There has been very little written about the flight mechanics employed with Air America. An Air America flight mechanic's responsibilities were many, and he soon became a master of many trades. Depending upon the aircraft and service, the military referred to these men as crew chiefs, flight engineers, combat aircrew members, or loadmasters.

 

Air America’s Air Freight Specialist’s commonly called Kickers, who manned the big fixed-wing birds, can't be slighted. Many of them paid the supreme sacrifice in the struggle. Pushing out pallets while clinging on for dear life to keep from falling with the pallet was tricky business, and enemy gunfire usually hit the fuselage more often than the cockpit. Being swarmed by terrified refugees and making sure the load was balanced simultaneously added to the misery, but the kickers usually went home at night to lick their wounds.

 

Air America's helicopter flight mechanics performed many duties as the big bird kickers but stayed up country with their aircraft. Very often, after a full day's work, a flight mechanic's job was just beginning. While the pilot went to his quarters to take a hot bath, eat a hot meal, and relax, the flight mechanic performed scheduled or unscheduled maintenance on his aircraft. Many paid for that dedication with their lives. Others survived but carried their injuries for the rest of their lives.

 

Usually, this work was conducted outside, with poor lighting and primitive conditions. The incentive to do a good job was part of his work ethic, but he had personal reasons also because the next day, he had to fly in the bird he worked on. Flying with Air America wasn't routine. The situation was unpredictable and required experience and expertise. It's understandable why you often hear about the pilot's plight, just like you hear more about the quarterback than the linebacker, but one can't perform without the other.

 

The flight mechanic flew looking at where they had been, blind to where they were going, and hoping the pilot didn't run out of altitude, airspeed, and ideas all at the same time. He was a flight crewmember, provided another set of eyes and ears, and often aided in decision-making, but in effect was a passenger and forced to accept the consequences, as fate would have it.

 

Harvey Potter and Jim Beardsley died due to injuries received in a crash near L-54. Joe Gaculais was the flight mechanic. He survived but was terribly burned, and it took several months of painful therapy before he could return for duty.

 

Willie Parker received severe burns on his hand from an accident in an H-34. Many years and many operations later, he still lives with pain.

 

An enemy mortar or RPG hit Bill Foster's helicopter with two flight mechanics on board. It was a line training flight, and Ernesto Cruz was killed.

 

Few people remember the other flight mechanic. His name was Reggie Boston. Reggie received third-degree burns and lost one of his eyes. He was one of the few African Americans working with Air America.

 

Pat McCarthy died with Bill Fraser in a Bell.

 

Most people remember the pilot Ted Moore, flying the Bell helicopter near Site 85 and observing the North Vietnamese Colt bombing the site.

 

He maneuvered the aircraft into shooting the Colt down, but Glen Woods, the flight mechanic, did the shooting. Glen was later killed in a bizarre flight accident caused by mast bumping causing the hub to separate from the fuselage.

 

Montano Centeno died with Jerry Booth in an H-34 on a mountaintop LZ overlooking the PDJ. In the documentary Flying Men and Flying Machines, you can see the site where Phil Goddard, Assistant Chief Pilot Helicopter, is landing a Bell 205. It was difficult for the H-34 because it was high, small, and usually windy. The H-34 used magnesium for weight reduction and high-octane aviation fuel to run a hot rod engine. It caught fire easily and burned furiously.

 

Flight Mechanic Fred Alor died from a blade strike while fleeing the aircraft after it suffered a hard landing and collapsed the landing gear. It was speculated that Fred, who had seen what happened to Joe Gaculais, was so afraid of fire that he failed to wait until the blades had stopped. Fred always looked like he was performing in a military parade. His uniform was sharply creased and fitted perfectly. He had an infectious smile, and everyone liked working with him. His death saddened everybody.

 

Lowell Pirkle died performing a service for his country. He was a flight mechanic and could not have seen the RPG that exploded in the crew compartment at a site near L-54. The pilots escaped, but Lowell and a Lao military officer died instantly.

 

His remains were not recovered for many years. His wife Debbie insisted on a burial at Arlington. Initially, Arlington refused the request, but ironically, Lowell had been wounded in Vietnam while serving in the Army. Lowell died in battle with Air America but was granted burial in Arlington because of his Army Purpleheart. Debbie would have been forced to pay for his burial, and his remains returned to the United States had the irony not existed.

 

I, and several other former Air America employees, attended the ceremony at Arlington for Lowell. The precision of the pallbearers, the gun salute, and the sounding of taps had a sobering effect. You were acutely aware you were surrounded with history, tradition, and honor, and you could feel it as if it were tangible. Memories of my helicopter flying days with Air America and the flight mechanics I served with flooded my mind.

 

The honor bestowed to Lowell Pirkle was also bestowed on all the others who died or were wounded. But the honor also goes to those who did not receive physical injuries. No one was closer to the wounded, the dying, the wretched, and the poor than the flight mechanic. They saw it firsthand, smelled the blood, and felt the pain. There was no way to escape unscathed; even though the scars were not always visible, the memories are indelibly forged in their minds forever. Yet, most of Air America's flight mechanics went on to lead very fruitful lives despite, or perhaps because of, their injuries and experiences and represent a credit to their resilience and character.

 

I hope the day will come when Air America's flight mechanics receive the official recognition they earned through their service and sacrifice. Few deserve it more. It was an honor to serve with them, and I salute every one of them.

 

Allen Cates

Former Air America Pilot

Author

Honor Denied

Above the Rice

The Girl with a Silver Necklace

Integrity’s Conundrum

The Uncertainty Protocol

www.allenCates.com

Copyright © 2026 Allen Cates. All Rights Reserved.

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