Chapter 17: Birth of the War Eagles

I took the high road on my return flight. I wasn't carrying any ordnance and didn't want to get into an argument with a stubborn FAC as to why I couldn't engage his target of choice. Arriving in the Bien Hoa area at 30,000 feet, I let down to 2,000 feet and requested landing instructions. The tower advised me the field was closed as they were currently under a rocket attack warning and suggested I recover at either Tan Son Nhut or Phu Cat. Alternatively, if I was ok on fuel I could climb back to 21, 000 feet and orbit there until the alert was canceled. As I had plenty of fuel left, I opted to orbit awhile.

There is nothing more boring than flying a high performance fighter in endless circles and it might be hours before Bien Hoa reopened so after about fifteen minutes I decided to divert to Phu Cat, where I could at least get something to eat and also check on Major Williams while waiting for the base to reopen.

Landing at Phu Cat, I caught a ride to the hospital and inquired as to Major William's condition. After being told he was scheduled to be air evacuated to Naha later this evening, I was asked if I wanted to see him before he left. When I said I would, an orderly led me back to his ward.

He was sitting up and joking with the man in the adjacent bed, his eyes clear and his sense of humor apparently intact. Although both legs and his left arm were still encased in heavy casts, most of the bandages had been removed from his head and he was no longer in traction. Noticing me, he grinned and waved me over to his bed with his good arm.

"You seem to be feeling a lot better than you did a few nights ago when I saw you," I joked.

"I vaguely remember you being here at some point Buzz, but I'd been so sedated I couldn't be sure if you were actually here or it was just another drug-induced dream!" he replied with a grin.

"Have they told you anything about your long term prognosis?" I asked.

"Yeah, some bullshit about never flying again, but I'll be back in the saddle within six months, mark my words!"

I grinned at him and told him that was the spirit, but I silently had reservations. Flight physicals are a bitch, even under normal conditions. Trying to get reinstated after a serious injury would be even more difficult.

I asked him about his memory of ejecting and being captured. He said he remembered being hit by ground fire and ejecting at low altitude after his instrument panel lit up like a Christmas tree with system failure and fire-warning lights and his engine flamed out, but that was all until he woke up in the hospital.

After some more small talk, I wished him well on his recovery and joked that, unlike his life of leisure, I had a squadron to run and that I'd better get back to it.

Checking at Base Ops, I learned that Bien Hoa was again open for business so I returned to my aircraft and made the short flight back south. Upon my arrival, as I still hadn't eaten, I stopped by the club and grabbed a bite in the stag bar before returning to my office to check on mail and messages.

As I stepped into my office, I was surprised to find my in-box full. I sorted it into four piles; must read, should read, might possibly read sometime, and shit can.

Starting with the most important group first, I noticed there was a message from 7th Air Force Headquarters at Tan Son Nhut Air Base. Reading it, I found that there was to be a meeting at Headquarters in two weeks, concerning the consolidation of the three F-100 squadrons at Bien Hoa into a new tactical fighter group in order to streamline command and control of the units. This could become a very interesting meeting as none of us squadron commanders were anxious to give up any authority over our aircraft or personnel. Marking my calendar, I moved on to the rest of the important mail, none of which turned out to be all that earth shaking.

I was just starting on the "Should Read" pile when the phone rang. It was Sgt. Gibson from Clark, saying that Triple Nickel had been repaired and successfully test hopped. He also promised he would have our War Eagle emblem on both sides of its vertical stabilizer by tomorrow evening.

I told him I'd check the inspection schedules on our birds here at Bien Hoa and see if there was one nearing its hundred hour limit. If so, I'd fly it to Clark tomorrow and bring Triple Nickel back to 'Nam. I was very interested in hearing what my pilots thought about my War Eagle paint scheme.

Checking with the maintenance shop, I found we had an F model with 97 hours on its airframe since its last inspection. That was close enough, so I called Operations and scheduled my flight to Clark for tomorrow, departing at 1600 hrs.

The next day dragged as I went through the motions of clearing the backlog of paperwork that I'd been putting off. I guess I'd been hoping that it would just go away but unfortunately that never seems to happen.

