Chapter 33
The Trail

Here dead lie because we did not choose
to live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
but young men think it is, and we were young.

A E Housman

It was said that Tony Taylor could tie a sheepshank knot before he could tie his own shoelaces.

Tony's father operated a charter fishing boat in Newport Beach CA where the younger Taylor would spend his summer vacations working as a deckhand.

When Tony wasn't on the fishing boat, he was surfing the Wedge, or playing guitar in the band that he and his four high school friends had formed. Although the band played mostly surf-rock, Tony had a passion for country western and folk music, and he had written several of his own songs.

When Tony announced that he planned to join the US Navy after graduating from college, his father, who had been a navy chief petty officer during WWII, was thrilled.

When Tony said that he planned to become an aviator, the elder Taylor didn't hide his surprise. "What in the hell do you know about flying airplanes?" the elder Taylor demanded.

In the Spring of 1969 the air war in Vietnam nearing it's peak, and newly winged LTJG Tony Taylor went directly from the RAG (Replacement Air Group) to VF-111 "The Sundowners," a combat squadron deployed on board USS Ticonderoga.

The Tico was an Essex Class carrier built in WWII, and had seen plenty of action during the past quarter century. During the Gulf of Tonkin Incident in August, 1964, it was her aircraft that had fired the opening salvo's of the War in Vietnam.

Now, steaming back to Yankee Station for the fourth time in five years, those aboard the Tico felt that there was no end to the war in sight.


July 1969
USS Ticonderoga
Yankee Station
Tonkin Gulf

On each ship there is a man, who, in the hour of emergency or peril can turn to no other man. That man, regardless of his actual rank, is the ship's captain.

The Ticonderoga's captain was Jack Nielsen, a double ace with kills in WWII and Korea. Nielsen was fighting man with a reputation as a taskmaster who pushed himself and his crew hard. Because no detail was too small to escape his attention, it was said that Jack Nielsen walked ten miles around his ship each day, just to check up on everyone and everything.

Nielsen called this LBWA- Leadership By Walking Around.

The Tico's deployment to Yankee Station made combat a certainty, so from the moment the Tico left San Diego, Captain Nielsen and his staff began working on building cohesion among the Tico's crew, many of them on their first deployment.

The ship's flight deck personnel, most of whom were right out of high school, drew particular attention from Captain Nielsen, who emphasized that their duties on board USS Ticonderoga would likely be the greatest responsibility they'd have in their lives.

Within a day of leaving San Diego, flight operations resumed with training flights three or four times a day. The Tico carried 250,000 gallons of jet fuel, and Captain Nielsen had no qualms about burning it up during flight training.

It wasn't just flight operations personnel who were being trained. Jack Nielsen was a fanatic for drills. Engineering drills, general quarters drills, fire control party drills, collision drills, and abandon ship drills. Drill after drill, with the crew of the Tico combating a never-ending affliction of things going wrong.

And things could go very wrong aboard an aircraft carrier at sea.

While on Yankee Station, supercarriers Forrestal and Enterprise, each among the most modern carriers in the fleet, had suffered catastrophic fires on their flight decks which had killed and maimed hundreds of sailors and destroyed dozens of million dollar aircraft.

Such fires, were they to occur on the aging Ticonderoga, could completely destroy the ship, putting its entire crew of 3500 officers and men at risk.

Nielsen's training never let up. By the time the Tico departed Subic Bay for the Tonkin Gulf, the ship's crew were working as a well drilled team, and Captain Nielsen, while never completely satisfied with anything aboard his ship, was confident that the Tico was now capable of carrying out any combat assignment it was given.

One hour out of Subic Bay and steaming for Yankee Station, the Tico's skipper made a short announcement over the ship's 1MC (the ship's main public address system).

Jack Nielsen did not believe in pep talks. Instead, his speech was short and to the point. "Our training period is over. We are now a ship at war, and I expect every man to give his maximum effort. That is all."

For Tony Taylor, life aboard ship revolved around his squadron: The Sundowners of VF-111.

Formed near the end of 1942, The Sundowners had seen action in WWII and in Korea. Now, just like the aging Tico, VF-111 was on their 4th deployment to Vietnam.

