NED RICHARD HEINTZ
First Lieutenant, Infantry, Aviator
281st Assault Helicopter Company
From: De Graff, Ohio
Born: June 15, 1946
Tour of duty began on December 15, 1969
Wounded in a rocket attack on May 11, 1970
in Pleiku, South Vietnam and
subsequently died of his wounds on May 16, 1970.
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Ned at 17,
High School Senior
Ned Richard Heintz was born on June 15, 1946 in Shelby County, Ohio.
His parents were Vernon L. Heintz, who died in January 1992, and
Ethel Heintz, who died in August 1995.
Ned graduated from
Riverside High School in Loga
County, Ohio in 1964 and from Ohio State University in June 1968.
He was the student council president in high school, and played on
the schools varsity football and basketball teams. Being from an
agricultural family he was especially proud of the special honor
he received as being named the F.F.A. State Farmer of Ohio in
1964.
Ned was
married on September 15, 1968 to Karen Bishop of Arlington,
Ohio. His widow, Doctor Karen Forcht, is now a university professor living and working in Utah and is active in the 281st AHC Association.
Flight School Graduation
Class 69-36 Hunter AAF
his mother Ethel, wife Karen,
Ned, and his father Vernon Heintz
Ned was commissioned through the ROTC program at Ohio State University,
entered the Army in November 1968 and completed his officer
basic training at Ft Knox, Kentucky and completed flight school at
Hunter Army Airfield, Savannah, Georgia in November 1969,
arrived in Vietnam
Ned practicing his golf swing,
Nha Trang, RVN 1970
on December 15, 1969 and was assigned to the 281st
Assault Helicopter Company in Nha Trang, Republic of Vietnam. He served as
a helicopter pilot, assistant "Bandit" platoon leader and as
operations officer with the unit.
On May 11, 1970, the 281st AHC established a forward operations base at
Camp Holloway, Pleiku, RVN in preparation for aerial operations
into Cambodia. At approximately 8:55 p.m. on May 11, the base
at Camp Holloway came under enemy rocket attack and Ned was
seriously wounded when a rocket exploded in the immediate area of
his living quarters. The same rocket also killed four
crewmembers of the Wolf Pack gun platoon that were in an adjoining
tent: Sgt. Joseph W. Cunningham, Sgt.
Scott E. Sutherland, Sgt. Daniel J. Vaughan and Specialist 4 Danny
J. Taulbee. Also seriously wounded was 1st
Lieutenant Jared H. Bahre of the 1st Platoon (Rat
Pack). Ned was immediately taken to the 71st
Evacuation Hospital in Pleiku, Vietnam. There, despite the
efforts of doctors and skilled medical personnel, Ned succumbed to
his wounds at 3:20 p.m. on May 16, 1970.
In
December of 1970 at ceremonies on the Bowling Green State University
campus, Ned's widow, Mrs. Karen Heintz was presented posthumous
awards by the University's ROTC department. Mrs. Heintz was
presented with the Bronze Star Medal, Air Medal with Second
through Tenth Award and the Purple Heart. She also received
decorations, which were awarded to her husband prior to his death,
including the National Defense Service Medal, Vietnam Service
Medal, and Vietnam Campaign Medal.
Ned's brother Larry Heintz of 11620 West Elmore East Rd, Oak
Harbor, Ohio and nephews Matthew and David Heintz, and a niece
Camille Heintz survive him.
Biography
Prepared by:
Roger C. Green Jr.
112 Adair Ave
Shelbyville, KY 40065
Tel: 502-633-6331
Wk: 502-564-5400
email:
sgreen20@BellSouth.net
Roger.Green@mail.state.ky.us
When Ned Heintz
arrived at the 281st
in early 1970, he was assigned as assistant platoon leader in the
"Bandit Platoon". I was the platoon leader at that time.
Like most young officers fresh out of flight school he wanted very
much to fly, and make Aircraft Commander. The only duty I
gave the assistant platoon leader in the Bandits was to learn to
fly and to survive. Having what I felt were the best pilots
in the 281st, I knew it would not take him more than a
few months to gain the experience and expertise to be an AC [aircraft commander].