By 1500 hrs I had taken care of everything that was going to be addressed today. I told my Adjutant he was in charge of the office until I returned, then left to grab a quick sandwich at the club before leaving for Clark. By 1600 hrs I was wheels-in-the-wells and climbing out ... headed east. Fifty minutes after that, I touched down at Clark and taxied to my detachment's ramp area.

Triple Nickel was parked in front of the maintenance hanger, its aft fuselage area freshly repaired and highly polished, its vertical stabilizer adorned with its huge screaming bird of prey. Sgt. Gibson had captured the evil expression in its fierce yellow eyes perfectly. It was sized to nearly cover the entire stabilizer area from just below the red squadron identification stripe at the top, all the way down to just above the aircraft serial number located above the horizontal stabilizers. The emblem itself actually covered a little more of the vertical stabilizer's surface than the one on Buzzy's model, but it looked perfect to me. I loved it.

Stepping into the office, I shrugged out of my shoulder holster and stowed my weapon in the safe, then called Mae to pick me up. While I was waiting for her to arrive, I wandered out into the hanger and found Sgt Gibson and the detachment commander deep in conversation.

As soon as he saw me, Gibson asked if I had noticed the fruits of his labor. I replied that I had, and that I was very impressed with the results. I also mentioned that I was having a meeting at 7th Air Force Headquarters shortly, and if they approved of the design, there would be at least the remainder our squadron aircraft needing the same treatment, and the possibility of two other squadrons as well.

About that time, Mae and Buzzy arrived. When Buzzy saw Triple Nickel's new paint job he held up his model, compared the two, and then pronounced it was "Cool!"

On the drive back to our house, Mae mentioned that Andy had said he had something else for me, and that he and Cathy would drop over for a moment later this evening, after we'd eaten.

The day had been exceptionally hot and humid and Mae hadn't felt like cooking, so we called for a large take-out order of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and egg salad from the Officer's Club and Mae set the table as I left for the club to pick up our food. When I returned, I found that Andy and Cathy had arrived. We had enough food to feed a small army so we invited the Sorensen's to join us.

As we were eating, Andy congratulated me on my recent promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, saying he had seen my name on the promotion list but that he had been so engrossed in getting the items I'd ordered from his friend Bill Grissom that he'd forgotten to mention it.

After we had eaten our fill, Mae and Cathy cleared the table, storing enough left-over chicken for two more light lunches in the refrigerator.

While the girls were busy in the kitchen, Andy retrieved a medium sized box from the floor next to the front door, where he'd placed it when he arrived, and moved over to the sofa. As I joined him, he handed it to me with a grin and said, "Here's the item you ordered for Mae. I'll give you the bill later, if you still insist."

The girls returned from the kitchen about then, precluding any further conversation on the subject. Mae settled onto the love seat and I moved over to join her as Cathy sat down beside her husband. Noticing the box I was holding, Mae asked, "What have you got there, another present for Buzzy? You two do realize that you are spoiling him rotten, don't you?"

I grinned at her and replied, "Nope, this is a present for you. I hope it brings back a few fond memories," as I handed her the box.

Looking at me suspiciously, she peeled off the clear tape securing the brown paper covering and ripped the paper away. The box underneath was also sealed with heavy filament strapping tape that needed to be cut. Handing her my clasp knife, she carefully cut across the seams and was finally able to open the top. Removing a layer of white tissue paper, Mae's face blanched and she stared down into the open box for a long, silent moment before murmuring, "Oh my god..."

Cathy, surprised by her reaction, asked, "What's wrong dear. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Mae smiled wistfully and replied, "No, not a ghost, Cathy; only the memory of one of the most special days of my life, the day that started me on my quest for my aeronautical engineering degree and my private pilot's license."

Reaching into the box, she carefully removed its contents from its protective nest of tissue paper; a beautifully detailed model of a Chinese Air Force F-104B complete with two Sidewinders, external fuel tanks and a crew of two. I wanted to take it from her and examine the pilot in the rear cockpit, but this was Mae's moment. Time enough for that later. Andy, of course, knew the story behind why I'd wanted to get this model for Mae, but apparently he hadn't shared it with Cathy.

