There I was, sitting in the Airmen's Club at Tan Son Nhut nursing a beer and thinking about all that had happened in the previous 13 months and also pondering what my assignment to Germany would be like. There were several friends or acquaintances sitting at the table with me but, for all intents and purposes, I felt alone for the first time in many months. As all of these men were stationed at Tan Son Nhut, we didn't have much in common. They asked lots of questions about what it was like working with the Special Forces and being on a Forward Air Control Team but there was really now way to discuss these things in a way that they would or could understand. Trying not to be rude, I would just reply that it was OK but I was glad to be going home just like they were going to be glad when their turns came.

I reflected back on how I had arrived at this point from the day President Johnson announced the Gulf of Tonkin incident. My initial thought was, I've got to get into this, but, I was waiting for my orders to be cut sending me to the MAG (Military Assistance Group) in La Paz, Bolivia. I had already sold my car, for practically nothing, and given away most of the things that make barracks life tolerable. It wasn't two days later that my orders were cancelled and followed up by a message requesting volunteers for duty in South East Asia. They were pretty specific about what kind of volunteers they were looking for - skilled radio operators, E4's with more than four years service, single, no dependents. This should have alerted me to the fact that this was not going to be a routine type assignment. Nevertheless, I volunteered and received orders practically at once. I was given two weeks to get my personal affairs in order and report to Stead AFB Nevada for Aircrew Survival Training. While undergoing the POW phase of the training, I became pretty sure that I might have acted just a little hastily. I didn't really need to be there at all as I had already accumulated credit for four overseas short tours and I hadn't quite been in the USAF for six years yet, it would have been a long time before I was selected to go as a non-volunteer. But, at the same time, I remembered Saigon when I was there TDY in late 1962, it was pretty good then and was a heck of a lot better than other places that I had been. The Saigon of that time didn't seem any more dangerous than the streets of Angeles in the Philippines.

We arrived at Tan Son Nhut in the middle of the night after being delayed due to ground fire off the end of the runway - this was a little different than last time. A few AF buses met the plane as it came to a stop and we were taken to a Jamesway that was sitting in the middle of a stinking swamp (it seemed). One of the first questions asked was, " Do we have any 293's (Radio Operators) in the group. Three of us held up our hands and we were informed that we were "Packrat" and our in processing would be handled by our unit. We were directed outside to meet a unit representative who was waiting for us with a Carryall vehicle and were taken to a large, but almost empty, barracks and told that everything would be explained in the morning when we would be picked up again at 0630 (about 4 hours sleep).

That morning, a cheerful Master Sergeant Garza met us and gave us the option of standing in line for an hour or so at the mess hall or going direct to our unit where they had fresh coffee, fruit juice, sweet rolls and fruit. Everyone opted for the continental breakfast plan. We walked a couple of blocks to the unit, which was in another temporary type building, with the heat and humidity we were all sweating profusely but was no worse than I expected. After a couple of introductions we were given a brief explanation of what we might be able to expect in the way of duty and then given a practical demonstration of the radio equipment we would be using, some of it was familiar but most wasn't. It was mostly Army type field radio equipment.

Bend in river

After having something to eat we were taken to the finance office to get our pay records squared away, turned in our medical records, then to supply to draw our field equipment. When we were issued with full field gear, AR-15 rifles, .38 caliber revolvers and a basic load of ammunition, I was pretty sure that we hadn't exactly received the whole story yet. Although I was an expert marksman with the M2 and M14 carbines, I had never seen an AR-15 before and had no idea how to even load the thing. Oh well, I'll figure it out. We took a shortcut through an open field to get back to our unit. Sgt Garza explained that the short cut through the field was a quick way of getting from the Army Aviation area to the Squadron offices and barracks. He went on to explain that since we would most likely be working with Army units, most of our travel would be by way of Army helicopters or aircraft. If we just walked straight up through that field, behind supply and the base hospital, Army aviation was located just down to the right from there - good thing to remember. Later that afternoon we were told that the three of us would be departing in the morning, two of us to III Corps at Bien Hoa by bus and the other was going to Danang by air. Not even time to take a look around Saigon.

Bright and early next morning we are on a clunky old bus, mesh on the windows and steel plate on the floor, to Bien Hoa. We are met by another not so cheerful Chicano named Lopez and are taken by jeep to the III Corps quarters. Not too bad, but awfully crowded, nice little compound with a big all ranks type club just across the way. We found empty bunks, stored our gear and were then taken on a tour of the DASC (Direct Air Support Center) that was some distance away from the barracks. We were informed that we would go on shift with experienced operators for a couple of weeks of training and then probably be transferred elsewhere. I worked the midnight shift that night, had weapons training from a Marine Sgt the next morning and then went back to work the next day shift. I did one more mid shift and was told that I would be going to Song Be the next day in an O1 aircraft and I could only take the bare essentials with me, there's no room on an O1 for very much besides yourself and your field gear, I would have to come back and pick up the rest of my things some other time. I crammed a spare uniform, underwear, socks and shaving kit into a small overnight bag and that was all I could fit. That was the beginning of what was the most professionally satisfying period of my life, it was hard and dangerous work, often frustrating, but almost always appreciated by those who counted, my teammates. I had really felt good about our accomplishments until I took that shortcut one last time.