Commander of the Sundowners was Commander William "Bull" Schmidt. Schmidt was a tough as nails fighter jock with two kills in Korea who had more combat time than anyone aboard the ship except for it's captain and it's CAG.

Although perpetually under strength, a late 1960's fighter squadron comprised 12 F-4 Phantoms which were divided into three flights of 4 aircraft each, then further into divided into elements of 2.

The lead flight was headed by deputy squadron commander LCDR Al "Buster" Cherry, a ramrod straight Academy man who seldom frowned or smiled, and who never said one word more than was absolutely necessary.

Known for having nerves of steel, Al Cherry had flown unarmed recon flights over Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and had been awarded a DFC, and a Silver Star. Cherry's squadron, VFP-62, received the Navy Unit Commendation which was personally presented to them by President John F. Kennedy.

Cherry's wingman, LT Bill "Rooster" Ross, was a quiet thoughtful man who seldom attracted attention. Even so, Ross had sank three North Vietnamese patrol boats in Haiphong Harbor and then machine gunned their survivors, claiming the helpless men in the water were "disarmed combatants" swimming to shore to rejoin the fight. When the North Vietnamese government filed an official protest about his actions, Bill Ross had said, "Fuck 'em if the can't take a joke. I didn't fly into Hanoi to make friends. I came to kill the son's of bitches."

North Vietnam's torture abuse of American POWs meant that the protest fell on deaf ears. Bill Ross was awarded an Air Medal with a Valor device.

Leader of the second element was LT Harmon "Hammer" Rabb Sr., a Blue Angel who'd left the flight demonstration team to return to combat and had rejoined his old squadron. So far as Tony Taylor was concerned, Hammer seemed right out of a US Navy recruitment poster. Hammer was an Academy graduate, tall and handsome, with a beautiful blonde wife and a young son back at home in San Diego. Considered the most capable aviator in the air wing (some would say in the entire US Navy), Hammer was admired by every member of the Sundowners.

Although no one was heard saying anything critical of Harmon Rabb Sr., the same could not be said for his wingman, LT Tom "T-Bone" Boone. It seemed that Tom Boone had a beef with every member of the Tico's air wing, including his squadron commander, his deputy squadron commander, and the CAG.

Tom Boone had earned a reputation for being a screw up, whose childish pranks ranged from tiresome to downright irritating. Being something of a troublemaker, Boone had stood captains mast and been brought up on charges more than once. In every case, Harmon Rabb had come forward to speak in Boone's defense and the matters were quietly dropped.

Tony Taylor had been assigned to the squadron's second flight of four aircraft, which was lead by LT Gary "Grits" Grissom, the soft spoken the grandson of an Arkansas congressman. A former rotary wing pilot and arguably the most versatile aviator on board the Tico, Grits was perpetually in the shadow of Harmon Rabb.

"Hammer's father and Captain Nielsen flew off the Hornet during the Battle of Midway. Hammer's dad didn't make it back," Grissom explained.

This would be Grissom's final deployment. He planned to leave the Navy and become a helicopter pilot for Air America, the CIA's private airline.

As a nugget on his first deployment and the most junior aviator in Squadron VF-111, Tony Taylor was assigned to the worst of the ship's officers accommodations. Taylor was also seated so far in the back of the wardroom that he seldom caught more than a glimpse of his much more experienced squadron mates.

Taylor's RIO was Donald "Soup" Campbell, the most experienced backseater in the squadron. Campbell had served as an instructor at Pensacola and he knew the back seat of an F-4 like no one else. Because Soup had been an instructor, unlike many VF-111 RIO's, he enjoyed breaking in new pilots.

Due to his having lived close to Disneyland, while in the RAG Tony Taylor had acquired the callsign "Tinkerbell".

Taylor hated the name, but he knew that protesting would only result in an even worse name- although he couldn't image any name that could be worse.

"No callsign is official until you've deployed with a combat squadron. Bull (the Squadron Commander), can change your callsign on the spot," Campbell reassured Taylor, who crossed his fingers.

When the Ticonderoga arrived at Yankee Station, Operation Commando Hunt was underway.

