*Lt.Col. Albert N. Allen 21 Sep 68 - 23 Mar 69*
The Honor of Command

From the first day in The Basic School, every Marine officer dreams of being appointed to command. It is the greatest honor that any Marine could aspire to. The great sifter at headquarters sifts very fine indeed, so that very few of us ever attain that which we all aspire to, and fewer still ever command in combat. I was therefore much surprised to be met at the aircraft by a Gunny at Danang in August 1968 and told that I would be going to Quang Tri to assume command of HMM-262.

I had finally arrived, to be the "Skipper" of an operational combat squadron, and not just any squadron, but the one that had played the major role in supporting our Marines at the siege of Khe Sanh. I was ecstatic.

It was a contact relief of Mel Steinberg, and I was to fly with the squadron as supercargo for a month before taking over. From Mel I found how poorly used the squadron had been in the months preceding my arrival. The equipment was all beat up from continuous combat, and the personnel had been depleted as well.

Suddenly, the great honor became the great responsibility. As time wore on, it became necessary to ask for more and more from the officers and men, and they always came through. Our maintenance problems were finally solved by the only people that can solve any problem in the Marine Corps, the Snuffies and the NCOs who worked almost around the clock. Our pilot training deficiencies came with experience and the guidance of our second tour aviators and our crew chiefs, some of whom were on their third tours.

During February we finally set a record for the most of everything for a Marine Corps helicopter squadron, hours, missions, tons, and personnel carried. My last day in the squadron in March, my operations officer Don Waunch came to me to inform me that Rocky Nelson was test-flying our hangar queen which had not flown since Khe Sanh, and that we now had 100% of our aircraft in the air at the same time, the first time since my arrival.

On my first day as Commanding Officer, it had been a great honor that some general had selected me to command a Marine Corps squadron in combat. My last day, the greatest honor was that I had been accepted by the officers and men of HMM-262, who had given their all to insure our success. We had done it all together, but mine was the lesser part.

Sam Small
LtCol Albert N. Allen USMC(ret)
Commanding Officer HMM-262
Sept. 1968 - Mar 1969

Who Needs an XO Anyway?

I was a wonderful executive officer. Commanders are always talking about " completed staff work", and I always provided completed staff work. I had always thought that, if I ever became CO,  I would want an Exec just like me.

I had been an interim CO once before assuming command of HMM-262. I knew it wouldn't  last, so I did not have an XO, but did all of those duties myself.

Finally, in September 1968, I had a real command, and a real executive officer; and  he was old, even older than I was ( I assumed command of 262 the day before my  thirty-eighth birthday). He was from Minnesota (or somewhere
else in the great north woods).  Leo Ihli had even flown F6F's in an operational squadron, so I knew that he had been in  long enough to know the ropes.

We sat down together and I outlined the way I wanted the squadron to work. I talked  about "completed staff work" as my COs had always talked about it, and explained that  one of us would always be in the office. If I flew in the morning,
he was to be at the desk, and  visa-versa. He nodded his understanding, never being much for words. We would alternate  flying in the morning and afternoons.

All went well until the first day; I took off on my first flight as "Chatterbox 6" secure in  the knowledge that Leo was at the desk checking the morning report, etc . Instead, Leo  stood in the door of the Ops hut and watched me take off.
When he was sure I was gone, he  grabbed one of the young HACs and spoke to him about his pale , wan look, and allowed  as how he probably should be in bed rather than risking his crew when he was obviously not in  any condition to fly. This was a deal that a lieutenant could not refuse, so the young lad quickly  retired to the hootch. Leo graciously jumped in and filled the hole in the flight schedule.

To make a long story short, the scenario was repeated for the next six months of my  command. I went out to fly, only to return to find that all of the paper that I had left there  was still there, untouched by human hands. Leo was a flier, not a paper pusher. After about  three months, I finally gave up all night standby duties; medevac, sparrow-hawk etc. What with  flying all day and massaging paper when I wasn't, I just could no longer keep up.

During my seven months in the squadron, I flew over eight-hundred hours, but guess who  flew more? It was Leo Ihli of course. And that was important! All of my field grade officers  (save one who will remain anonymous so as not to
bring discredit upon him) flew more  than any of the company grade. We felt that it was important to lead by example, and what  an example Ihli provided!

In February we were chagrinned to find that all of my Majors, save one, had been passed  over for LtCol. I could have cried except that just wouldn't do under the circumstances.

In March of 1969, I turned the squadron over to Jim Wells and assumed the duties  of Group 3. It was a cushy job, only requiring my attention about ten or twelve hours a day.  They would wake me when there was a night launch.

One "dark and stormy" night I was called to the bunker as they had launched a "Chatterbox"  flight on an emergency medevac to pick up a snake bite case. We listened as he tried  to thread his way through the canyons and clouds to
pick up the unfortunate snuffy. "This is Softball Delta, we think we hear you", "We can see your lights in the clouds" etc., etc. Leo's calm voice oozed assurance to the radio operator as he asked for further guidance  and explained that he would try another route. Time after time I tried to raise Leo on the radio  to tell him to wait for better weather. His  radio that worked so well with "Softball" was deaf  to my pleas. I grew hoarse attempting  to raise him to no avail.

I thought that I would be able to stop this dangerous business when he returned to  refuel, but he outfoxed me and refueled at LZ Stud.

I later commanded another squadron, and never did have the perfect XO, though I had  a very good one, a very bad one, and Leo. But if I ever got to go to combat again, I would want Leo Ihli as my XO, though that would be impossible since Leo, and all of my other  passed-over majors were promoted the next time around.

Sam Small

From Sam Small E-Mail to Tigers

Tigers:

I was looking through my sea-bag and found a handful of MPC. I know
I must owe  some of you guys money so I am sending it by E-Mail. I will
hereafter consider myself debt-free.

Sam Small