It was around 1970 and I was flying out of Guam. I had already done two tours in Vietnam and now my C-130 crew and I were hauling supplies to support Seabee operations on the Micronesian islands.

In early December, one of the USO’s traveling road shows came through on its way to entertain the troops in Vietnam. The base commander decided to throw a formal dinner for them the evening before they left.

One thing about being a young, single officer is that you occasionally got ‘volunteered’ for formal events and this was no exception. Since there were many female dancers and stars in the troop, a single officer was assigned to eat with each woman, to entertain them and make their evening pleasant. So, I got ‘selected’ to sit with a young starlet who was on the trip.

A little about me. I never knew my parents. The three of us were in a car accident when I was a baby. They were killed instantly but I survived because I was thrown out of the car. So, I grew up a black kid who never knew any home except foster homes, which are really not homes at all.

After finishing high school, I put myself through college by joining the Air Force ROTC, graduated, went to flight school, and ended up as a C-130 driver. In short, the Air Force is the only real family I know. I’m 29, a senior Captain, and instructor pilot. My given name is Maurice, but I gained the nickname ‘Rocket’ in foster care because the cops said that’s how I left the car, like a rocket. I never saw the humor, but it stuck and is now also my call sign.

I’ve been out on dates, but have a lot of trouble developing long term relationships and have never had anyone who I would call a ‘girlfriend.’ I’m satisfied doing my job for the Air Force (I love flying) and keeping to myself other than that.

So, I was assigned to escort Caroline. At the ‘meet and greet’, the afternoon before the dinner, one of the male cameramen traveling to Vietnam pulled me aside and said, “Watch out for Caroline. To describe her as a brat would be doing her a favor. She’s a self-centered, arrogant, entitled little bitch, and, oh yeah, she doesn’t particularly like Black people.” It’s too bad her attitude made her a bitch because she was really beautiful, about 5’3’ and 110 pounds with long blonde hair. I thanked him for the warning and decided to just make the best of it.

Caroline and I were introduced and she declined to shake my hand when I held it out, so we got our table assignment and I didn’t see her again until that evening. In between, I Goggled Caroline’s career, just to know a little about her. She had gotten a child role in a Disney movie when she was 10 and had tried to get other parts, but wasn’t successful. She was now 19 but would be 20 soon.

I deliberately arrived at the dinner at the last minute; she was already sitting at our table. I said, “Hello”, and, surprisingly, she said, “Hello,” back.

The dinner program (introducing the guests, etc.) started and we sat quietly until dinner finally arrived. It was a ‘love and hate’ menu. The food was absolutely excellent but, because there were many courses, each course had only a small amount of food. So, if you liked something, there was no way to get more.

While we were eating, there was little conversation between Caroline and I; we had very little in common to talk about. Then, out of the blue, Caroline popped up and said, “I just wanted you to know that there’s no way I’m going back to your room with you after dinner tonight.”

I had a mouthful of coke when she said it and it was everything I could do to not spit it up. To say I was irritated would have been a gross understatement. I asked her, “Now what have I said or done to make you think I have the slightest interest in having sex with you?”

“Oh I know you men. It’s what all of you want.”

“Sweetheart, let me clue you in. First, I have never had sex with any woman that I didn’t at least like. And, second, you might not be the last female I would ever want to have sex with, but you’re damn close. Your attitude sucks and you’re not even fun to be around. So, do yourself a favor and don’t give yourself more credit than you deserve.”

Her eyes got watery and she looked on the verge of crying, but held on. That was the last thing either of us said for the rest of the evening. When the dinner was over, she got up and left without saying goodbye. Later, I realized that what I had said to her was really mean and, even if it was true, I regretted hurting her feelings.

The next day, my crew was scheduled to haul a replacement bulldozer down to the Seabees on Yap. It was only a ninety minute flight, but was a long day because it took the loadmaster forever to unload the good dozer and winch in the bad one that was heading back to Guam for repairs. So, we were actually gone about seven hours.

When we got back to Anderson (Guam), I heard that the USO tour’s flight to Vietnam had been delayed indefinitely due to security concerns in country, but didn’t think much about it. I went to the Officer’s Club for dinner and a drink; then headed to my off-base house. Once there, I showered, finished my mission report, watched some TV, and hit the sack around 23:00 (11PM for you civilian types). I was working the next day, but not flying. I just had to go into the office.

Around 2AM, I heard a crash outside my front door. I picked up the 9 MM from the nightstand, went to the front door, and opened it slowly. On the ground, leaning up against the door, was an extremely intoxicated and disheveled Caroline. Her hair was a mess, her dress torn, and she had thrown up all over herself. She was mumbling incoherently, but did manage to look up at me when I opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” No answer. “How did you get here?” Just mumbling. Lights were starting to come on across the street, so I decided to get her out of sight. I lifted her up under the arms and carried her into the house.

She was covered in puke. It was on her face, her clothes, and in her hair. I took her straight to the shower, sat her down on the floor, and turned the water on. The water running on her started to sober her up a little and she started crying. She stunk really bad and there was no hope of saving her clothes.

“Caroline. Can you hear me?”

She was sobbing, but managed to get a, “Yes,” out.

“You and your clothes are a mess. I’ll help you, but you need to tell me that it’s OK for me to undress you. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get you clean. OK?”

“You hate me. Why would you help me?”

“I don’t hate you. I hate the way you act. But, that doesn’t matter right now.”