Click logo for Home Page"
T-Tail-Tall-Tail:
My First Trip to Vietnam
Eddie A. Lomeli, Msgt. USAF, Retired
After reporting to my Air Force Reserve Unit, I was
given a class date of
April 1969. I was to attend C-141 Loadmaster School
for three weeks. Before
going on a real trip, I had to complete this course;
I was now formally, a
"Student Loadmaster". There were a tremendous amount
of new regulations and
procedures to learn. I was to work under the
supervision of an instructor in
order to learn the job and build the experience and
knowledge required to do
the job. I was effectively coached and gradually
took on more of the duties
each and every time I flew. I was determined to
learn so that I could fly by
myself. I was delighted when I finally got my
recommendation. You always look
forward to the day when you get your
"Recommendation", it's a badge of honor. I
worked hard for mine and it was far from easy, but
well worth it.
My first trip was to Germany in mid-April of 1969
and it went fairly well. As
soon as I got back to Norton,my Home base, I was
scheduled to go on a westbound
trip to Vietnam. My instructor on this trip was
Master Sergeant Jim Loftis; he
was assigned to the 14th MAS (military
airlift squadron). He was a
burly man, of average height, weighing around 200
pounds, with a pleasant
personality. He was a twenty-year plus veteran, very
knowledgeable and eager to
help. I was about as excited as a teenager on his
first date, I didn't know
what to expect on the trip and the anticipation was
unbelievable. It was
exciting! At the time, I was living in Vista, a town
75 miles south and 1 1/2
hours away in North San Diego County. To avoid the
possibility of being late, I
drove up two hours early. When the call came, I was
already in the building. I was ready to go!
We made our way to the aircraft, performed our
pre-flight duties, and made an
on-time departure. Our routing took us to Travis
AFB, in Northern California
and then on to Hickam AFB, just outside Honolulu,
Hawaii, where we were
scheduled to spend the night. The next day we
reported to our aircraft. We were
scheduled to stop at Wake Island, then continue on
to Kadena Air Base, Okinawa
for crew rest. While I was attempting to help with
the pre-flight duties a
Lieutenant Colonel came aboard. When he saw that my
flight suit was devoid of
any unit patches, he gave me hell. My instructor
interceded and informed him
that I was a reservist, on my first trip, newly
assigned to the unit, and that
my unit patches were on order. He relented. Day two
was going to hell in a
hurry and it would only get worse. I knew that this
man would be one to avoid
in the future; I would find out more about him
before my day was done. It was
getting ugly in a hurry.
We took the maximum fuel load, 152,000 pounds,
enough for a twelve-hour flight.
The flight plan called for about 8 1/2 hours flight
time. However, when we
reached cruising altitude, we encountered extremely
strong head winds, (around
390 knots.) Our ground speed at times was as low as
180 knots, or slightly over
200 miles an hour. On the leg from Wake Island, to
Kadena, the winds got much
worse, so we had to divert into Guam. Because of the
headwinds, we landed with
slightly less than 10,000 pounds of fuel, and well
into the emergency fuel, or
critical range,
While the aircraft was being serviced we all went
into the terminal and bought
our "Guam suit-case", a term used for a gallon of
locally purchased duty-free
liquor. We took off, intending to continue our
scheduled flight to Kadena and
the rest of our trip. However, this was not to be.
As soon as the gear came up,
there was an engine overheat signal for number two
engine. The pilot and crew
did what they were supposed to do, but the problem
continued and we had to
return to the base.
We got back to the same spot where we had just been
and were met by the
maintenance team. The Lt. Colonel we picked up at
Hickam came out, and
proceeded to chew out the maintenance crew. I
couldn't believe all that I was
hearing... how could someone be so insensitive? I
was embarrassed to be in the
same aircraft with him.
While the maintenance crew went to work, I went in
with the rest of the
enlisted crew members, had a soda and looked around
for a little while. After
an hour or so it was decided that we would try
again. Immediately after
take-off, the same engine warning light came on,
only this time it wasn't just
an overheat condition; it was a fire warning. We
dumped fuel, shut down the
engine, as required by safety regulations, and
returned to Guam.
As soon as we stopped, the Lt Colonel pilot flight
examiner who joined us at
Hickam was at the crew entrance door again,
screaming obscenities at the
maintenance team. That's when the maintenance chief,
who was present this time,
decided to pull his people from the aircraft. He
then called his boss, the Wing
Commander. The Wing Commander, a full colonel, came
out to deal with the upset
Lt. Colonel.