It had been several months since I had last flown into Tan Son Nhut and things had changed dramatically. It had been very busy before, but now it was a relentless onslaught of activity. Replacement troops de-planeing by the hundreds, cargo being unloaded in a frenzy, and - aluminum caskets being loaded for destinations unknown. The number of caskets sitting there on pallets, waiting to be loaded, amazed me - I thought we were winning this war and hadn't imagined the number of people we were obviously loosing. As I walk down the road to get to the shortcut, I'm thinking that this is something like a production line new troops getting off of planes there, while not far away, the end product waits on pallets - it was a disquieting thought that took the excitement out of the day.

As I reach the shortcut, I notice that it's no longer an open field, lots of building activity has taken place since my last time here. Nevertheless, I see that I can wind my way through the maze and save myself the time and bother of trying to catch a base shuttle bus. As I approach the base hospital on my right I notice that it has grown considerably. As I get closer I see what looks to be a few rows of luggage lockers (like you used to see at airports). These weren't luggage lockers, they were body cabinets like you see in the movies in morgues. As I get closer, I notice a truck backed up into what looks like maybe a truck wash, I can hear high pressure water being sprayed, and think what an odd place to wash vehicles. I notice a large open drain line running from the wash area down to join an even larger open drain - it's full of red muddy water. There is a huge tarpaulin, curtain type arrangement, around the back of the truck, just the cab is sticking out with the curtains down the sides. What I see next has haunted me for all the years since. It wasn't a truck wash, they were unloading body bags onto a concrete slab, some of the bodies weren't even in bags, laying the bodies out and hosing them down. That reddish water running down the drain wasn't just from the mud. I couldn't help but just stand there and gawk for a few minutes - there were an awful lot of bodies coming off that truck and they were all American. I felt a little sick about this whole turn of events. Maybe angry would be more like it.

As I walk along further, I see another long concrete pad with a roof over it and several more drain lines running down to the main channel. On that concrete pad were several stainless steel tables. Behind each table was a huge fan and gigantic roll of cotton (similar to a toilet roll). Beside each table was a large stainless steel bucket, an instrument trolley and some sort of hose arrangement. And, a lot of those aluminum caskets on dollies. There were four or five men standing around just waiting, they weren't speaking to each other - just waiting. I didn't stay around to see what they were waiting for, I knew. I was thinking about those troops getting off the planes, the caskets being loaded onto planes with a short stop off at this place. No thanks. I realized just how lucky I, and the rest of my teammates had been. These were the things that I was thinking about as I nursed that beer.

Viper 7

At that moment, one of the radio operators from the TASS comes in and asks if A1C Meade is there, I held up my hand and he tells me that the DASC, at Bien Hoa, has asked him to tell me that one of my FAC's just went down. I couldn't grasp what he was telling me for a minute, I had just left Song Be and they were both fine only a few hours before. He confirmed that Viper 9 had gone down and a search mission was underway. I knew there was nothing that I could do to help but had to call and find out. I went into the Club Manager's office and told him I wanted to use his phone, he told me to use a phone in the lobby and I told him the one sitting there on his desk would do just fine. He started to tell me where I could go then paused, I don't know what there was in my eyes that stopped him but he pushed the phone across the desk and walked out.

It took quite some time to arrange a phone patch to Song Be from Saigon, when I finally got through I got my replacement radio operator on the line. I asked him what happened to Lt. Kaiser and he just said - he's no longer with us. I asked him again and got the same answer then asked if I could speak with Viper 7. After some time, Captain Pocock came on the line and confirmed that the Lt was dead and they wouldn't be able to recover his body until morning. I felt a terrible sense of guilt come over me. Just the night before Walker had asked me to reconsider and extend my assignment for a few months so we could leave at the same time - I refused to even think about it. You see, over the past several months, Capt Pocock, Lt Kaiser, and I had developed a very close relationship. We pretty well knew what each of us was doing at any given time. If one of them needed to get in the air unexpectedly, they knew exactly where they could find me to man the radio. If a ground operation needed assistance, I knew exactly where to find one of them to get airborne and provide the air cover.

