Every afternoon Matt and Ellie would sneak glances out the front windows, hoping to see Mr. Ed working on the Loach. The first day, they watched intently, hoping to see a sign that they could go next door and help. The second and third days they spent less and less time staring and just looked occasionally.
“Dad, the air show is next weekend. How come Mr. Ed isn’t working on the Loach?” Ellie asked on about the fifth day of waiting.
“I don’t know, honey. When we talked, he said he had a few more things to do to make it ready. Just give it a day or two. I’m sure everything is OK.” That afternoon a dark green tarp appeared over the Loach, protecting it from the weather and falling leaves. The rains came that night and did not let up for three long days. Finally, on Tuesday, just three days before the Loach air show, the weather broke. Matt and Ellie noticed the clearing skies and between studies saw that the tarp was gone.
“Mom, can we go next door?” They asked, nearly in unison.
“No, you know you have to finish your schoolwork first.”
The kids were excited about getting back to the helicopter, and their minds were wandering during their lessons.
“Alright, I think we’re done for today,” mother said, putting down the science text she had been holding. Matt and Ellie dropped their pencils and shot out the front door.
“Thanks, Mom. We’ll see you in a little while!”
“Mr. Ed, Mr. Ed! We haven’t seen you in a while; is everything OK?” Matt asked as he ran up to their neighbor coming out of his garage.
“Well, good afternoon! What a tough streak of weather we had. Everything’s fine. I just can’t paint in the rain.” He responded, holding up a can of spray paint and motioning at the Loach before asking, “How have you guys been doing?”
They both looked at each other, expecting the other to answer. After a moment, Ellie nudged Matt on the arm, and he spoke up, “We’re good! Can we help you today? We want to hear about what happened after flight school!”
“You know, the rain kind of reminds me of that. But, first, we need to work a little. Come on over here.” Mr. Ed walked to the Loach and opened the rear doors on either side.
“See, we have a leak somewhere up there,” pointing toward the ceiling. “This water’s got to be cleaned up.” He handed the kids towels, and they began wiping the floor panels, under the rear seats, and up around the flight controls as he started the story.
“So, after Advanced Flight Training at Fort Rucker I had a couple of weeks of liberty – kind of like a little vacation. I already had orders and travel papers for Vietnam, so this could have been my last vacation. I wanted to make the most of it. Part of me wanted to find a sandy beach to kick back on for a week; the other, more sensible part, wanted to go home and visit with my family while making sure everything was in order. I wound up heading back to North Carolina. During Advanced, I had bought a 1965 Ford Mustang Fastback. It was poppy red and cost me an arm and leg, but it was mine and gave me a lot of freedom that some of the other guys didn’t have. I had a lot of fun in that car cruising from Rucker to New Bern – straightened out a few roads in South Carolina along the way. Near Lumberton, the flashing blue lights of a Highway Patrolman reminded me that not everyone likes Army pilots and fast cars. Anyway, that is another story for some other time. I spent a few great days fishing with my father, visiting our church, and even having an early birthday party. It seemed like the fastest two weeks of my life.”
“What do you mean?” Matt asked as he squeezed water out of the towel.
Mr. Ed looked down, smiled, and paused, “Well, I mean the time passed quickly. You see, I had orders for an Assault Helicopter Company in Vietnam. I was not going to be flying some general around; I was going to be flying troops into combat. The NVA and VC were shooting down helicopters. Pilots were in Prisoner of War camps. We were coming off the deadliest month of the war. Casualties were very high. There were reports that some not very nice things were happening there. The Tet Offensive had wrapped up, and the Vietnamese were in what was called their ‘Spring Offensive.’ Honestly, I was scared about what the future might hold. I was not afraid of the flying, but having folks shoot at you is a whole ‘nother thing. So I was trying to enjoy time with my family, while thinking that maybe that was the last time I would see them.”
Mr. Ed took a moment and focused on removing a seat cushion, “Ah, found more water! Ellie, can you get this while I take out the other seat? I suppose I need to find a better tarp.”