Ned was a very enthusiastic
outgoing person and it didn't take him long to fit in with the
platoon pilots and crew chiefs. At that time we had four or
five new Lieutenants and they did tend to hang together and did
some serious partying.
The 281st
BOQ had the officers living on the first floor and the Warrants
lived on the second. The rooms were small but had enough
space for two occupants to live comfortably. On the first
floor CPT Jim Brown took the wall down between two rooms and made
a party room with a small plywood bar and big refrigerator
(borrowed from the 5th Group). This became a
gathering place for any of the pilots night or day, when not on a
mission. After Jim left, Steve Bovio and I inherited the
room and expanded it to three connecting rooms. Eventually
Ned and Jerry Bahre moved into the room and it continued to be a
party area. Some local musicians such as John Korsbeck and
Bob Edgley often gave impromptu concerts there. Late one
night during one of our get togethers, someone remembered that the
5th Group field grade quarters had a nice lounge area
with a bamboo bar. It was decided by a unanimous vote by all
present the bar could be better utilized in our room. At
that time I believe it was Ned and about eight other pilots that
quietly sneaked into the field grade BOQ, also where our commander
MAJ Stevens lived and borrowed the bar for our room. I kept
waiting for MAJ Stevens to say something about the missing bar.
It was never missed.
I will never
forget how glad I was to see Bob Mitchell, Ned and their crew
chief Ron Lee when they picked us from a very hot LZ one morning.
They performed in the true 281st
tradition, bravely and as a team.
The last time I saw Ned was on
11 May 1970. Ned, Jerry Bahre and myself had packed our bags
and were getting on the helicopter headed to Pleiku to participate
with the unit in the Cambodia invasion (Operation Binh Tay I).
The unit was already setup in Pleiku and MAJ Stevens, the CO, was
flying additional pilots up for the operation. At that time
I was the Company Executive Officer and the Commander decided that
I should stay in Nha Trang and run the rear operation. I
reluctantly got off the helicopter. That day we lost five
outstanding soldiers to a rocket attack on our base camp at
Pleiku.
Ned clearly had his future
laid out after the Army. He and his wife Karen were both
schoolteachers and had a farm in central Ohio where they were
going to make their life together. He thoroughly enjoyed
flying but farming was his real passion
Ned was a friend
and an outstanding officer who I will always remember. Not a
day goes by that I don't remember those soldiers I served with in
the 281st. They were my friends and comrades who
I trusted and was willing to die for if necessary.
Roger C. Green Jr.
To: 28lst AHC members and their families
From: Jerry Bahre:
I'm submitting
this letter to our Book of Remembrances for Ned Heintz, but also
for all our guys who died in Viet Nam.
Ned, Jim Kelly,
and I were assistant platoon leaders in early l970. That's a
status that marked us clearly as
not in command of the platoon, and not in
command of the ships in the air (the clear venue of the warrant
officers). We were acutely aware that we were expected to
achieve both platoon leader and AC status within a period of
months. Consequently, we, along with one or two other stray
lieutenants, were the most comfortable and formed the strongest
bonds with each other.
Ned was the most athletic
member of the company that I can remember. When we all had
an uneventful night in Nha Trang, we'd have a midnight basketball
game, either against each other or some SF headquarters people.
Most of us took up space under the basket, while Ned scored points
off his hook shot.
Another thing I
remember is the day Steve Bovio died. Many of you who
were my close friends were there. I wasn't; Ned was.
I left Viet Nam abruptly in
May, l970, wounded by a rocket that killed five of our guys.
While in the hospital at Qui Nhon, I had been informed of the
other casualties. When I returned to the States and was
discharged, I knew that I had lost a lot of friends, and I had the
impression that there were probably more, and I didn't need to
know that.
That is not to
say that I didn't think about our company. Here, I can count
maybe twenty people who would drive five miles in a snowstorm to
get me if my car broke down. There, it goes without saying,
each of us risked or sometimes lost his life to save another.
So, I didn't
have any contact for thirty years with the 28lst, until June, when
Roger Green called me and told me about the Memorial Service in
D.C. My wife and I attended. It was a wonderful thing.