Leaning back with a thousand yard stare in her eyes, Mae recounted the day I was scheduled to fly an F-104A to Taipei, CCK and Tainan on MAAG business and how she had begged me to take her along. She said I had explained to her that my 104A was a single place aircraft and there was no room for a passenger. Not to be deterred that easily, she said she had contacted Major Chung, the Chinese squadron commander, and arranged for him to assign me a two-place 'B' model instead of my usual aircraft.

"Lord, I must have flown a hundred thousand miles back and forth between the U.S. and Taiwan in commercial airliners prior to that, but that was the day I learned what real flying was all about, and why it's almost an addiction to fighter pilots like Buzz."

I noticed her eyes had misted over as she leaned over and kissed me softly. "Thank you for reminding me, dear," she whispered.

It was then that she announced that she was going to join the Clark's Base Aero Club and start building up her flying hours. When Cathy asked her what she was going to do with Buzzy while she was out flying around the countryside, she replied, "If he wants to come along with me that will be fine. Otherwise, I'll find a sitter for the afternoon."

I reached over and took the model from her unresisting hands and examined it more closely. The detail was every bit as good as Buzzy's F-100D and I located the same hidden switches that operated the landing gear and canopy. With the canopy open I could recognize that the pilot in the rear seat was Oriental and definitely female. Although her breasts were somewhat more pronounced than Mae's, there was little doubt who the tiny figure was supposed to represent. Retracting the gear and closing the canopy, I handed it to Buzzy who flew it around the living room for a few minutes before lowering the landing gear again and parking it on the end table next to his own F-100D. The scale of the two models matched so closely they looked quite realistic parked side-by-side.

That evening in bed, Mae was insatiable. So much so in fact that I was nearly an hour late taking off for Bien Hoa the next morning. Buzzy was adamant about wanting to watch me take off in my plane with his eagle on its tail, so Mae drove him down to the flight line to see me off. According to her, he was suitably impressed.

The return trip to Bien Hoa was uneventful and I stayed above 30,000 ft. to discourage any over-eager FACs. As I dropped down to enter the landing pattern, I requested permission to make a preliminary low altitude, high speed pass down the runway. Since traffic was light at the moment, permission was granted so I stroked it into 'burner and made a pass down runway. The airflow over Triple Nickel's canopy shimmered and danced as I raced down the runway at just under the speed of sound, then I pulled up sharply, swapping air speed for altitude.

Re-entering the pattern at a more sedate speed, I completed my landing. As I pulled into my parking slot, I noticed my aircraft had managed to draw a small crowd of pilots and ground crew.

Pappy Wallace wandered by at one point, and glancing up at my tail assembly, commented caustically, "That should put the fear of Buddha in those little slant-eyed bastards!"In addition to my own people, I noticed several pilots from the other two F-100 squadrons had also joined the crowd of interested onlookers. Their commanders, both Majors, joined me and one of them asked if I was planning to put this artwork on all my birds. I replied I thought I'd wait until after we'd had our meeting with the brass at 7th Air Force, and seen what their reaction was.

That evening an elated Mae called me at the BOQ. She'd had her doctor's appointment that afternoon and it was confirmed that she was indeed very pregnant. When I asked if she had learned whether it was a boy or a girl, she laughed and said, "No, of course not silly, it's way too early for that. Besides, I've thought about it and decided I don't think I really want to know anyway."

When I asked her if she had joined the aero club yet, to get her off the subject of my ignorance of pregnancy, she replied yes, she had stopped by, signed up, and looked over their aircraft inventory; two Piper Cubs, an Aronca Champ, an old red Waco open-cockpit bi-plane, and a Ryan Navion. She said she had been previously checked out in Piper Cubs, which would probably also cover the Aronca, but naturally Buzzy was only interested in the Navion. It was the only one that looked even vaguely like a fighter. With Buzzy nagging her, I made a silent bet with myself that she'd be checked out in the Navion within two weeks. I also thought I might like to take the Waco up myself; I hadn't flown one in over twenty years.