Major Harry Vester Phillips, Jr
Michael Maxey
From: Walton Murray
Subject: Re: Invitation to view JRHS1970's Gallery
To: JRHS1970 <JRHS...@gmail.com>
Michael,
Major Harry Vester Phillips, Jr was born in Calhoun County 2/10/1930
was flying a UH-1 D model (Huey helicopter). On 13 August 1966 he was
flying DustOff (Air Ambulance out of Long Binh, Vietnam. This action
is cronicled in "A Tribute to a DustOff Hero" included in a Vietnam
Helicopter Pilots Association book, and was written by Ethelda P.
Nail of Tupelo, a relative of Major Phillips.
13 August 1966 was an extremely dark night in Vietnam. Our unit
recieved word that DustOff was down about 30 miles east of Siagon, and
we launched a D model slick from our overnight location at Swan Loc.
This ship was flown by Major Wayne Davis and 1/Lt Fred Zabarsky of the
335th Assault Helicopter Company (Cowboys). This crew located the
crash site of a DustOff ship that had crashed while attempting a
rescue of wounded troops in deep jungle with rolling ground fog at
the tops of the canopy. They were able to pickup the crewchief who had
been thrown clear. Major Phillips and his co-pilot were killed
instantly when the ship impacted the jungle floor. The medic was not
found until daylight by a patrol of the 173d Airborne.
Major Phillips holds the Distinguished Flying Cross, numerous Air
Medals and other decorations from a career that began in 1963. He was
survived by his wife Virginia and four children who lived in
Memphis.
My connection to Harry comes from a single visit he made to our
company area at Bien Hoa in July of 1966. He learned that a Grenada
boy was stationed near him, and came by to say hello. I didn't know
Harry was the pilot of the downed DustOff until later, but
communicated with some of his relatives from the Gore Springs area as
late as 1996,
Walton Murray
JRHS 1960
PS: Rundle was the son of John Rundle. There should be a lot of
folks in Grenada who know about him, including my uncles Bill and Murt
Murray.
Regarding Gus and Frank Gerrard, I have a lot of information regarding
them, and have their stamp collection given to me by their mother when
I was about 12.
On Dec 4, 1:09 pm, JRHS1970 <JRHS1...@gmail.com> wrote:
> This album contains photographs of the Grenada War Memorial. I want to
> record the stories of the 73 men listed on the memorial -- many, if not
> most, were alumni of JRHS & Grenada High School. I have the story of Stan
> Sargent (http://www.maxey.info/stan_sargent.pdf) who won a Silver Star for
> heroism in Vietnam. Let's remember the others. Please submit your stories
> of those who served and of those memorialized on the square in Grenada.
> You can also upload photographs to this album. Thanks. Michael Maxey
>
> http://picasaweb.google.com/JRHS1970?feat=email
>
> picasaweblogo-en_US.gif
> 3KViewDownload
>
> email.jpg
> 7KViewDownload
Joy
very close to my family ties. In fact, Harry Phillips III is a member
of the Gore Springs School Google Group. And, Harry Phillips's
brother, Donald Phillips, is a member of the Gore Springs School
Google Group.
My father's sister married Harry's older, brother, Maurice Phillips.
I was a "regular" visitor "in and out" of the Phillips' home.
I vividly remember when Harry was killed in Viet Nam. His best
friend, Jack Rose, traveled to Memphis to identify the body. Also,
Harry was not on duty when he was killed in the helicopter crash. He
volunteered to go when the call came for help.
You take me back in time.
My first cousin, Gene Phillips and Harry's nephew, mailed me material
about Harry.
I will scroll over some of Gene’s topics that he posted before he
died of a massive heart attack in January.
Gene Phillips posted many good topics before he died, and we miss him.
I have a picture of Harry in "Miss" Jessie Shaw's music club when he
was in high school.
This picture was probably taken about 1947.
And, Harry was in uniform in high school.
I do not know where he obtained this uniform.
But, he would practice shooting at some Japanese symbol painted on the
barn during World War II.
He was very much "into" standing up for his country.
I am going to try to attach some of the material to this topic if I
can.
Sometimes, Google will just not cooperate.
And, there is a building named for Donald Phillips at Holmes Community
College in Holmes County.
Donald would not want me to broadcast this fact, but he lives in
Jackson,
Joy
P.S. I know that Mary Kathyrn Spraberry Garner remembers Donald
Phillps, but I do not know about Harry.
>
> - Show quoted text -
Joy Marter Tippit
Harry Phillips graduated from Gore Springs High School in 1947. Major Harry
V. Phillips, Jr. was killed in a helicpoter rescue mission on August 13,
1966. He was the uncle of my first cousin, Gene Phillips. Comments will
follow from me in the following days. The following article appeared in
the Newsweek Magazine, August 1, 1966.
