Flying Through Midnight A Pilot's Dramatic Story Of His Secret Missions Over Laos During The Vietnam War

Chapter 1: June 8, 1970 Wiley waved to me from across the ramp as I stepped off the C-130 shuttle plane from Bangkok. I lifted my hand in response, then raised it to my brow, shading my eyes against the Thai sun, merciless still at midafternoon. The hop from Bangkok was the final leg in my journey to Nakhon Phanom Air Base, where I was to begin my assignment with the 606th Special Operations Squadron, flying C-123 cargo missions around Thailand. Wiley's presence heartened me. I'd heard that most guys who arrived in Vietnam were unceremoniously dumped on the ramp in Saigon or Da Nang and left to find their own way to their unit. Welcome to the war, buddy, such a callous reception announced. Maybe my war would be different. Wiley leaned against a blue Air Force pickup truck parked before a large billboard that shouted: FLIGHTLINE PHOTOGRAPHYSTRICTLY PROHIBITEDVIOLATORS PUNISHABLE UNDER UCMJ All I could think was, why would anybody care if I snapped a few pictures of cargo transports to send back home to Sharon? Other than that puzzling note, my arrival at NKP was wholly different from what I'd heard of most Vietnam receptions. I felt I was being welcomed to some country club. Wiley ambled toward me wearing a big smile. "Hi, I'm Wiley. Welcome to the Candlesticks and NKP. I'm your sponsor. Let me help you with those bags," he boomed cheerfully. Relaxed smile. Happy eyes. An easygoing way about him. Definite Midwestern accent. Maybe Rockford or Madison. Huge, calloused farmer's hands. Probably grew up playing high school football and driving his grandfather's tractor during the summers. Wiley looked much older than me, but I figured we must actually be about the same age. After all, every pilot assigned to the Candlestick squadron was probably in his early twenties like me. But Wiley seemed years older. I wondered if something about this place had caused him to age more quickly, but I forced a smile to make a good first impression. "Hi, I'm John Halliday. Thanks for coming to meet me." "C'mon, let's get you out of here and into someplace cool. Nobody here wears that flightsuit during the day. It's too damn hot." He was right. My flightsuit was about to melt into my skin. The northeastern Thailand heat was a blast furnace. A real inferno. I took a breath, but the heat singed my nostrils. I shifted to mouth breathing, but the heat boiled down my windpipe. Wiley helped me with my bags and then dropped them into the back of the six-pack. I tried to open the passenger door, but pulled back when the handle scorched my hand. "Use your sleeve," he suggested. We jumped in the air-conditioned truck and drove down the flightline. Impressive. My own driver. I thought I was going to like this place better than Vietnam. "How hot is it?" I complained as we passed rows of parked planes. "It's one hundred and eight, with the humidity a pleasant ninety-five percent. We run from air-conditioned spot to air-conditioned spot," Wiley explained as he did a series of double takes at me, staring far too long and then looking away when I noticed him sizing me up. "I thought you guys called this place Naked Fanny," I said, an attempt to break the ice, which failed. "We hate that," he scolded. "Bob Hope pinned that on us when he came for Christmas last year. The name is Nakhon Phanom, but we call it NKP." I thought, so much for my good-first-impression idea. There! He did it again...the long look...checking me out. As we drove down the flightline, the scene seemed caught in a 1940s time warp. The Andrews Sisters should have been singing in the background about the "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy from Company B." There wasn't a modern jet aircraft in sight. The ramp was littered with propeller-driven aHalliday, John T. is the author of 'Flying Through Midnight A Pilot's Dramatic Story Of His Secret Missions Over Laos During The Vietnam War', published 2005 under ISBN 9780743274883 and ISBN 0743274881.