World: Living on Air: How Khe Sanh Is Sustained

To the 5,000 encircled Marines at Khe Sanh, air is much more than just the stuff they breathe; it is their lifeline, their hope, their only chance of survival if they are attacked by the 30,000 or so North Vietnamese regulars who surround them. As part of one of the most massive aerial support and attack campaigns ever mounted, U.S. pilots struggled to sustain and shield Khe Sanh. Air Force and Marine transport pilots last week flew 79 supply sorties, delivering nearly 1,200 tons of food, water, medicine and ammunition to the besieged outpost. Fighter-bombers and giant B-52s flew some 2,000 sorties over enemy positions, plastering the jungle and hills around Khe Sanh with some 7,000 tons of bombs.

Fears of MIG & Sam. Well aware of the Marines’ dependence on air support, the North Vietnamese are doing everything they can to make the skies over Khe Sanh unsafe. So far, they have managed to destroy only one American C-130 transport and temporarily disable another, but they keep the airstrip under constant fire whenever a plane lands. They are also adding 37-mm. flak to the hundreds of machine guns that already ring the Marine base. U.S. flyers even fear that SAMS and MIGS may soon be used around Khe Sanh; in fact, B-52s are now escorted on their daily raids by a protective formation of fighters known as MIG Cap.

During the past month, U.S. bombers have dropped on the vicinity of Khe Sanh some 31,000 tons of bombs, the greatest amount of tonnage ever concentrated on such a small sector. Even so, U.S. Air Force generals in Saigon concede that, because of poor visibility, the U.S. is able to detect only about 20% of the supplies being trucked down the Ho Chi Minh Trail for the buildup around Khe Sanh. As a result, the U.S. has resorted to saturation bombing of suspected supply areas that sometimes turn out to be ammunition and gasoline caches but are frequently only empty jungle.

On the battlefield itself, swift jet fighter-bombers flash in under the low-hanging clouds to dump napalm and explosives on enemy positions that are now as close as 300 yards to the base perimeter. The Marines are, in fact, relying on air to do the job of pinpoint destruction that their own artillery would normally undertake. Reason: they lost so many shells when their ammo dump was hit three weeks ago that they are conserving ammunition for the big attack.

Engines Running. The transport pilots take enormous risks to bring supplies into Khe Sanh. The base sits in a valley that is at present enveloped almost constantly by a thick mist that will not lift until the monsoon ends in early April. Pilots must feel their way in for landings with a ceiling of less than 100 ft.—even though Air Force standards call for a minimum of 300 ft. In addition to the mist, they must make their letdown through turbulent air and a tail wind, cope with a sudden updraft before touchdown and land on a runway that tilts crazily uphill.

Since the planes are “mortar bait,” the pilots are understandably eager to get into the air again as soon as possible after landing. They taxi to the unloading area at high speed, keep their engines running while passengers and freight tumble out and wounded are brought aboard. After two or three minutes at most, the planes are clawing back into the protective clouds. The ground fire has become so intense that the only plane allowed to land at Khe Sanh these days is the Fairchild C-123K, a twin-engine freighter of 1954 vintage that is so rugged that it can shrug off slight damage and keep on flying. One C-123, infact, had both an engine and a takeoff-assist jet pod shot off over Khe Sanh last week and still kept on going. The C-123 replaced the newer and bigger Lockheed C-130s, which proved to be too vulnerable to enemy fire.

Parachute Delivery. The Lockheed “Herky Birds” have been switched to an equally important but slightly less hazardous mission: airdropping supplies to Khe Sanh. The pilots can seldom see the drop zone because of the mist, but they are directed from Khe Sanh by a lone Marine who operates a Ground Control Approach radar-guidance system. Following his instructions, they bring their big planes in at 400 ft. over Khe Sanh, then begin an eight-degree climb, tipping through the rear door pallets of supplies that parachute to earth. Last week, in 66 airdrops, only two landed in enemy territory, and they were destroyed by air strikes before the North Vietnamese could get their hands on them. The Herky Birds have an even more precise delivery system: flying only five or ten feet above the Khe Sanh airstrip, they pop out of the rear door a huge chute that pulls with it a big pallet of supplies. A thick layer of corrugated paper on the pallet’s undersurface cushions the shock.

The pilots are willing to take chances because they know how vital the supplies are to the Marines. During a recent three-day period, when the GCA guidance system was temporarily knocked out by enemy fire and the weather was totally unflyable, the Marines were down to only two C rations and one quart of water per day before the pilots resumed their life-sustaining flights.