Their mission was to extract wounded South Vietnamese soldiers from a hot zone in October 1972. But the crew in the Bell UH-1 Iroquois “Huey” helicopter – including 18-year-old door gunner John Hulbert – couldn’t complete the assignment.

“We tried getting in there,” Hulbert said, “but that ship got hit so much that gauges were going crazy and alarms were going off. When we left, we were smoking.”

As they flew away, they were being shot at not only by North Vietnamese and Viet Cong troops, but also by supposed allies from the South Vietnamese Army. That was apparent by the color of the tracers (large bullets or cannon-caliber projectiles) flying through the air in their direction.

“The enemy had yellow or green tracers and we had orange,” Hulbert said. “All those tracers were coming at us, so we were getting shot at by everybody. They were pretty mad that we left their guys.”

Now 64 and a resident of Texas County, Hulbert volunteered with the U.S. Army in February 1971 as a 17-year-old high school junior in his native hometown of Chicago. His goal was to fight on the frontlines in Vietnam.

“I guess I wasn’t all that smart,” Hulbert said. “I was the kind of person who would stick their finger in a fan to see if it hurt.”

But when Hulbert was deployed to South Vietnam from Fort Lee, Va., in March 1972, he wasn’t placed with an infantry group, but was instead assigned to duty as a courier for a supply outfit at a base near at Binh Thuy, in the southern portion of the country on the Mekong River delta near the provincial capital of Can Tho.

“Going in as a 17-year-old volunteer, they wanted to take care of me,” Hulbert said.

The base wasn’t there for long following Hulbert’s arrival. It was wiped it out about a month after he got there during the North Vietnamese Army’s “Easter Offensive.”

“They rocketed us and one of the rockets made a lucky strike on a truckload of ammunition that was next to an ammo dump bunker that had its doors open,” Hulbert said. “The explosion ignited stuff inside that bunker and that ignited all of them. It went up for a day and a half.”

Having endured hours being bombarded at a base “behind the lines,” Hulbert knows there is no guarantee of safety in that environment.

“Don’t ever let anybody tell you that the guys who were on these bases didn’t get it – they did,” he said. “If you had planes, choppers or anything worth stealing – like weapons or ammo – you’re a big-time target.”

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With the war winding down and American ground troops and other personnel being sent home in growing numbers, Hulbert still desired to be where the action was and volunteered for the infantry on several occasions.

“I kept putting in to get out in the bush, but it kept getting kicked back,” he said.

Hulbert ultimately got his wish about three months into his one-year stint “in-country,” but not as a soldier on the ground.

“My first sergeant told me, ‘if you want to get your ass shot off so bad, go see the aviation guys – they need door gunners,’” Hulbert said.

So for the remaining nine months, the eager young soldier was a Huey helicopter gunner for the First Aviation Brigade. He joined the rest of a crew including a pilot, co-pilot and crew chief, who was also a gunner.

“It was really a change of pace,” Hulbert said.

Much of what the crew did involved connecting American officers and advisors with South Vietnamese officers so they could be trained to take the reins when the U.S. was done pulling out. But that change of pace also involved more dangerous tasks.

Far more.

“A lot of times, our job was go out and draw fire,” Hulbert said, “so we would fly over areas until they would fire at us. We were looking for the big stuff, like the 51-caliber guns and anti-aircraft. Once we found them, guys were on the radios and they’d have jets in there pretty quick.”

Close calls in the Huey were the norm. Hulbert recalls putting a lot of “100-mile-per-hour tape” – olive drab green duct tape – on the aircraft.

“The ship had an aluminum fuselage, and we were often patching up bullet holes,” Hulbert said. “We got hit one time to the point we thought we were going down. But we made it back OK.”

Most of the areas Hulbert and his crew flew over were “free fire zones,” meaning they were authorized to shoot at anything.

“Whatever we saw, we shot,” he said. “That was our job. Especially if it was a guy carrying an AK-47.”

Most veterans who saw action in hot zones say that once you’re engaging the enemy, fighting is mainly about one thing: Survival.

“The only thing that matters is that you and your guys make it through alive,” Hulbert said. “You’re literally fighting for the guy next to you, and he’s fighting for you.”

The Vietnam War ended in January 1973 and Hulbert stayed in the country until March – twice turning down orders to go back “stateside.” He remained in the Army for a year after returning to the U.S., stationed in Massachusetts.

Hulbert said he recalls the Vietnamese people as a friendly bunch. He became friends with a man who went by the name, “Sam,” who could often be found in downtown Can Tho and didn’t speak any English.

“I saw all kinds of strange things, because it wasn’t our culture,” he said. “But I find that kindness comes from a lot of directions, and when you least expect it. I can say that about the Vietnamese people; there were some really good people there.

“But most of them were scared when I was there because they saw the troops leaving.”

UNWELCOME HOMECOMING

Hulbert spent most of his working career as a truck driver in the Chicago area. He and his wife, Teri, moved to Texas County five years ago and he is an active member of American Legion Post 41 in Houston.

As was the case for many American soldiers returning from Vietnam, Hulbert faced major challenges when he got back. During the war, he was frequently around death and witnessed countless horrific scenes, both on the ground and through the door of the Huey while his hands and fingers operated his trusty M-60 machine gun. He still deals with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and issues due to being exposed to the infamous herbicide and defoliant, Agent Orange (which was widely used as part of Operation Ranch Hand, the U.S. military’s herbicidal warfare program in place from 1961 through 1971).

“PTSD was already working on me as soon as I got back,” Hulbert said. “I still attend PTSD meetings.”

Like so many of his peers, Hulbert had difficulty finding work when he left the Army due to the stigma associated with being a Vietnam veteran. Still only 20 years old, he was also forced to deal with widespread prejudice and misunderstanding.

“I got turned down for several jobs,” Hulbert said. “I even slept in my car before I could get an apartment. But back then there was a lot of animosity misdirected at Vietnam vets.”

Hulbert said that regardless of their political stance, people should view all veterans with compassion and respect.

“Buy them a drink or pay for their breakfast,” he said. “You probably don’t want to be where they’re at.”

No matter when, where or how a veteran served, Hulbert believes they’re all part of the same family.

“Regardless of all that, you were still ‘in’ and you’re still my brother,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if you were overseas, you still served. And just by the stroke of a pen, it could have been different – it could have been you over there.

“It’s fate. In my case, I looked for that fate. I wanted to be there. I wanted to experience what the hell it was about. But when you’re there, it really opens your eyes. It wasn’t pretty.”

These days, Hulbert enjoys riding and working on motorcycles. A trio of Harley Davidsons highlight the interior of his shop building.

“That’s my helicopter now,” he said, pointing as his favorite bike.

The shop isn’t a total mess, but Hulbert doesn’t plan to ever finish organizing it.

“Because then I’d have the time to think again,” he said. “I’d have the time to think of something or hear something that would take me back to a place I don’t want to go.”

“I wanted to experience what the hell it was about. But when you’re there, it really opens your eyes. It wasn’t pretty.”

JOHN HULBERT