When you work that closely with someone, you begin to pick up little traits that indicate all is well or perhaps that something isn't quite right. I could tell when they were flying too low by the strength of their signals. I could tell when they were becoming tired by the tone of their voices. If I had an idea that they were getting into a situation that might be extra hazardous or if they weren't feeling well, I tried to compensate by keeping even closer track of what they were doing and exactly where they were. It sometimes annoyed them, but I would drive them nuts making sure that they let me know exactly where they were at all times. By getting them a little angry at me, I could get them to refocus by blowing off a little steam. Flying long hours and straining your eyes for hour on end can get to be mesmerizing after awhile. Both of these men were the finest of pilots but the heavy flying schedule, frequent bouts of gastro intestinal problems and interrupted sleep, takes its toll regardless. They knew that I was only looking after them and always calmed down by the time they got back on the ground.

Viper 9

One day the two of them came into the radio room carrying huge acetate covered maps. They had spent a lot of their personal time in piecing together maps of the III Corp area and a more detailed map of our VR (Visual Reconnaissance) Areas in the Province. Prior to this, I had only battered folding maps that were awkward and difficult read. The new maps were going to make keeping track of the both of them ever so much easier (and much more accurately too). The III Corp map had the TACAN at Bien Hoa precisely i ndicated at the SW corner of the map and had a pin stuck in it, with a long piece of string attached. They had drawn concentric circles at precise distances radiating out from the TACAN right on up through the NE taking in all of the Province. By lining the string up between the TACAN and a set of coordinates I would be able to determine the exact bearing and distance to any location in the Province. The more detailed map had all of our area of responsibility blocked out into VR sections. By using the two together, I would have a much better idea of their locations at all times. This could be invaluable in a search operation should one of them ever be shot down. The maps proved to have other benefits as well.

We had a number of areas in the Province that were designated free fire zones, i.e., we could bomb them at any time without having to seek further approval. These were known VC strongholds and were struck fairly frequently anyway. I outlined these areas on the map too. During the monsoon season it was often the case that our camp was completely covered in fog making it impossible for the FAC's to fly. On these occasions we often had to cancel scheduled air strikes as we had no way of marking the targets. If the fighter bombers were already airborne when our weather set in, it could mean that they would have to drop their bombs in the ocean as they couldn't land the planes carrying a full load of ordnance. When the weather moved in like that, it was just as likely as not that the fog would be local phenomena, it could be completely clear just a km or so away. Now that I had these maps, I would contact the fighters before canceling the mission and advise them of our weather conditions, almost always they would indicate that they had us in sight and the weather was perfectly fine everywhere else. I would offer them the option of dropping their bombs on suspected VC locations in the free fire zones or canceling the mission. Every time they would choose to drop on a possible target rather than waste the fuel and jettison the bombs.

I would select a target in the free fire zone that was easily recognizable from the air, give them a heading and distance off the BH TACAN, and talk them onto the target. I would always select a location with some sort of prominent feature that they would have no trouble in identifying. I would advise them of their nearest safe bailout point and hand off mission control to the lead aircraft. If necessary, I would continue to describe the features of the target until they had a positive identification, I would also advise them that ground fire was possible. For some reason, Navy pilots in particular, really seemed to enjoy these types of missions. After we had done the first couple of these, we started getting calls from Navy fighters returning to their carriers asking us if we had a target they could put their ordnance on before they had to deep six them. Apparently, they had circulated the word that we could always find something for them. They were a pleasure to work with and the Navy A4's carried a tremendous load of weaponry. On a couple of occasions we even managed to hit significant targets using this method. The VC must have known we were weathered in and thought it safe to let their guard down. On one of those missions, the fighters received heavy ground fire starting with the first pass. By the time all four planes had delivered their loads, they had observed secondary explosions of both fuel and ammo and the jungle was littered with building debris. After the last bomb run, I asked the lead to give me an estimate of what they thought they had managed to hit. They modestly mentioned only the secondary explosions and a couple of VC structures. Later intelligence reports indicated that an estimated 200 VC bodies were removed from that area during the night. We upgraded our after mission report and could only hope that the Navy got the appropriate credit for that one. Subsequent intelligence indicated that a major enemy rest and re-supply station had been totally destroyed. Those new maps were working just fine. I think they also exceed the expectations of Captain Pocock and Lt Kaiser.

After running these things over in my mind, I decide that I had to find out if maybe I could, at least, escort the Lieutenants body home. I figure, I'm scheduled to fly out the day after tomorrow anyway so it shouldn't be that difficult to arrange. Bright and early the next day, I go back to the morgue, the front way this time, to see what I can do. I guess I should have known better, I ran into a brick wall as there simply was no procedure in place to allow what I was proposing to do. The only thing that they could suggest is that I get on a plane in California and try to get to New Hampshire before the body gets there. I could see all sorts of problems with this, maybe his family would prefer that I not intrude on their privacy, I gave up. But, even now, I wish there was some way to tell his family what a fine and courageous young man he was.