Well that's kinda what happened in Vietnam to our 12th Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron. We'd recently moved out of the old Vietnamese hospital buildings, which had been our temporary home since the '68 Tet Offensive forced troops to move on base in a hurry. Our new quarters were in an area right across the street from the VIP housing, mobile homes flown in from the states for colonels and visiting dignitaries.

Because we had enjoyed a private recreation hall or club building at the former location, we were dismayed to discover none existed in the new one. There was no place for relaxing and enjoying a few beers in the evenings. Something had to be done, for morale purposes we said.

A space next to the new two-story barracks looked like it could accommodate a long narrow building, if there were just one we could find. Even an old Quonset hut would do, since we could readily dismantle it and re-build it on site. But none could be found.

A request to 7th AF headquarters for a squadron club building would surely not be approved, our C.O. told us. Even our own 460th Recon Wing headquarters would not approve of such a facility. What to do? Morale was slowly sinking.

Then some clever soul had a brainstorm. What if we built a "training facility", a place where we could hold safety of flight meetings, briefings on important issues like VD prevention and the like? Headquarters would surely approve that. Our C.O. was urged to request approval for construction of a training facility, there being no other suitable building close by. Others argued that we should not ask, just do it. For asking could yield the answer no one wanted. Just do it.

Well ask we did and to our surprise we got approval for a training facility. No mention was made of it being a club. The only catch was there was no money available, no materials could be spared. But, if we wanted such a building we could do it ourselves.

Some of our more enterprising fellows were accomplished scroungers, Class A number one scroungers. A committee was formed to design and oversee the construction of our very own training facility. But somehow in the planning, materials scrounging and preparations process we found it necessary to enlist the help of a sister squadron, the fellows living next door in their own barracks and without a training facility. A cooperative effort resulted, with agreement to build together one long structure, divided in half, becoming two separate, but joined, training facilities. The word "club" was forbidden.

In short order there was a big pile of lumber, plywood and other material delivered to the site. No one admitted to knowing where that stuff came from, but it looked like more than enough to build our structure. And then one day there suddenly appeared a redi-mix truck, pouring the concrete slab for a foundation to our training facility. I never knew where that came from, but didn't even ask.

As soon as the concrete slab had set up, just a couple of days later, construction began. It was strictly a self-help effort. Fortunately, one of our pilots had been a house-builder of sorts, so he assumed the job boss role. Under his guidance that collection of volunteer aircrew members became a construction crew. In just days a building framework rose atop the concrete slab. Working strictly on an off-duty basis, the team soon had that frame completed, plywood sides and roof deck up and even tar paper roofing applied.

Morale improved throughout the squadron as our training facility took shape. Even before it was completed or finished at all inside, we had our first session on the importance of liquid refreshments as a morale booster. Flight safety dictated that aircrews needed good morale to more effectively perform their important wartime duties.