Coming Home

With the advent of the monsoon, operational tempo slackened in October.  Though the number of Alpha Strikes declined, we were still conducting cyclic operations, with launch and recovery of aircraft every 1.5 hours from early morning to well after dark.

Lessening of combat operations didn't mean that the inherent risk of carrier aviation abated as well.  One recollection was sitting in Wardroom One preparing for the movie ("A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" if memory serves.)  The night event was being launched.  Wardroom One is forward, on the 03 level (first level beneath the flight deck), positioned between the bow catapults.  Each catapult stoke was marked by a hearty "thump," both heard and felt as the catapult shuttle hit the water brake.  One hardly noticed these routine noises, among the many aboard ship. So when one catapult stoke seemed much shorter than normal, and the thump was very much louder than usual.  All of us (mostly aircrew)  were startled and looked uneasily at each other.  We later found out that one of the aircraft being launched, an A-3 Skywarrior, had its bridle ( the sling that connects the catapult to the aircraft) fail during the cat stoke.  The aircraft had picked up enogh speed that it couldn't be stopped on deck but not enough to fly.  It dribbled off the bow and was hit by the ship.  All three crewmen were killed.

On this sad note, Constellation left Yankee Station in November 1967 as scheduled.   Shortly thereafter a series of bombing pauses were announced by the US Government, when eventually let to the peace talks.  As it happened, combat operations over North Vietnam had reached their peak in the summer of 1967, to be exceeded only with the Linebacker operations in 1972.  

Even the most gung-ho among us were glad to go offline.  We couldn't help thinking about our losses, both of men and aircraft.  Because I was a late arrival, I had not been close with any of the aircrew we lost.  I was roommates with Wayne Goodermote before he was shot down and helped with his personal goods inventory.  I had gone through training with a VF-143 Radar Intercept Officer, Pat Ness.  He was killed in action by a SA2.  They had previously survived a near miss by a SAM.  They had to bingo to Danang.  Over 200 holes in the aircraft were identified.  Not sure I want to think about karma in this case.

We passed through Cubi one last time, but I don't remember any major partying.  Some flight crews were assigned to fly some of our  aircraft back, and had already departed.  I was not one such selected, which was fine with me. A bachelor at the time, I had no one waiting for me.  Also, the trans Pacific flight in a tactical jet was nothing to look forward to (I would later Transpac several times, but in the relative comfort of the P3 Orion-- more on that later....)

The trip back took ten days or so, at an economical 18 knots average speed.  Frankly, I welcomed the opportunity to decompress.  At the beginning of the year, I had been looking forward to completing training, joining  a operational squadron in the summer, and get ready for a deployment sometime in 1968.  I had been scheduled to join RVAH-1 "Smokin' Tigers" (see patch nearby) in the summer.   Instead I was returning from a life-changing experience.