Copied from the August 1, 1966 issue of Newsweek Magazine
DOS PASSOS ARMY HELICPOTER PILOT PHILLIPS
By E. Martin
Major Harry V. Phillips, 36, reached into his helicopter and
hooked his holster containing a .45 pistol on to his seat. He laughed, a
little embarrassed. "That's for psychological comfort, I guess. It's not
worth much." Phillips was well aware that if his "Dust Off" (the official
word for a medevac helicopter ship because of the dust it kicks up with its
rotors) Huey H-1D helicopter was shot down during one of its daring drops
onto a battle field to pick up wounded, he would have little chance to use
his pistol.
The serious, balding Southerner carefully slipped into his
heavy flack jacket and then buckled a one-inch plate of a composition
material across his chest. He climbed into his seat on the left side of the
chopper and pulled the armored shields around his shoulders. He was off to
take up a position for three days in the field with the 173 Airborne
Division, which was engaged in Operation Yorktown, near the town of Xuan Loc
about fifteen minutes flying time due east of his headquarters base near
Bien Hoa.
With him was his co-pilot, a crew chief and a medic. With
each slapping turn of the big rotor blade the Huey, which was names Miss
Lana because of the 23-year old- crew chief's crush on actress Lana Wood,
jounced like an old Model T Ford. Many hours of such flying is exhausting.
The chopper rose to a safe 3,000-foot altitude. "That protects us from
small-arms fire," explained Phillips.
As the Huey chugged along, it passed over the neat
rectangles of the French rubber plantations with their magnificent villas. At
one especially grand white pillared estate, the planters and their families
could be seen frolicking in a turquoise swimming pool. Barely two miles
from them American GIs were slopping around in the rich red mud scouring the
countryside for Charlie.
Circling over Xuan-Loc, Phillips located encampment tents of
the 173rd's B Medical company and settled Miss Lana into an open space near
the first-aid tent. The wash from the blades covered the whole area in dust
and sent the paper plates of GIs trying to eat lunch sailing into the air. But
no one complained, because the dustoff ships are the best friends a GIL has
when he is wounded or sick.
Miss Lana was hardly on the ground ten minutes when the
radio crackled with the call "Dust Off, Dust Off" and gave the coordinates
on the map. Phillips and his crew strapped themselves back into their
protective gear and the Huey swept off the ground, and skimmed across the
trees toward the area. As he approached, he asked for a signal to locate
the exact spot. A red plume of smoke from a smoke grenada rose from a break
in the banana palms. "We/ve made red smoke," said the voice from the ground.
"You are not supposed to identify the color of your smoke,"
snapped back Phillips. "We tell you what color it is, and you
confirm." Charlie
monitors all the radio broadcasts and when the color of a smoke signal is
given away inadvertently, he sometimes throws the same color to lure the
chopper into range. Phillips has faced as many as five plumes of smoke when
a GI makes the mistake of telling him the color over the air.
He dropped Miss Lana into the clearing, and held full
take-off power on while the medic and crew chief leapt out. Out from under
the banana palms came two paratroopers running. They were so covered with
red gumbo that they were almost indistinguishable from the earth. One
helped his buddy into the chopper, and pushed his rifle in beside him. "Hang
on to that weapon," he admonished, slapping him on the butt.
Almost before he had finished, Phillips had pulled back on
his blade pitch control stick (called the "collective") and Miss Lana had
jumped into the air and was highballing back to the medic tent as tree-top
level. The soldier, who was suffering from tonsillitis, was receiving
treatment eight minutes after the radio call for help was put in.
This particular dust off mission was routine, but at any
moment a hail of tracer fire from a hidden nest of Viet Cong could have
riddled the Huey. "In World War II," says Major Phillips, "If a man had
thirty missions of, say, ten hours each, he might have been over hostile
territory only two hours on each mission. Here the minute we go over the
fence, we are in hostile country." His first night in Vietnam, six months
ago, Phillips made a routine fifteen-minute flight at night over the
pacified country between Bien Hoa and Saigon and ran into a hail of
fifty-caliber tracers. "They looked like basketballs coming up at me," he
recalled.
Most of the time, a dust off pilot site out long hours
waiting for assignments or rushing to hospitals the disturbing number of
GIs who accidentally shoot themselves or are shot by a buddy. "This is just
like all flying," explained Phillips, "hours of boredom punctuated by
moments of stark terror".
Last March 16 Phillips had his moment of starkest terror. A
unit of the 173rd taking part in Operation Silver City that was sweeping the
treacherous jungles of War Zone D, twenty-five miles north of Saigon, had
stumbled on a heavy concentration of Viet Cong and in a vicious battle
several of the Americans were wounded. While the medics on the ground
administered first aid, their officer radioed for as dust off.
Phillips piloted one of the three Hueys that skimmed at 100
miles an hour over jungles so dense that three canopies of vegetation hid
the ground from view. A Yellow smoke grenade marked a landing area that was
no more than a hole in the jungle about two-thirds the size of a football
field and completely encircled by trees as tall as a twelve story building.
"It was like dropping into a well," recalled Phillips.
Viet Cong were in the dense underbrush all around the area
and the smoking wreckage of a helicopter that had been trying to bring in a
resupply of ammunition gave testimony to the accuracy of their fire. To
make matters even worse, smoke from the shells artillery gunners were
lobbing into encircle and protect the paratroopers billowed over the
clearing. One by one, the dust off ships dropped into the opening while the
troopers sprayed the jungle with a hail of bullets to keep the VC lying low.
