So BWB did you really do it?


Nah. I was never in a war. Air America was a civilian airline
Everybody knows that. Ask Walt Troyer. He flew for AA. He and I are
about the same age and lived through the same ****ty times. I was a
cargo dog like you Pac. Just on the helicopter end of things and
peripherally attached to Air America. Never saw any real heat. At
least that's what my file in the Pentagon says.

But, I'll tell you another bit of fiction. The Army Huey's couldn't
cross into Laos or Cambodia to chase the Viet Cong (VC) over imaginary
borders in the middle of the jungle. The Air Force couldn't bomb over
these borders either although it did happen a few times and we took a
lot of heat for it. That was one of the things that was so crazy
about that war. There were gobbs of rules that were all in favor of
the enemy. So, there had to be some way around this at times when it
was absolutely essential for the safe ops of a mission to be
successful "in country."

If a civilian pilot for Air America crossed a border in a slick, it
was a sacrificial mission and nobody gave a **** if they didn't come
back. The Huey had no markings and the occupants carried no ID's. If
you got shot down, nobody knew you and nobody came to get you. If you
lived, you ate bugs, dogs, cats and monkeys. You used your sniper
capabilities to take out any unfriendlies and you walked back to Viet
Nam. You actually crawled back to Viet Nam because you had to stay
hidden in the dense jungle. You used your pocket knife, your survival
gear and your wit to get you back. You didn't even have a radio
because that would give you away. Water was usually the most critical
thing. If you had water, you'd most likely make it. So, the first
thing you did was try to figure out how to follow a path that had
water along it. River's, streams, lakes, anything with water.

Getting shot down for Air America wasn't like the Army. If you were
a soldier and you went down in a slick or a gun ship (in country), the
Army would almost commit endless resources to picking even one man up.
The Marines operate that very way to this day. Nobody gets left
behind, PERIOD. If one guy is out there in the weeds, they'll napalm
the **** out of the jungle and kill every living thing within 5 miles
to clear an LZ for a safe pick-up.

Air America was different. The CIA operated it covertly but those who
worked for it knew that they were to be sacrificed if they creamed in
over some imaginary line (border) somewhere where "We" (the USA)
weren't supposed to be. The way it would be explained is that the
crew was a mad-dog renegade group of drug smugglers on a personal
mission to smuggle heroin or opium across the border for their
personal profit. That was one story. There were others.


__________________________________________________ ______

A couple definitions for the kids who didn't live through that era:

VC= Viet Cong "gooks", the enemy

LZ=Landing Zone

Slick= A stripped down Huey helicopter like a UH-1H or a B-model with
no guns on the outside.

Hog=Same UH-1H with guns, rockets and all sorts of other **** attached
to the outside of it. It was slow and dirty so it was called a HOG.

Air America= CIA owned and operated airline run by a bunch of card
carrying crazies. Although most were civilians, even the one's who
weren't never carried any ID. I've heard there were many military
people including Bird Colonels who flew for Air America. But I
wouldn't know for sure. At the end of my career in the government I
even had a couple O-6's who worked for me, but they never admitted to
doing anything like that during the war.

in country= Means, in Viet Nam



(It seems to me I remember a story by you about gun running. I can't
seem to find it. You don't have a link to that do you?)

I posted it 10 years ago here somewhere. It was the story of how
Badwater Bill got his name. I've been through about 5 computers since
then and it's probably lost somewhere. It was about my inability to
fit back into society after the Viet Nam war. I ended up in Central
America supporting a bunch of good looking women. I had a lot of
testosterone in those days.

Some son's a bitches stole my women one day and I had to hunt the
*******s down and kill them. In the process, I got my name Badwater
Bill. But it was in Spanish. I'll try to find it. It was just a
fun story I wrote one day, just like the one above. It was about 80%
truth and 20% fiction. That's about the way I write this stuff. I've
lived a lot of it, but just in different circumstances. I embellish
it and change it to make it entertaining. There's nothing romantic
about war when a man is there. It's the Tom Clancey in me that makes
me write this stuff. I'm an armchair warrior. I never want to be in
harm's way again in any circumstance. I'm a coward. I'd rather sit
home and watch TV than be in a battle. But, when I was younger, I was
different. All of life was an adventure.

I'm old too, and I'm cranky. If the enemy didn't get me, my own men
would frag me for being so cranky. I got a kick out of somebody here
the other day who was talking about somebody by calling them by their
first name then using the word "Grump" at the end. It was like: "Oh
yeah, John the Grump riveted those. He did a great job too." That
would fit me nowadays. "Bill the Grump."

BWB