First and foremost, to honor and remember our fallen. And
second, to re-establish ties with our company.
Ned Heintz was
my friend. So were several of the others remembered here.
The ones I knew and the ones I did not know personally, I am proud
to be in the same company with them.
Sincerely,
Jared (Jerry) Bahre
Box 547
Canton, CT 060l9
860-693-2l57
November l6, 2000
I was asked to write my memories of Ned Heintz some 30 years after
my acquaintance with that fine young man. What follows is my best
recollection of the events leading up to and including the evening
of May 11, 1970, particularly in regards to Ned. All matters
mentioned herein are subject to correction by "facts" which aren't
necessarily part of my memories. (In other words, I also am
subject to the CRS disease). The purpose of the story, although
perhaps a bit long-winded, is to describe the conditions under
which Ned lived the last days of his life and the rocket attack,
which claimed it.
I arrived
at the 281st
a day or two after New Years, 1970 and was assigned to the Rat Pack.
During my newbie period, I ran into a number of people I had known
in flight school, including Jerry Bahre who introduced me to a
long tall LT named Heintz. We were all in about the same
condition, all FNG's, all trying to get our check rides, get in
the air and learn what was expected of us. All the while trying to
figure out how to stay alive. The unit had just lost a full crew a
little over a month before we got there and was still the subject
of considerable talk in the barracks, BOQ and WOPA Alley.
Additionally, the unit had a workload that was staggering in terms
of hours flown. It took me two weeks to get an in-country check
ride because they couldn't free up one of our IPs from mission
assignments.
In February or March, Roger Green was kicked upstairs to become
the XO and I took over as Platoon Leader of the Bandits. I don't
remember the TOE for the platoon but remember there was 1 or 2
other Captains, 4 or 5 LTs, 20-30 Warrants and probably as many
NCOs and EM for the 11 helicopters and assorted ground vehicles,
tentage and such. Ned, like all the other LTs, was primarily a
main line flyer, utilized pretty much like the warrant officers.
Again, we were all flying 100 hour plus months, which didn't leave
much time for anything else; important things like vector control
officer, unit fund advisory committee, and the like. Ned, like all
other LT's, was flying his butt off.
If my memory serves me, 90 hours was all you could fly a month
without a medical waiver. Those waivers became routine and at 140
hours we were supposedly grounded. I remember plenty of nights,
sitting in Operations analyzing all mission assignments, trying to
estimate the number of hours it should take for each mission and
then, assigning a crew that could fly that number of hours without
exceeding the 140. It wouldn't have surprised me if Ned had flown
600 hours in the 6 months he was there.
Also, during
that time, the unit was experiencing a large number of casualties.
It seemed like every other week we were losing people in combat
and non-combat operations. We lost eight people during the month
of February alone. I believe Ned was part of the flight that heard
Steve Bovio as he was hit. I was flying PP toward the rear of the
flight when Steve was hit by a bullet that had somehow came
through the wing window (really wasn't a wing window in that it
did not open but was positioned like a wing window in an old model
car) missed the armor plating and then missed his "chicken plate".
It doesn't look possible but it happened. The bullet went through
his spine causing immediate paralysis and as his foot was on the
floor mike, we heard his groaning for several long minutes before
the flight leader finally came up on an alternate channel and had
us change frequency. Steve died a couple of days later. Ned, like
the rest of us, was scared but got up the next morning, strapped
in and flew another long day.
I don't remember the exact
date but sometime during February/March, I woke up to a hellacious
noise in the hallway of the BOQ. I walked out of my door to find
out "what the hell was going on" (indicates my mood) and was
promptly doused with a bucket of water. I punched the person
holding the bucket-Lt Ned Heintz. (For thirty years that I've been
telling this story, I could have sworn that he was celebrating the
birth of his child- but Karen tells me it must have been a nephew
or something because she had no children by him) After finding out
the cause for celebration, I apologized to him and joined into
their merriment.
Sometime in
early May, I was awakened by an operations clerk and informed that
the missions I had just assigned a couple hours before had been
cancelled and that we were told to standby for a new mission.