Phillips's chopper was on the ground less than a minute
while his crew chief and medic pushed aboard litters of wounded men. All
the while he dept the power on full so that the ship barely touched the
ground. Coming out of the hole, Phillips said, "I was the most frightened
I've ever been in any aircraft." Normally a dust off pilot jumps his ship
off the ground a few feet, then cocks its nose down and shoots away across
the tree tops as fast as possible to get out of range of enemy fire. But
this time Phillips had to send his Huey climbing straight up for twelve
stories (150 Ft.) As the chopper cleared its own ground blast, the climb
became tougher and the turbine engine strained to its utmost to give the
blades their maximum bite to lift the heavy load.
The worst moment came as the Huey reached the top of the trees and hung
motionless – a perfect target—while the rotors shifted to gain forward
speed. Finally it skipped away hugging the tree tops so closely that the
highest branches slapped its fuselage as it sped along.
In less than ten minutes, the first load of wounded were at
a medical-aid station; and Phillips was on his way back for another drop
into the jungle hole. "We set up a race track over the hole, orbiting until
it was our turn to drop in," he said. All told, each of the three ships
went into the jungle five times and in tow hours pulled out 75 wounded GI"S
and one wounded VC, who died on the way to the hospital. Bullets crackled
around the ships, but miraculously, none of them hit.
That escape was probably as much due to luck as to anything
else, but on another pick up near the Cambodian border at night, Phillips
was saved because he is a careful pilot. The men on the ground radioed to
him that they had marked the landing zone with a triangle of flashlights
with the base to the South. Charlie heard the message and quickly set up a
triangle of lights nearby, but mistake put the base to the North. Phillips
saw the Viet Cong lights but just as he was about to land, he realized they
were turned around. A quick radio check confirmed his suspicion, and he
escaped the trap.
Phillips and the other seven pilots with his 254th Medical Detachment
Helicopter Ambulance each won a Distinguished Flying Cross for their
exploits on February 26 when they evacuated 84 patients from a hole in the
jungle so tight that the rotor blades only had one meter of clearance, and
they had to set their choppers down among five Buddhist grave stones.
The derring-do of the dust-off squadrons is one of the
biggest morale builders in the Vietnam War. Every man know that whenever he
is wounded or sick, he can be plucked out of the field and be delivered to a
hospital in usually less than a half an hour. In the ten-month period
ending April 30, there were 24,619 patients picked up by the
helicopter-ambulance drivers, and the speed with 2which they get the wounded
to medical attention is in a large measure responsible for the excellent
recovery record being set in this war.
Michael Maxey
By E. Martin
Walton Murray
When E. Martin mentions Harry going into a hole to pick up 173d
Airborne wounded after the helicopter was shot dow, that helicopter
was from the Cowboys (the unit that picked up Major Phillips
crewmember after his crash several months later ) and was flown by WO
1 McHenry and WO 1 Tony Geisehauer. When they arrived over the
landing zone with hot breakfast for the company in the area, which had
experienced no contact with the Viet Cong overnight, they were greeted
with AK 47 and machine gun fire. Their engine was shot out on short
final, the helicopter was destroyed, but the crew was unhurt;
breakfast was ruined. The crew remained on the ground throughout an
intense hour long battle-the pilots got to use their .45s that day.
I arrived in the unit several days after this action and flew with
McHenry and Geisehauer many times.
Walton
> ending April 30, there were 24,619 patients picked up by the ...
>
> read more »
Walton Murray
Fork ? I believe Gene went to JRHS for about a year in 1963-64 and
was a member of the might Bulldog football team. Lost track of him,
but was vaguly aware he was kin to Major Harry Phillips. Walton.
> > - Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -
Joy
County. He, later , was elected sheriff of Sharkey County for two
terms.
Gene began football practice with the Bulldogs and perhaps played one
game before his family moved to
Sharkey County. Gene recalled on the Gore Springs School Google Group
that he remembered Jake Gibbs coming to some of the football practices
before school began.
Gene graduated from Rolling Fork High School in 1960. He received a
scholarship to play football at Moorehead, but he injured his knee
during a game or practice and could not play again.
I know the obituary lists Delta State, but he attended Moorehead for
one year I know.
I copied the following from the Gore Springs School Google Group.
Maurice Eugene Phillips, 66, of Gulf Breeze, passed away at home on
December
31, 2008.
He was born July 14, 1942, in Grenada, MS. He attended school in Gore
Springs and graduated from Rolling Fork High School in 1960. He
attended
Delta State Community College and graduated from the University of
Southern
Mississippi, Hattiesburg, MS. He had a 32 year career with the
National Park
Service. He worked as a park ranger in Big Bend National Park, TX;
Lake Mead
National Recreation Area, NV; Cumberland Island National Seashore, GA;
Great
Smokey Mountains National Park, NC and TN; and Natchez Trace Parkway,
TN and
MS. He retired in 1998 as Chief Ranger of Gulf Islands National
Seashore.
Joy