As the story has been told – as I noted previously- the end of the war in Vietnam is considered the result of the Christmas bombing operations of Linebacker II, and so the convention of telling this story. I’ll end the “Christmas Stories” series discussing what I choose to refer to as the gifts of Christmas 1972 – memories beyond price.
Gift #1 – Flight Lead: It was probably around 8 PM Washington time on the night of the 23rd, already morning of the 24th in WESTPAC. Coming off our eighth line period, within about an hour or so after President Nixon announced the end to the Vietnam War (previous post) on national TV, USS Midway launched aircraft from all squadrons – as was normal for a carrier and airwing coming off the line for an in-port in Subic Bay/Cubi Point in the Philippines. Being on the fly-off got aircraft in for maintenance but most importantly got the pilots to the Cubi Point Officer’s Club bar one day sooner.
For the VA-56 Champs, Keith Floo LaFlair, Max Maximus Carey, Pat Munt Moneymaker and Boris (that’s me) as flight lead manned up and launched towards Cubi in absolute shock and awe that the Skipper and KT (the Ops Officer) didn’t bump us for the fly off. The war was over… the POWs were coming home including our own Champ guests of the Hanoi Hilton- Al Nichols and Mike Penn. For the four of us it was our first – and only – war cruise. Skipper Lew Chatham and Ken KT Sanger had been there back in Rolling Thunder days. They had close friends who’d been under the heel of the NVN prisoner treatment a long time. They deserved to get a first welcome drink – none of us would have felt wronged if we’d been superseded. But as always, Champ leadership was shown once again – those scheduled to get the fly off – the good deal rotated every fly-off – remained on the schedule, so off four ne’er-do-wells went.
Gift #2 -Champagne and Beer: I will never forget the wife of one of the CTF 77 staffers pouring champagne on my head as I climbed out of the cockpit - before both feet were even on the ground – and the hug quickly followed by a beer. The 77 wives heard the President’s announcement, found out an airwing was flying in, proceeded to fill up a tub with beer and champagne and had it at the line shack. We didn’t know any of them. They got there too late for all the other squadrons but us Champs, who as self respecting light attack fast pursuit pilots always in training, had done a little “2-V-2” before coming into Cubi, were the last CAG 5 aircraft to land. Late is not always bad.
We four certainly felt obligated to show our appreciation to these ladies for thinking of us, and so without further ado, Max, Munt, Floo, and I – still in our champagne soaked flight gear – proceeded to empty the tub. As all who flew out of Cubi recall, aircraft ramp parking space was on two levels. (Notice the elevated ramp at top left in the picture)
At some point I looked up over the line shack and there must have been at least 50 people watching us from the upper Cubi Point Airfield. The show must have been good, but it was about to get better.
At some point, a couple of wives from our own airwing showed up including “Phylee’s” wife from VF-151. Good times continued until she sat down and decided to start one of the yellow tow tractors. (Like the ones on Midway’s deck in the picture)
. No one figured she could start it.
Oooops… it started moving… in reverse, I think… and so also firmy implanted in the memory bank and most certainly “a big gift” for many careers – Munt’s above and beyond flying leap onto the cart thereby staving off the imminent collision with an F-4. 
An empty tub – the flight line party ended with airwing honor salvaged by four intrepid Champs. The next thing I recall, its dark, we’re in the Cubi O’Club, expecting a big party atmosphere… and it’s like a ghost town??? After a while, the barkeep gave us a last call and said they were closing early… the war’s over and Cubi O’Club closing early … something is seriously wrong with this picture. So… up the hill to the Cubi BOQ Bar we head. It’s packed … now we’re talking.
Munt and I head to the jukebox, Max and Floo to the bar to grab the beer. Here starts Gift #3 -Eloquence by Boris: of a Jukebox, a Blackshoe Commander and a Urinal. When Munt puts some coins in the juke and selects some tunes, nothing happens. He tries again… same result. I swear here, as the sky is blue, Munt did what all of us would do… he smacked the side of the box… no harder than anyone else, including a kid… AND the front of the Cubi BOQ Bar jukebox shattered…. completely shattered. We looked at each other in a true WTF moment????