When the Base Commander arrived, he went straight
over to him, took him
outside, put him in a brace and proceeded to chew
him out something fierce! It
made me feel good to see him finally getting some of
his own medicine; it was
about time! This was still day two; this was going
to be with me for a long
time.
Since we had been on duty for well over sixteen
hours, it was decided that we
should go into crew rest and continue the next day.
We went to Billeting, and
checked in, we were assigned one large single room
with five bunk beds for five
of us enlisted. After getting cleaned up, we decided
to go to the NCO Club for
dinner. Since it was happy hour, we decided to have
a drink before dinner. I
bought the first two rounds, since it was my first
time out of the country. I
still remember that a seven-up was the most
expensive drink at 15 cents. The
two rounds cost me well under a dollar. That was
quite what a bargain!
When we got back to the room, and got ready for bed
I took my wallet and put it
on the end table. The flight engineer, whose bed was
next to mine, told me that
I should put it under my pillow, or some other safe
place. He said that there
was a lot of thievery in that part of the world. I
told him that I didn't think
it would be a problem, since I am a light sleeper.
But, maybe I should've put
it in my briefs, because next morning during
climb-out, on our way to Kadena; I
had this weird feeling and decided to check my
finances. I thought I was going
to have a heart attack; my wallet was completely
empty, over $80.00 gone! There
was one single penny in the corner of my flight suit
pocket. Nothing else! This
was going to be a trip to remember and this was just
the beginning. I had to
borrow $20.00 from the pilot, in order to be able to
continue the trip. This
was only day three &hellip and things were not
getting any better.
We called back by radio, and made all the necessary
reports in-flight. With
more follow up reports, and phone calls made upon
arrival at Kadena. Our stay
at Kadena was pretty uneventful and routine.
Day four, started with our mission being scheduled
for Da-Nang AB, in South
Vietnam, return to Kadena, and back to the US.
However, on our way out of
Da-Nang, my instructor spotted a rat in the cargo
compartment.
According to FAA and Safety regulations, we were
diverted to Clark AB, in the
Philippines, the nearest full-maintenance facility.
The rodent had to be
caught, before the aircraft could proceed with the
mission. We were sent into
crew-rest, while they attempted to capture the
rodent. Twelve hours later, when
we talked to Command Post, it had not been caught;
our crew-rest was extended
for another twelve hours. Day four was no picnic
either, and it was about to
get considerably worse. One good thing happened here
though: We parted company
with my favorite Lt. Colonel (and good riddance)!
The enlisted crew decided to show me the sights, and
we took a jeepney from the
main gate to the bar section. A jeepney is a regular
jeep that has been
customized with lots of chrome, custom paint jobs,
and in many cases even
murals.
A (maybe) slightly overdone jeepney.
This is a unique, and very popular method of
transportation in this part of
the world. Most of them have multicolored awnings
for protection from the
elements, with fringes and tassels all around. There
were hundreds of them,
packing the road all the way into town; giving the
term, "bumper-to-bumper traffic" a new meaning. They might be going 25-30
miles an hour, and not be
more than five feet away from the vehicle in front,
no white lines here, and no
pavement either. These roads were primitive at best.
We decided to have dinner
and a couple of drinks, before heading back to the
base. I took my camera, in
case I might want to get some pictures. The driver
went with us into the little
restaurant and sat next to us on the patio. He was
what I would describe as an
average Filipino, small built, dark-complected and
wearing rubber sandals, like
just about everybody else around there. He kept
admiring my camera, he asked
how much it cost, how much I paid for it and where I
got it. I felt very
uncomfortable.
He had some girls from I don't know where, come and
join us. I knew we were in
trouble, I could smell it. I kept saying to the
others, "Let's go back to the
base guys, we can go to the NCO club. We can be safe
there." I don't feel safe
here." Nobody was listening, so I didn't drink
anything; I was worried that
they might put something in my drink. I wanted to be
completely sober, if
something were to happen. After about an hour of
this, it was decided that we
would go back to the base. However, when we went to
leave there was an
additional jeepney, that wasn't there before. My
instructor and two others got
in the first one; they made a right hand turn, and
headed in the direction of
the base.
The other flight engineer and I climbed into the
second jeepney, for what I
thought was a ride back to the base. Then the driver
made a left turn, away
from the direction of the base and gunned the
engine, I thought my goose was
cooked; a thousand thoughts raced through my mind
and they were all ominous! At
the next block we pulled into a service station,
there the driver jumped off,
popped the hood and looked at the engine. I relaxed
a little bit. However, he
immediately slammed the hood and got back behind the
wheel; the little hairs
behind my neck stood up again. Here we go again! I
thought. At the corner, he
made the turn toward the base; I felt better then.
