Read Hamfist Over the Trail Online
Authors: G E Nolly
Hamfist Over the Trail (19 page)
Tom looked around, sizing up the real estate.
“I think you're going to like it here, Sam,” he remarked.
Sam sat bolt upright, pulled her hand away from mine, and shot me a look that could kill.
I mouthed the words, “I didn't tell him!”.
“Ease off on him, Sam,” Tom remarked, glancing back over his shoulder. “I figured it out myself. And I'm really proud of you.”
Sam reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.
When we arrived at the terminal, we all went in together. My “new family” was going to wait with me until my flight boarded.
We went into the snack bar, got some sandwiches and coffee, and sat at a table, saying very little. The time passed too quickly.
And then it was time to go.
This was a tough goodbye. I hadn't cried when I left for Vietnam the first time. This was different.
Miyako gave me a big hug, and then reached into her purse and produced a small box, beautifully wrapped.
“This is
omiyage
, from our family to you. Prease think of us when you look at it.”
I hadn't been aware of her accent until now. Tom had previously mentioned that she only had a noticeable accent when she was emotional.
I gave Tom and Miyako a big hug, then I gave Sam a long, passionate kiss.
And then I was gone.
43
July 29, 1969
I was pensive the entire flight back to DaNang. I couldn't stop thinking about my time in Japan, and about Sam.
Shortly after takeoff, once the seatbelt sign had been turned off, I got up and retrieved my carry-on bag from the overhead compartment. I removed the small box Miyako had given me from my bag, and carefully unwrapped it, not wanting to damage the delicate paper. I opened the box and looked inside.
It was a small
daruma
, about three inches high. There were no eyes painted on it.
Yet.
44
August 1. 1969
I checked in for the 2100 departure a little early. I wanted to get a thorough Intel briefing before going out on my first flight since returning from R&R.
And I wanted to take care of some personal business. I wrote a short note to Don Springer:
“Don – Sorry I missed you when you came through DaNang. I just returned from R&R, and hope to meet up with you next time you're here, or when I get to NKP. Stay safe.
Ham”
I put the note in an envelope, addr
essed it, and handed it to our A
dmin clerk. “Sarge, could you get this into the mailbag going to NKP? Thanks.”
Pops Carter was my FAN. When we reviewed the reports from TFA, we could see that there was heavy traffic headed south toward the intersection at Delta 17, and none headed south afterwards. Clearly, there was going to be a large truck park somewhere in the vicinity of Delta 17.
Moonbeam had been advised to have air assets for us on short notice if we needed them, which was likely.
It was just starting to turn dark as I approached the airplane. I always considered the 2100 departure the best night flying period. There was still enough light to perform a really thorough preflight inspection, and by the time we would take off the sun would already be behind the mountains, so we wouldn't be staring into it the whole time we headed west.
And it was a perfect opportunity to let our eyes slowly adapt to night. Not like when we got the midnight launch, and had to instantly go from the brightly-lit Ops building to the pitch-black ramp. Yeah, I liked this a lot.
Right after we departed, I got a call from Covey Ops on fox mike.
“Covey 218, Ops.”
“Go ahead Ops, Covey 218.”
"Roger Covey 218. Right after you took off, we received a call on the land line from Japan. There was a Samantha Marcos calling for you. I'll be damned if I can figure out how she got our number. Anyway, I told her to call back in about five hours.”
“Thanks, Ops. Covey 218 out.” I hadn't given Sam our squadron phone number, since it was classified. That Sam was one resourceful gal. All of a sudden, I was anxious to get this mission over with.
As we headed toward the AO, Pops fine-tuned the starlight scope's focus by homing in on some ground flares we could see off in the distance to the north. He was a real professional, and this was going to be a good mission.
When we entered the AO I selected AUX fuel tanks and started a VR pattern, putting the trail off to our right, so Pops could get a good line of sight with the starlight scope.
Just as we approached Delta 17, Pops shouted, “I've got movers!”
I could see Pops plotting the target as I called Moonbeam on VHF to request air. “Moonbeam, this is Covey 218, request immediate air assets at Delta 17. Prefer Mark 82 and CBU if available.”
“Roger, Covey 218, we have Gunfighter 33 headed your way, ETA 7 minutes. Strike frequency Bravo.”
Damn, those Moonbeam guys were on the ball. I checked my frequency card and tuned the strike frequency on UHF.
Less than a minute later, I heard the Gunfighters check in.
“Gunfighter 33 check.”
