In the summer of 1966, then Technical Sergeant Vernon Gregory, USAF, received orders to the US airbase at Nha Trang in the Republic of Vietnam. His specialty was aircraft maintenance, but when he arrived the critical need at Nha Trang -- with the war heating up and air operations increasing exponentially -- was someone to head up an ad hoc "crash recovery crew" whose task was to immediately respond to, and clean up, the aftermath of crashes at the airfield, and, on occasion, fly to remote dirt strips for the same purpose.
Three sips of strong black coffee stir the synapses and the story rolls out like it's not the hundredth time he's told it, "We got a call that one of our C-123s had landed hard during a resupply of an Army fire base inland. They told me that the airplane was smack dab in the middle of the dirt strip with a sheared off landing gear. It was stuck; couldn't take off; couldn't move itself off the runway."
A pause -- always the same at this point -- a quick sideways glance at the Colonel as if to make sure the jarhead understands the predicament, and then the story continues, "My boss told me to take who and what I needed, fly up there, and figure out what needed to be done to recover the aircraft."
The Colonel has tried several times to suss out the organizational details, "Dad, who was your 'boss'?"
The answer is always the same, and always a veiled shot at his commissioned son, "Oh, some officer who worked in an air-conditioned office up at Operations. Rarely saw him."
"Anyway," slight irritation showing at the Colonel's off-topic question, "I grabbed one of my guys and we piled everything we thought we might need on a four-wheeled trailer and loaded up on a C-123. We got up to the site pretty quick and the 123 pilot circled the hilltop where the dirt strip was, and sure enough, the crashed plane was sitting there in the middle of the runway, slewed off to one side and leaning over on one wingtip."
"The pilot said, 'Can't land. No room. Need to go see if the Army can get you in with something smaller'."
"So, we flew up to an Army airbase. I thought they might put us on a big helicopter, but an Army captain said, 'Put your gear on that plane over there and I'll get you in'."
"The plane was a small, two-engine, high-wing thing called a Caribou. We flew back to the crash site and the Army pilot flew the length of the strip and sized up the situation. I asked him what he thought, expecting him to say that he couldn't land, either. He said, 'No problem. But you might want to hold on to something'."
The Colonel's dad had learned to fly before he enlisted in the Air Force in early '53, "I wasn't real sure that Army guy really knew what he was trying to do -- that dirt strip was short enough as it was and having a crashed airplane sitting halfway down it was going make landing a real challenge."
"But this Army guy swung around on final without hesitation and dropped like a rock right on the very approach end of that dirt strip. I was glad he had warned me to hold on, because as soon as the wheels hit the dirt, he stood that Caribou up on its nose and screeched to a halt not much further than a 'first down' from the C-123."
"As we were unloading our trailer, an Army lieutenant colonel walked up and asked, 'who's in charge?'"
"I told him I was, and while the Caribou taxied around the C-123 and took off, he button-holed me and said, 'You need to get this plane off my strip, ASAP.'"
"'Yessir,' I told him, 'I'm gonna work on it. I need to figure out what parts we need and then figure out a way to get them from Nha Trang up here, so that we can make repairs.'"
"He said, 'Sergeant, I don't think you understand. My battalion depends on this airstrip. You've got about a New York minute to get that thing off my strip, or I'm gonna do it for you, and I guarantee you it won't be flight worthy when we're done'."
"Well, we started hustling. We unloaded our gear from the trailer and jacked up the wing to get the broken landing gear strut off the ground. Then we rolled the trailer under the wing and let the jacks down. The weight of the '123 was too much and the tires blew out on the trailer, and I thought, 'Well, that ain't good'. She still rolled, though."
"Now we had the aircraft where we could move it without tearing anything else up. We bummed a tow bar and a tracked vehicle from the Army, and rigged up a chain from the trailer, and slowly pulled the C-123 onto the shoulder of the strip, and out of the way."
"The Army lieutenant colonel walked up and slapped me on the back, 'Outstanding, sergeant! Great work! How would you guys like a cold beer'?"
"I wiped the sweat and dust off my face and said, 'Yessir, I'd love a cold beer'."
"He clapped me on the shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, 'Wouldn't we all'."
"An hour or so later another C-123 from Nha Trang landed on the strip and I put my guy on it with a list of parts we needed. The Army lieutenant colonel walked up as that plane took off and said, 'That was the last flight for the day. Gonna be dark soon'."
"I asked him where I could bunk overnight, and he looked around the hill, 'No barracks here, sergeant, and we're full up in our bunkers and fighting holes. Recommend you find yourself a place to rack out inside that concertina wire around our supply dump'."
"I thought about sleeping in the plane, but then it dawned on me that if the bad guys decided to attack, the plane would be a big target. So, I stretched out between some crates in the supply dump and spent a sleepless night listening to out-going artillery."
"At one point early in the night, I was rustling around in the dark trying to get comfortable, and a voice from outside the supply dump hollered, 'Who goes there!?!.' I stood up and identified myself and the soldier walking sentry asked, 'What are doing in there?' He must have thought I was trying to steal something. Anyway, I explained to him who I was and why I was there, and we both agreed not to shoot at each other the next time."
"Next morning, a C-123 landed and a couple of my guys and another pilot from Nha Trang got off with a replacement gear for the broke plane. A couple of hours later, the gear was fixed and the pilot got ready to taxi the plane and try to take off."
"I asked him if we could load up and go with him back to Nha Trang, and he said' 'No'. That he wanted the plane as light as possible, but that there would be several more C-123 flights into the dirt strip delivering supplies later that day."
"Every time a plane would land, I would go out to it and ask if I could load up and go back to Nha Trang with them. Each time they would tell me, 'No'. That they either weren't going back to Nha Trang or that they didn't have room."
"Late in the afternoon, I was beginning to think I might have to spend another night on that hilltop listening to outgoing artillery all night. I was sitting there on my busted up trailer feeling sorry for myself, when a crusty old soldier hollered at me, 'Hey, Air Force! Get your gear ready, the next plane is your ride'!"
"Got a hot shower and a cold beer that night."
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