The previous chapter was well received. I appreciated those who gave reviews or sent PMs describing their own struggle with alcohol addiction.


Chapter 30
Air America

29 April 1975
0957 local (Zulu +8)
USS Enterprise
Task force 77, South China Sea

Operation Frequent Wind, the evacuation of Saigon, was underway, and the Big E was making 28 knots through calm seas. On the flight deck, The Bounty Hunters of fighter squadron VF-2 were providing BARCAP for the task force which was steaming 50 miles off the coast of South Vietnam.

This was the Navy's first operational use of the F-14 Tomcat, which had been plagued with cost overruns and engine reliability problems.

LCDR Tom Boone and LCDR Bill Ross were sitting on the cats and making ready to launch. Boone took the salute from the Shooter and braced himself for the cat shot.

Five years had passed since Boone and Ross had flown their last mission over Vietnam. Neither man considered this a homecoming.

Upon clearing the flight deck, Boone eased back on the throttles of his two Pratt & Whitney TF30 turbofans, ever cautious to avoid a compressor stall or to initiate a high frequency turbine blade failure.

The F-4 Phantom's J79 turbojets were absolutely bulletproof, while the F-14's TF30s were a nightmare.

Arriving on station, Boone watched as a stream of green painted Marine Corps heavy-lift helicopters made their way into Saigon.

More than 7,000 people were set to be evacuated from various points in the city. Some were American officials, others were South Vietnamese military officers and their families who were literally running for their lives.

Although danger from MiGs was considered minor, Saigon's Tan Son Nhut Air Base had fallen to the North Vietnamese during the night. SAM sites had been hastily set up and their Fan Song radar was operating.

"We're being painted," Boone's RIO, LT Garth "Granny" Granville, announced from the backseat.

"Tulsa-One to Two. Rooster, I've got a threat alert."

"We've got the same," Ross answered.

Despite the primary threat being from SAM's, neither of the F-14's were fitted with air to surface missiles. If fired upon from the ground, neither aircraft couldn't shoot back.

Boone frowned. I swear to God, the same band of idiots who masterminded the air war over Vietnam must be behind this evacuation.

"Light them up," Boone ordered Collins.

The F-14 Tomcat carried powerful AN/AWG-9 radar which was used for guiding anti radiation missiles. By blasting the SAM site with his own radar, Boone hoped to trick the North Vietnamese into believing that he could take them out with nonexistent missiles.

Boone waited to see if the NVA would call the bluff.

"They just switched off," said Collins.

Boone shook his head. "I remember when they would have taken the shot, even without radar."

Why bother? They've won...and they know it.


29 April 1975
1005 Hotel (Zulu +8)
Pittman Apartment Building
Gia Long Street, Saigon

Air America pilot Allen Blaisdell began orbiting above Gia Long Street and watched as a nation disintegrated.

Due to fears of antagonizing the South Vietnamese and creating a panic, US Ambassador Graham Martin had been reluctant to proceed with the evacuation of Saigon and had postponed it numerous times.

While Ambassador Martin vacillated, CIA Chief of Station Saigon Neville Webb wanted to get his people out. On his own authority, Webb had ordered the Agency's remaining SE Asia air assets flown into into South Vietnam.

Shortly after dawn, nine blue and white Air America Bell 205 Huey's were inbound for Saigon.

To avoid conflict with Marine Corps choppers operating in the airspace above the US Embassy, the designated CIA landing zone was the parking lot of the Lee Hotel.

The first flights landed and departed the hotel with little interference, but crowds around the Lee quickly become a mob scene.

Unlike the US Embassy, there were no Marine guards stationed at the Lee Hotel. When it was no longer possible secure the hotel LZ, the pickup point was changed to the Pittman Apartment building; a 10 story structure which was owned by the CISA and used as an office building.

Allen Blaisdell made a second orbit over Gia Street and saw a nightmare unfolding below him.

Order and discipline among ARVN soldiers and Saigon police had broken down. Men were throwing away their uniforms and looking for a way out of Saigon, even if it was at gun point.

Blaisdell had seen the same thing in Biafra, the Congo, Yemen, and Cambodia.

