VETERANS PAGE: A Palisadian Recalls Vietnam War-Era Experience

WOMEN IN THE WAR EFFORT

I cherish fond memories of my seven years as a flight attendant with Continental Airlines in the ’60s and early ’70s. Five of these years were on the MAC (Military Air Command) routes transporting solders on civilian airlines during the Vietnam war. A sense of comfort in belonging to an all-embracing family of the crewmembers led to life-long friendships with many of them.

While lots of stories can be told of those days – some funny, some heart warming and some of close calls on the ground or in the air – one event stands out for me.

It exemplifies the deep, almost parental commitment of one captain to the individuals entrusted to him as he faced the challenge of an equally caring and committed base commander at Da Nang airport in Vietnam.

Two great men confronted each other one-on-one in the noble display of leadership that does not seek rewards, fame or glory, but focuses solely on the welfare of their charges.

It was about December of 1970 with the Vietnam War escalating. The Vietcong had increasingly sophisticated their warfare. Airport perimeters, previously secured, were routinely breeched. The runway at Saigon airport had been hit for the first time by mortars a few weeks earlier.

We were ferrying a Boeing 707-320 to Okinawa with a nine-member cockpit and cabin crew but no passengers, a rare event in those days. As the flight passed near Da Nang we were asked to divert and land. Another Continental flight was grounded with a bullet hole in the wing and fuel poring out of it. There were 165 GIs waiting at the terminal to go home.

According to scheduling rules, the crew of the grounded plane was to work the flight and we were scheduled to “deadhead” (fly as passengers) out along with the military passengers.

While the plane and paperwork were being readied for boarding, several of us “girls” gladly accepted the friendly airbase commander’s invitation to tour the base on the back of his open Jeep. Our naiveté allowed us to think that we were being shown the base, when in reality we were being shown off to the troops, but more about that later.

We returned to the aircraft and found that the boarding of passengers was delayed. The base commander and the outbound captain were engaged in a heated argument at the bottom of the stairs, passionately defending the safety of their charges. As the debate escalated so did their voices.

“I am not leaving the crew members behind that brought you this airplane,” the captain stated with firm determination (meaning us). “They are civilians in a war zone without military pay,” he continued, “and you can not guarantee their safety. We already ended up with a bullet hole in the wing.”

The commander maintained his authoritative stand, saying, “I have 165 GIs with mud on their boots coming out of the field. They are here to go home, and I am not leaving any of them behind to put your civilian crew members in their seats. I am in command of this airport, and you are not leaving without taking all of the GIs.”

The captain took a step back and standing very straight he stated in a booming voice, “This is a civilian aircraft with civilian crew members. You have no jurisdiction over this aircraft. I am in command and you cannot prevent me from leaving. I am taking these civilians out of here. Be thankful that they brought you this airplane!”

In a desperate attempt to gain sympathy in a losing argument the commander pleaded, “Look, these GIs have been in the war.They have not seen [an American] female in a year. I took your girls around the base to give the troops something to look at. You have no idea what disappointment is like for the guys who will be left behind.”

I was dumbstruck by the commander’s reference to our “sight-seeing” trip and felt strangely insulted by the notion that we had been on display, but then I quickly realized that these were acts of compassion and kindness – no harm done.

My fellow crewmembers boarded, and we occupied the front-row seats and any available jump seats. The military personnel followed.

As we took off into the darkness of the night sky, I felt uneasy. The departure clime was unusually steep trying to avoid fire from the ground. Below, muzzle fires flashed brightly from guns aimed at us. The plea of the base commander hung heavily over my conscience as I occupied a seat meant for someone else.

At the same time, I was tremendously grateful to the captain who had managed to fly us out of an increasingly dangerous war zone. I was praying that there would be no attack on the airport that night so that the GI scheduled for my seat would get home unharme d the next day.