In the immediate post-Vietnam era, marijuana use was rampant in the military, and we officers had been trained to arrest anyone using weed and then call the Criminal Investigation Division to come and process the malefactor.
One Friday night I landed the task of duty officer, and as I was leaving the mess hall to go back to Battalion HQ, I passed the barracks of a platoon from which emanated entire clouds of marijuana smoke. I could have gotten a contact high had I lingered long enough. This platoon was populated by some of the worst badasses in the battalion, and I understood that sometimes discretion is the better part of valor.
I grabbed one of the troops walking by and said, “You’re lucky my allergies are acting up because right now I can’t smell a damn thing. But I’m going back to headquarters, I’m going to spray my nose, and when I come back here in five minutes I want to smell nothing but God’s fresh air! Do you understand me, private?!”
Five minutes later, it wasn’t exactly fresh air that I smelled. It was Right Guard.
I tell folks that in 1968 I went to VietNam and that my Mom went with me. Guys don’t get it, but Moms always get it.
In Jan. 1968, I left Travis AFB, a brand new W-1 Army Aviator. I reported to 498th Med. Co. where I became DustOff 45, thus my tagline. After 1571 sorties and 2099 patients, I ended my first tour, going back to Ft. Rucker to transition into Chinooks, the CH-47, and was back in ‘Nam April of ‘69 on my second tour.
At the end of that year, the army asked Warrant Officer rotary-wing aviators to extend their first tour by six months and they would forgive the remainder of their 36 month service commitment. The rumor was that they had grand-fathered in current WOs on their second tours.
I remember coming back from the field and asking the CO if the rumor was true and He said “Yes, it is true, what do you want to do?” I hesitated for just a moment and responded, “Sir, I want to go home” Suddenly, my time was done.
I finished at Ft. Lewis 24Dec69 and was walking from my home town to my folks house as the sun came up the next morning.
As soon as the entire house same to life about my sudden arrival, my Mom asked me one simple question, “Do You have to go back?” “No, Mom, I am done”
Over the next few weeks, Mom slowly began to open up about the many times she went into intense prayer for me. I know Father God had dispatched His angels many times as I know of many missions that could have ended terribly. Her dates matched my memory of horrific missions.
I did not orchestrate the timing of this early-out event, but a loving God gave my Mom a Christmas present she would never forget.
The fervant prayer of a righteous person avails much.