The identities of Allen Blaisdell and copilot Gary Grissom were known to the NVA and the Viet Cong. In the event of capture, their status as civilian members of the United States Agency for International Development wouldn't hold up to the slightest scrutiny.

Despite the risks, as a "civilian" aircraft the Air America chopper was unarmed, save for the .38 caliber S&W revolvers carried by both pilots.

On his third orbit, Blaisdell spotted a signal to set down on the Pittman's roof which was crowded with nearly 40 people.

The helicopter's maximum passenger capacity was 14.

Uncertain if the building's structure could take the weight of the Bell 205, Blaisdell gently touched the roof with the chopper's skids and then slowly increased the weight until he was satisfied that the roof could take the load.

With the Lycoming T53 turboshaft still running, Gary Grissom left the cockpit to help 14 evacuees board the chopper.

First in was CIA Chief of Station Neville Webb, who had sent his wife Porter and their son Clayton to Manila three weeks prior. Faced with the most difficult duty he had ever performed, Webb had told his remaining South Vietnamese agents to remain at the Pittman and that helicopters would return to evacuate them and their families.

It was a lie. No one would be coming back for them. This was Air America's final flight out of Saigon.

Accompanying Webb was Special Forces Colonel Frank Stryker, a member of the Studies and Observations Group and the senior US military advisor remaining in-country.

Webb and Stryker were followed by four "Spooks" from CORDS (Civil Operations and Revolutionary Development Support), and a South Vietnamese Colonel from the 522nd Fighter Squadron, the "Skoshi Tigers."

Next in was General Nguyễn Văn Y, the director of the Cãnh Sát Dã Chiến,(the South Vietnamese National Police Field Force). The CSDC had done the CIA's dirty work; including kidnapping, torture and murder.

Those activities- and more, had put the General at the top of every execution list in Hanoi.

The General's family included an old woman who Grissom took to be the grandmother, the General's wife, three men of military age who Grissom felt should be defending the city, and a girl of around 18 years old who was wearing a long coat and holding it closed with her arms.

The family had brought along their luggage; too much luggage.

Grissom noticed that one of the sons was carrying a bag which appeared far too heavy for its size.

Gold! They're smuggling out their fortune.

The girl, was the last to board the chopper.

It was far too hot to be wearing a coat. "Hở; thoáng rộng (Show what is inside)," Grissom ordered the girl, who opened her coat to reveal a medium size dog.

Air America's policy forbade transporting animals which were not caged. Besides, with 14 passengers and their luggage, the Huey was already over Maximum Takeoff weight.

The dog was a weight penalty that they could not afford.

"Vứt nó đi (Throw it away)," Grissom demanded in simplified Vietnamese.

When the girl refused, Grissom grabbed the dog and unceremoniously dropped it onto the roof. When the dog attempted to jump back into the chopper, Grissom kicked away.

When Grissom closed and secured the chopper's door, the girl began shrieking; cursing Grissom in Vietnamese. When he paid no attention, she kicked him hard on the shin.

"Câm ming (Shut up)," Grissom told the girl, and forced into a seat. When the General's wife began to protest, Grissom pointed at the heavy bag in her son's lap. "Vứt nó đi (Throw it away)."

The General spoke up, "Giim lặng (Keep quiet)," he told his wife, and the family remained silent for the entire trip.

As Grissom moved forward, he noticed the Colonel from the Skoshi Tigers and Colonel Stryker were engaged in animated conversation. The South Vietnamese Colonel kept pointing to a small book which looked like a dairy.

Probably negotiating the rights to his memoirs.

When Grissom entered the cockpit, he told Blaisdell, "Ready in the rear. Door is secured."

"Then lets fly."

Blaisdell twisted the throttle wide open, but the helicopter was heavy and the outside air temperature was 100F and humid.

Hot humid air is less dense, reducing rotor efficiency and generating less lift. They had barely cleared the roof when the Huey began dropping like a stone.

Thanks to the combined skill of both pilots, as well as their combined prayers, the little chopper clawed its way into the air and began moving over the chaotic streets below.

Blaisdell looked over the his copilot and grinned. "Were you scared, Grits?"

"Fuck! I'm still scared."

Blaisdell laughed. "You knew the job was dangerous when you took it."

