Free The Trash Haulers by Richard Herman Page A

in his seat and closed his eyes to take a short break or even a quick nap, if he was lucky. It was a habit he had picked up from his first aircraft commander, a grizzled trash hauler with over 10,000 hours flying time, and it helped keep him rested and alert during a long crew duty day. The VHF radio blared in his headset. “Roscoe Two-One, Qui Nhon ALCE.” The Airlift Command Element at Qui Nhon was about half way between Cam Ranh Bay and Da Nang, and Warren figured they were being diverted into Ubon to drop Hardy off. As the lieutenant colonel was still playing co-pilot, Warren decided to let him handle the call.
    “ALCE,” Hardy answered, “Roscoe Two-One. Go ahead.”
    “Roscoe Two-One, you are diverted to Da Nang. Shut down engines and report into Tactical Operations Centre for tasking ASAP.”
    “Copy all,” Hardy replied, not showing his frustration.
    Warren gave Hardy top marks for sounding good on the radios. Warren ran his seat forward to take control and adjusted his headset. “That’s not the diversion I was expecting,” he said over the intercom. “Now it gets interesting.”
    The flight engineer, Tech Sgt Mike Hale, looked worried. “Problems, sir?”
    “I’m guessing the situation has gone critical,” Warren answered, taking a verbal jab at Hardy.
    “We just do what we’re told,” Hardy said, salvaging what he could.
    Warren ignored him and spoke to the loadmaster in the cargo compartment. “Sergeant Flanders, tell the passengers that we are diverting into Da Nang, and ask Captains Slovack and Huckabee to please come with us to Tac Ops.”
    “Is that necessary?” Hardy asked.
    “Sure is,” Warren replied. “Something is going down, and Huck and Judy are the only folks around here who seem to have a clue. I want their input.” Hardy stared straight ahead and didn’t reply. An inner voice told Warren to force the issue now. “Colonel Hardy, I would appreciate your coming along also.”
    Hardy stared at him, not believing what he had just heard. “That’s not your call, Captain.”
    “Sir, you’re on the passenger manifest, not the crew for this flight.” Every member on the crew knew that Warren had thrown the gauntlet, and he had done it in the open. Warren was the aircraft commander and the crew had been ordered to report to Tac Ops, most probably for special tasking, and as long as Warren was the aircraft commander, he, not Hardy, would make any decision regarding his crew and the C-130. However, as the C-130 detachment commander at Cam Ranh Bay, Hardy could always relieve Warren as aircraft commander, but that meant Hardy would have to take over from a captain who was regarded, with good reason, as the best pilot in the 374th. Further, Hardy was under orders to report to Ubon in Thailand, so he couldn’t stay with the aircraft. It would take a day or two to sort out the confusion and get the C-130 back hauling cargo with a new aircraft commander, and that wasn’t something Hardy wanted to explain to his wing commander on Okinawa.
    “Good point,” Hardy replied, conceding the issue. “Time to let Lieutenant Bosko earn his pay.” Hardy took off his headset and ran the seat back, finished with playing co-pilot. The men were silent until the lieutenant colonel had climbed down the ladder and disappeared into the cargo compartment.
    “I can hardly wait to see your next OER,” Santos said. An OER, or Officer’s Efficiency Report, was the annual evaluation that determined an officer’s suitability for promotion. “You’re toast.”
    “What are they gonna do,” Warren replied. “Send me to Vietnam?”
    Santos cracked a smile. “Da Nang in twenty-two minutes, 0950 local,” he said, giving them an ETA.
    *
    The VHF radio came alive. “Roscoe Two-One, Da Nang. Cleared for the approach, Runway Three-Five. Hostile fire in local area. Keep feet wet to a right hand base. Avoid all boat traffic.”
    “Roscoe Two-One copies all,” Bosko replied.
    “That makes sense,”