Finally about 3:00 am, we were told to take about half the company
to Camp Holloway (Pleiku) and get a mission briefing from the 52nd
(?) Aviation Battalion there at 6:00 am. We scrambled our crews
and equipment and arrived on time, even though it was a 2-½ hour
flight. The mission-support of ground operations in Cambodia
Even though we
got there on time, many other units had arrived before us. As
such, all habitable structures were taken. We had revetments for
the aircraft but had to pitch GP medium tents to sleep in. We
placed them in two rows, three tents in each row on a baseball
field complete with backstop. We had an aircraft lighting set (a
set of lights with generator that was generally used to work
on aircraft at night) placed to shine light down the center aisle.
Also, due to our lateness in getting into the Cambodian operation,
there were no sandbags or 55 gallon drums (which could be filled
with water) left to provide protection. The plan was to get to the
ditch surrounding the baseball field during mortar or rocket
attacks.
In thirty years
of retrospect, I believe that we had a serious disrespect for
rockets and mortars. In Nha Trang, we would get on top of our
bunkers, drink beer and watch the VC mortar Camp McDermott (?)
(Army installation at Nha Trang over next to the mountains). Our
facilities were out of range for the VC and as such we didn't have
any first hand experience with that. Also, I believe most of us
had developed an attitude that we would only die by that "bullet
with our name on it" and when it was our time, nothing you could
do would prevent it. As I got older, I realized that there
were a large number of bullets addressed "to whom it may concern"
but they don't send old guys to war, do they?
We were up there
several days and flying our asses off. May 11th
was a particularly hard day for me. I had been in the air like 8
of the 14 hours out as a Charlie-Charlie (Command and Control)
with a full Colonel from the 4th Infantry Division who
couldn't read a map. He wanted to put his people into the valleys
(he thought they were ridgelines) and my PP was an FNG who
couldn't be relied on to fly a given course or heading. Upon
my return (about sunset), I headed for the tents to drop off my
gear before I attempted to find a good meal and cold beer. I don't
remember now just which tent I slept in but was right between the
backstop of the baseball field and the first tent in that row when
the first rocket came in. My map bag went one direction, my helmet
the other and I went to the ground. The rocket landed down in the
revetments. I jumped up and ran over to the ditch surrounding the
field about 10 meters from the doorway of the second tent in that
row. I remember a warrant officer (Schulz?) was there before me.
He was a second tour guy having spent the first year as a grunt.
He said "you had better get those guys out of there" and I said,
"Why, aren't they coming?" He said, "No, they are putting on their
boots and getting dressed." At that point, I started hollering for
them to get a move on it. I don't think there was as much urgency
in my voice as there should have been, because I, like they,
believed it would be a one round attack and that we would probably
lay in the ditch for a while before getting up and going about our
business. If I remember right, we had had a couple of those type
attacks in previous nights.
At any rate, I
was in the middle of one of those "coaxing's" when I heard the
whistle of the next round. I barely had time to drop my head
before one hell of a blast tore through area. After the dirt and
debris had stopped falling, I lifted my head and looked toward the
tents. The second tent had sustained the most damage. The shrapnel
had cut the corner post, allowing the top to drape down. The
lighting set shining down the center aisle silhouetted all of the
holes in the second tent. I jumped up and ran toward the tent and
stumbled into the crater the rocket had left. It was about 10 ft
long, 2 ft wide and 2 ft deep. I regained my footing and made my
way into the tent. Immediately to my left was Cunningham, still in
his sleeping bag with a large piece of shrapnel lodged in his
chest. Cunningham was a previous member of the Bandits, having
transferred to the Wolfpack only a couple of week's prior. His
eyes were open and obviously dead. Immediately to my right were a
couple of guys I didn't recognize that had chest wounds. I forgot
the name but there was a warrant officer there who had taken
charge. He sounded like a medical doctor with his specific
directions on what to get and how to dress the wounds. About that
time, someone was shouting that we had no way to get ambulances or
corpsmen. I knew there was a phone down in the end tent on the
other row of tents so made my way through the rubble, noticing
several other people down and some walking wounded. (One Staff
Sergeant from the gun platoon was walking but had some very
colorful words to say about his situation) I got to the location
of the field telephone and found a sharp young operations clerk
(Jewish kid from New York) who had the TOC on the line but he
didn't have a whole lot of information to give so I got on the
phone and told him we had 8 or 10 down, send all ambulances and if
they sent too many we would send them back the ones we didn't
need.
