We hit the ground on the run, leaning forward under the weight of our heavy canvass rucks, eyes quickly searching for an entrance into the jungle. It was a two-ship insertion, which meant spending nerve-racking time in the area until we could clear the LZ. When all six of us had hit the wood line and moved in a bit, we hit a hasty crouch position, all ears listening for movement. As soon as the sound of the chopper blades dissipated, we could hear a distant, but clear gong sounding. They knew we were here, we had to melt into the jungle growth and make tracks fast. 'GONG', 'GONG', 'GONG' -- the metallic sound reverberated throughout the mountain jungle. My neck hair stood on end; cold sweat soon soaked the cravat around my forehead.

I was leading a six-man team into the hills as the 196th wanted to ensure a suspected NVA unit, coming down from the North, wasn't infiltrating the far reaches of its AO. As far as team experience went, we had that, plus -- we even had Sgt. Don Carter, a Korean War Ranger of some distinction with us. Filling out the team was Bob Wheeler as the radioman; David Ohm was pulling point and "Jolly" Haussler was my ATL. (For the life of me I can't remember the sixth man, could have been "Boy Wonder" [Allen] though.)

The gong finally silenced after about 3-4 minutes, leaving us in relative quiet except for the individual sounds of our heavy breathing, and the soft crunch of our boots on the jungle floor. Stealthily we climbed the mountain seeking a night harbor site to settle into before it got too dark. Blending into the woodwork was our goal, we wanted to hide in the night and remain undetected.

Our first night was spent uneventfully, no noise, no probing; we made all our radio checks with the radio relay team. Just prior to the break of dawn we saddled up and headed out for a look-see around our assigned block of grid squares. Numerous trails were spotted, fresh signs of recent foot movement and small-sized enemy rest areas were noted along those same trails. We were onto something. Don Carter was chomping at his bit with anticipation; he had packed some extra C-4 in his ruck as he loved the big boom, and he wanted to use it on something, somebody. We continued on, slowly working our way around and down a ridgeline; however, we had this feeling we were being followed. Can't explain why, I'm sure others have experienced it at some time or another.

We continued on with no actual enemy sightings until it was time for our extraction, all the while knowing we were being followed. I had found what looked like a suitable PZ on the map and went to explore it early in the morning with Ohm - it fit the bill; only one ship could come in at a time though. That situation was not ideal for us, considering there may be unwanted company around. Additionally, it had a somewhat large, old gray-looking tree smack in the middle of the clear area. Ohm and I went quickly went back to get the rest of the team for our infiltration to the pickup site; silently we slid into position at the north end.

We spread out and scanned the area, all looked and felt secure. I motioned to Carter to join me. When Don had low crawled to my position, I instructed him that I wanted the tree blown; but not until the choppers were inbound. I didn't want to alert the enemy of our location, if they were in the neighborhood, until the last moment possible.

"Rattlers inbound." Upon hearing this, Carter, low crawled slowly, working his way through the elephant grass -- we could monitor his progress as the grass waved slightly as he approached the tree. Soon we saw the "wave" coming back toward us; Carter gave us the thumb-up and mouthed, "All Set". All of a sudden there was a tremendous boom, a large cloud of black/gray smoke floated up from the center of the PZ obscuring the tree. We looked up in horror; the tree shook slightly and then settled down in the full upright, still standing proud and blocking the center of the clearing. I looked at Cater and yelled, "What the hell happened." With all the certainty in the world, Carter responded with, "Hell Sarge. it must be an iron wood tree."

The lead pilot broke the silence and reported some movement above us on the ridgeline. We had to get out of there, as in now. The lead pilot dropped and skillfully maneuvered his way forward of "Carter's tree", and hung there in a hover while Jolly, Don Carter and the third man jumped aboard. Quickly he pulled pitch; his blades biting the mountain air as he pealed out gaining altitude. And then, all hell broke loose, the ridgeline erupted in automatic small arms fire - Wheeler, Ohm and I were now pinned down behind a fallen tree. (Not the iron wood tree though, for it still stood as a monument in defiance of Carter's skill as a demo man.) I grabbed the handset and yelled into the mouthpiece for the other ship to come in and get us. "That's a negative, there's hostile gunfire in the area," was response heard back. I started to laugh out loud, Ohm looked at me like I was crazy, and at the same time he slid lower behind the fallen tree.

Now it's rumored that Jolly held his brand-new "357" to a person's flight helmet, and may have said, "Tell the your buddy to go back and get the rest of my team or else." It was also rumored by someone that the pilot said something like, "You wouldn't dare." This same person recounted that "Jolly" pulled back the hammer and said, "Oh yeah." Ohm, Wheeler and I can only admit to fact that the second chopper swung in from nowhere and immediately went into a hover with the its door guns blazing. We scrambled, all on board, the pilot pulled pitch. The chopper shook and shuttered as we swung around the ridgeline in a hasty flight path. Much to his surprise, we caught a fellow in black PJs, with an AK in hand, in the process of trying to jump behind a large rock. Those positioned on the left-hand side of the chopper, the M-60 door gunner and team members, opened up on the poor fellow; he would not live to walk another trail in his Ho Chi Minh sandals, ever again.

Back in our base camp on the beach, things were hot for a while, "Who pulled the gun", was the subject of the day. After much discussion it was chalked up to the combat hype and excitement of the moment - Jolly and I would continue on to pull other patrols together. Don Carter never again attempted to down another tree during his tour. Ohm always wondered why I broke out in laughter; I never did have an answer.