When we got near the main gate, the jeepney stopped.
As soon as it stopped, I
jumped out while I had the chance. I felt safer now.
I asked the driver how
much we owed him for the ride and all he would say
was, "forty pesos, forty pesos!"
I asked him, "How much is that in dollars?" But he
wouldn't tell me, all he'd
say was, "Forty pesos, forty pesos!" I figured I'd
give him a dollar and we
would go on our way. When I opened my wallet to pay
him, he stuck his hand
right into my wallet, and the only ten-dollar bill
that I had, was gone. Poof!
However, I was not to be outdone, I reached in with
my left hand, grabbed him
by the collar, and pulled him right out of the
vehicle. Just like you see in
the cartoons. As soon as I did this, his assistant
slid over behind the wheel,
drove off at a high rate of speed and disappeared
into the side streets.
Now I had a dilemma, I had a man attached to my left
hand by his neck, and on
my right hand an expensive camera. What to do? I
wanted to hit him, or at least
recover my money. The crew member with me just stood
there, not doing or saying
anything. I didn't really want to hit the crook,
because I thought the camera
might slip out of the strap, in that case I would
lose that much more. My
so-called friend could've said, "Let me hold your
camera", or, "I'll watch your
back", or … anything! But no, he didn't say a
word! I finally got eight
pesos from the driver, which amounted to roughly two
dollars, but my ten-dollar
bill disappeared into thin air. I never knew how,
and I still can't figure it
out to this day! I finally let him go. I didn't want
to wind up in jail for such a measly sum; it wasn't worth it.
I was to find out later, that the others on the
other jeepney were experiencing
the same kind of problems not more than a block
away. They fared better than we
did, since there were three of them, and they worked
together. Also the local
merchants jumped in and chased the crooks away. I
wasn't that lucky.
The engineer with me decided to go with the girl
over to her place. I started
to go toward the NCO club. However, I saw one of the
guys who had been hanging
around us and he appeared to be following the
couple. I thought my friend might
be in danger, so I followed at a distance.
It was fairly late in the afternoon and I knew it
would be getting dark before
too long. When I made the last turn, I saw them go
into an old house in the
middle of the block. At the same time, on the
opposite corner, I saw the first
driver standing there, like he was there to block
our escape. I looked around
and spotted some rocks. I wanted to have an idea of
what I could use for a
weapon if I had to. I went into the house and asked
for my friend, making sure
they knew that I was worried for his safety; I
wasn't leaving without him. If
there was going to be trouble, then by golly, I was
going to make a mess of
things!
When he came out about half an hour later I got him
out of there and we headed
toward the base. On the way back, he discovered that
he had been ripped-off;
they had taken his money too, at least that's what
he said. We made our way
back to our quarters, and found out that we would be
leaving first thing in the
morning, heading home. It was none too soon for me.
In the morning, day five, everything was routine;
finally a good omen! The tide
was turning. When we got to Kadena a few hours
later, Command Post assigned us
a position in the rotation. We went directly into
crew-rest
Twelve hours later we were on our way home. Day six
was finally coming to a
close. The winds were still very strong, and since
they were behind us we made
it across the Pacific in record time. We flew
straight to Norton AFB, in San
Bernardino, in slightly under eight hours flying
time. Normally it takes over
eight hours just to fly from Kadena to Hawaii, and
another five hours to the
West Coast. We were going at ground speeds greater
than 720 knots per hour, the
equivalent of over 800 miles per hour. I would never
again fly that fast for
the remainder of my career. Of course, when we were
going out the other way we
were only doing 180 knots and at times even slower.
Any slower and we might
just as well be flying backwards.
I was glad to get this trip over with. It's hard to
imagine all of this things
happening to anybody. I learned a couple of things
on this trip, don't be too
trusting and know where you are and how to get out
of trouble if you have to. I
think that the crew member in the bed next to mine,
the one who cautioned me
about my wallet, the same one in the jeepney with me
.... I believe he was
partying with my money. The day after I rescued him
and they had supposedly
"cleaned him out" he gave me five dollars so I could
continue the trip. He
said, "Nobody should have such a run of bad luck
like you've had." Where did he
get the money? I never felt comfortable being around
him; there was something
about him. Fortunately, we never flew together
again, and a few months later he
was transferred.
The rest of my career was pretty uneventful…
and rather enjoyable. When
I got home I called my homeowner's insurance and
reported the theft. Two weeks
later, I got a check in the mail. I was reimbursed
for my losses, but the
lessons learned were invaluable.