Suddenly from behind us comes the comment “this was a nice place until you guys came in.” Turning we see – still in khakis – a Blackshoe CDR with a Command at Sea Star, glaring at us. This ain’t the Subic Bay side, this is Brownshoe territory, again WTF? I’m lost for a moment, sheer vertigo, this is not right… he is CO of a destroyer or something, a Commander, I’m just a JO, but this… there’s something wrong with this picture. I’m truely shocked and awed.
Fortunately nothing else happens for a bit and then I see him go out the door across the hall to the Head. I’m Champ Lead for this, ya know, Skipper Lew would expect leadership… I cannot, must not fail my Champ duty… I need to talk to this guy, but an O-3 can’t confront an O-5 out in a crowd, toasted or not….. and soooo, brain half engaged at least, into the Head I follow… he’s at the left urinal, I take the right. “Commander,” I begin
with all due respect, Sir, maybe you aren’t thinking about this but President Nixon announced the end of the war today. Our squadron and airwing has lost some folks, my squadron has two POWs. They’re comming home. Munt didn’t mean to break the jukebox, the war just happens to be over, AND no one at Cubi seems to give a flying rat’s ass! The four of us are celebrating, we’re drunk and gonna get drunker.”
He leads the way back into the bar, never says a word. To his credit, he gathers up a few other shoes and departs the bar. The story of the 24th of January ends … early morning on the 25th in the BOQ pool. Last memory – Max, or maybe it’s Munt or Floo, maybe all of us on the diving board… I think??? Over to Floo, Max, Munt.
Gift #5 – Champagne for the Switches; Skipper Lew at his best (other than in the cockpit, of course): Midway docked on the Cubi Pier the next day, and the ship and airwing began a major celebration. Stories were out and about, but any ramifications were quickly overcome by a major party effort. I’ll leave those stories for other folks, and jump to the day we got back underway for… yes, one more line period – our ninth and record setting for days on the line for any carrier in the Vietnam War… Laos and Cambodia ops were still underway.
Some needed background. As the FNG, in April I was tasked to put on a party in Cubi to pay off a wager the Champs lost to the Rocks of VF-161 during deployment to Fallon. Given that the squadron had no “official” drink, I decided that Champagne made sense for the Champs and set up the party in the O’Club accordingly. First round was the good stuff, then when no one could tell the difference, well you get it. As the cruise went on, champagne flowed, a tradition – at least for that cruise established.
Now back to the morning as the Midway gets underway… most Champs are in the Ready Room, drinking coffee, reading messages, mostly just kicking back. Suddenly and loudly through the door storms in CDR John Disher, Commanding Officer of the VF-151 Switches,
GAWDDAMN IT LEW, I JUST SPENT AN HOUR WITH CAG GETTING MY ASS CHEWED. I”VE GOTTA PAY for chairs, two windows and other stuff up at the club. YOU GOT MY GUYS WASTED AND THEY DESTROYED THE PLACE. DAMN IT MAN, I WON”T SIT DOWN FOR A WEEK. THANKS ONE HELL OF A LOT. JUST GAWD DAMN IT!
About face and he slams back out the door. At which point the Champions of VA-56 in mass rose up, cheered and applauded the best damn squadron commander in the United States Navy. We were out of jail and our Skipper Lew Chatham led the jail break single handedly. Commander Walter Lewis Chatham, USN, never said a word, but the shit-eating grin was priceless.
The back story: That last night in port the O’Club was packed. Skipper Lew starts buying Champagne for the airwing – OK, he’s done that before. As he pours, he barely leaks a little into the glasses of “his boys.” WTF, Skipper? But as it turns out, he’s filling to overflow the glasses of the Switches. We’ve been going at it for days, tired, we return to the ship at a reasonable hour. Not so, the boys of VF-151, they party on
Lots of memories from that war cruise, but that few moments in our ready-room, while VF-151′s CO goes off has to be right there after the SAM for Floo and Boris, and a hell of a lot funnier.