The campaign's objective was to prevent personnel and supplies moving along the Ho Chi Minh Trail that ran from North Vietnam through the southeastern portion of the Kingdom of Laos and into South Vietnam.

The Navy worked in conjunction with the USAF to bomb the Trail around the clock. With bombs falling on average every 5 minutes, day and night, Commando Hunt would become the single most intensive bombing campaign in history, and neutral Laos would ultimately receive twice the bomb tonnage that was dropped on North Vietnam.

Despite the near constant avalanche of bombs, the North Vietnamese continued moving hundreds of thousands of tons of supplies south along the Trail each month.

Taylor's first mission over the Trail was a nighttime Alpha Strike, with nearly every aircraft aboard the Ticonderoga participating.

Timing was crucial. The USAF was bombing the trail from bases located in South Vietnam and Thailand, so areas of control were assigned to the different flights.

Taylor's flight was named Diamond, with Gary Grissom diamond leader with Taylor, his wingman, flying in diamond two.

"Are you nervous?" Grissom asked Taylor.

"Yes," admitted Taylor, who was certain that he would not return to the carrier alive.

Back in flight school, Tony Taylor had heard horror stories about night attacks on the Trail. The stories always ended with a fiery death over Laos while in an air war so secret that his father would only be told that he was MIA.

Grits' voice was reassuring. "The Zoomies (USAF) run the show over the Trail, and they always assign the choicest target areas for themselves. Chances are that we'll be tree busting tonight. The greatest danger are the other aircraft around you. No freelancing. Pickle your bombs in your assigned area and no where else. Understand?"

"Roger, that," said Taylor, with a confidence he didn't feel.

That evening, with Cherry, Ross, Rabb, and Boone in the first flight, the entire squadron launched without incident.

Up on the Tico's bridge, Captain Nielsen, who would rather be in the air and leading the strike himself, stayed awake throughout the night while waiting for the safe return of his aviators.

Once Taylor's Diamond flight went feet dry, their first contact was with Vice Squad, a USMC control center on what was known as Monkey Mountain, just outside of Da Nang. Vice Squad coordinated flights in and out of South Vietnam's I-Corps, which included restricted air space over areas of Laos.

When Diamond flight reached their assigned weigh point, Monkey Mountain handed them off to "Moonbeam", a USAF C-130 airborne battlefield command center whose controllers managed air traffic over the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Never lacking for resources, the Air Force kept two C-130s airborne 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The C-130's were named Cricket, Hillsborough, Moonbeam and Alley Cat. Cricket and Hillsborough flew the daylight shift while Alley Cat and Moonbeam handled the night shift.

Tonight, Moonbeam was orbiting over Laos in an area about 100 miles north of Udorn, while commanding all flight operations along the Trail.

Inside his cramped F-4 cockpit, Taylor imagined the C-130 pilots in their spacious cockpit drinking hot coffee and eating sandwiches, all while flying a simple 100 mile race track pattern for 12 hours.

No wonder it's called the Chair Force.

The weather over Laos came in two flavors: for six months there was hardly a cloud in the sky. During the other six months it rained almost constantly with thunderstorms mixed in.

Tonight it was raining- hard.

Although bad weather it made it more difficult for NVA gunners to spot incoming aircraft, it also made ground targets that much harder to hit.

In 1969, only the Navy's A-6 Intruder was day/night/all weather. Taylor's F-4 Phantom, which was loaded with unguided "dumb bombs" was essentially night blind.

As he approached the target area, Taylor began listening to radio chatter from the lead flight of Cherry, Ross, Rabb and Boone who were already dropping their Snake Eye cluster bombs.

"Never mind them. Stay focused," Soup Campbell cautioned form the back seat.

Moments later, Moonbeam began delivering targeting information to Diamond flight.

Target areas along the Trail were assigned code names: fingers-pork chop-buttermilk-mike.

Grissom and Taylor were assigned fingers and pork chop and would make their bomb runs at 4,000 feet, which was the lowest altitude assigned to the strike package, and the most vulnerable to ground fire.

Of particular concern were the NVA's deadly 37mm automatic cannons, which could knock a Phantom out of the sky as easily as a SAM missile.

