Jerry Kunishige RIP

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I just got the word that my old brother in arms passed away yesterday. Jerry and I were pilots in the 2nd Platoon of the 187th Assault Helicopter Company. We had many exciting times together but probably the most interesting was an emergency night extraction near the Angel Wing part of the Cambodian border. We took two 12.7MM rounds that night, one in the nose that took out all our radios and a second that hit us on the way out. That one came up through the right fuel cell and ricocheted off the transmission and took out our hydraulics. We made it to Chu Chi, way overloaded with troops. On the ground I discovered the round that hit on the nose of our UH-1H was headed right for Jerry's crotch. The last time I talked with Jerry he still had the bullet we recovered from the aircraft.

We did not make the second lift out. There were two 12.7's (51 Cal.) shooting at us from the high ground to our West that night and one pilot in the lead aircraft took a round in the Knee. Several other A/C took hits.

Jerry was living in his home State of Hawaii with his wife, who is from Vietnam. He was a fun loving guy and a great pilot. I miss you brother.
 

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That round through the crotch would have likely left a mark.

And caused a heart attack.

Thank you for your service.

We had a hole drilled in it and Jerry wore it on his dog tag chain for the rest of his tour, which only lasted for a few more months. 2-3 inches higher and it was headed for his crotch. When I showed it to him that dark skinned Hawaiian boy turns an ash color.
 
So sorry for the loss of your friend. May he Rest In Peace.

I read a lot of military history, particularly about Vietnam and the consistent theme from many combat vets, is that they owe their lives to you chopper pilots, who literally pulled their butts out of the fire at huge risks to your own lives.
 
We had planned two lifts of 9 ships each. Those guys had been under attack all afternoon and we waited until dark to come and get them. Burned off a lot of fuel to maximize our load but we spent, what seemed like forever on the ground waiting for volunteers to get off so we could hover. All the while those big green tracers were bouncing through the pick-up zone from the two, well dug in machinegun emplacements. Knowing there were 4 more rounds for every tracer we saw was no comfort.

There is a lot more to what happened that night but it would take up a chapter in a book.
 
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