Epilogue
0800 January 28th, 1973 Saigon Time, the Paris Peace Accords went into effect. The last Navy loss was on the 27th – CDR Harley Hall, CO of VF-143 with RIO LCDR Phillip Allen Kientzler off of USS Enterprise was shot down after their third bombing run just north of Quang Tri near the DMZ. Both men were seen on the ground. Kientzler was the last POW. CDR Hall’s remains were returned in June 1995. My last combat mission in Vietnam was in the same area on 23 January. Lew Chatham briefed Clay Thomas and I to make one run, drop all our ordinance and come home. We took fire.
I flew five more combat missions in February in Cambodia/Laos. They were pieces of cake but I didn’t like being there at all.
Midway pulled back into Cubi Point before heading back to California. Those of us lucky enough to be on the Magic Carpet flight spent a last night at the Cubi O’Club with plans to get on a bus to Clarke Air Force Base the next day and fly home the following day. That night the Cubi Officers’ Wives Club held a Las Vegas night in the O’Club. I couldn’t lose at the Crap Table. All the winnings were to be used in bidding for prizes. Nobody but nobody could out bid me for the two cases of champagne. From Boris and the Champs, “Champagne for my buds” waiting in the BOQ for the bus the next afternoon.
The BEST two GIFTS of all: A few days after we got back to Lemoore, the wife of one month I’d left behind for the Easter Offensive, along with Valerie, wife of our assistant Maintenance Officer, Mike Adams, put together one amazing Christmas dinner – turkey with everything and I do mean everthing imaginable. Mike and I amazed the women with our consumption. Paulette had left the Christmas Tree up waiting to celebrate our first Christmas together – whenever it might occur.
In May, Tracey, the baby girl made in Hong Kong completed the gifts and started a whole new chain of memories, including throwing up on Skipper Lew’s uniform and 18 years later going to Floo’s Change-of-Command for CVW-30 in Miramar, and meeting some of those Champs.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/va56champions/
A Facebook link to VA-56 Champion group
As I noted previously, I sent out an e-mail announcement to the CAG-5 folks related to “Forty Years Ago Tonight” – President Nixon’s announcement of the agreement for the Paris Peace Accords to be signed. The e-mail generated a significant amount of feedback, some of which I have added as “comments” on that Remembered Sky post.
I will continue here with those comments. Thanks to all.
Great to be reminded of those amazing days (and nights). Thanks to all.
Manny Bader
You will never know how proud I was of each and every one of you – and still am.
Skipper
(Note: Commanding Officer of VA-56 in the time frame of these stories)
Skipper -
Speaking on behalf of all the RockRivers, we held you in great esteem then, as well as now. And, of course as you know how fighter jocks can get, that’s “pretty hard to do” being an attack puke !!
Seriously, though, we knew CAG5 had the best ground-busters in the business!!
Cheers,
Bart
Bart Bartholomay
Skipper Chatham et al,
40 years!
You mean it has been that long?
Egads.
Three items:
1. Thank you Skipper Chatham.
Shylock speaks eloquently below when he says “When one of us called, we all came…”
Back in the day a number of us JO’s were reservists with augmentation requests submitted. The results of the board were less than inspiring for the JO’s in our Air Wing.
The A-rab JO jungle rumor mill had it that Skipper Chatham was not having any of that BS. Next thing we knew, augmentation requests were resubmitted with a completely different result.
Whether we happened to be Corsair or Intruder pukes, pilot or B/n or RIO, didn’t matter. We all stuck together.
Thank you for standing up for us Skipper.
2. I was lucky enough to fly with both Snako Kelly and Horse Horsely.
A number of times we were Dash 2 or Dash 4 on Alpha strikes “down town” led by Skipper Chatham.
My thinking at the time was “I’ll go anywhere with these guys” (if they’ll have me).
3. Finally I don’t remember Grande Island having that many carst ridges……
To echo KT, thank you all for an amazing experience that’s lasted 40 years and more.
