I advanced the throttle on my C-117 plane. The loud roar of the plane filtered through my helmet and into my ears. I trailed along the coast, glancing down at the ocean below. The buttons of the controls of the plane blinked as I turned the plane slightly to get a better view of Vietnam. Immediately, the plane tilted to let me see my first view of the war-torn country. The jungle was misty in the early morning as the sun rose on the horizon. I sighed. How peaceful. I thought. There was no sight of war anywhere near. I had expected torn up fields, fires, communists, and most likely bodies but there was no such thing for as far as the eye could see.
I reported to the Naval Air Station a couple miles away. The radio crackled and snapped as they answered my request. I had a sudden wave of homesickness. I wished for my small concrete box in the bachelor officer quarters. I wanted to be lying on my terrible cot. I wanted to curl up in the sheets I had brought from home and just sleep. I wished I didn’t have to be in a war. I wanted to fight for our country even though I didn’t want to be enlisted in the first place. I wished for many things but right now, I had no idea what I wanted.
On the sunlit horizon I saw the first glimpses of Camranh Bay awaiting my delivery of cargo, the cargo that would later be used to kill communists. They killed people daily just for the heck of it. I felt pride and sadness well up in my chest. Killing was bad, but so were communists. It all equaled out. If we were to be rid of the bad people, we would have to be bad ourselves. I, as a lieutenant junior grade, wished that I could do more than just deliver cargo to Camranh Bay. I wanted to be able to do something more than just fly a plane to various places; I wanted to fly a plane with guns so that I could experience the pump of adrenaline that any young man wanted. I wanted to feel the danger.
I then saw the low cinderblock buildings and extraordinarily long runway of the Camranh Bay Naval Base. Quonset huts dotted the side of the runway, looking like little metal huts. I saw people taxiing a plane out of one of them, being very careful with the wings of the small plane. “Do I have clearance to land?” I asked the man at the other end of the radio. “You’re clear to land,” the radio sizzled. I let down the landing gear and began my approach toward the runway. I landed with a bone shuddering stop, letting the buttons and the breaks do the work. Several people came and rolled the cargo out of my cargo hold, handling them with care like the writing on the sides of the boxes demanded in bright red letters.
I delivered my cargo unknowing that I would have delivered cargo that wasn’t wanted by society. I was oblivious to the public outcry that was demanding us to come back to the USA. I was ignorant of how many lives were going to be lost for no cause. I was blind to the feelings of abandonment, the unappreciative people awaiting my return to the states, and the feeling of an incomplete mission. I was unknowing that I would have a family and a daughter that would miss me. At that moment though, I felt like a hero, ready to defend my country even if it cost me my life as I stepped out of the cockpit and onto the hot runway. I pulled off my heavy helmet and slicked back my sweaty hair. I took in a deep breath of salty air and jungle scent. The smell of rain wandered on the edge of my senses. It was a refreshing cocktail that indefinitely contrasted against the stale air of the cockpit. I felt ready for anything, especially for an ice cold beer. I grinned at my wishful thinking. What I really needed to do was to check with the head of command here to confirm my delivery. Mission accomplished.
I reported to the Naval Air Station a couple miles away. The radio crackled and snapped as they answered my request. I had a sudden wave of homesickness. I wished for my small concrete box in the bachelor officer quarters. I wanted to be lying on my terrible cot. I wanted to curl up in the sheets I had brought from home and just sleep. I wished I didn’t have to be in a war. I wanted to fight for our country even though I didn’t want to be enlisted in the first place. I wished for many things but right now, I had no idea what I wanted.
On the sunlit horizon I saw the first glimpses of Camranh Bay awaiting my delivery of cargo, the cargo that would later be used to kill communists. They killed people daily just for the heck of it. I felt pride and sadness well up in my chest. Killing was bad, but so were communists. It all equaled out. If we were to be rid of the bad people, we would have to be bad ourselves. I, as a lieutenant junior grade, wished that I could do more than just deliver cargo to Camranh Bay. I wanted to be able to do something more than just fly a plane to various places; I wanted to fly a plane with guns so that I could experience the pump of adrenaline that any young man wanted. I wanted to feel the danger.
I then saw the low cinderblock buildings and extraordinarily long runway of the Camranh Bay Naval Base. Quonset huts dotted the side of the runway, looking like little metal huts. I saw people taxiing a plane out of one of them, being very careful with the wings of the small plane. “Do I have clearance to land?” I asked the man at the other end of the radio. “You’re clear to land,” the radio sizzled. I let down the landing gear and began my approach toward the runway. I landed with a bone shuddering stop, letting the buttons and the breaks do the work. Several people came and rolled the cargo out of my cargo hold, handling them with care like the writing on the sides of the boxes demanded in bright red letters.
I delivered my cargo unknowing that I would have delivered cargo that wasn’t wanted by society. I was oblivious to the public outcry that was demanding us to come back to the USA. I was ignorant of how many lives were going to be lost for no cause. I was blind to the feelings of abandonment, the unappreciative people awaiting my return to the states, and the feeling of an incomplete mission. I was unknowing that I would have a family and a daughter that would miss me. At that moment though, I felt like a hero, ready to defend my country even if it cost me my life as I stepped out of the cockpit and onto the hot runway. I pulled off my heavy helmet and slicked back my sweaty hair. I took in a deep breath of salty air and jungle scent. The smell of rain wandered on the edge of my senses. It was a refreshing cocktail that indefinitely contrasted against the stale air of the cockpit. I felt ready for anything, especially for an ice cold beer. I grinned at my wishful thinking. What I really needed to do was to check with the head of command here to confirm my delivery. Mission accomplished.
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