“You see, right now, you two have your whole lives ahead of you. In June of 1968, I knew I was going to Vietnam, going into combat. I was coming to terms with my whole life maybe NOT being in front of me. My father had been a fighter pilot in the Pacific during World War II, so he understood the situation I was in and offered to talk one of the afternoons we were fishing. I will always remember the advice he gave me. He told me, ‘Focus on your missions. Support your friends. Help your troops when you can. Nevertheless, do your job. Getting obsessed with what could happen will not do any good. Accept that it could happen at any time and carry on! You have to trust in God and believe in the job you are doing. When it is your time, there is nothing you can do. We love you, and we’re proud of you.’ That was a pretty special fishing trip. I don’t even remember if we caught anything.” Mr. Ed shook his head for a minute, fondly remembering old times.
“My travel orders had me departing from Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina. We put the Mustang in storage in an old tobacco barn Dad had near the house. We put rags in the tailpipe and air intake, put blocks under the frame so it was not sitting on the tires for a year, and drained the gasoline. Then we covered it with a heavy canvas tarp. He drove me to Charleston, so I would not have to take a bus. As we pulled into the airport there was a group of people holding banners calling for peace and protesting against the war. They were serious about not wanting the U.S. involved in the war. This bothered me a little. Here I was, an Army 2nd Lieutenant, pilot, on the way to war, and my fellow citizens were jeering, as I was off to protect their freedom.
“I noticed Dad kind of shaking his head, as he told me, ‘Son, it wasn’t like this for me. We had parades, USO shows, lots of banners and patriotic music. It’s not fair for you all to have to deal with this.’ We talked a bit more about the differences on the home front between World War II and Vietnam while sipping soft drinks and waiting.
“Soon it was time to board the plane. As an officer, I was put in the First Class section. We did not get normal luxuries on these government contract flights – just cheap meals and the occasional soft drink. The plane was a Continental Airways 707, which is a big plane. Most of First Class had young officers and Senior NCOs, or Non Commissioned Officers. Many of them were on their second or even third deployment to Vietnam and occasionally swapped war stories during the flight. All together, there were about a hundred and fifty of us on that plane.
“Being so close to Camp Lejeune and Paris Island, many on the plane were young Marines. Most had hit the airport bar prior to loading, so during the first leg of the flight they were loud. I remember at one point they started calling cadences. One would stand up and yell a line and the rest of the group would yell it back at them.”
Ellie interrupted him, “What’s a cadence?”
Mr. Ed stepped back and smiled, “Repeat after me!” Then, at the top of his voice with a singsong, alternating, rhythm he belted out four lines, pausing after each for the kids to repeat.
“Mama Mama, can’t you see,
What the Army’s done to me.
They put me in a barber’s chair,
Spun me around I had no hair.”
Matt and Ellie really got into it, singing the cadence with all their might, smiling widely. After a few moments of giggling and a chance to catch her breath, Ellie asked, “But why would you sing that in the Army?”
Rubbing his well-trimmed beard, Mr. Ed replied, “I know you run sometimes. Do you ever get bored while running?” Matt and Ellie both nodded. “Well in the Army we ran a lot, so we sang songs like that to entertain ourselves, build teamwork, and learn lessons. There are all kinds of cadences. Some are funny. Some are serious. Some are not so nice. Most of the ones were heard during that flight were of the ‘not so nice’ sort. Everyone on the flight was facing the same concerns I was struggling with, we were all going to war. The Marines used the cadences to build their spirits up and try to drown out thoughts about the war.”
“The first leg of our flight was to Anchorage, Alaska. That was about an eight-hour flight. Once there, we had about a four-hour layover while the plane refueled. Most of us took the chance to get off the plane and see Anchorage for a few minutes. Once again, many of the Marines found the airport bar. I went outside, and the biggest mosquitoes I have ever seen swarmed me. They say the state bird of Alaska is the mosquito, and I believe it!
“Cool thing about this flight? We left Charleston at 11:00 a.m. and arrived in Anchorage, 3,600 miles away, at 3:00 that afternoon. The eight-hour trip only took us four hours by the clock. The next leg was almost as long, bringing us to the middle of the Pacific Ocean on Guam, in the Mariana Islands.
“During World War II, Guam was taken from the Japanese. The U.S. Army turned the island into a giant airport to fly bombing missions over Japan. After the war, it became a base for nuclear-armed bombers during the Cold War. The same bombers, armed with regular bombs, left Guam and flew 5,000 miles, round trip, to bomb North Vietnam. We saw a few flights of these giants taking off while refueling on Guam. Later, I found out that they dropped 35 tons of bombs per mission. That is about how much a fully loaded tractor-trailer weighs! Those big planes have eight jet engines each. They make an awful roar when taking off.