The F-4's were loaded with eighteen Mk-82 cluster bombs, each fitted with four petal-like fins which popped open and slowed the bomb's descent. The fins caused the bomb to oscillate slightly in flight, much like the head of a snake.

This was the source of the Mk-82's nickname: Snake Eye.

Grit's voice came through Taylor's headphones. "Diamond Lead to Two. Buckle up, and keep your interval. I don't want you flying over my strike."

While the delayed detonation allowed the attacking aircraft to safely clear the area, bomb fragments were dangerous to any aircraft following too close behind.

"Rog," replied Taylor, who by now was beyond caring. If he was bracketed by every AA gun in Laos; he wasn't going to budge so much as an inch above or below his assigned altitude or veer away from target area pork chop.

I don't give a damn if I hit anything on the ground or not. I'm not getting knocked down by my flight leader's ordnance!

What followed happened with surprising speed, and seemingly automatic.

"Diamond Leader. Bombs away," Grits announced as he released his bombs over "Fingers".

"Diamond Two. Beginning my run...Bombs away."

When Taylor cleared the "Porkchop" target area, Diamond flight's two trailing aircraft dropped their own bombs on targets "Buttermilk" and "Mike".

After completing the strike, Gary Grissom raised the C-130. "Moonbeam from Diamond Lead. We are Winchester (all ordnance expended) and RTB (Returning to The Boat).

"Roger, Diamond. We can see flames on the ground at Porkchop. It looks like your number two aircraft hit a truck park. Nice job."

"Rog. My number two is my sharpshooter."

"Beginner's luck!" a voice called over the radio, which Taylor recognized as belonging to Tom Boone.

"Moonbeam. Diamond Lead requesting a Yardstick (directive to use air-to-air tactical air navigation TACAN for ranging)."

"Rog, Diamond. Yardstick approved at angels ten."

The nearest TACAN was at Heavy Green, a CIA LIMA Site located 5,000 feet atop Phou Pha Thi (The Sacred Mountain) in eastern Laos. It was rumored that the CIA used LIMA sites to record every mission flown in the region.

What the Agency did with those recordings, and who listened to them, no one knew.

After Soup Campbell received distance and bearing data from the TACAN, Tony Taylor took stock of his situation.

His pulse was a bit fast, but that was mostly due to the positive remarks he'd received from Moonbeam, as well as his own flight leader. As for Tom Boone's comment, it was the first time that Taylor had been included in squadron humor, so he took it as a positive.

I may live through this night after all!

Soup brought Taylor back to reality. "Are you up for a night trap?"

"There's nothing I'd like better," said Taylor, who hadn't planned on surviving the night, much less returning to the ship.

Once safely aboard the Tico, midrats (midnight rations) which were dinner leftovers, awaited the returning aviators. All except Tony Taylor. Having the squadron's only confirmed hits along the Trail, Tony dined on a pair of thick porkchops.

"Lucky your strike wasn't on Fingers," joked Tom Bonne.

For the rest of the squadron, it was just another long rainy night spent "tree busting" on the Trail.

"Just once I'd like Moonbeam to call it like it is: 'Bad Man, you took out a grove of VC Trees. Estimate trees at platoon strength'," said Harmon Rabb.

"I don't mind being a lumberjack, but an F-4 Phantom is a dammed expensive axe," Tom Boone joked.

Regardless of the strike results, the entire squadron had been recovered safely and without a single wave off or a bolter.

This was an excellent performance. The ship's skipper and the CAG would never say so, but following their meal, squadron commander "Bull" Schmidt, congratulated his aircrews, as well as recognizing Tony Taylor.

"Honestly, I just did what my flight leader told me to do," Taylor admitted.

"Well, that makes one pilot in this squadron!" Schmidt joked. "Keep it up...Tinker."

That was all that it took to turn Tinkerbell into 'Tinker', and Tony Taylor's life made better because of it.

Grissom took Taylor aside. "You did a good job tonight. Maybe too good. I'll have to keep my eye on you so that Hammer doesn't snap you up to become his wingman."

For Tony Taylor just the thought of becoming Harmon Rabb's wingman was enticing. Not only was Hammer the best pilot in the air wing, there was a certain aurora of invincibility surrounding him.

