Chapter 12: Interlude at Pingtung

The day before I was scheduled to depart for Clark, I finalized my affairs at Lakenheath. This consisted mainly of paying my Club bill, final processing through the personnel and finance, and exchanging my Captain's bars for my Major's bronze oak leaves. The effective date of my promotion had actually been two days before, but I'd seen no reason to antagonize the other squadron Captains who had more time-in-grade than I, but had been passed over for whatever reasons. Of course they knew about it, but I just didn't want to rub it in.

I had contacted the Travel Office earlier to get my travel voucher and they had asked me if I wished to take a delay en route while I was in the States. I had declined, but instead had requested to take a two- week leave upon my arrival at Clark, hoping to go up to Taiwan and find Mae Ling.

After a boisterous going-away party at the club the night before my scheduled departure, I traveled to London and caught a BOAC flight to New York, where I transferred to a United Airlines flight bound for California. From there I was scheduled to fly MATS to Clark field. By the time I landed in California, I was travel weary and welcomed the news that my MATS flight had been delayed for twenty-four hours, due to maintenance problems.

The next morning, when I checked back with the MATS terminal, I learned that the MATS flight had again been delayed until the next day, but that there was a flight of four C-130 transports leaving for Taiwan in two hours, as part of a build-up for the new Combat Support Wing at CCK, and they had plenty of room for me. The accommodations weren't up to MATS standards but once on Taiwan I shouldn't have any problem catching a flight out of CCK to the Philippines. Since I had a two week delay-enroute authorized on my travel orders, I realized I could take it on Taiwan as easily as at Clark, which had been my intention anyway. I accepted their offer of the hop and was told to report back to the travel desk in one hour for manifesting and boarding. As it turned out, boarding turned out to be walking out to the aircraft carrying my own bags.

The flight to Taiwan was long, with several refueling stops, but not very tiring. The plane's cargo bay was empty, and by folding down one of the canvas troop-carrier seats, I slept quite well. I even got some flying time in, spelling the co-pilot at the controls while he grabbed a nap in the back. On the afternoon of the second day, we crossed over Taiwan's rugged eastern mountain range and soon dropped down into the landing pattern at CCK. Parking the birds next to the numerous other C-130s already on the ramp, we caught a crew bus into the terminal.

As the rest of the crewmembers debriefed, I asked a Sergeant on the desk about the possibility of catching a hop to Pingtung. After checking his dispatch board, he replied that he didn't show anything going that way but he would check with his Chinese counterpart to see if they had anything scheduled. He made a phone call, chatted for a moment, and then announced, "This is your lucky day, sir. There's an F-104B departing for Pingtung in twenty minutes, if you don't mind flying in the back seat in that little widow-maker!"

I assured him I was quite familiar with those aircraft and would be more than happy to accept the offer. Since there wouldn't be room for my luggage, I asked if he would arrange to have it put aboard the next cargo aircraft headed that way.

"Certainly sir, there's a Chinese Air Force C-119 shuttle coming through from Taipei at 0900 tomorrow. I'll have your bags put aboard and you can pick them up about noon tomorrow at base ops in Pingtung," he replied.

Retrieving my shaving kit from my luggage, I thanked him for his assistance and departed for the Chinese AF Operations building. As I walked in the door I was met by a familiar face, one of the pilots I had trained three years ago. He strode over to me with a big grin on his face, extended his hand and said in heavily accented English, "Welcome back, Major Donaldson. I understood there was an American in need of a ride, but I had no idea it was you!" As I followed him out to his aircraft, I asked if Major Chung was still the Operations Officer.

"No sir," he replied, "He is now Colonel Chung, and is the new Wing Commander."

When I asked if he had seen Madam Wong recently, he gave me a strange look and said no, he had not. I didn't follow up on it, but it made me wonder if something had happened to her that he didn't want to talk about.

Reaching our aircraft, I waited while he performed his walk around, and then I clambered up into the rear cockpit. It was a tight fit compared to the more spacious cockpit of the Hun, but it felt like I was home again.

It was only about a fifteen- minute flight to Pingtung and as we turned onto final he asked if I would like to make the landing. I replied that I was tired after my long flight from the States and would prefer that he take it in. He merely double-clicked his mike and completed the landing.

Climbing out of the aircraft, I retrieved my ditty bag from the gun bay, where I'd stowed it, then headed to Wing Headquarters. As I entered the building I met another of my old students. We chatted for a few minutes, and then I asked him where I could find Col. Chung. He merely pointed down a hallway and said, "Second door on the right, if he is in, sir."

As I started down the corridor, Col. Chung stepped out of his office and walked toward me. He seemed deep in thought and didn't notice me until I said, "Good afternoon, Colonel Chung."

It took him a second to realize who had spoken, then his round face broke into a broad smile and he shook my hand, warmly, saying, "This is a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here, Major?"

I explained that I was merely passing through on my way to Clark and that I'd just stopped by to say hello to everyone as long as I was in the neighborhood.

We chatted for a moment about his new fighter wing before I asked if he had seen Madam Wong recently. Again, I caught a flash of that same look that my pilot had given me. He recovered quickly though and said he saw her around the base from time to time, but not in the past few months.

I sensed something was terribly wrong. Wanting to get to the bottom of it, I asked the Colonel if it would be possible to borrow a car for the evening.

"Certainly, step into my office and I'll arrange for it now," he replied.

