Ya Never Know...do Ya?
Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 9
"Well, why did you learn?" I asked.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Frank said.
I snorted.
"Well, it did," he said. "I wasn't Chief then. I wasn't married. The reservation was going to hell in a hand basket. All the young men were drinking and doing drugs. The girls were "Squaws" in the worst European connotation of the word. Guys ... warriors ... were fighting each other in CARS and dying in droves.
"Along came Vietnam and some wise asshole thought the Sioux would really enjoy fighting the yellow commies and drafted us! 'We'll learn 'em to jump out of airplanes ... they're not afraid of heights, ' thinking that the steel walkers were indians and all indians are alike
"Jumping out of an airplane ... shit, man. I'm afraid of falling. Why do you think I let you pot holes in the sky while I watch from down here?
"I learned to fly in college ... I was going to BE somebody. Well ... I was somebody! Lieutenant Franklin Smith, 19th Tactical Air Support Squadron. It's an awful thing to be smart in a world of shit.
"Vietnam was an eyeopener. That little Cessna ... not only was I afraid of falling ... not I could do it with an airplane wrapped around me! I put in my time, got transferred to flight training, did that until I couldn't and got out. Then I found out all I COULD do was fly." He shook his head. "I had so many hours in it seemed like civilian flight instructor was a good idea ... but you white eyes are crazy."
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