Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Fifty Years Ago A Giant Died

Things have been hectic around here lately. Consequently, there's been a shortage of original material. That may be an improvement, especially when I can pass along stories like the following.

First, a little background. San Antonio has a long and proud history that is closely intertwined with the military. In fact, the city's nickname is "Military City USA."
From the early days of the Spanish exploration of the West to providing the cutting edge in battlefield health care training, the history of San Antonio is closely linked to military history.  The Presidio de Bexar served as the seat of government and headquarters of military power in Colonial Texas, and became the focal point of the battle for independence from Mexico through the historic Battle of the Alamo.  A strategic center during the epic wars between Native Americans and the U.S. Calvary, the military presence in San Antonio is unbroken for nearly 300 years.  Occupied by Conquistadors, Texas Rangers, Confederate and Union troops, and serving as the recruiting and training grounds for Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, San Antonio’s military history is a colorful as its many fiestas and festivals.  The first military airplane flew at Ft. Sam Houston, Eddie Rickenbacker learned how to fly at Brooks Field in World War I, and the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo Astronauts were trained for the rigors of space flight at Brooks Air Force Base.  From Korea to Vietnam, Operation Desert Storm to Operation Iraqi Freedom, San Antonio has trained, equipped, and cared for America’s fighting men and women as they defend our way of life.
Which leads us to the following story, written by Medal of Honor recipient Pat Brady. His MOH citation reads as follows:
The President of the United States of America, in the name of Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Major Patrick Henry Brady (ASN: 0-88015), United States Army, for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving with Medical Service Corps, 54th Medical Detachment, 67th Medical Group, 44th Medical Brigade, in action against enemy aggressor forces at Chu Lai, Republic of Vietnam, on 6 January 1968. Major Brady, commanding a UH-1H ambulance helicopter, volunteered to rescue wounded men from a site in enemy held territory which was reported to be heavily defended and to be blanketed by fog. To reach the site he descended through heavy fog and smoke and hovered slowly along a valley trail, turning his ship sideward to blow away the fog with the backwash from his rotor blades. Despite the unchallenged, close-range enemy fire, he found the dangerously small site, where he successfully landed and evacuated two badly wounded South Vietnamese soldiers. He was then called to another area completely covered by dense fog where American casualties lay only 50 meters from the enemy. Two aircraft had previously been shot down and others had made unsuccessful attempts to reach this site earlier in the day. With unmatched skill and extraordinary courage, Major Brady made four flights to this embattled landing zone and successfully rescued all the wounded. On his third mission of the day Major Brady once again landed at a site surrounded by the enemy. The friendly ground force, pinned down by enemy fire, had been unable to reach and secure the landing zone. Although his aircraft had been badly damaged and his controls partially shot away during his initial entry into this area, he returned minutes later and rescued the remaining injured. Shortly thereafter, obtaining a replacement aircraft, Major Brady was requested to land in an enemy minefield where a platoon of American soldiers was trapped. A mine detonated near his helicopter, wounding two crewmembers and damaging his ship. In spite of this, he managed to fly six severely injured patients to medical aid. Throughout that day Major Brady utilized three helicopters to evacuate a total of 51 seriously wounded men, many of whom would have perished without prompt medical treatment. Major Brady's bravery was in the highest traditions of the military service and reflects great credit upon himself and the United States Army.
When someone like that speaks, I tend to listen, especially when he talks about the person that inspired him.
San Antonio is Military City USA. No other city is as welcoming to troops and veterans. However, this city is also the home of heroes, certainly the schoolhouse of heroes considering the significance of those who trained here. From the Alamo on, the list of legendary military heroes who have touched and were touched by San Antonio is unparalleled.

Beyond Travis, Crockett and Bowie, you have MacArthur, Eisenhower, Nimitz, Teddy Roosevelt and Lee, not to mention innumerable Medal of Honor recipients. Think of the titans of aviation trained here — Charles Lindberg, Billy Mitchell, Jimmy Doolittle, Paul Tibbets and Benjamin Foulois. I could go on, but perhaps the most accomplished military pilot ever also trained here and few know his name.

Tuesday marks the 50th anniversary of his death. His name was Charles Kelly, and it was my honor to serve under him. Unlike Tibbets, who may have been responsible for more combat deaths than any soldier in history (Tibbets was the pilot of the Enola Gay, which dropped the first atomic bomb on Japan during WWII), Kelly was responsible for more combat lives saved than anyone in history. Unlike Billy Mitchell who was court-martialed once, Kelly was court-martialed three times. Unlike others whose career began here, his almost ended here.

Because of his disciplinary problem, a special board convened at Fort Sam to kick him out. It relented and allowed him to continue serving. He then volunteered for Vietnam.

He lied to get in World War II at age 15 and was almost killed in combat. He was the only soldier to wear all four military badges — the combat medics badge, the combat infantry badge, as well as airborne and aviation wings. He was boneheaded and irascible, to say the least, and not pleased with the situation he found when he arrived in Saigon to command the 57th helicopter ambulance detachment, call sign Dust Off.

Although helicopters were used in Korea, they were unsuited for patient evacuation. The wounded were carried on pods attached to the skids. There was no possibility for en route care, and some patients regaining consciousness in the coffinlike pods thought they were in a coffin. The Huey of Vietnam was light-years beyond previous choppers. It was a mini treatment facility with great potential for lifesaving. Kelly had five of these great birds, but there was no doctrine and little understanding on their use in the jungle battlefields of Vietnam.

Kelly's commander, Brigadier General “Cider” Joe Stillwell, Vinegar Joe's boy, decided that he needed our helicopters for nonmedical missions. He would put portable red crosses on them when needed for a Dust Off. This would be like using your local ambulance to haul ash and trash and then slapping a red cross on it when someone got hurt. Kelly was outraged and went one on one with Stillwell. They were both battle-hardened veterans and respected each other, but neither pulled a punch.

Kelly warned us that unless we proved the lifesaving value of dedicated evacuation helicopters, it would be the end of Dust Off. Then he led the way. We wrote the book as we went, flying single-ship combat missions at night and in all kinds of weather. Kelly's exploits were legendary.

The fate of Dust Off was decided when Kelly landed for patients in an area called secure. All hell broke loose and the troops screamed for Kelly to get out. He replied in his soft Georgia drawl, “When I have your wounded.” He took a single round through his heart and died on the spot. His death rattle saved Dust Off and set the standard for battlefield rescues to this day. Kelly was responsible for some 1 million souls rescued, enemy as well as friendly, and a few scout dogs. Dust Off set survival rates unparalleled in warfare.

The outpouring at Kelly's funeral was immense. Stillwell wept. General Westmoreland singled out Kelly as a soldier for the ages. Portable red crosses died with Kelly.

One life lost, hundreds of thousands saved. “When I have your wounded.” What a great way to die; and really, not a bad way to live.
Amen.

Kelly was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star, and three Distinguished Flying Crosses. Details here.

2 comments:

Old NFO said...

Quite the story. Did you ever know Capt (later Col) Bill Hill back in the day? He flew with the 57th.

CenTexTim said...

Nope - didn't know him. I had very little experience with aviators. I was a junior enlisted man in the 2nd Armored Division - worked as a mechanic in the motor pool.