The Real "Puff the Magic Dragon"
A True Story

It’s just before dawn, we can hardly see
As we ride a big Huey in to our LZ.
"The zone is cold," says our 2nd LT.
"Intell says it’s as quiet as can be."
"It rained last night. It emptied the sky,
But the Intel says the zone is dry."
Before we ever touch the ground.
We hear the pings of small arms rounds.
Then out the door and into the grass,
Up to our knees in a soggy mess.
It appears the intell was slightly amiss
I can’t see how we’ll get out of this.
The field is muddy , wet and cold.
We’re ten young men, ten scared souls.
----
With a rotor blast of dirty wet spray
The chopper leaves us alone and afraid.
I turn around just in time to see
That the first hit is the new LT.
He folds over gasping for air.
In a flash "Doc" is there.
The LT is young, about twenty-three.
Just a couple of years older’n me.
"Doc" and me each grab an arm
And try to drag him away from harm.
A look from the medic and it’s plain to see
This company’s gonna need a new LT.
We cover his face with his steel pot.
And thank the Lord we ain’t been shot.
----
Tracer rounds and ricochets flying
No time to ponder the prospect of dying.
In the brush we hear Charlie all around.
Like a fox hears the sniffing of the hounds.
Muzzles flash, it’s the Fourth of July!
Except these fireworks can make you die.
I duck my head and hold on to my gun
I head for the woods at a dead run.
The Sarge is on the air to our HQ
Asking those geniuses what to do.
They tell us we should secure the zone.
With a curse Sarge hangs up the phone.
"Boy’s," he says with a spray of spit,
"It looks like we are in a heap of shit!"
----
The radio crackles and a voice is heard,
"Ya’ll need some help from this old bird?"
Then, from the south about treetop low
An ugly old plane flying deadly slow
She waddles in like a fat old bird,
From every lip, "Puff" is heard.
I turn my eyes straight up to heaven
‘Cause from the gun ports of that AC-47
White-hot lead sizzles and sings.
A curtain of death the "Dragon" brings.
You can never forget the rattling sound,
Like a heavy chain drug over rocky ground,
As the three mini-guns belch and spit,
At eighteen-thousand rounds a minute.

----
Like a vision that rose right out of Hell
A flying Dragon that’s come to kill.
Her breath will rip and torture the gound
Delivering death and destruction all around.
The old girl shakes to her aluminum bones.
While those big engines moan and drone.
She places ninety-thousand rounds.
In one-hundred yards of muddy ground.
In the overgrown field and in the brush,
The trees and grass turn to ragged mush.
Then pulling straight up after the pass,
Her props whip up the shattered grass.
----
When she’s through there’s nothing worth seeing.
At least nothing that resembles a human being,
Just clumps of meat and bloody rags.
It’s enough to make the strongest man gag.
She’s done what she was designed to do,
She has killed a lot to save a few.
Amid the radio static a voice comes through
"Just tell HQ "Spooky 2" passed through.
No need for thanks. It’s what we do.
Glad we could be of service to you.."
She wiggles her wings and flys away,
I know she saved my life, that day.




"Puff the Magic Dragon" was the nickname used by the Air Force during the Vietnam War for the Douglas AC-47 Gunship. She carried three mini gattling guns, each capable of firing 6,000 rounds per minute, or 100 rounds per second. It was said that a "Dragon" could place one round in every square inch of an area as wide as a football field on a single pass. The call sign for the AC-47 Gunship was "Spooky". No one can estimate the American lives she saved or the enemy lives she took during the Vietnam war.