He made a call, then hung up and turned back to me, saying my car was on its way, and then asked what I was doing now.

I told him about flying the Hun for the past three years, which caused him to raise one eyebrow and ask, "Hun? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that fighter. Is it German?"

"No, it's just a nickname for the F-100. It was the first of our century-series of fighters and Hun is just a nickname for Hundred," I chuckled.

As we stood chatting about the changes that had occurred at Pingtung since my departure, a young sergeant from the motor pool drove up in a military sedan and stepped out, leaving the engine running and the driver's door open. The Colonel said, "Here is your transportation now, Major Donaldson. Feel free to use it for the duration of your stay."

Thanking him, I shook his hand, tossed him a quick salute and drove toward the main gate. After the gate guard checked my ID and waved me on through, I found myself on the familiar road to Mae Ling's home.

Pulling into her drive and parking the car under the portico, I got out, walked to door, and rang the bell. It was opened by a tall, distinguished looking Chinese gentleman in his late fifties or early sixties. He looked somewhat puzzled to find an American Major in a rumpled gray flight suit, driving a Chinese Air Force sedan, standing on his doorstep.

I said, "Good evening, sir. Is Mae Ling at home?"

Glancing at the name patch on my flight suit, he replied, "I believe she is, Major Donaldson. Please come inside and I'll call her," as he stood aside, indicating I should enter. I stepped into the foyer and he closed the door quietly. I was then led into the formal sitting room where I was met by a matronly Chinese lady who I took to be Mae's mother. As she extended her hand in welcome, her husband called up the staircase, "Mae Ling ... you have a visitor."

I was speaking with Mrs. Wong when Mae came down the stairs and, seeing me standing there with her parents, uttered a loud squeal of joy, raced across the room and threw herself into my arms. After a long, frantic kiss, she pushed herself back and held me at arm's length, smiling up into my eyes, her own eyes glistening with tears of joy.

"When did you get back and why didn't you let me know you were coming?" she asked breathlessly.

"I landed at Pingtung only about an hour ago and I didn't even know I was coming to Taiwan until the day before yesterday. Besides, I had no way to contact you, so I just decided to drive out and surprise you, darling," I replied with a smile.

"Are you going to be stationed here again?" she asked hopefully, although somewhat apprehensively.

"No, that's the bad news, dear. I'm on my way to Clark Field in the Philippines, at least for the time being. I don't think it will be too long before I'll wind up in Vietnam though," I replied.

"Oh," she responded, obviously disappointed. Then she brightened and said, "In that case, I'm going to the Philippines with you." It wasn't a question; it was a simple statement of fact.

About that time, Amah appeared at the top of the stairs, holding the hand of a toddler. "Amah, bring Wan Chu down here if you would, please. There's someone I want him to meet" Mae said.

As Amah slowly descended the staircase, holding tightly to the young lad's hand, I got my first good look at him. He appeared to be about two or three years old but seemed somehow tall for his age, light-skinned with wavy black hair and bright, deep-blue, inquisitive eyes.

As they reached the bottom step Mae Ling said, "Come over here darling, I want you to meet your father." At the sound of those words, my life changed forever.

Wan Chu squealed with delight as he raced over to me and flung himself into my arms, grabbing me around the neck and crying "Da-da, Da-da!"

Hugging him to me tightly, I glanced over at Mae Ling, who smiled and said, "I call him my little Buzzy."

Knowing in my heart, who the father of the child had to be, I asked, "How soon can we arrange a wedding ceremony?"

I turned to her father, who had settled himself into a large overstuffed chair and was watching this touching little drama play out with a bemused expression on his face, and said, "I guess this is the point where I'm supposed to ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage, sir."

"Well son, to the extent I still have any degree of control left over my daughter's decisions, you have my blessings ... But you two did get the cart a bit before the horse, didn't you?" he replied with a smile.

At my mention of marriage, Mae had squealed with delight, before I told her, that from what I'd heard, Clark Field, or at least Angeles City that abutted it, was not a very safe place for Americans to take their families. I said I thought that she and our son should remain in the safe, quiet confines of Pingtung until I finished my tour of duty.

The smile faded from her face until her mother turned to her father and asked, "Don't we know the base commander at Clark, dear? General Bonham, I believe his name is."

"That's right," her father exclaimed. "We met him in Brussels; a fine man as I remember. I'll call him in the morning and get his opinion on whether it would be safe for Mae and Wan Chu to live in the area."

A little concerned about my personnel records being stamped with the notation P.I. (political influence, a death sentence to a military career), I tried to dissuade them, but her father assured me it would all be handled very discretely and no mention of it would ever appear in my records.

As it was now early evening, we retired to the dining room. Over an excellent meal, her father said he would contact a minister and also arrange for our marriage license the next day, and that we should go into town in the morning and pick out our rings.

After we had eaten, Amah took little Buzzy upstairs and put him to bed. As he was very tired by the excitement of my arrival, he dropped off to sleep within minutes and Amah returned. We had retired to the lounge by then for cocktails. Mae Ling was curled up beside me on a loveseat when I told her father about my visiting the embassy in London, missing him by only a few days.

He replied that it was unfortunate timing but it had all worked out well in the end. During our conversation, Mae brought up her flight to Taipei with me in the F-104B, saying it was the most exciting thing she'd ever experienced. Her mother thought it sounded like grand adventure; her father seemed far less impressed.