“Gunfighter 34.”
“Hello Covey, Gunfighter 33 flight of two fox fours, Mark 82s and CBU 24s. ETA 5 minutes, 10 minutes playtime. Currently at angels 21.”
This guy really had his shit together.
I held my Cadnica flashlight up to my KAK wheel to get an authentication code.
“Roger, Gunfighter, authenticate Alpha Whiskey.”
He came back immediately, “Charlie.”
Okay, we got that out of the way. I knew he was one of the good guys.
I looked over at my FAN. “Pops, do you have a good plot?”
In the dark I could see him nod.
“What's the elevation?”
He was well ahead of me. “5280 feet. Hell, we might be bombing Denver!”
I had Pops guide my eyes to the target, and set up to drop two log markers. I made a long run from west to east, passed over the target and pickled off two ground marking logs five seconds apart. Then I made a wide, sweeping turn to the right.
“Okay, Pops, how'd I do?”
Pops looked through his starlight scope and carefully studied the target. “Hamfist, you have the target bracketed. The target is between the logs, one third of the way from the west mark to the east mark.”
“Got it.” I went back to strike frequency. “Gunfighter, what's your status?”
“We're approaching the target now. We have two lights on the ground. What's your angels, Covey?”
“I'm at angels nine
r
. Target elevation is 5300 feet. I have two marks three hundred meters apart, oriented west to east. The target is one hundred meters east of the western mark. I want you to make your run from north to south with a west break. Mark 82s first, and then we'll save the CBUs for any reaction we get. I'll be holding east of the target.”
I turned to Pops. “Pops, are you okay with going christmas tree for a few seconds?”
“Sure, Hamfist. Who do you think I am? Tightass?”
I guess word had gotten around about my last flight.
“Gunfighter, I'm going to go christmas tree for a few seconds so you can get a visual on me.”
I flipped on my strobe light and nav lights for about one second, then turned them off and made a hard turn to the north to keep the target and fighter's line of attack in sight.
“Okay, Covey, I have a visual on you...Covey, break, break, break, strela, strela, strela!”
I put my head on a swivel and looked left rear, left front, right front. Nothing. Then the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt like I was moving my head through molasses as I turned to look at my five o'clock right rear.
There was a corkscrewing bright white light approaching me faster than anything I had ever seen.
Then there was a brilliant flash of light, a spine-crushing jolt and a deafening explosion.
And everything went black.
45
August 1, 1969
I think I came to fairly quickly. I had a splitting headache, my ears were ringing, and I had blurry, double vision. I felt dizzy, and I wasn't sure if it was from the explosion or from the violent rocking movement of the airplane.
I was being pressed against the left sidewall of the cockpit in a pulsating manner, with very strong g-forces alternating with almost complete weightlessness. The electrical system of the aircraft was totally gone, and I couldn't see any of the instruments, not that it would have done any good.
I squinted and looked over to where Pops had been sitting and saw a huge, gaping hole. The right aircraft door was gone, and Pops's seat was missing, along with the entire floor area where the seat had been. As I looked through the hole in the floor, I saw, alternatively, the black void beneath the aircraft, then the spinning sky. I was in an undulating, violent spin, and it was becoming ever more violent, with g-forces pushing me ever harder against the left sidewall.
The only illumination in the cockpit was coming from the flames on the right side of the fuselage. The entire right wing was missing, and there was a sheet of flame blowing forward from the right wing root, moving from aft to forward along the right side of the fuselage. The flames were pulsing with the movement of the airplane, at times totally disappearing and then suddenly obscuring the entire area of the right doorway.
I had no idea how high I was, but I knew my chances of getting out were dwindling with every cycle of the tumbling spin. I released my seatbelt and shoulder harness and grabbed the right side of my seat, twisting my body so that my feet were firmly planted against the left sidewall. The right side of my seat was wet and sticky, and I could tell it was blood. I didn't know if it was Pops's or mine. At this point, it didn't matter.
As the G
-forces temporarily lessened, I pushed my legs against the left sidewall with all my might and dove down through the hole in the floor.
And tumbled out into the black night.
The adventure continues . . .
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Hamfist Over the Trail
, please post a review at Amazon, and let your friends know about the Hamfist Hancock series.
And stand by for
Hamfist Over Hanoi
, coming soon.
Other books by G.E.Nolly:
This Is Your Captain Speaking: Insider Air Travel Secrets
This Is Your Captain Speaking: Layover Security For Road Warriors