July 12, 1972

My first solo combat mission.

Strangely no fear of the unknown.  Just ready and willing to go fly.  I thought I was ready for whatever the day would bring... but I was wrong.

I headed down to the Intel Shack to be briefed on what was going on prior to my mission.  I sat down to be briefed and I looked up at a status board on the wall.


"Owl 45,  Lt. James L. Huard, mysterious disappearance"... Records now say his call sign was Wolf 08, but that is not what I recall.  Owl 45 is burned into my brain but it seems now that much of the information I was given might have been wrong.  The air operations in North Vietnam were secret and down at DaNang, South Vietnam we may have not been authorized to have that information.

I sat there disbelieving what I saw, and I was wondering if there could be another Lt James L Huard.  I starting asking questions and got very few answers.

One of my very best friends from pilot training and OTS was missing in action and they thought he may have hit a mountain somewhere. 

About 6 months prior to this day Jimmy had stopped by Tokyo when he was returning from R and R. He was on his way back to Nam to finish his 1 year tour... 6 months to go.  R and R usually happened at the half way point in a one year tour. Martha and I went to the base at 3 AM to visit with him...  I still remember him watching him walk away in the dark of the aircraft ramp.  

I did the calculation while I sat there in the intel shack... Jimmy had to have been in his last few days in the war.  I'm envision him volunteering to do the mission he was on... even if it was his last day In Country... he would do that to take others out of harms way.  He was the kind of guy that was the rock, the foundation of the unit.  I thought of the days of endless banter we always had going when we were together.

I asked where can I look... and was basically told anywhere... everywhere...

I went down to the armory and picked up my 38 revolver and two handfuls of bullets out of the barrel.  I picked up a survival radio and a bunch of extra batteries and I was off to fly... I had one mission in mind.

My job as a Forward Air Controller was to direct  strikes within my area of operation.  I was also tasked with Search and Rescue operations (SAR) in my area. We would direct the rescue of downed airmen and other soldiers on the ground.  I wanted to find Jimmy and get him home... 

I was airborne and climbing to the North when my emotions surfaced... and they still haunt me today as I sit here at this keyboard.  The emotion bubbles back up on Memorial Day, and Veterans Day.  I find it hard to stand up and be recognized as a veteran at church on those days.  I often do not stand up for I fear that my emotions will get the best of me.  I think I now know why many veterans do not tell their stories.  Part of it is guilt... to be a survivor.  To be honored as a veteran doesn't seem right.  The honor goes to the guys who didn't make it back or came back with injuries... and to the families of those people.  Most of us did nothing extraordinary... we just did our jobs... 

I looked for any signs of SOS and the international symbol for distress... a triangle shape.  Something stomped into the grass, debris lined up or rocks piled up in a triangle shape.  A flashing mirror.  Then there was the emergency radio.  I listened and listened.  That first day I called out "Jimmy it's Joe" on the emergency radio... and I did many times after that.

As the mission continued that day and every day there after I looked harder and harder .  Raw emotion was quickly replaced by anger and thoughts of revenge.  I had just turned 26 years old I was still young enough to be bullet proof.  I was ready to fight... just shoot at me and I was ready... shoot at me they did...

July 12, 1972 ended in failure, as did every other day I was "In Country".  I could not find and save Jimmy.  I have read on the internet that there was a search for Jimmy, probably done by his unit but I didn't find out about that until recently. 

For many years my Vietnam experience was neatly tucked out of sight in a back corner of my mind... not to be disturbed.  28 years later in October of 2000 a friend had asked me about Vietnam and it led to a short email exchange about Steve Bennett...My roommate that I thought was awarded the Silver Star. It was in 2000 that I found out Steve was awarded the Medal of Honor.  This lead me to the internet to begin searching for Jimmy... and I found him.

Click to read about Jimmy.  There are lots of links to Jimmy and his back-seater.

In 1997 some of his remains were found and he was no longer MIA.  Jimmy status was changed to Killed In Action (KIA). I also found out that Cindy had remarried and the boys are grown.  The back-seat Weapon Systems Officer that was with Jimmy is still MIA.  I am so proud that our Air Force continues searching for answers on those that are MIA.  I never thought that those answers would help me so much... I was just a friend, not family... but now I know for sure why I couldn't find Jimmy.

Click here for his MIA crew member, Samuel O'Donnell.

While writing this post I did find more on Jimmy.  One of Jimmy's twin boys (Paul) wrote about a North Vietnamese Army doctor that had witnessed the crash and was among the first on the scene.  He had kept part of Jimmy's helmet and a photo of his ID card.  The crash site was indeed a lake 37 miles north of my area, but in North Vietnam.  The lake had been recently been drained and photos were taken of the crash site.  All this information and the items that were Jimmy's were returned to Jimmy's Mother in 2010.  

When I found those two paragraphs written (in 2013) by Jimmy's son, Paul, I found more closure... more peace.  I had hoped to achieve peace thru writing this blog about Vietnam. Jimmy's wife Cindy, remarried... another F-4 pilot.  He adopted the boys and is a good father.  Paul's two paragraphs paint a vivid picture that I hoped and needed to see...   Thank you Paul and Thank You Lord.

I don't remember anything else about that first day.  I probably directed an airstrike or two, as I did every day.  I was shot at by anti-aircraft guns every day and that is probably true for this day.