Other Personnel In Incident: Fred Mooney (missing)
Source: Compiled by Homecoming II Project 01 September 1990 from one
or more of
the following: raw data from U.S. Government agency sources, correspondence
with
POW/MIA families, published sources, interviews.
REMARKS:
SYNOPSIS: Lam Son 719 was a large-scale offensive against enemy communications
lines which was conducted in that part of Laos adjacent to the two
northern
provinces of South Vietnam. The South Vietnamese would provide and
command
ground forces, while U.S. forces would furnish airlift and supporting
fire.
Phase I, renamed Operation Dewey Canyon II, involved an armored attack
by the
U.S. from Vandegrift base camp toward Khe Sanh, while the ARVN moved
into
position for the attack across the Laotian border. Phase II began with
an ARVN
helicopter assault and armored brigade thrust along Route 9 into Laos.
ARVN
ground troops were transported by American helicopters, while U.S.
Air Force
provided cover strikes around the landing zones.
During one of these maneuvers, on February 27, 1971, the Bravo Dutchmasters
were
airborne over Laos, their pink teams doing low-level scouting in the
area of
operations of the ARVN 1st Infantry Division. Capt. Ronald L. Babcock
was flying
one of the OH6A Loaches (serial #67-16256) and his door-gunner/observer,
SFC
Fred Mooney was the scout platoon sergeant. A man in his forties, Mooney
was not
required to fly, but he volunteered to show the young draftees that
old lifers
could be as tough as they were.
After ten minutes in the area, the formation began receiving 51 caliber
ground
fire. Skimming low over the trees, the Loach was hit by NVA fire, and
Babcock
made several radio transmissions, saying that his observer was hit
and that he
didn't have any control over the aircraft. He radioed that they were
going down.
The Command and Control ship chased after the descending ship and observed
the
Loach crash on its skids on a dirt road. The last transmission heard
from
Babcock was either "sit still" or "don't move." The rotor, which had
lost one
blade, continued to turn. The aircraft was still intact, and the tail
boom and
windshield bubble had not been damaged extensively. It looked as if
someone had
thrown a smoke grenade, as there was smoke in the crash site area.
However, the
aircraft had not burned.
A crew chief on one of the airborne helicopters thought he saw Mooney
and
Babcock jump out and run across a grassy clearing, whereupon they were
cut
down by North Vietnamese in the treeline. The C & C ship commander
dropped to a
twenty-foot hover and called on the radio that, from their appearance,
the two
were dead. Babcock and Mooney were seen lying face up a few feet in
front of the
helicopter. Neither man was moving, and their faces were pale, with
eyes wide
open. Both appeared to be bleeding from head and body wounds. The blood
around
them had already started to dry, and neither man appeared to be alive.
The chase
helicopter then began to receive small arms fire, and had to leave
the site.
Another UH1H sent to the crash site was also able to hover a few feet
above the
downed helicopter, but was unable to land. This crew also reported
that two
bodies were lying face up in a crumpled position. It appeared that
the crew had
been hit with ground fire after leaving the aircraft. Enemy positions
in this
area were extremely well-fortified and continued firing, even after
receiving
numerous air strikes. Friendly ground troops were unable to get to
the crash
site because of enemy activity.
Curiously, the Army did not immediately declare Mooney and Babcock dead,
but
waited nearly a year before a status change was made. At the time,
the Babcock
family felt that the change was made without tangible evidence of death.
Apparently their impression was that observers were unsure whether
the two men
were dead, and the delay in the status change seems to support this
view. Army
accounts, however, prepared at the time of the status change, do not
leave room
for doubt. It is interesting to note that in many cases the precise
evidence
used to support continuation in Missing in Action status is later used,
evaluated in a different manner, as "proof" that an individual must
be dead. It
is a small wonder that so many POW/MIA family members have grown to
distrust
what the government has to tell them about their missing man.
Fred Mooney's tour was to be over in May and his plans were to return
to
Killeen, Texas and continue his life with his wife and four children.
Ron
Babcock graduated from college with a degree in forestry and was anxious
to get
home and get on with his career.
Proof of the deaths of Mooney and Babcock was never found. No remains
came home;
neither was released from prison camp. They were not blown up, nor
did they sink
to the bottom of the ocean. Someone knows what happened to them.
Were it not for thousands of reports relating to Americans still held
captive in
Southeast Asia today, the families of the OH6A helicopter crew might
be able to
believe their men died with their aircraft. But until proof exists
that they
died, or they are brought home alive, they will wonder and wait.
How long must they wait before we bring our men home?
Return to POW/MIA Index to read about another missing American.