Everyone on board the Ticonderoga knew that Harmon Rabb would come home from this deployment to Vietnam without getting so much as a scratch.


Sunday, 18 October 1998
1945 PDT
Captain Anthony Taylor's residence.
Chesapeake, Virginia

Gather 'round boys and I'll tell you a tale, of brave Navy pilots flying over the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Of Hammer and Rooster and Buster you've heard...of T-Bone and Grits and of Tinker you should.

The trucks load in Hanoi and Haiphong by day. In singles and convoys they role on their way. South by southwest in a unending stream, reaching the border at days fading gleam.

They stop at Mu Gia and at Muong Nhi, and wait for the last of the daylight to die. Under cover of night through the pass they set sail, out on the roads of the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

As they roll on through darkness not stopping to rest, miles away are the pilots whose skills they will test. They'll soon face the darkness, the missiles and guns, in the grim cat and mouse game that no one's yet won.

When you fly on the Trail through the dark and the haze, it's a thing you'll remember the rest of your days. A nightmare of vertigo, mountains and flak, with the cold breath of death blowing hard on your back.

But the trucks must be stopped and it's all up to you, so fly here each night to this grim rendezvous. Where your whole world's confined to the light of a flare, as you fight for your life just to stay in the air.

For there's many a pilot who there met his fate, on the dark roads of hell where the grim reaper waits. Where a man must learn quickly the tricks of his trade, or die in the dark for mistakes that he's made.

And some where's a lad in the flush of his youth, who hasn't met up with his moment of truth. Gold wings on his chest and the world by the tail, he'll grow up fast on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Tony Taylor set down his guitar and looked around the living room at the circle of faces. Only Bill Ross and Tom Boone really understood what it was that the lyrics meant: no one who has been through combat can remain young. What innocence might remain, was lost.

After the final refrain from the guitar, Boone looked at Tony Taylor. "I always thought that you should have recorded that song."

Taylor shook his head. "No one wants to remember back to Vietnam."

"I think that it was a wonderful song," said Veronica Trent. Forty-something, slender and with dark brown hair and soft brown eyes, "Ronny" Trent was a financial planner from Norfolk and Tom Boone's arranged dinner date.

The evening had gone well. Ronny Trent and Tom Boone had hit if off right away, much to the satisfaction of Cassie Taylor, who had arranged their date.

After dinner, Boone broke news that Harm Senior was now listed as KIA.

There was the expected sadness, followed by a sense of relief by those who had hoped and prayed for nearly 30 years that Hammer would be found alive.

When the story was explained to Ronny Trent, including the shootdown on Christmas Eve, she was moved to tears. "I feel so sorry for Trish, left to raise her little boy all alone."

Ronny Trent had earned the respect of everyone in the room.

The change was especially evident in normally dour Tom Boone who had loosened up and told several humorous stories involving himself and Harm Senior, including his escape from a Hong Kong jail.

"After being arrested in Hong Kong, I'm afraid to set foot in Chinese restaurants," joked Boone.

"Ronny, in addition to Tom making a jail break from Hong Kong, did you know that he is a movie star?" said Tony Taylor.

"Do tell," said Ronny, who was sitting on the love seat with Tom Boone next to her.

"Tom did the stunt flying in a major motion picture featuring the F-14 Tomcat," said Taylor.

Ronny's eyes lit up. "What are Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer really like?"

"Not that film," Boone groaned. "It was The Final Countdown."

"I don't think I ever saw it," said Ronny.

"No one did," Boone deadpanned.

"Well, I'm going to rent it anyway." Ronny squeezed a bit closer to Boone, who put his arm over her shoulder.

Besides finally coming to grips with Harm Senior's death, Boone at last realized that his desire for Trish would forever be unrequited.

Vicki Ross stirred in her chair and indicated to her empty glass. "I'd like another Scotch," which Tony Taylor poured, followed by another, and another.

By the close of the evening everyone had enjoyed dinner and drinks. They'd also listened to Tony Taylor perform several popular surf songs on his guitar, and had heard a few more of Tom Boone's funny stories.

