(Editor’s note: this editorial has NOTHING to do with photography.)
I celebrated a birthday a few days ago and since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, where I’ve been, what I’ve done and who I am. I guess people tend to do this as they get older, especially after age 60.
I am writing this on Memorial Day, a day to remember our fallen veterans. I recently checked out a website, http://www.ec47.com/dir.htm, which is aimed at those of us who flew “spy” missions in Southeast Asia in a C-47, or in our case, an EC-47. If you are not familiar with airplanes, check out the Douglas DC-3 – it’s the same airplane, just configured a little differently. The C-47 is a twin engine, propeller airplane, built mostly in the 1930s and 1940s. Some of those that we flew in 1970 had flown the Burma Hump from 1942–1945. We had seven people on each mission: the pilot, co-pilot, navigator, three Morse Code intercept operators and the North Vietnamese linguist (me).
I didn’t think much about the danger of flying because our squadron had never lost a mission (an airplane with people on board). One of my friends, Frank Ianuzzi, had the misfortune to often get a certain aircraft that was prone to breakdown. They would find a safe place to land, the officers and senior NCOs (sergeants) would get something to eat and they would leave Frank on the flight line with an M-16 to guard the plane with his life. Our missions were obviously not over friendly areas – some of my missions were in the south of Viet Nam over the Delta, but many were over Cambodia. On a short stay in Thailand, I had some flights over Laos. This was at a time when President Nixon said that we were not in or over Cambodia or Laos – I guess he was watching a different war. I only had a few instances where I thought I might sleep forever in Southeast Asia. All of my friends who went to Viet Nam with me came back, safe and sound. Some extended their time there for 6 months to get an early discharge from the Air Force. Others, like me, came back to the United States and were assigned to the National Security Agency.
Last night I was reading about a flight out of Thailand over Laos on February 3, 1973. It would have been one of the last missions. The plane was shot down and the rescue team arrived the next day to find the pilot, co-pilot and the navigator still strapped in and dead in their seats. They had been hit but were able to fly around long enough for those working in the back to destroy the equipment and bail out. It seems that the Morse operators and linguist were captured, tortured and later killed. Their remains finally were returned and on March 27, 1996, were buried at Arlington National Cemetery. I recognized the name of the linguist from my stay in Nakhon Phanom, Thailand.
Viet Nam vets have come of age. Most of us are in our 60s and at today’s Memorial Day parade in Branford, many wore hats letting others know that they were there (including me). It was interesting how we saluted each other, gave a thumbs up to each other, heard “Welcome back Brother!” and were saluted by WW II and Korean War Vets (this brought some tears to my eyes).
War is stupid. It serves no purpose other than for young men (and women) to kill other young men (and women). Unfortunately, it is here to stay. On this Memorial Day, I give thanks that my good friends and I made it back safely. Even though I don’t see them often, some of my closest friends are those from my days in the Air Force. We vacation every year with friends from South Carolina – I met Bill the day we got out of basic training and we went through all of the schools together and even flew to Viet Nam together.
If you know a veteran, especially anyone who served in a war, thank him or her for their service. Trust me, it ain’t easy.
Peacefully,
Harv
I celebrated a birthday a few days ago and since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, where I’ve been, what I’ve done and who I am. I guess people tend to do this as they get older, especially after age 60.
I am writing this on Memorial Day, a day to remember our fallen veterans. I recently checked out a website, http://www.ec47.com/dir.htm, which is aimed at those of us who flew “spy” missions in Southeast Asia in a C-47, or in our case, an EC-47. If you are not familiar with airplanes, check out the Douglas DC-3 – it’s the same airplane, just configured a little differently. The C-47 is a twin engine, propeller airplane, built mostly in the 1930s and 1940s. Some of those that we flew in 1970 had flown the Burma Hump from 1942–1945. We had seven people on each mission: the pilot, co-pilot, navigator, three Morse Code intercept operators and the North Vietnamese linguist (me).
I didn’t think much about the danger of flying because our squadron had never lost a mission (an airplane with people on board). One of my friends, Frank Ianuzzi, had the misfortune to often get a certain aircraft that was prone to breakdown. They would find a safe place to land, the officers and senior NCOs (sergeants) would get something to eat and they would leave Frank on the flight line with an M-16 to guard the plane with his life. Our missions were obviously not over friendly areas – some of my missions were in the south of Viet Nam over the Delta, but many were over Cambodia. On a short stay in Thailand, I had some flights over Laos. This was at a time when President Nixon said that we were not in or over Cambodia or Laos – I guess he was watching a different war. I only had a few instances where I thought I might sleep forever in Southeast Asia. All of my friends who went to Viet Nam with me came back, safe and sound. Some extended their time there for 6 months to get an early discharge from the Air Force. Others, like me, came back to the United States and were assigned to the National Security Agency.
Last night I was reading about a flight out of Thailand over Laos on February 3, 1973. It would have been one of the last missions. The plane was shot down and the rescue team arrived the next day to find the pilot, co-pilot and the navigator still strapped in and dead in their seats. They had been hit but were able to fly around long enough for those working in the back to destroy the equipment and bail out. It seems that the Morse operators and linguist were captured, tortured and later killed. Their remains finally were returned and on March 27, 1996, were buried at Arlington National Cemetery. I recognized the name of the linguist from my stay in Nakhon Phanom, Thailand.
Viet Nam vets have come of age. Most of us are in our 60s and at today’s Memorial Day parade in Branford, many wore hats letting others know that they were there (including me). It was interesting how we saluted each other, gave a thumbs up to each other, heard “Welcome back Brother!” and were saluted by WW II and Korean War Vets (this brought some tears to my eyes).
War is stupid. It serves no purpose other than for young men (and women) to kill other young men (and women). Unfortunately, it is here to stay. On this Memorial Day, I give thanks that my good friends and I made it back safely. Even though I don’t see them often, some of my closest friends are those from my days in the Air Force. We vacation every year with friends from South Carolina – I met Bill the day we got out of basic training and we went through all of the schools together and even flew to Viet Nam together.
If you know a veteran, especially anyone who served in a war, thank him or her for their service. Trust me, it ain’t easy.
Peacefully,
Harv
