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633rd Security
Police Squadron |
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I remember the first night, as an A1C, I went on duty as a member of Charlie Flight, probably around October 15th. I was in some sandbag bunker in the middle of the runway and the taxi way of the air base near the east end. That night I learned what in-coming meant, hearing the sound of 122mm Rockets as they landed adjacent to the air base near MACV and the 91st Evacuation Hospital. This is what they called war, and people were really trying to kill these young Americans sent to defend a country half way around the world. Sirens wailed and the radio was alive with chatter of in-coming, as men and machinery scurried about the base, to insure the safety and security of all who made Pleiku Air Base, home.
I remember the smell of fish oil from the VNAF housing area. The ride in the Lambreta to Pleiku City. The young boys nagging for money and favors from GI Number One. For five dollars or a carton of cigarettes, they promised they could find you some fun. I remember the A-1s and A-37s. I remember the night, the C-47 Spooky crashed in the rice paddies. It was tragic, because the pilot, was one who would come out of the billet by the Spookys and shoot the breeze from time to time, and usually have a cup of coffee for whoever was working that post at the time. I remember the sound of the V.C. launching mortars in the distance, waiting and wondering where they would land. I remember Foxtrot reporting rocket launch flashes at 270°, four-to-five miles out. Happy New Year, Vietnam style, in 1968, was something, for those of us who were there, we will never forget. I
remember Guardmount that Tet night,
and there was little or nothing to report by the Flight Sergeant, of intelligence
alerts. I do remember, however, while sitting in Bravo 17, the Flight
Sergeant and Duty Officer coming by sometime after midnight, warning us
all, that something was going to happen, but, just what, no one was sure.
Then it came. First Camp Holloway and then Engineer Hill, and before you
knew it, rockets were landing everywhere. CSC radioed that Camp Holloway
had been infiltrated by sappers and they were at the Control Tower. Slap
flares were seen all along the base perimeter, and as fast as they could
get there, the off-duty Flights and Augmentees were rushed to different
posts to help secure the base. At 9ᚨ in the morning, still on duty,
you could see the smoke rising from Pleiku City and watch as the Helicopter
Gunships and other aircraft attacked suspected enemy positions in the
area. The mobile .50 Caliber, was sent to the Main Gate to thwart the
entry of men and women carrying concealed weapons, grenades and ammo,
while waving a white flag. That started about a month of 12-on and 12-off
shifts. Fortunately, no sappers got through our perimeter that night.
During that period, the Army sent five M-60 tanks to the base for additional
support.
I remember the few nights off, drinking beer and playing the slots at the Airman's Club. The USO shows and the 633rd SPS, ensuring that everyone in the place was standing when God Bless America was sung. I remember the faces of those Vietnamese girls that served us our drinks, and the mamasans that washed our clothes and cleaned the barracks. I wonder what happened to them when the South fell? I also wonder what happened to those QCs that we worked with. I remember the dedication and professionalism of the K-9 guys, walking the fence with their beloved dogs. How many attempts to breech the fence were deterred by a dog alert? I remember the thick red dust in the dry season and the gooey red mud when it rained and rained and rained. I remember the very cool nights, sitting on top of those old metal towers, in the new area, known as Bravos 22, 23, and 24. I remember the giant rice beetles and all the other insects that crawled around everywhere and who could forget the large rats, that scurried around in the darkness. I remember the comfort of a visit by the Hawk Unit or the Utility Man and his coffee, sometimes delivering some cake he scrounged from the cooks. I remember the humor of the sometime, unauthorized radio chatter. I remember the morning get-together's after going off duty in the barracks, drinking beer and relieving the stress of night that had just passed. I remember TS cards and the humorous methods of the Chaplains to solve any problem that one could have. I remember waiting for hours to get a call to home via the MARS Radio.
Of coming home, this is what I remember: On or about October 12, 1968, myself and three of my comrades from the 633rd boarded our flight home from Phu Cat, after a couple of days enjoying the beach at Cam Ranh. I remember as the flight departed, the pilot making an announcement on the intercom, for the individual who had been an Air Traffic Controller at the base to come up to the cabin, so his fellow controllers could give him a final farewell. At 7: a.m. of whatever day it was we arrived at Mc Cord Air Force Base at Seattle, a roar of noise was heard from all onboard from all branches of service, when the wheels of that airplane touched down on the good USA. Whether we were welcomed home or not ... we were home. |
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633rd Security Police Squadron |
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During the Vietnam War, the 633rd Security Police Squadron was awarded nine (9) Campaign streamers; two (2) Air Force Outstanding Unit Awards with Combat "V" (Valor) Device; and the Republic of Vietnam Gallantry Crosses with Palm. Three (3) Security Police died in the line of duty at Pleiku AB. Officially, enemy attacks, Stand Off and Sapper Attacks, against Pleiku AB occurred 32 times, receiving 264 incoming rockets and mortars, with 54 US WIA, 4 SVN WIA, and 2 Viet Cong KIAs. Unofficially, many Stand Off rocket attacks were never recorded. Because of the valor in defense of the fortress, demonstrated by the 633rd Security Police Squadron, the service of fellow Security Police, the 111 Air/Security Police airmen killed in action or line of duty, and more than 500 wounded in action across Vietnam and Thailand, our Legacy was born: The Legacy
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