necessary. He was secured by a canvas strap that allowed him to move but kept him from falling out.

The Cobra gunship typically stayed about 1500 feet above his little bird, ready to pounce if the LOH took enemy fire or spotted a target.

In an action on July 27, 1971, while conducting just such a low-level mission, Mike’s bird took enemy fire that immediately wounded the pilot, WO 1 (later Colonel) Tom Burnett. Tom was shot through the leg. The wound made it difficult for him to fly the aircraft, and this would be especially crucial when they attempted to land. That requires a short, perhaps wonky, explanation.

In a helicopter, the rotation of the main rotor blade creates torque. Over-simplified, torque is the rotational force that is a function of the engine’s applied horsepower and the speed (RPMs) at which the rotor blade is turning. So the spinning main rotor generates this rotational force known as torque. But the helicopter is subject to Newton’s Third Law of Motion: “For every action (force) there is an equal and opposite reaction.” So the rotational force of the spinning main rotor is met by a counter-force that seeks to spin the body of the helicopter in the direction opposite to the rotor’s rotation. To keep the body of the helicopter from spinning, the pilot offsets that counter-force with the foot pedals in each of the two front seats in the aircraft. The foot pedals control the tail rotor, which supplies a force to oppose the counter-force that is attempting to cause the body of the helicopter to rotate in the direction opposite the spin of the main rotor. Thus, by depressing or letting out the foot pedals, the pilot keeps the body of the helicopter from spinning.

When flying straight and level, the pilot “trims” the aircraft with the proper pedal input to keep the bird flying straight and true. But if the pilot either increases or decreases power, that leads to a change in torque that seeks to spin the aircraft in the opposite direction. The pilot must correct for these changes in torque by coordinated use of the foot pedals to counteract the changes in torque caused by the changes in power. This becomes critical when landing because the pilot has to make continuous and multiple corrections with the foot pedals. As he descends on final approach, the descent is accomplished by decreasing power (and torque). The foot pedals must be worked constantly to counteract the continuing and varying changes. Then as the aircraft gets closer to the ground, the pilot applies more power to “flare” the aircraft slowing its rate of descent. He then reduces power again to continue lowering the bird to the ground. Just before touching the ground, he will again apply power to prevent an overly hard landing. For each of these changes in power, to land safely the pilot must compensate for the resulting changes in torque by constantly keeping the foot pedals in play.

When Tom was shot, Mike realized that he was having difficulty flying the aircraft. And he would have even more difficulty when landing because his ability to properly manipulate the foot pedals was severely compromised by his leg wound. The resulting inability to properly control the trim and direction of the helicopter could cause it to go into a dangerous flat spin while landing. Needless to say, entering into a flat spin while landing could ruin your day completely.

Mike quickly realized that Tom was going to need help flying and landing their bird. But, unlike in a troop-carrying helicopter, he could not just crawl up into the front seat. The pilot’s area was separated from the gunner’s area and there was not room for a man to squeeze from the back into the front of the aircraft. So, in the small, cramped gunner’s space in the back of the bird (see above photo), Mike turned around on all fours and crawled to the other side of the bird. The difficulty of even that task was increased because Mike was not a small man. His nickname in the troop was the Chunker, because at 5’ 9” he pushed the scales at about 200 pounds.

Once he was on the left side of the bird, the Chunker unhooked his safety strap and crawled out onto the skid, which was a metal tube about 2-3” in diameter. He then walked forward on the skid and climbed through the open door into the left seat.  From there he helped the wounded pilot fly the aircraft back to firebase known as LZ Rock.

As they began their landing approach, Mike assisted in a successful landing by working the foot pedals to counter the constant changes in torque, keeping the aircraft straight during the landing process. [Now aren’t you glad you read the explanation above for an understanding of how Mike compensated for Newton’s Third Law?]. Absent Mike’s assistance the aircraft could have crashed while attempting to land.

For Mike’s actions, the commanding general awarded him a Distinguished Flying Cross. The DFC is awarded for non-routine “heroism or extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight.” Everyone in the unit thought that Mike met this criteria, as did his commanding general.

Impact Award of DFC to Mike Perry, Bear Cat, Vietnam

Mike’s award was made in what was known as an “impact ceremony.” A general could make such Impact Awards soon after an action, if he thought that a soldier’s actions were so meritorious or valorous that they merited an immediate award, instead of waiting for the paperwork to wend its way up through the Army bureaucracy. Photos of the ceremony show that two general officers were present and one of them pinned the Distinguished Flying Cross on Mike. 

After the General pinned the impact award on Mike, the unit prepared and forwarded the supporting paperwork to the brigade HQ. By then, this should have been a pro forma action, since the General had already made the award. But for unknown reasons, the paperwork was misrouted or lost somewhere, and the award was never entered into Mike’s personnel file.  But keep in mind that by this time, the DFC had already been approved by two General Officers who were present at the ceremony and awarded it to Mike, even though it was never reflected in his personnel file.

Later, Tom Burnett and Tom Genetti, who was the AH-1G cobra pilot flying cover for Mike and Tom during the action, submitted affidavits in support of a petition to the Army Board for Correction of Military Records to “correct” Mike’s records to reflect the award of the DFC. In its infinite wisdom, however, the members of the Board took it upon themselves to treat the petition as a first request for the award of a DFC to Mike. So these D.C, bureaucrats, 9,000 miles from the scene of the action and 45 years removed from gunfire, blood and stress of flying a low-level mission in the middle of Indian Country, decided that they disagreed with Mike’s pilot, with the Cobra pilot who witnesses the action, with Mike’s troop commander and with his commanding general. Contrary to the judgment of all these men who were there in July 1971, they ruled that Mike’s actions did not merit a DFC after all. Thus, they disapproved the award, ignoring the fact that the DFC had already been awarded to him by two general officers.

So that is Mike’s story. Although the history of the Vietnam war is filled with stories of great courage and valor, I doubt that there is another one quite like this.

Now my request: Although the Army has not officially recognized what Mike did that day in July 1971, we all can. So, on this Veteran’s Day (or later if you don’t read this on November 11), I am asking each of my readers to express his or her thanks to Mike for his faithful but unheralded performance of duty by sending him a shot message in the comments section below. I will not suggest or presume what anyone should say. Just write what you think and feel in your heart on this Veterans’ Day.

I thank you all.

Bravo Blue