Vicki Ross had had too much to drink, so husband Bill made ready for his usual duty. "Tink, Cassie, thank you for an enjoyable evening. Veronica, it was wonderful to meet you, and I hope to see you again." Ross looked at Boone. "Tom, would you mind helping us to the car?"

Boone was surprised. Bill Ross had been dragging his drunken wife out to the car for decades, and until now he had never requested assistance.

Once Vicki was secured inside the Lexus, Ross took Boone aside.

"What's the real story about Hammer?"

"I don't follow you."

"We've known each other too long for you to bullshit me. You've always believed that Hammer was alive. Why are you now convinced that he's dead?" Boone's silence caused Ross to add, "Tom, what did Little Harm actually tell you?"

Boone choked up for a moment. "Little Harm has never lied to me. He told me that his dad was dead, and I believe him."

"What are you leaving out?" Ross pressed.

"When I pushed him, Little Harm said that the circumstances of his father's death could be argued. I have a few crazy theories on that, but we may never know how Hammer actually died."

Ross nodded. "When it comes theories, trust me, you and I are on the same page, which reads Russia. Even so, thanks for for telling me. By the way, good luck with the promotion board. You deserve a star."

"Thanks. I'm sorry your career is ending like this. I'm sure that it was a tough decision to resign."

"My career ended the day I decided to stop flying airplanes and started driving ships. I wasn't very good at it." Ross looked directly at Boone. "Tom, I'm dreading civilian life. I'd give up my pension for the chance to take an aircraft into combat just one more time."

Boone knew that despite his quiet demeanor, once Bill Ross was inside the cockpit of a jet fighter, he was remorseless killer.

"I hear you," said Boone, whose own flying career was at its end.

As the pair stood in a driveway in Virginia, twenty nine years melted away so that Tom Boone and Bill Ross were one again young lieutenants on the flight deck of USS Ticonderoga.

As the two men strapped into their F-4 Phantoms, they were both eager to go to war.


Sunday, 18 October 1998
2050 EDT
Quincy Apartment Building (North of Union Station)
Quincy Place, Washington DC

Thanks to a long delay on the ground in San Diego, which was matched by 90 minutes spent in a holding pattern above Dulles, when the shuttle finally dropped Harm off at his apartment, he was tired.

That his and Mac's luggage had been lost seemed a fitting way to cap off the day.

Harm's first duty was to check the garage space for his Corvette. It looked beautiful. After a week spent driving the Chrysler rental car, Harm felt the urge to fire up the Corvette and take a quick spin around town.

Had they arrived from San Diego on time he would have done it, but not now. Harm didn't like to drive at night.

There is no place like home.

Although Harm's apartment remained a work in progress, he felt more comfortable here than in his parent's magnificent house in La Jolla.

Harm's cell phone had been turned off for most of the day. After calling his mother to tell her that he'd arrived safely, he checked his messages.

The first was from his grandmother confirming their visit next Saturday, and reminding Harm (firmly) that she expected Sarah MacKenzie to accompany him.

"Harmon, don't you dare set foot on my porch without her being with you."

The next message was from Bud Roberts. Among the personnel that Harm had wanted Bud to locate, one had died, one had Alzheimer's, and one, Structural Mechanic 3rd Class Andrew Thomas- Harm Senior's plane captain on board the Ticonderoga, had disappeared.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Petty Officer Thomas cashed out his pension at American Airlines and left no forwarding address," Bud explained, but assured Harm that the remaining personnel were currently in the CONUS.

The next message was a computer generated recording by Doctor Richard's, an ophthalmologist specializing in corrective eye surgery. An evening appointment was confirmed for Harm on Wednesday.

The final message was from the owner of Falls Church Jewelers. Harm was assured that for a slight extra charge, a single stone in a simple setting, ordered no later than Monday evening, could be picked up no later than Friday evening.

As Harm made his way into his bedroom, he realized that the next few weeks were going to be the most difficult of his life.


My thanks to Bill, who made two deployments to Vietnam and is my subject matter expert on Yankee Station, and to USAF Captain (retired) Toby Hughes for his song "Ho Chi Minh Trail" which was reworked to fit the US Navy.