spot elevations certainly didn't qualify me for Distinguished Graduate.
“You're done graduated, along with everyone else in your class. Whatever you didn't learn here, you'll learn out in the field. I'll be damned if I let anyone else get his ass shot down without knowing how to use his survival equipment. You'll all be leaving for Clark tomorrow.”
“And Lieutenant,” he continued, “You're still Lieutenant Mitchell's SCO, so I suggest you get on it right away. Dismissed!”
18
December 30, 1969
The previous day had been a blur. The FAC-U admin clerk had given me a Summary Court Officer packet containing a very comprehensive checklist, along with contact information for the Mortuary Affairs Office.
I called the MAO and they explained in detail what I would need to do for Mitch. I would have 45 days to complete all the required duties, they said. When I told them I only had the rest of the day, they pretty much flipped out.
“It can't be done in one day,” screamed the Mortuary Affairs Officer. “For one thing, you need to go through Lieutenant Mitchell's hold baggage that was sent on to DaNang.”
He was right, of course. I gave it the old college try for the rest of the day. Fortunately, there wasn't much for me to do with the limited personal effects Mitch had brought to Phan Rang. There were no letters, since we our mail hadn't caught up with us yet, so I had no idea who Mitch's correspondents were.
I found his checkbook in his A-4 bag, along with his camera. I held onto those, and inventoried and packed up the rest of his stuff and took the box to the MAO. They said that, under the circumstances, with my leaving for Clark the next day, they would take care of shipping the box to Mitch's next-of-kin.
I'd have to wait until I got to DaNang and looked through Mitch's hold baggage to see what else I needed to do.
I noticed that the camera had a half-finished roll of film in it, and I rewound and removed the roll and took it to the Base Photo Lab. When I explained that I would be leaving the next day, they put in a rush order and had the film developed later the same day.
It was a damn good thing I had the film processed. When I looked at the prints, I saw a selection of photos of our travels since leaving Travis Air Force Base. There was a picture of the Travis terminal, a few photos of the inside of the World Airways DC-8 we had flown in on, a picture of the ramp at Hickam, and a photo of the long line on the tarmac at Ton Son Nhut where we had waited for in-processing.
And then I saw the photos that, if I had left the film in the camera, would have devastated Mitch's family if they ever saw them.
At Phan Rang, like every other air base in Vietnam, there was an “airplane graveyard” alongside the runway. We had all visited and looked at the wrecked planes that had either crashed or been shot down and later retrieved. One of the crashed airplanes was an O-2. As a joke, Mitch had posed for photos on the O-2, like he had just stumbled out of the crashed airplane. He had made a face like he was in pain in all the photos, and in one of the pictures he was hanging out of the cockpit window. That type of joking around was emblematic of the gallows humor that would punctuate our entire time in Vietnam. It had already been pretty much standard for somebody to say, “Hey, if you don't make it back, can I have your stereo gear?” every time a pilot left on a mission. I guess it was the equivalent of “Break a leg” that they say to an actor before he goes on stage. But that kind of humor would sound terrible when taken out of context.
I immediately destroyed the negatives and prints. Yeah, it was a damn good thing I had gotten the film developed.
Early on Monday morning, probably around 0500, all 13 of us in the Visiting Officer Quarters were awakened by a loud bang on our doors. It was Sergeant Williams, the Admin NCO at FAC-U.
“Gentlemen,” he bellowed, “you have 45 minutes until your
“You're done graduated, along with everyone else in your class. Whatever you didn't learn here, you'll learn out in the field. I'll be damned if I let anyone else get his ass shot down without knowing how to use his survival equipment. You'll all be leaving for Clark tomorrow.”
“And Lieutenant,” he continued, “You're still Lieutenant Mitchell's SCO, so I suggest you get on it right away. Dismissed!”
18
December 30, 1969
The previous day had been a blur. The FAC-U admin clerk had given me a Summary Court Officer packet containing a very comprehensive checklist, along with contact information for the Mortuary Affairs Office.
I called the MAO and they explained in detail what I would need to do for Mitch. I would have 45 days to complete all the required duties, they said. When I told them I only had the rest of the day, they pretty much flipped out.
“It can't be done in one day,” screamed the Mortuary Affairs Officer. “For one thing, you need to go through Lieutenant Mitchell's hold baggage that was sent on to DaNang.”
He was right, of course. I gave it the old college try for the rest of the day. Fortunately, there wasn't much for me to do with the limited personal effects Mitch had brought to Phan Rang. There were no letters, since we our mail hadn't caught up with us yet, so I had no idea who Mitch's correspondents were.
I found his checkbook in his A-4 bag, along with his camera. I held onto those, and inventoried and packed up the rest of his stuff and took the box to the MAO. They said that, under the circumstances, with my leaving for Clark the next day, they would take care of shipping the box to Mitch's next-of-kin.
I'd have to wait until I got to DaNang and looked through Mitch's hold baggage to see what else I needed to do.
I noticed that the camera had a half-finished roll of film in it, and I rewound and removed the roll and took it to the Base Photo Lab. When I explained that I would be leaving the next day, they put in a rush order and had the film developed later the same day.
It was a damn good thing I had the film processed. When I looked at the prints, I saw a selection of photos of our travels since leaving Travis Air Force Base. There was a picture of the Travis terminal, a few photos of the inside of the World Airways DC-8 we had flown in on, a picture of the ramp at Hickam, and a photo of the long line on the tarmac at Ton Son Nhut where we had waited for in-processing.
And then I saw the photos that, if I had left the film in the camera, would have devastated Mitch's family if they ever saw them.
At Phan Rang, like every other air base in Vietnam, there was an “airplane graveyard” alongside the runway. We had all visited and looked at the wrecked planes that had either crashed or been shot down and later retrieved. One of the crashed airplanes was an O-2. As a joke, Mitch had posed for photos on the O-2, like he had just stumbled out of the crashed airplane. He had made a face like he was in pain in all the photos, and in one of the pictures he was hanging out of the cockpit window. That type of joking around was emblematic of the gallows humor that would punctuate our entire time in Vietnam. It had already been pretty much standard for somebody to say, “Hey, if you don't make it back, can I have your stereo gear?” every time a pilot left on a mission. I guess it was the equivalent of “Break a leg” that they say to an actor before he goes on stage. But that kind of humor would sound terrible when taken out of context.
I immediately destroyed the negatives and prints. Yeah, it was a damn good thing I had gotten the film developed.
Early on Monday morning, probably around 0500, all 13 of us in the Visiting Officer Quarters were awakened by a loud bang on our doors. It was Sergeant Williams, the Admin NCO at FAC-U.
“Gentlemen,” he bellowed, “you have 45 minutes until your
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