Move 'Em On Base

Most of the dust had settled from the hectic days and nights just before my arrival. The mortar and rocket attacks on Saigon and the air base were nearly over, but tensions remained high and special measures were taken to protect the airplanes and flight crews. Most particularly the powers that be ( read that as higher headquarters ) directed that no longer would flight crews be allowed to live off-base. "Move 'em on base" was the word that came down. That was the result of some crews being trapped in their downtown villas and apartments and substantially at risk from the attacks and shootings in and around Saigon. Our government had too much invested in those flight crews to risk losing them or not being able to count on their instant availability to fly missions.

The first clues that I got of the chaos and disruption in my squadron was learning where we would be billeted on base. Tan Son Nhut was a large and complex facility, a mixture of military and civilian operations. U.S. and South Vietnamese organizations resided on the base, a really interesting collection of diverse entities. The airfield served both commercial airliners and military craft of both countries. And there was also a separate, on-base, helicopter field used by the Army. That busy heli-drome was a beehive of activity, day and night.

A disparate mixture of civilian and military organizations were housed on the base, ours and Vietnamese. In fact, there was a complete civilian community right in the middle of things, complete with shops, stores, churches and a former hospital. The Military Assistance Command - Vietnam (MACV) occupied a large, new office complex adjacent to the headquarters facilities for the Vietnamese military.

The flightline was a strange place, accommodating a crazy mixture of fixed wing and helicopter aircraft, our and theirs. Airplanes of various types and vintages could be seen parked everywhere, from WWII transports to Korean War propeller-driven attack craft to modern jet fighters and specially equipped reconnaissance airplanes. There were even some special, often un-camouflaged transports, shiny polished aluminum-skinned planes that seemed totally out of place next to the creatively painted warplanes. These were part of the Air-America fleet, used for covert and special operations throughout the region.

Construction was earnestly under way to protect the parked airplanes. Revetments and sand-bagged shelters were being built on the flightline to shield aircraft and ground crews from rockets and mortars. And every night the brilliant light of flares kept the sky alive on the perimeter of the field, helping U.S. and Vietnamese troops protect the air base. Armed C-47 transports with side-firing gatling guns could be seen patrolling around the base, frequently adding their own fireworks to the night time display of tracers and gun fire.

That former Vietnamese hospital complex had been taken over by the 12th TRS as housing for the crews and men. It was not much, by state-side standards, but it was shelter and not far from the flightline and our camera-equipped airplanes. The collection of metal-roofed buildings was enclosed in a barbed-wire-protected compound.

Two men shared each of perhaps a dozen cubicles in each barracks. Louvered slats and screens were the only windows, and there were no fans or air conditioning to relieve the stifling heat and humidity. And when it rained, hard and steady each afternoon in the monsoon season, there was a small lake inside the building. We kept our footlockers raised on beer cans to keep our belongings above the water. It seldom got more than three inches deep inside our cubicles.

A few yards away from my "hooch" was an asphalt-paved outdoor recreation area. There were volleyball and basketball courts, of sorts, some benches and a barbecue barrel for those regular cookouts. End-of-month change-over parties took place when our sister squadron, the 16th TRS, swapped day-for-night mission schedules with us. It didn't take much of an excuse to launch a steak and beer celebration.

An air-conditioned recreation building, unofficially our squadron club, served as a place to cool off, and to blow off steam. It was also the repository for cases of beer and even soft drinks kept on ice for instant access. Each of us was expected to contribute to the costs of replenishing that store.

Getting to and from our "hooch" area to the flightline meant catching a ride in various ways. We did have a small fleet of pickup trucks, with locally hired Vietnamese drivers during daylight hours. But at night we crewmen took turns driving to and from the barracks, though many times I'd simply hitchhike and rides were not a problem.

I even went over to the on-base Vietnamese village to purchase a used, make that well-used, bicycle. For About $20 (U.S.) I bought a functioning but really beat-up bike to ride around the base and to work. The tires were forever going flat. The chain kept stretching or breaking, and the seat wouldn't stay straight. When it was operational, that vehicle did give me more mobility and freedom to go various places. I never took it off base, nor really any farther afield than I was prepared to walk back. It was jokingly called my "VC bike", for the Viet Cong or bad guys. Though I kept it chained to fence rails and telephone poles, I doubt that anyone would have actually deigned to steal it.

About half-way through my one-year tour (assignment) in Vietnam, the Air Force actually built brand new barracks for us. Those were much better and luxurious by comparison with the old hospital buildings. I even got a private room, again on a corner. The communal bathroom facilities were down the hall. They were more like football locker room bath and showers. There were no privacy curtains or even toilet stalls. It was wide open. And I can still remember the "mamma-sans", Vietnamese maids and cleaning crew, telling me to pick my feet up whilst I was seated on the throne (toilet seat) so she could mop the floor. You get used to such things.

Well, that's a little bit of a description of the way it was, when they said "Move 'em on base".