Familiar flight

MAT-SU — Leave nobody behind.

That was the code Jim Harvey lived by as a helicopter pilot during his two tours of duty in the Vietnam War. As a commander of UH-1 Huey helicopters, Harvey flew 2,000 hours and countless missions transporting troops and supplies. Nearly 40 years after flying his last mission in Southeast Asia, Harvey received a call.

A pair of brothers in Indiana — John and Allen Walker — had found an old Huey and wanted to know if Harvey recognized it.

Harvey made a trip to the Lower 48 to examine the Huey and, sure enough, it was the same helicopter he remembers tearing the landing gear off of during a mission four decades earlier and halfway around the globe.

“I figured that aircraft probably was in a junkyard someplace or had been destroyed,” Harvey said.

In August, he made another trip to Indiana, this time to fly the helicopter again, along with other members of its original crew.

“I actually got to fly the aircraft again and take my wife up, and it was a real kick in the butt,” Harvey said. “That’s kind of a special, unique feeling. You’re climbing back on an aircraft that you last flew when you were 22 years old, and there were a lot of guys there who were with me in Vietnam my first tour. It was a little emotional — a good feeling.”

The 22-year U.S. Army veteran was also emotional this past week recalling his service as a helicopter pilot from his home in the Buffalo Mine Road area.

Harvey was “21 or 22 years old” when he enlisted in 1966 and began his pilot training. He made his first tour in Vietnam from December 1967 to December 1968, then returned for another year from November 1970 to 1971. He retired from the Army in 1987 and still flies as a pilot for Air Logistics of Alaska.

Landing zone on fire

Harvey said he can still vividly remember the last time he flew that particular Huey in 1968. He was part of a convoy of helicopters taking troops into a hot landing zone and was a little behind the pack.

“I landed and picked up five, maybe seven, Vietnamese soldiers, took off and was trying to catch up to (the other helicopters),” he said. “I caught up pretty close, about a quarter-mile behind coming up to the landing zone for the assault, and the landing zone had been on fire, so there were flames and smoke. Once (the others) went in, they started kicking up all this ash so I couldn’t see them.

“As I came down, I’m looking for a reference point and couldn’t see one,” he continued. “I could look straight down through the chin bubble and see the ground, and I thought I was level, but I was actually cocked (to the left), and all the weight landed on that left gear.”

The impact crushed the landing gear, caused the Huey to torque “and twist the landing skids right off the aircraft, so I had to land it on its belly.”

Harvey decided he could still fly the helicopter, so took off and made it to his refueling rendezvous. He had to hover the helicopter while it took on fuel, then flew back to his base, where sandbags had been arranged for him to land on.

“In my opinion, I thought (the accident) was my fault,” Harvey said. “I tore that landing gear off. Going back, I thought it was a little embarrassing at first, because that was the only aircraft I had ever tore up that was my fault in 40-some years of flying.”

Special bond

During his time first in the 336th Assault Helicopter Company and then in the 101st Airborne Division, Harvey developed a lasting bond with those he flew with. His trip in August also served as a reunion for others he served with in the 336th, including co-pilot Don Nelson and gunner Harold Jones, whom Harvey described as “a real character.”

The son of an Air Force flight engineer, Harvey was born in Texas and first came to Alaska as a boy from 1950 to 1956 when his father was assigned to Elmendorf Air Force Base. Harvey returned in 1977 when he was assigned to Fort Wainright.

He’s proud of his service and the critical role helicopter pilots played in Vietnam.

“The Vietnam War was a helicopter war. It’s that simple,” he said. “You couldn’t take the troops to where they needed to go without the helicopters. Ninety percent of the time when (the infantry) went into places like the Ashau Valley or the forest, they were hauled in there with a helicopter and hauled out of there in a helicopter.”

As the main vehicle for moving troops, Harvey said nobody was left behind — if he took soldiers into a zone to fight, they could count on getting a ride home. And of the three times he was shot down, Harvey knew he would also not be left behind.

“It doesn’t matter how bad it gets, if you get shot down, they’re going to be coming in trying to get you until they get you out. That’s a hard thing to explain. They’re almost like brothers, because you know they aren’t going to leave you behind. … Americans did not leave their people behind in Vietnam. I got shot down in August of ’68. We lost four aircraft that day total, but we got everybody out.”

He especially has respect for his role in helping the infantry complete missions.

“They depended on you to take them in, and they knew no matter how bad things go that you were going to come back and get them,” Harvey said. “I think that’s pretty important, and I think that’s true today. A soldier’s got to believe he’s going to be taken care of. I don’t think that’s any different today than 40 years ago.”

Harvey said flying the same Huey he twisted the landing gear off of in Vietnam was a partial blessing. He got to reunite with old comrades, but also relived some long-buried memories.

“You just can’t explain what you feel about people like this, that you (serve with),” he said. “You get pretty close. I think it brings up both (emotions), but it was certainly nice to go and talk to some of the guys I flew with back then.”

And this time, the landing was perfect.

Contact Greg Johnson at greg.johnson@frontiersman.com or 352-2269.