Skating Tet
I arrived in Vietnam in September 1966 and left in June '69. During that stretch I had seven trips to Japan—three R&Rs, 30 days' paid leave for the first six-month extension to my initial 13-month tour, one three-month TAD to NAS Atsugi (Operation Shoehorn, to re-fit wartorn Phantoms), plus two three-month rotations to MCAS Iwakuni with two F4 squadrons.
Lucky me—orders to leave ChuLai for the three-month TAD-Atsugi arrived on the same morning that I was leaving for R&R to Japan. 115's Maintenance Control notified my shop (Flight Line) to send someone to ChuLai's air terminal to fetch me before I left on that R&R, which they wanted to cancel because I now had orders to NAS Atsugi.
As fate would have it, the guy they sent from 115's Flight Line to fetch me was a close pal. So, he and I sat on a bench at the terminal and agreed he'd say my C-130 already had left for Danang when he arrived to fetch me. Seeking to have my cake and eat it too, I'd gamble that they'd hold those Atsugi orders till I returned from R&R.
They did, so two days after returning from R&R I'm back at Danang's transit center awaiting a flight to NAS Atsugi. As an E4 leaving a war zone, my orders were low-priority, so I had to wait on standby status till a plane going my way had an empty seat.
First-come, first-serve for standby, plus they assigned new waiting-list priority each day rather than carrying over priority for those who didn't make it out the day before. Meant you had to be lined up at the transit counter when it opened at 6 a.m. Slept in utes on a cot in a large, moldy transit tent. Arose at 5, chowed, grabbed some cement before the plywood counter, and waited till they opened for business.
Couldn't stray far from the counter after receiving a number, lest I miss hearing it called for an outbound flight. Had no interest in taking night liberty in Danang as I was bound for a better place. It was tough catching outbound flights on standby, so the transit area was dense with cranky vets. Each day I'd arise earlier to get a better place in the standby line, and would doze after securing space on the cement deck.
Suddenly I'm jolted awake: "Attention on deck!"
Hadn't heard that since Parris Island, so scrambling to my feet in response to that shocker was akin to being awoke in wee hours by incoming rockets. I was first in the standby line that morning. As my head rose above the counter's plywood surface—who do I see staring in my sand-filled eyes from the counter's other side but a one-star marine general. He's six feet, lean-and-mean, tanned with a gray-sprout whitewall.
Fists on hips, he barks, "How long have you been waiting for a flight out, marine?"
That was the first and only time a general's spoken to me, so my voice was an octave higher when I replied, "Uh, what day is it, sir?"
"Wednesday," he said, none too pleased by my uncertainty.
"Three days, sir. I've been here since Sunday, sir."
The general cast an icy glare over his left shoulder at a gunny. Apparently, the one-star had pulled a surprise inspection, judging by the worried looks of marines at his elbows.
I got a flight out that morning. Next day I'm sitting in NAS Atsugi's enlisted club, reading the paper while biting into the best grilled-cheese-with-tomato sandwich I'd ever tasted. Lo and behold, the Stars & Stripes' front-page story for 1 Feb. '68 details how all major cities in South Vietnam got hit the day before during Uncle Ho's Tet offensive—which I'd missed by hours.
It said Danang Air Base got hit by sappers, mortars and rockets; some casualties occurred when Danang's transit area took hits from incoming.
I'd skated Tet '68. Had it not been for that one-star's surprise visit, I'd have still been in Danang instead of munching that tasty sandwich in Japan, which I was unable to finish after reading of what I'd missed.
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Tet 1968