Toon
It’s probably time to admit. The night before the fly-off, after the war was proclaimed “over.” I checked the flight schedule for the following am. And I was clear…not scheduled. So one of the notorious Bunkroom 8, (also a good friend who flew with me first after my accident), Bono and I decided to celebrate. So we did….until about 5 or 6 in the am. About 0700 I answered a call from the duty officer, announcing I was late for my brief…I was not only scheduled, but was leading the division flyoff. The duty officer knew my previous evening’s evolution so I was surprised. I asked “Don’t you remember my previous evening’s evolutions?” To which he replied: “The Skipper’s here, do you want me to relay that information?” To which I replied something like “Of course not you A..Hole.” So I briefed, and flew. But as I approached the cat, I told my BN, whom I don’t remember, “I’m still drunk….after launch I’ll lock the throttles so I have fewer things to deal with.” He seemed to think this was a reasonable statement given the times. I did as promised, locked the throttles, climbed to rendezvous altitude, and flew to Cubi. Enroute, my section leader, Bud Langstrom, asked why we were flying “so fast.” My answer seemed very reasonable to me at the time: “because.” We all survived…thankfully…b
My old feeble mind, remembers a typical bunkroom 8 celebration where you got in, but could go out until the next morning ! The best floating bar in the Pacific and the only one that housed all BN’s. I still cherish the time I spent with the air wing. As I look back on it we were warriors and comrades all rolled up together. When one of us called for help, we all came, and we owe our lives to each other. If I got a call from any one of you, even now, that we had a strike to hell, I know Snake and I would be there with our 28 Mk 82’s strapped to our ass ready to deliver the payload, for we are Naval Aviators !
(Note: The last part of John’s comment was so well said, I’m making it a post on its own. Thanks)
Boris, Perhaps I am thinking of someone else, but was it you who taxied into a light pole at Cubi?
Great memory… unfortunately
Alas twas I
When I got bakship, Oz, Many and Hak had painted my “kill” on the side of the bunkroom bed.
Skipper Lew rather than kicking my ass, sat me down and told me the story of coming back with a tree limb in his landing gear whilst a “Blue.” Not the same, actually but he full well knew how dumb-assed I felt.
As an aside, not then, not now can I picture/remember ever seeing that pole in the fuel pits. It was always “how the hell did that get there???”
As they say
Fly Navy the BEST Always Have
Boris
Boris,
The telephone pole incident was the same flight back to the ship that we were so hung over that Manny forgot his oxygen mask and came aboard “nordo”. I don’t remember exactly, but I think Hak was leading the flight and he had no TACAN. I was # 3 (since you were still on the beach with your wife) with a perfectly good airplane, but with me being junior I guess Hak figured he was still better off leading than the dumb JG with a TACAN and communications. Can’t remember if that was before or after he bombed the Chinese junk.
Skipper, it’s a wonder you were never relieved of command with the misfits placed in your care screwing up on such a regular basis.
v/r always,
Floo
Glad you verifed that. I would hate to think I was starting to make that stuff up
There were no screwups!
The pole didn’t belong there.
The junk was under power.
It was time to clean the pool and the dye got the cleanup going.
The “shoe” really didn’t need two good ears.
The duty officer deserved to be told to leave the club, the base CO agreed.
Nordo recovery was good practice.
The beer cans coming back into the foc’sal through the hawse pipe (that’s blackshoe talk) proved – wait – wrong cruise.
KT
Ah HA!!!
The great off-rep of beer cans that blew back on the deck. Was that from the infamous bunkroom party that the XO came to?
Hotdog answered the door, “Who the fuck is it?”
This bridngs to mind soemthing CAG Rutherford said when “discussing” this matter with the participants and their CO’s in RR 2. “ART (skipper of the Rocks) if these had been all your boys you’d be gone now!”
Art looked like he wanted to craw under his chair.
Anyhow, this could be the reason that the “flood light” didn’t shine on you Champs the 72 cruise, was because The Rock Rivers were always stepping on it the first cruise.
At least that’s how I remember it.
Besides everybody liked Skipper Lew.
Phlylee
Better than Snake and I leaving a drop tank full of JP-4 on the back of a pick-up truck in Cubi. Now that is a whole story all in itself.
Wonder any of the senior officers ever were able to stay in the naval service with screw ups such as us back at the ranch !!!!!
Shylock,
I have heard that God loves fools and Naval Aviators.
Toon
Not necessarily in that order!
Well, here’s a little tidbit that not many people know since I never mentioned it to anyone until some time after mustering out.
