There was a problem with the VHF radios at the Air Operations center at Luang Prabang. My air force counterpart and I took a morning flight arriving at Luang Prabang about mid-morning. We had with us a duplicate set of UHF, VHF and FM radios used at the Air Operations center.
After spending some 30 minutes troubleshooting their radio problem, we found the radios to be operating properly. Don suggested we check the VHF antenna sitting atop a thirty or forty foot pole. Leaving the site without working out whatever problems there might be was not an option. Don agreed to a "rock, scissors, paper" and lost, so he had to climb the pole which had an L-bolts ladder attached it. Once he removed the antenna and feed cable, he lowered it down to me with a rope tied to his belt then climbed back down.
We found an end cable connector gasket to one of the antennas had deteriorated sufficiently that moisture had penetrated the center conductor. It was a fifteen minute repair job, and I climbed the pole to reinstall and secure the antenna and connector. Upon climbing back down, we walked into the Air Operations center to test the communications and stepped right into a very heated argument between the American air force station chief and a very irate and uncooperative Royal Air Lao pilot wearing captain insignia. Don and I walked past them to the corner of the office where the communications command center was while the chief and the Lao pilot continued their yelling and screaming. The American commander was yelling, “Goddamn it, you hear those folks out there are in trouble! They’re being shot at from all sides and desperately need help. You’re the only pilot available right now! Grab your shit and go help them. These are YOUR fucking people!”
“I always fly more missions than any other pilot!” yelled the Lao captain. “Go find somebody else. I am tired of helping everybody who gets in trouble. Nobody helps ME when I need help!”
The American pleaded with the Laotian captain. “Look, you’re the only one here. Help these people before they get all get killed. There’s nobody else available!”
“Fuck you!” yelled the Laotian captain. “You go help them! You can fly. You help them!”
In reality, however, the American was forbidden to participate in combat flights. The Laotian captain then walked away with the American site commander walking after him still yelling at him and pleading with him to help the Laotian ground troops.
Don and I just kept on checking the site communications and performing voice tests with Tiny Tim1 in Vientiane. Once done, we packed up our equipment and found a driver to take us to our Air America flight back to Vientiane.
That would normally be the end of this episode which somehow is very clearly and forever etched on my mind. Probably some three weeks after returning from Luang Prabang, I heard the American air force site station chief was killed while flying a T-28 aircraft to Vientiane. I learned that he was flying to Vientiane following the Mekong River when his T-28 developed some mechanical trouble. He tried to land, but the plane broke apart before he was able to find a place to land. I felt saddened particularly because my suspicious nature immediately took me to that day when the Lao captain engaged the American in that heated, yelling argument to which I was a witness.
Like many other casualties in Laos during my tour there, casualties were never revealed to us. We would find out about casualties only when someone we knew personally witnessed the incident or read about it in classified documents. The official line made no mention of possible sabotage to the T-28 or the American’s heated argument with the Laotian captain that one day. Casualties in war take many forms, and bewilderment clouds the mind as it begins to debate whether intentional sabotage may have led to the casualty.
T-28 aircraft used by Luang Prabang Lao pilots
1 - Tiny Tim was the main communications center for Project 404. All radio and teletype traffic was processed through Tiny Tim.
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