As the Hercules C-130 transport buzzed by in the darkness, damaged and in flames, Leonard "Bruce" Shearer turned to his crewmates aboard the Huey and announced, "Did you see that? We've got to follow them."

It was April 18, 1972, the Battle of An Loc, in the midst of a 70-day Vietcong offensive. Shearer, crew chief aboard a U.S. Army helicopter, flashes back:

"We went after the C-130. . . . It crashed in the jungle in a great big marshy swampy area. Cobras (gunship helicopters) provided cover to keep the bad guys' heads down, and we got them outta there. . . . I ended up carrying a guy out whose legs were shot up."

Thirty years after the Vietnam War ended, battlefield memories flooded back to the 52-year-old Glendale resident thanks to a belated celebration of valor.

Shearer and three crewmates, who won no medals for saving seven men aboard the fallen Air Force plane, finally got recognition last week.

Commanders at Little Rock Air Force Base, a C-130 training center, feted the old soldiers at a ceremony April 23in Arkansas. Shearer, accompanied by wife, Vickie, and 30-year-old daughter Bonnie Bromagem, was reunited with his crew and some of the fliers they saved.

Memories overcame the veteran as he embraced one of the men he had pulled from the smoldering wreckage long ago. "He broke down, and I broke down," Shearer said. "We just hugged each other and I told him it's OK."

The mission was Shearer's most harrowing war experience. A cargo plane had been dropping loads of ammunition to South Vietnamese soldiers in An Loc when it was battered by anti-aircraft fire. The wounded C-130 plunged into a rice paddy, broke apart, spilled explosive cargo and burned.

Shearer, a member of F Troop, 9th Air Cavalry, was on a combat mission aboard the Huey. The pilot, Capt. Robert Frank, swept down and hovered near the wreckage as his crew chief jumped into darkness.

"I figured the mission was going to become one of body recovery," Shearer recalled. "I had a knot in the pit of my stomach thinking about what I would see."

Slogging through knee-deep muck and debris, he found one survivor. Then another. And another.

Shearer hauled out five wounded U.S. airmen and one South Vietnamese officer. "One guy's legs were all shot up. I carried him; he leaned on me. Another guy had been shot through the shoulder. . . . As we finished, we came under fire."

The Huey started to pull away, and Shearer had visions of being left, but it only changed position. He marvels at the courage of his crew, the wounded fliers, and the Cobra pilots who provided cover fire as a second Huey arrived and picked up two last victims.

Successful mission

Everyone survived. Frank later wrote about the rescue, singling out Shearer's "timely, courageous actions in complete disregard for his own safety."

At the time, an Army decorations specialist in Vietnam filed medal applications for seven soldiers aboard the Hueys. The officer was wounded a few days later: "We just figured it was lost in the paperwork," Shearer said. "Stuff happens."

He finished his combat tour and was discharged in Oakland, Calif., where anti-war protesters spit on soldiers in uniform. He became a warehouse worker, then re-enlisted in the Army and retired as a major. Today, he works for the state Department of Corrections supervising a literacy program.

Shearer stammered with sentiment thinking about his moment in Little Rock with old war buddies. As the Huey crew gathered for pictures, someone in the crowd called out, "Thank you."

Shearer's voice faltered again: "It has just been the best thing . . . "