It would've been a beautiful day for a picnic: a huge resort area 40 miles northwest of Qui Nhon, garbed in a sensuous green dress and supervised by a fat, smiling sun. The bomb craters looked as if they'd make ideal barbecue pits.

Instead of the traditional ants for that certain amount of discomfort, there were two battalions of North Vietnamese regulars.

This was the Sui Tre Valley. The mountains on either side completed the image of lascivious enchantress, the siren who required men to die before accepting them as lovers.

On this particular day, 2700 men came courting. Twenty-two companies of infantry were to spend two weeks in this pleasure palace.

Helicopter slicks carried the men to the various landing zones (LZs). This is the chopper's main function. But specialized aircraft, geared for finding and destroying the enemy, were needed.

Two types of helicopter applied for and got the job. Standing side by side although the Viet Cong and NVA hardly regard them as comical. These are the Cayuse, a light observation helicopter (LOH), and its big brother and protector, the Cobra.

"They're tied together thicker than man and wife or mother and child," said LTC Ernest A, Smart, commander of the 7th Squadron, 17th Air Cavalry, one of many units which participated in the Sin Tre offensive.

The basic team consists of two LOHs, two gunships. four slicks, a command-and-control ship to call air strikes and nine platoons for ground reconnaissance, should the need arise. An arrangement of fewer aircraft is referred to as a "pink team" and is used only when necessary.

LOHs skimming the treetops, Cobras grinning satanically above them and the command & control (charlie-charlie) bird pasted against the sky a pattern of rings as the basic team works from the peaks to the lowland. A scheme of movement that would almost be delicate were it not for the overtones of the mission at hand.

The gunships, or "snakes," armed with 20. and 40mm cannon 2.75-inch rockets and 7.62 miniguns.

These men fly for 1½ hours at a time, being relieved by an identical team. They look for one thing - the enemy. Muzzle flashes are excellent indicators of location. So, when a team enters an area suspected of containing enemy troops, the LOHs move in as low as possible, hoping an inexperienced guerilla will have dreams of valor and begin firing.

The rockets and 20mm are pylon-mounted, the other weapons are in the snake's flexible nose turret. Nestled in the back seat, the pilot is able to see all of his aircraft's weapons. The task of the man in the front seal is primarily observation. Inside the Cobra's leering face, the man has an excellent mew of his area of operation.

A high gunship is the navigator for the team. Beneath him is his partner, guns ready should the low-flying LOHs be molested.

And the chances they will be are great. Each LOH carries two men in the front a pilot and an aerial observer, armed with either an M-16 or M-60. The lead LOH is the scout team's eyeball. His twin, called the trail or wing, makes orbits around the observation craft, it’s weapon poised for firing.

But this is seldom the case. WO1 Don Purser, a LOH pilot with C Troop, 7/17, explained, "The old cadre of the VC and NVA knows if they shoot they'll be spotted and hit, so they stay quiet until they think we've found them. Usually we have to go in `hot,' start the shooting ourselves. Then they don't hesitate about throwing lead, and we can get a definite location on them."

When the LOHs first move in, the Cobras pull into position, waiting only for a precise marking.. Said WO1 William Best, Cobra pilot for C/7/17, "The LOHs get right down on the target. This gives us a chance to set up for a perfect dive."

Coordination and interdependence among the choppers, in evidence before and throughout the mission, now peak. As soon as enemy guns begin to roar, the LOHs move out, away from deadly small arms fire.

Then the sounds of war -- rockets bursting, machineguns bickering, men shouting -- are forced through Sat Tre's lungs. In moments it is over, and as the slicks move in with their human cargo, Mutt and Jeff give the area a final screening before moving farther down the mountainside to repeat their clearing action.

These are the essential moves made by a LOH-Cobra team. Always covering the high ground first. Wing LOH orbiting his twin, always keeping him at his left door. Hoping the enemy will fire first, but if he doesn't, you're more than willing. Then both LOHs breaking for a safer scrap of ozone as the Cobras strike.

The job cannot be described as boring. Flying five feet above the treetops at a relatively show speed in enemy territory makes for a long 90 minutes. What does it take to drive a LOH?

"The will to fly the little devils" is the major characteristic, according to WO1 Michael Devaux, another LOH pilot for C/7/17. Pilots of other types of aircraft -- especially Cobras, who work with them daily -- put it another way: "Guts!"

By the same token, the LOH pilots have no ill words for the men who push the snakes through the air. Working closely with each other under the tension and risks of combat has welded them into powerful allies.

"The people in the LOH are our own;' said CW2 William Willette, Cobra pilot for C/7/17. "We know how they operate." This means knowing two personalities in one body -- the man and the pilot. Is he easily excited? Does he hang on until the last minute before breaking for cover? Personal quirks such as these are quickly picked up by the men in the companion birds. They know how to react when they receive radio calls from certain pilots. CW2 Willette tells of one LOH pilot who was extremely reticent. The pilot radioed in that he had spotted some people in an open field.

"Well?" CW2 Willette asked. "What are they doing?"

"They're shooting at me," the LOHman replied calmly.