I headed back
for the second tent. There, lying well out of the tent was Jerry
Bahre. I didn't even know Jerry was up there, apparently arriving
that day. Jerry and I had been in flight school together and had
even had him over for supper. (He was a bachelor). Jerry was
propped up on his elbow, holding his crotch and in his quiet,
gentle manner saying something about this had better be a wound
that would send him home or he was really going to be pissed. I
looked at his wound and assured him that he would be back in the
unit within two weeks. (Fortunately for him, I was not his doctor
because he got a medical retirement and went on to marry his
college sweetheart, become a lawyer and then own a construction
company.)
I left Jerry and went to the
second tent. Lying in the doorway of the tent was a large fellow
covered in dirt and blood. Another guy and I pulled him on clear
of the door and rolled him over on his back. He was still
conscious from the look in his eye but could not speak. I told him
to not try and that he would be out of there in a few minutes. He
had taken shrapnel in the leg and lower stomach. He was bleeding
badly, particularly from the leg wound. I tried a compress bandage
but it didn't hold so used my belt for a tourniquet, which seemed
to work. About that time the ambulances arrived. One of the medics
had apparently been shaving because he still had soap on his face.
I hollered at him to get this one out first and there were two
more on the other side of the tent that needed to go next and the
rest were either dead or less severe. The medic laid down the
stretcher next to him and grabbed his feet. I lifted his shoulders
and we put him on the stretcher. Another medic got there then and
together they carried him to the ambulance. I then went back in
the tent to direct traffic, clear aisle ways, etc. It was only
later when trying to put together a list of casualties that I
found out Ned Heintz was the big guy in the doorway.
For several days
thereafter, as our flying would permit, a group of us would get in
an old ¾ ton and drive over to see him. He wasn't conscious but we
would talk to him anyways. The doctors explained to us (as I
remembered it) that they just couldn't stop the bleeding. He had
so many wounds that he had virtually lost all of his original
blood and the coagulants from some one else's blood wouldn't work
with him. Anyway, I believe they did everything they could do for
him and that he was in no pain.
Ned Heintz was a
good soldier. He did everything that was expected of him and then
some. During some very trying times, he persevered. He loved
flying and the people around him. He was as solid as a rock.
Marshall Hawkins
Bandit 26
He loved to play any kind of ball on Sunday afternoon with
buddies. He was always on winning teams. Baseball in
Pony League, his team won several championships. Basketball
his Jr. and Sr. years in high school. His team was League champs
and went to the Regionals. Football his Senior year, the
coach switched him from tight end after the first few games when
they couldn't score to fullback and put the fullback at halfback,
and they finished the season unbeaten and 1 and 2 in scoring and
won the conference title. He was truly a team player, not
caring what position he played, so long as he could contribute to
the team.
He just seemed to be
a natural born leader who was a people person who loved to voice
his opinion. In high school, he was Student Council
President both his Jr. and Sr. years and was President of the
Future Farmers of America for 3 years and became a State Farmer.
His Senior year, he led his Student Council in a debate in front
of the student body on school finance before a much-needed school
levy was to be voted on. Needless to say, the levy passed
very easily.
After our trip to D.C. for the 281st Reunion and Memorial Service
last July, Karen and I visited Ned's hometown, DeGraff, Ohio and
met with his Senior Class Secretary who stated that their
classmates have maintained a $500 per year scholarship in his
honor for the past 30 years.
Just before he left for Viet
Nam, he and his wife, Karen, bought a farm about 2 miles from Mom
and Dad, and he was planning on farming and maybe doing some crop
dusting or spraying when he returned. He spent his last 6
weeks before he left working on his farm and making plans.
HE ALWAYS HAD A POSITIVE ATTITUDE.