Allen Blaisdell was a former US Navy NAP (Naval Aviation Pilot) who had deployed aboard the Essex during the Korean Conflict. Unlike commissioned officers who flew jets, NAPs were chief petty officers normally restricted to operating helicopters.

Flying plane guard in a Sikorsky H-5 helicopter named "The Angel", CPO Blaisdell plucked downed pilots from the freezing Sea of Japan. Flying lifeguard duty, he recovered pilots who were downed in coastal waters or over enemy-held territory, often while under fire.

CPO Blaisdell made 120 rescues in the Korean theater; 30 while under fire, and he never lost a downed pilot. Blaisdell held a high opinion of his own flying ability: "I'm not conceited...I'm convinced," and was eager to take on the riskiest missions.

Despite Blaisdell's heroics and his being awarded a Bronze Star, three Distinguished Flying Crosses, and five Air Medals, the Essex CAG considered Blaisdell undisciplined in the air.

When the CAG warned the Chief to start flying by the book, Blaisdell responded, "Sir, the book says that I have to fly the mission. It doesn't say a damned thing about my getting back alive!"

After leaving the Navy, Allen Blaisdell strolled into an Air America office; a passenger and cargo airline covertly owned and operated by the CIA whose slogan was Anything, Anywhere, Anytime, Professionally.

A shameless self-promoter, Blaisdell quickly talked his way into a job interview.

Blaisdell's military record was impressive, but Blaisdell claim of having served as the inspiration for the helicopter rescue pilot in James Michener's classic The Bridges at Toko-Ri, sealed the deal.

In under 60 minutes the smooth talking Blaisdell was behind the controls of a Bell UH-1 Iroquois, a helicopter he'd flown only once before. Following a flawless check flight, Blaisdell was hired on the spot.

Now among Air America's most senior pilots, Allen Blaisdell had flown spies, revolutionaries, counter revolutionaries, commandos, sabotage teams, freelance journalists, and the occasional adventure seeker into and out of hot spots around the world.

The risks were high, but so was the pay, which was fine with Allen Blaisdell.

Anything, Anywhere, Anytime, Professionally...for a price.

Inside the Huey, Blaisdell switched on the helicopter's intercom. "If anyone wants a last look at Saigon, it's now or never because we aren't coming back."

None of the Vietnamese passengers turned their heads, but Neville Webb looked down at the sprawling city which had been his and his family's home for over a decade.

A commissioned officer in the United States Foreign Service, Neville Webb left the FS in the Spring of 1942 and joined the fledgling Office of Strategic Service (OSS). Working behind the lines in South East Asia, Webb played a major role in recruiting and training indigenous troops in China and Burma to fight the Japanese Army.

In early 1945, Webb became a member of the OSS Deer Team operating in what was then French Indochina. The team's first mission was to train 100 Việt Minh guerrillas to attack men and matériel along the railroad running north from Hanoi to the Chinese border.

The Deer Team worked closely with the Viet Minh; a nationalist organization led by Hồ Chí Minh which was fighting for Vietnamese independence- from Japan and France.

Webb spent considerable time traveling with Hồ Chí Minh and was impressed with Ho's manifest popularity among the Vietnamese population.

Neville Webb informed his OSS superiors that if allowed to form a coalition government, Ho would win a popular election overwhelmingly. Unknown to Webb was that America's post war policy would not include a popularly elected government in a unified Vietnam.

Neville Webb was present in Tokyo Bay for the formal Japanese surrender and then returned to Vietnam where the famine of 1945 left an indelible impression on him.

Later that year, Webb and 10 other OSS operatives parachuted onto Hainan Island, China, to arrange the evacuation of the US, Australian, and Dutch prisoners of war.

Web would remain in China until the Chinese Communist revolution. By then the old OSS had become the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), in which Webb had become a prominent figure.

In 1965, Webb's wartime experience in Indochina made him the logical choice for Chief of Station Saigon.

Visitors to Webb's office were usually shocked to see the CIA Chief appearing in photographs with Hồ Chí Minh, who was now the leader of North Vietnam.

When questioned, Webb would often describe Ho as being, "An amiable fellow who was worthy of respect. I always addressed him as Mister Ho."

