Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
by
Joe Smart
joe.smart737@gmail.net
FAC
Absolutely no one can tell you about the Vietnam War. No one. If you weren’t
there, you just don’t know. And if you were there, you only got a snap-shot of
the proverbial Big Picture. And although your snap-shot might be similar to the
snap-shot of your buddy next to you, your experience would be very, very
different from the experience of somebody doing a different job, or doing the
same job in a different area, or even doing the same job in the same place but a
year before your time or a year after. But I can give you a few glimpses of my
snapshot.
From April, 1970, to March, 1971, I was a Forward Air Controller (FAC) in
Vietnam. I was based at Phu Cat Air Base, about 20 miles north-north-west of
Qui Nhon, in II Corps. We flew the O-2A, a Cessna 337 Skymaster pusher-puller
twin with a pod of white-phosphorous marker-rockets on each wing. Our job
was to fly throughout our assigned area, learn the ground, locate enemy
activity, coordinate with our own ground troops, request an airstrike, mark the
target with our rockets, then direct the airstrike. We had complete control, and
would direct the fighters as to what heading to attack on and where the good
guys were and where to head if hit by ground fire. After the strike, we would fly
over the area and try to determine the damage and give the fighters a strike
report.
That was the theory. It didn’t always work so smooth.
On the way to Nam first-time pilots stopped at Clark Air Base, north of Manila,
for Jungle Survival School, encouragingly known as Snake School. There are a
couple things I still remember. One was the advice to never mess with the
snakes of South East Asia because, “There are 42 kinds of snakes there. Thirty-
nine are poisonous, and the other three eat you alive!” I have followed that
advice ever since. Another bit was to not panic if you found yourself on the
The Koreans
The Korean Army had two divisions in Vietnam. I was assigned to the Capitol
Division. I met only a few Vietnamese while I was in their country, but I met a
ton of Koreans, and I learned a lot that is still with me.
One thing I learned is that they were amazingly tough, ferocious fighters, and
they scared the crap out of the Viet Cong. When we drove our jeep from Phu
Cat to our regiment, we passed over a lot of bridges. (You can see the roads we
took on Google Earth. Go south from Phu Cat toward Qui Nhon, then turn right
and go about half way to the Ahn Khe pass.) Since bridges have been military
targets forever, each bridge was guarded. Even without seeing the flags, you
could tell from the sandbags which bridges were guarded by the Vietnamese
Army, which were guarded by Americans, and which were guarded by the ROKs.
The sandbags of the Vietnamese bridges were ramshackle and not uniform, like
they had been put up in a hurry, knocked down, and put up again in a greater
hurry. And they had bullet holes. And the troops guarding them were hunkered
down, and once in a while there was a dead body nearby, waiting to be picked
up by whoever had that thankless job.
The sandbags of the American bridges were a lot better, but the guards were
still careful, watching, waiting.
But the bags of the Korean bridges were perfect, like green adobe blocks, neat,
uniform. I believe they must have used wet sand to fill the bags, then placed
them in rectangular wooden forms, like you would with wet concrete, till they
dried. And the guards stood at attention, out in the open, like guards at
Buckingham Palace, daring the Cong to try something. Nobody messed with the
Koreans.
Another thing I learned is that they were smart – at least, some of them. One of
my two best friends during my year was the regimental dentist. His English was
“Trust me!”
If you want someone else’s view of being a FAC, you could read the book Bat 21
by William Charles Anderson, then watch the movie of the same name, starring
Danny Glover and Gene Hackman. The story is supposedly true, although
someone so fanatic about golf that he even knows the compass headings of
various holes throughout the country seems a little far-fetched. Danny Glover is
a FAC, and directs Gene Hackman from where he bailed out of his aircraft to a
safe pickup site. The movie has some pretty good flying sequences, and it has
Rocket Attack
Most of the FACs were young, just a year or two out of college, and most of the
guys treated the assignment as a flying club during the day and a frat party at
night. I was the only one who did not drink.
I was raised to not drink. Although the Bible reports that Jesus drank wine, the
theory in our church was that our bodies were the temple of God, that the Holy
Spirit lived within us, and so we should not contaminate our bodies, God’s
house, with alcohol or tobacco. Inexplicably, but thankfully, this desire to not
contaminate our bodies did not extend to soda, coffee, bacon, or fast foods –
perhaps it should have!
While in college, I saw no reason to suddenly begin to smoke or drink, and it
may have been my desire to stand up for something, to not follow the crowd, to
Naked Aggression
There are funny stories about Vietnam, there are sad ones. I guess this is one of
the funny ones – at least, it seemed funny when I told by buddies about it, after
I landed.
Sometimes we flew alone, sometimes we flew together, taking turns being in
the left seat, the seat of the pilot in command. Being alone was probably
better; you would focus more on the task at hand, and there was no one to
catch you if you happened to exaggerate a little when you told your story that
night.
One afternoon I was flying, alone, over an area I seldom observed. Seeing a
small river, I buzzed down pretty low and started flying upstream, giving about
equal attention to my altitude and the trees lining the river, while looking for
ground fire or other signs of enemy activity.