Being nearly 5 years older
than Ned, our interests were at a different level. I regret
that we could not share our adult lives together. Even with
the age difference, we did have a fierce competition in anything
we participated in. HE WAS ONE TOUGH LITTLE BROTHER.
Larry
Heintz, Brother
11620 Elmore East Road
Oak Harbor, OH 43449
419-898-1117
November 29, 2000
A
heartfelt thank you to all the 28lst for including us in the
Remembrance Ceremony held in Washington, D.C. last July. We
were a little shocked to hear from Roger Green after so many years
and were so glad to be invited to attend the ceremony. It
was a very emotional time for everyone present and, yet, very
reassuring to see that you guys still have a bond that even years
cannot break and that you have always remembered the ones you left
behind.
Ned and I met in
September, l967, when he was a student teacher in the Agriculture
Department at a high school in Ohio, and I was a first-year
Business teacher. I can still picture this tall, handsome
man walking into my classroom after school early in September and
confidently introducing himself and asking me to show him around
town. We seemed to immediately mesh together and continued
to date when he returned to Ohio State University in January to
complete his senior year. We became engaged in April, l968
and shared pinning on his 2Lt. bars at his ROTC commissioning and
graduation in June, l968.
Ned started
flying fixed wing aircraft while still a student at OSU and was
hooked from day one. We married in September, l968 and began
"our" Army life in November, l968. Ned always called me his
"co-pilot" (as if I flew the plane). Our first posting at
Fort Knox, Kentucky from November, l968 to March, l969 for Armor
Officer's Basic School was a new experience for both of us.
We spent hour's spit shining his boots, polishing his brass,
learning how to "read" military rank and how military protocol
works. The 4 months was a new adventure during the winter
for newlyweds freezing in a WWII-vintage trailer off-post.
Love conquers all.
Silver Wings pinning by Karen
Class 69-36
Our next
assignment was to start flight school at Fort Wolters, Texas
(March, l969 to July, l969) and celebrate the check rides and the
first solo that was accompanied by opening a bottle of champagne
that had been chilling in the refrigerator for the occasion.
Then, in July, off to Savannah, Georgia, for the completion of
flight school. It was a VERY proud moment to pin those wings
on Ned in November, l969 and have him say, "WE made it!
Being a part of "the military family" was a good life, and we both
enjoyed it very much. The friends we made have been in my
thoughts all these years, and I often wonder where all of them are
now.
Ned and I
planned to move back to Ohio eventually and settle on the farm we
bought while he was on leave before departing for Viet Nam.
As much as he loved flying, he loved farming more. Before we
left for the airport in Dayton, Ohio in December, l969 for his
departure for Viet Nam, we made one last stop at our farm to walk
around the snow-covered fields. This is where we were going
to settle down, raise children, and forge out our future. It
was very difficult to see our farm this summer and see someone
else living our dream. Ned always had a plan and was
determined to meet every goal with a stubborn will that never let
up until "the job was done." His enthusiasm, optimism, and
love of life and people always were there and rubbed off on
everyone around him.
I feel very
blessed to have shared those precious years with such a wonderful
man. He will always be in my thoughts as he was a very
special person who is missed by so many people Good memories do
last forever.
God bless all of
you and keep the flame going. We all need each other so that
we will never forget the things we all shared. All of you
are truly "such good men". Ned would be proud!!
Dr.
Karen Heintz Forcht
1715 Dunleith Way
Greensboro, NC 27455
Phone: 336-638-7544
December 1, 2000
SO NIGH IS
GRANDEUR TO OUR DUST
SO NEAR IS GOD TO MAN
WHEN DUTY WHISPERS LOW,
THOU MUST!
THE YOUTH REPLIES, I CAN!
Ralph Waldo Emerson
1st
Lt. Ned Richard Heintz was Twenty-Three years and Eleven months
old when he gave his life for his country and his fellow soldiers.
Ned was a true hero and an Intruder that we are proud to call our
Brother.
- Jack Mayhew
A MAN IS NOT DEAD UNTIL HE IS FORGOTTEN
ONCE AN INTRUDER ... ALWAYS AN INTRUDER