When i was a VERY new nugget in VF-161, so new in fact that T. J. Cassidy was still the Skipper, I asked if I could take a x-country back to Kingsville for the weekend. He said OK, but since none of the RIOs wanted to go, I asked one of my friendly RAG RIOs if they’d like to get away. One volunteered and off we went.
The weekend was fun and I was able to see one of my former instructors, who on Sunday afternoon was flying a test hop in a TA-4J. I suggested we do a little haggling since we didn’t have too far to go (Holloman AFB) on the way back to Miramar for a refuel. He said he’d meet me at the 270/35NM ay 20K.
Next day we filled up the tanks and put a shitload of other goodies in the blivet we had slung under one wong and off we went. At 20K feet the fight was on and as we passed head-on I pulled up and into him and then did an outside vertical roll to try to get behind him. Halfway through the roll I felt like throwing out the brakes and the flaps for just a second to increase my rate of deceleration. Well, that worked pretty well, but the next thing I knew as i was putting in the brakes and the flaps was a attitude that i didn’t expect. And upon further examination (which took about two seconds) I realized that going over the top inverted we’d lost the ability to maintain lift – or…we were in an inverted spin in an asymmetrically loaded 25 ton monster.
My RIO all this time was enjoying himself but quickly assumed a monitor role and started off calling altitudes as we plummeted downward out of control, myself trying every anti-spin technique I’d learned. We started this debacle at an altitude of about 25K, but I started hearing my RIO counting 15, 14, 13,…. At 10K we had been advised to punch out by NATOPS and Squadron SOP, but I told him when i heard 10 to stay with me for one more count as I pulled the drag chute. Doing so popped our nose down and we started regaining airspeed and ultimately control. His last call was at 5K as I had told him that I had the aircraft and was in process of leveling off, which we did finally at 3500 feet.
The end of the story includes the surprised line chief at Holloman who asked politely did I know that I only had a little tail hanging out of the drag chute compartment? And of course our own plane captain upon returning to Mirarmar who asked me where I got that perdy brand spankin’ new yellow drag chute?
That was the last I heard of it, or even mentioned it, until many years later when at the Tailhook in ’76 I think it was I saw Tom Boyd my VT-23 instructor. He came up to me and said, “Wow, I saw you starting to gain an advantage, but then you weren’t there anymore. Where’d you go?!!”
I said, Tom it’s a long story!!
I think we all have those stories we preferred to tell only after quite some time had passed
Men: Reading all of these remembrances brings back a flood of thoughts. But I especially had to send this message to all of you Champs out there. I read the special story about LCDR Smokey Tolbert posted by Boris in Remembered Sky on 6 NOV 12. Those who haven’t read it, please do.
I left the Arabs after the second cruise and took the Navy up on its kind offer of a shore tour as the senior class instructor at the NROTC Unit, U. of Oklahoma, in August 1973. I was the duty airdale at the unit. One of my collateral duties was to assume the CACO responsibility for those Navy families in the great state of Oklahoma. The blackshoe from whom I assumed the CACO duty told me he only had one active case, a Mr. Tolbert from Tishomingo. A chill ran up my spine.
“Not Smokey Tolbert??” I shouted. “Why, yes,” said the blackshoe asking how I knew him. I proceeded to tell him the story of a legend. Smokey Tolbert was a great attack pilot who demonstrated unparallelled devotion to duty and loyalty to his squadron. I remember Smokey as a hero to those of us who understand that word in the context of Vietnam. Anyway, I called his father right away and had a wonderful conversation with Mr. Tolbert. He was a very quiet man who obviously was a native Okie.
When I introduced myself and told him that I knew his son as a fellow MIDWAY River Rat, he was dumbfounded. Over the next year until I left active duty, I kept in touch with Mr. Tolbert. He suffered the loss of Smokey greatly, but I must say that my periodic calls and stories about MIDWAY and attack pilots were a comfort and really made him proud.
Champs, Smokey was one heck of a Naval Aviator, and a true American hero! Hats off to all CAG-5 aircrews! Dave “Spook” Walsh.
With that great comment about Smokey (here is the link: Smokey-For Love of the Game ), I’m moving to the next post – a part of one of the e-mail replies byJohn ‘Shylock’ Koch, VA-115 which eloquently speaks for itself, reflecting once again These Good Men