In Hanoi, when Hồ Chí Minh was informed that Neville Webb had taken charge of CIA operations in Saigon, Ho deeply was concerned.

Neville Webb firmly believed that WWII had been a struggle for good to overcome evil, and by any means necessary. Ho knew that Webb brought that mindset with him to Saigon: when evil was identified; it must be quickly eliminated.

To advance this fight, Webb developed the CIA's Phoenix Program to suppress Viet Cong political and revolutionary activities, and destroy their political infrastructure. Methods to accomplish this included infiltration, capture, interrogation, torture, counter-terrorism, and assassination.

Once Phoenix was implemented the body count in the provinces controlled by the Viet Cong began climbing exponentially.

Webb's devoted wife, Porter, fully embraced her husband's mission and served as his confidant. Porter also handled the Webb's social calendar, delicately blending diplomacy, foreign relations, and politics into dinners and parties.

Always the perfect hostess, it was said that Porter Webb- who spoke five languages fluently, had access to more foreign officials, dignitaries, and high ranking military officers than anyone else in Saigon- including her Chief of Station husband.

Among Porter Webb's favorites were South Vietnam's flamboyant Prime Minister (later Vice President) Nguyễn Cao Kỳ and his wife, Madam Kỳ. The Ky's daughter, Kỳ Duyên, soon became good friends with the Webb's son, Clayton.

Growing up in South Vietnam was an amazing experience for young Clayton Webb, who attended the American Community School in Saigon. This was a private school for children of diplomats and officials, and well-connected Saigon businessmen.

A gifted child, Clayton quickly mastered the Vietnamese language, as well as French, and Mandarin Chinese.

Being stationed in South Vietnam had been a good life for the Webb's.

Reality intrudes. Once a beautiful perfumed nation, Vietnam, had been torn apart and there was no picking up the pieces. The nation of South Vietnam had disappeared, and Neville Webb, his wife and their son, had seen it unfold before their eyes.

That it had happened on Neville Webb's watch would haunt him for the rest of his life, and would prevent him from eventually becoming the Director of The CIA.

Inside the chopper, Colonel Frank Stryker was already planning his return to Vietnam. Several hundred MIAs were being left behind and Stryker, who felt that America's MIA policy was an abomination, intended to bring them out- even if it meant doing it one by one.

Pilot Allen Blaisdell had been informed by Langley that Air America was finished. Over the course of the next several months, company assets would be sold off, and Air America employees would be released unceremoniously and with few benefits, even for those who suffered long-term disabilities.

No compensation or disability benefits would be provided for employees or the families of those injured or killed in action.

As a supervisor, Blaisdell would be reassigned to a desk, but he wasn't about to stop flying. Trouble had erupted in the Portuguese colonies of Angola and Mozambique, possibly leading to a civil war which could spread throughout Southern Africa. Blaisdell would sit tight and wait to see which side the Agency was backing.

Gary Grissom was pragmatic. Grissom had a wife and a two year old daughter waiting for him in Thailand. After moving his family to the States, the sheep dipped naval aviator would pick up his naval career where he'd left off. Until then, every naval aviator wants to go to the boat, and Grissom was looking forward to setting down on an aircraft carrier for the first time in five years.

As soon as the chopper crossed the coast and went feet wet, Bill Ross spotted it.

Boone and Ross had been briefed that Air America would be in the air that morning. Even so, potential threats were taken seriously. Three weeks ago a South Vietnamese Air Force pilot had defected and dropped his bombs on the Presidential Palace in Saigon. An attempt by a renegade chopper pilot to attack the fleet was not outside the realm of possibility.

"Tulsa-One from Two. I have an Air America slick (an unarmed Huey) at my 3 O'clock. He's outside of the egress lane and is not flashing any recognition code.

"Rog. Let's give him a look-over." Boone took up position on the chopper's left while Ross boxed it in on the right.

Because the helicopter's maximum speed was only slightly above the F-14's stall speed, this was an extremely difficult maneuver.

Boone hailed the chopper in true maritime fashion. "Air America, X ray-Whiskey- Poppa- Niner, this is US Navy Tulsa-One. You are outside of the egress zone. State your intentions."

