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Throughout the course
of the Vietnam War the tunnels proved to be a source of frustration for the U.S.
military in Saigon. The Viet Cong had
been so well entrenched in the area by 1965, they were able to control where
and when battles would take place. This
helped to prolong the war and increase U.S. costs and casualties; until America
threw in the towel and withdrew in 1972, resulting with the final defeat
of South Vietnam in
1975.
My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of an antiquated-yellow,
Russian school bus that had seen better days.
It disgorged passengers, burdened with their carry-on baggage, and as
they climbed the air stairs attached to the L-1 Door immediately behind the
cockpit, I had a clear view of them out my left side window. Causing me to marvel at all the crap they
were lugging up to Hanoi.
Please explain to me, dear reader,
why the Vietnamese are hauling bags of rice to Hanoi? Don’t they sell rice in Hanoi?
The
first Russian school bus left as another bus took its place; vomiting more
passengers. Thus began my passenger
audio monitor. We had two Icelandic flight
attendants on board; a male purser (a bit light in the sneakers), and a
female. They were instructors training
our Vietnamese flight attendants. As the
aircraft filled with passengers, the male purser’s voice kept going up octave
after octave – the passenger’s carry on driving him nuts! When he reached the shrieking-level, I knew
we were almost fully loaded with passengers.
And, while giggling at my shrieking purser, my First Officer had at last
arrived. I was flying with an Air
Atlanta Captain, an Icelandic gentleman in his early thirties, acting as my
First Officer (flying from the right seat as co-pilot). His name was Olaf, but preferred Ollie.
So why was this so wrong, dear
reader? Ollie should have been taking a
leisurely stroll around the outside of our aircraft; looking for damage, proper
tire inflation, cracks and leaks. This was
all part of the normal pre-flight inspection and not requiring any running.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked him, “A-Are you okay,
Ollie?”
Taking out a handkerchief, he wiped the sweat off his face, heaved a
large sigh, and answered, “I am now.”
More mystery, so I asked, “What in hell h-happened to you?”
He looked over at me and grinned, then replied, “You know those sea
turtles and crocodiles we’ve been hauling in the forward baggage compartment?”
Okay, dear reader, stop the
music. For a peculiar reason the
Vietnamese are absolutely bonkers over turtle and croc meat; especially the
North Vietnamese of Hanoi. So every time
we do a Hanoi run the ramp agents load all the turtles and crocs they can into
our forward baggage compartment. The
only problem is the individual wooden crates they pack them in are flimsy as
hell.
So
I replied, “Y-Yeah what about them?”
Ollie continued, “When I was inspecting the nose wheels under the 737’s
belly, somebody dropped a crate with a crocodile in it. Goddammit!
The crate burst to splinters and the crocodile escaped!”
Ollie took a moment, breathed deeply, and exhaled.
I couldn’t take it any longer, exclaiming, “Dammit, man! W-What did you do?”
Ollie gave me a horrified look, and then burst out, “What the hell do
you think I did? I ran away from its
biting end!”
We sat there for a full minute and stared at each other. Finally it was too much...we both started to
laugh.
I laughed so hard, dear reader, I nearly
coughed up a lung!
Three
months later, TRAC pulled me and my crew out of Vietnam. TRAC was losing money hand over fist on this contract. Pacific Airlines wasn’t paying its bills.
As I said before, dear reader, the
airline business in Southeast Asia is a murky enterprise. Strictly “Terry and the Pirates” stuff.
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