In Country Day 1 and Day 2

We (Randy, Chuck and I) arrived at Tan Son Nhut Air Base (Saigon), Vietnam on a Pan Am military chartered DC-8. That long skinny hot airplane was packed with guys that didn't want to be there. There was smoking allowed on airplanes back then and there was lots of that. We arrived late in the day found the VOQ (Visiting Officer Quarters) and soon after that a bar. The bar was the squadron bar for the FAC's on that base. I was assigned to that squadron. I met my Squadron Commader and he immediately says to me... They need you at DaNang... Not good... I knew why they needed me.  For Randy and Chuck it was only fair as they were headed that way anyway... We were destined to be together.

The next morning we left for DaNang.  Randy and Chuck were on an earlier flight and soon I was the lone American sitting on a canvas bench in the back of a C-130... I was not alone. The airplane was full of the meanest looking, non-smiling Asian guys I had ever seen...fully armed.  They were all short little guys but I was sure every one of them could kill me with their little finger. Later in the flight I found out they were ROK's... Republic of Korea... Allies... I had heard about them and they were legendary... I believed the stories I had heard.

DaNang aka Rocket City... June 28,1972

I caught up with Randy and Chuck at DaNang and they hadn't found our new home yet. All of the F-4 fighters had been moved to Thailand and the FAC'S were moving from the French side of the base, to the newly vacated air condition barracks. Things were in turmoil to say the least. We found the barracks and were told that ground floor rooms were the safest but new guys got last choice. We found a room on the bottom floor and we introduced ourselves to the guy that had claimed the room.  We talked him into moving in three more beds ... One of the beds would have to be a bunk bed... we were home.

While we wandered around looking for beds and kept running into the same guy in the hallway... He was drunk and getting more drunk every time we saw him. Eventually we introduced ourselves to him and  we asked him if he had had a bad day... "Yes", he said.  He had been shot down that day.  He was rescued by a Jolly Green (big and heavily armed) rescue helicopter... And they were shot down.  A while later he was rescued by a small helicopter which I have always called a bubble helicopter.  That wasn't all of his story... There was no room in the helicopter, he had to hold on to the landing skids on the helicopter to get home. We never saw him sober again.  There was a rule... If you got shot down twice you got to go home...he eventually went to Hawaii for R and R (rest and recuperation), and we never saw him again.

We got acquainted with our new roommate Steve, and we had a few beers.  We sat around and talked and played a some cards. Steve decided he was going to teach us how to play Bridge... Starting tomorrow... June 29, 1972.