"Intentions? We're getting the hell out of Dodge!" Grissom replied to Boone, who immediately recognized the Arkansas drawl.

"Grits! What in God's name are you doing out here?"

Grissom's tone turned serious. "Tulsa-One, we have The Don on board."

Boone checked his knee board and saw that "The Don" was CIA Chief of Station Neville Webb.

"Understood. What's your destination?"

"We're bound for the Hancock."

Bill Ross cut in. "Air America- Niner from Tulsa-Two. The Hancock reports a locked deck. Be advised the Hornet is spotted for recovery."

"Roger. Diverting to the Hornet. Thanks, Rooster."

"Air America- Niner, you are cleared to proceed," said Boone. He rocked his wings and added, "God speed, Gary."

"Thanks, guys. Air America...out."

Boone and Ross broke away and then watched as the little white and blue helicopter headed into the South China Sea.


Saturday, 17 October 1998
1545 EDT
Paradise Diner
US Hwy 17 near Stafford Regional Airport
Stafford, Virginia

"Grits came back into the Navy as a lieutenant commander. He qualified in the F-14 and after two deployments he was promoted to full commander and given command of a training squadron at Pensacola," Boone told Tony Taylor, who was seated across from him.

"It didn't hurt that his grandfather was an Arkansas congressman with a seat on The House Armed Services Subcommittee."

"Grits was promoted to Captain in 1988 and took command of the training wing before he retired in 1992. It's amazing what the Navy can do- when they feel like it."

"The Navy can screw you just as easily. Look at Bill," Taylor answered.

"The Navy set Bill up to fail, and he didn't disappoint. The Seahawk had won the Battenberg Cup for operational excellence and the USS Arizona Memorial Trophy for operational readiness. When Bill took command of the Seahawk, the ship's operations became one fiasco after another."

"Tom, I still can't figure out if you and Bill are friends, or just two guys who bumped into each other in flight school and then spent a lifetime serving together."

"Bill's my friend, but that's due to circumstance," Boone admitted. "Outside of ships business, when Bill and I talk, it's about Vietnam and Hammer."

"Tom, you're always talking about Vietnam and Hammer. You've spent the past three decades building Hammer's legacy at the expense of your own."

"No one should forget that Hammer was a great pilot, especially his son, Little Harm. I'd sit for hours with Little Harm at the kitchen table in his mom's old house and tell him about the missions his dad and I flew together."

"It worked. When he was serving in my squadron aboard the Midway, Little Harm told me stories about Yankee Station that I'd forgotten."

Boone shook his head. "When Trish announced that she was marrying Frank Burnett, I walked out of Little Harm's life."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. Once the F-14's carrier suitability trials had been completed and the aircraft was certified for carrier service, you were headed back into the fleet. Trish knew it, and she based her decision on that and not on you."

Boone took no notice. "I should have been with Little Harm when he needed me, just like his dad was always there for me. Hammer saved my six more times than I can count. "

"During our talks aboard the Midway, Little Harm told me that you encouraged and supported him, sometimes taking his side against Trish."

"I didn't see little Harm again until he graduated from flight school."

"I'm sorry I missed the event. I understand that most of the old squadron was there, including Admiral Nielsen."

"I left him behind, just like I left his left his dad behind. Little Harm deserved better from me, but so did Hammer," said Boone, who seemed removed from the conversation.

Tony Taylor was not a psychologist, but he recognized that Tom Boone not only carried three decades of deep rooted guilt around with him, but that Boone was immobilized in the present by the events of Christmas Eve, 1969.

Tom, even though you didn't marry Trish, you're an important part of Little Harm's life. When he learned his father's status, Little Harm's first thought was to contact you."

Boone snapped out of it. "I'm going to step outside and make a call. Do you want to listen in?"

"No, Tom. That call is between you and Little Harm."


[A/N] Early in Season 9, Allen Blaisdell served as Harm's CIA "handler". Blaisdell told Harm that he'd like to sit down and tell him about the missions he'd flown with Air America. I was looking forward to that happening. Instead we were treated to a nonsensical air reconnaissance mission over North Korea with Harm piloting the mythical Aurora spy plane.