“We landed on Guam during the middle of the night. During the flight, we had crossed the International Date Line, which moved us forward in time 24 hours, losing time while moving west. The International Date Line is confusing and really messes up travel. Anyway, there was not much to see, so we mostly milled around and enjoyed the Pacific night air for about two hours before re-boarding the flight. Continental wanted their planes in and out of the Vietnam area as quickly as possible, so they loaded enough fuel to get there, unload and reload quickly, and fly back to Guam and safety.
“Our last leg was into Bien Hoa, Vietnam. Bien Hoa was a major Air Force base just north of Saigon and only about thirty miles from my helicopter company’s home field. Bien Hoa had a bad reputation. There had been several accidents. One time huge tanks of jet fuel caught fire and exploded. Other times, bombs exploded on aircraft. During Tet, the VC almost overran Bien Hoa. Anyway, we landed early in the morning. As we got off the aircraft, there was a line of men waiting to get on. Those men looked rough. Many had beat up jungle fatigues and a hollow look on their faces, as if their minds were somewhere else. I saw this look a lot in Vietnam; folks called it the ‘thousand yard stare’. The Marines assembled and moved off to an infantry staging area. Their officers and NCOs went with them, which left maybe a dozen Army officers; many of them were friends from Rucker. We grabbed our gear, and the ground personnel directed us off toward the personnel center, which really was not much more than a World War II era Quonset hut, or prefabricated metal building with some offices and a large common bunk area. I remember checking how long we would be there. The clerk told us to wait, because we would probably be in the center quite awhile.
“The weather was clear that morning. It was humid and warm, but not terrible. Sometime after lunch, dark clouds started rolling in from the South China Sea as the temperature rose past 100°. Then, it started raining. It rained so hard that the metal building sounded like the inside of a snare drum. It was not a gentle rain. It fell in sheets. I could barely see across the runways. Soon water started pooling under the back corner of the hut; the shallow ditch dug around the perimeter could not keep up with the amount coming down and flooded the living quarters. It rained like that for hours, only letting up after nightfall. A couple of the men had gone out on a jeep to go visit the officer’s club. Before they left, they had just dropped their gear on the deck. They were very mad when they got back, and their gear had gone swimming.
“We spent that night and the next day in and around that hut waiting for transport. The second afternoon a jeep arrived and the clerk called my name and three others. “Grab you gear, sir, this is your ride. Welcome to III Corps.”
“Three-core, what’s that?” Asked Ellie, pronouncing it phonetically, “Did they have three apple cores at the air base or something?”
Grinning, Mr. Ed answered, “Funny! A corps in Vietnam is a wide area of operation, almost the size of a state. In military speak, a corps is a team of two or more divisions, maybe 40,000 troops. The Army had broken Vietnam into four tactical areas. I Corps, which we called ‘eye core’, was in the north, up around Da Nang and bordered the Demilitarized Zone. II Corps had the biggest area centered on Cam Ranh. III Corps was around Saigon. It was a busy area for the Viet Cong and would be my home for the next twelve months. IV Corps had everything south and west of Saigon, what they called the Mekong Delta. It was a huge area of swamps, bayou, and rivers.
“The jeep took us across the airfield to the Bien Hoa heliport. We came to a stop in the company area of the 242nd Assault Support Helicopter Company. They flew the big twin-bladed CH-47 Chinooks. You may have seen a helicopter like the Chinook flying around here. The Marines call it Pedro. It’s really a CH-46 Sea Knight, but they look alike. They still use them as Search and Rescue Helicopters.”
Matt looked up, “Hey, I know the ones you’re talking about! One of my Trail Life leaders, Mr. AJ, is a rescue swimmer on those helicopters!”
Mr. Ed used this interruption to take a break from storytelling for a minute. The kids had been sitting in the canvas jump seats in the passenger compartment listening intently. The inside of the Loach was now dry because of their work with the towels.
“You two are doing a bang up job. What’s left?”
Matt spun his finger around, “You said we needed to repaint the rotor blades today.”
Mr. Ed looked up, “Right you are. Let’s grab that ladder from the trailer under the Loach and start working on the bad spots. We don’t have time to repaint the whole thing. Just put a little lipstick on her.”
Matt climbed the ladder and started pointing out spots on the rotor blade where the black paint was cracked, chipped, and flaking off. “Here, I’ll take the paint so you don’t have to climb up. I can do this.”