Release #: Vol. 84, No. 3
April 01, 2015

The Blades Carry Me: Inside the Helicopter War in Vietnam

By Jim and Anne Weatherill
Reviewed by Jan W. Steenblik, Technical Editor

The Things They Carried, a collection of short stories about a platoon of American soldiers in Vietnam, was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize. The Blades Carry Me, by Capt. Jim Weatherill (Continental, Ret.) and his wife Anne, is as good.

Dedicated “To those who came home, those who didn’t, and those who waited,” the Weatherills crafted a joint memoir of his year (1968) as a U.S. Army Chinook heavy-lift helo pilot in Vietnam—and her wait for his safe return.

SOMETIMES WEATHERILL’S WRITING IS TERSE:

“The briefing is short and sweet. Hold American positions. Save American lives. We leave Holloway at 11 p.m., loaded externally with 6,000 pounds of ammo and half a pallet of C-rations for the troops at Kontum. Three Chinooks in and out, we make two trips from the logistics pad at Pleiku City and return so riddled with holes we’re sent back to Holloway for repairs. Precious sleep, too, if we can keep our eyes closed.”

OTHER TIMES THE WRITING IS RICH WITH DETAIL:

For example, to unload troops on a tiny LZ, Weatherill’s aircraft commander lands the Chinook’s rear wheels and hovers the nose over a canyon. A strong gust rocks the helo; the pilot overcontrols:

“Instantly, the helicopter jumps like a prodded animal. The violence of the buck locks my shoulder harness and pins me to the back of my seat. In three to five bounces the Chinook will self-destruct.

“We only talk about ground resonance. We never do it in training because of the terminal consequences—flying machine to hundreds of pieces of aluminum in four to eight seconds. At bounce three, a bang fires through the aircraft like a rifle report....

“Horton is unresponsive to our eminent destruction.

“A grinding noise floods the ship.

“I pull the thrust up, and we leap into the sky. We are back in flight. The bucking stops and the rain begins.”

Despite Weatherill’s rescuing the Chinook from certain destruction, a major chewed him out for being “aggressively insubordinate.”

Weatherill recalled, “In the cockpit I’m home in the job I have long dreamed of...it’s the bullets and the bullshit I don’t like.” He would field lots of both.

Shot down near a besieged firebase, Weatherill and his crew (copilot, crew chief, two gunners) plus 10 soldiers take cover in the jungle:

“...Tualang trees reach more than 200 feet overhead. Huge roots jut out like barricades.... We settle among the massive roots....

“The snap of breaking twigs...broadcast the approach of the NVA soldiers.... Then, we hear men at a run....

“The enemy sounds stop. My ears strain to hear.

“Suddenly, an NVA soldier appears around the root I’m trying to graft myself to and steps on my left boot. I shoot three rounds into his chest. He falls lifeless beside me. A second enemy soldier scrambles over my root and spots his dead comrade. I shoot him, too.”

The Blades Carry Me includes much combat; officers ranging from superb to despicable; fear, tears, and nightmares; honor, courage, and heroism. The dialogue is crisp, raw, credible; the men with whom Weatherill served, so utterly human.

A FAVORITE SECTION BY ANNE:

“Every night [Jim’s younger sister] Janie burns a votive candle in the bathroom.... The flame seems to give assurance that all is well.

“The candle also serves as a night light for the times our growing baby uses my bladder as a springboard. Tonight, I get up and grope my way down the hall. As I touch the bathroom door, it swings inward. The draft blows out the candle. The darkness grabs my heart.” 

This article is from the April 2015 issue of Air Line Pilot magazine, the Official Journal of the Air Line Pilots Association, International—a monthly publication for all ALPA members.

-###-