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By Horace Coleman (about the author) Page 2 of 3 page(s)
The chopper finally found the embassy-and got shot down.
Before Tet you could easily tell something was up. B-52 strikes kept getting closer and closer to Saigon.
When things calmed down a little, I wrote short letters to my parents and my wife letting them know I was all right but might not come home when I had expected. My MOS was always short handed and who knew what might happen.
I was in the Passenger Terminal at Tan Son Nhut waiting for my Freedom Bird when I was paged on the PA. "Sorry GI," I thought but didn't feel let down. I really hadn't expected to rotate on time.
When I found out all that was wanted was a junior officer to deliver a pouch of classified documents to Travis AFB, my flight's destination, I was relieved. My bird left at night and was going to refuel in Guam before going to its West Coast destination.
I'd never made a night flight in Nam before. The plane was full of silent soldiers. Every one kept their recent memories and future dreams to themselves. As the plane climbed out, you could see parachute flares, fire fights, bomb blasts, and artillery shells impacting. It was like some painter or poet's vision of one of hell's lower circles.'
When the pilot announced that "We have now passed the point of no return. We are closer to Guam than Nam" a loud cheer broke out. Every one on board knew that now, what ever happened, they wouldn't die in Nam.
When I landed at Travis AFB, I cleared a cursory customs inspection and turned over the pouch I'd been shepherding to an officious young officer from Air Force Security Services. I finally looked at the label on the pouch. "Oh," I said, "Giant Dragon."
"How do you know about that?" he asked in disbelief about the film from U2 spy planes that flew high altitude missions over North Vietnam and Southern China. I said "I'm an air traffic controller from Tan Son Nhut; I used to flight follow them."
Big deal. The North Vietnamese knew about them. The Chinese and Russians did too. Flight following them as they spiraled down from operational altitude was a safety precaution to make them aware of any planes in their vicinity until they got low enough to land.
Should I have told him about the sergeant from my old outfit that told me about the in country hop he'd been on when the pilot "accidentally" landed in Cambodia during a time when the U.S. wasn't officially there? "Oops! I wasn't supposed to be here today!" the pilot said.
How about all the unauthorized, unscheduled, un logged missions that airborne Forward Air Controllers, fighter / bomber pilots and air traffic controllers routinely put together?
Naw. Let people keep thinking there really are secrets. There's only restricted access to information that usually and eventually spreads beyond people who think they've controlled and contained information and knowledge.
I met some of the Ohio State graduate students my wife had befriended while I was in Nam after I got back. I remember the low rent dinner party we went to. While every one else stuffed their faces, I was the only one who paid any attention to the TV newscast showing scenes of fire fights on Saigon streets I'd walked only a few days ago.
The orders to my new duty station had disappointed me. Maine? I wanted California! Actually it was a blessing. A good place to unwind a little. Semi rural. Beautiful country and seascapes. Nice people. My first child was conceived there.
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