I did many jobs for clients I never met or talked to. Seldom did I ever know who the client was or the nature of their mission. I did not ask and had no need to know. My tasks would come from the ARMA1 or the AIRA2 office. I would then begin pulling together whatever equipment was best suited for the mission and all other ancillary equipment required to provide the requested service. At times electric power was not available at the remote sites, so I could carry a large number of batteries to last the duration of the mission. If I needed supplies not available I could go to downtown Vientiane and purchase whatever it was I might need.
One particular client baffled me. I was never given any information on the client but was required to land on a remote airstrip and wait for a Laotian driver to take me to a hut where I would set up both UHF and FM radios. Since power was not available there, I was providing enough batteries for a week's operation, so I carried a large cache of equipment.
I flew in an Air America STOL3. Once we reached the deserted airstrip, I began to unload my equipment and setting it on the edge of the airstrip while the pilot idled the engine. I made a second trip carrying more equipment. On the last trip, I was just placing a suitcase of batteries on the airstrip when I heard a loud, deafening whoosh at the opposite end of the airstrip. Having spent over 38 months in combat assignments, I could tell it was mortar fire. I turned to look as my plane was quickly turning around positioning for takeoff towards the end of the runway where the mortar hit. I ran to the moving aircraft and pulled myself in and closed the door while the plane was still in motion. I threw myself on the floor of the cargo area while the plane lifted and began circling the airstrip at a safe altitude. I didn't have a headset on so I could not communicate with the pilot.
After several minutes circling the airstrip, the pilot motioned he was landing once more. As he landed, I noticed a jeep waiting for us at the area where my radio equipment was. I still had not gotten over the fear of being left in a hostile airstrip. I yelled at the pilot who had now turned off the engine and was standing by the jeep and Laotian driver.
"I can't believe you were really gonna leave me here!" I shouted out to him.
"You bet your ass I was, buddy," he said, adding, "My aircraft is my first concern."
"I later learned that another project person had faced a similar situation. I never found out who the other pilot was back then or where the incident took place, but it reinforced my decision to never again venture too far from the plane whenever the engine was running and resolved to always be prepared to jump back on the plane whenever it revved up its engines.
As if to make up for his hasty and cowardly retreat, the pilot started helping the driver and me load my equipment onto the jeep. As required, the pilot stayed with his aircraft for the two or three hours I spent setting up the radio communications system, testing it, and verifying voice checks with "Tiny Tim"4, our main communications center in Vientiane.
Having completed my job, I was driven back to the aircraft. From a distance, the pilot had seen us and had the engine started and ready to depart as soon as I loaded my gear and jumped onboard.
In talking to the Laotian driver, I learned that mortar fire was pretty much routine at that location. Nothing was ever hit and nobody was ever injured by the incoming mortar fire. "They just practice," said the driver. "They think they scare us, but they friendly enemy," he added.
I never got to know the personnel using the radio system I had set up. I never asked. I just knew it was in support of a recovery operation. Some ten days later I was back at that site to recover the equipment I had set up. There was no evidence of anyone have been there except for three cases of unopened C-rations. The driver helped me stow the three cases of C-rations and my radio equipment onto the jeep and drove me to the waiting plane. I offered a case to the Air America pilot who replied, "Now, what the hell would I do with that? I don't eat that shit!"
The C-rations became my backup meals and trading material. As the sun poured into my villa room every morning, I desperately needed a means to block its relentless glare. I enlisted the help of a local wood shop, where a skilled woodworker crafted a magnificent 5-panel teakwood foldable room screen. This masterpiece not only shielded me from the unforgiving sun but also added a bit of style to my modest room, and all he wanted was a case of C-rations and 2 cartons of American cigarettes. At the end of my tour, I couldn't bear to leave it behind, so I had it packed it up and shipped home, a cherished memento of my time in Vientiane. Life was undeniably good as long as I was in Vientiane.
1 Army Attache
2 Air Attache
3 Short Take-off & Landing
4 Tiny Tim was our main communications center. All teletype and radio traffic was processed through Tiny Tim.
It's your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you." - Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi
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