Tango Uniform (Vietnam Air War Book 3)

by Tom Wilson

  A final challenge was to perfect the servo mechanism that used electrical impulses from the seeker head to move the bomb fins. That one was solved when Moods used a servo drive from an AGM-45 radar-seeking missile and found it was easily adapted to the smart bombs.

  All of those things were believed to be fixed, but no one was sure, and there was no time to conduct further bomb-drop tests on the Nellis ranges prior to departure. Those would have to be done in the combat test after they were in place at Danang.

  Moods and crew didn't have time to tinker. Deployment was scheduled for Monday, December 11th, six days hence, when a Strategic Air Command KC-135 tanker would be flown in from March Air Force Base, in Southern California. Moods' GIB, or "guy in back," which was what they called the pilot systems officers (the PSOs were also sometimes called "pizzos") manning the rear cockpits of F-4 Phantoms, would be in charge of a five-man weapons maintenance team of NCOs who would load the bomb kits and pods into the cargo bay of a KC-135 tanker, then look after them on the trip across the Pacific.

  Moods would depart a day earlier, as he was scheduled for a Monday-morning presentation at Hickam AFB in Hawaii. PACAF headquarters had asked to be briefed about the combat test to be held in their theater of operations, and though the tests had been approved and coordinated by the Pentagon requirements division, that step was deemed prudent. The SAC tanker would stop and pick up Moods at Hickam after his briefing, and transport him to Danang with the highly classified equipment and the military team. Eight engineers from the Texas contractor team would travel by civil airliner to Saigon and catch a hop to Danang.

  Moods was convinced that all combat test objectives could be accomplished in thirty days of intensive flying and evaluations. He'd scheduled the team's return to Nellis for January 15th.

  Benny Lewis talked all of that over with Diller, sipping coffee and deciphering the man's machine-gun bursts of speech. He knew something was definitely wrong, for he was beginning to understand Moods, even when he was excitable and his words and phrases ran together. Sometimes he even caught himself answering Moods in the same way. If there were two of Moods, they could get them excited and use them for sensitive radio traffic, as the Army had done with Navajo Indians during World War II, and the Russians would be scratching their heads and tearing their hair out trying to decode their messages.

  "What's Pam think of you being gone for a month?" Benny asked during a pause.

  Moods darkened. "Doesn't like it." Pam was a rawboned captain nurse at the Nellis hospital. They were a couple, and Moods spent his nights at her condo. Pam was talking about marriage, and Moods was thinking up fewer reasons why they shouldn't.

  As Moods brooded, Benny wondered about his own situation. Julie's mother had become a permanent fixture at her apartment. The last time he'd asked when she might be heading home to New Jersey, Julie had taken a breath and said, "Well, she is a great help with the baby," which they both knew was no answer at all.

  -ci15Julie was back at work with Pan Am, coordinating flight attendant schedules at the operations desk. She felt useful when working, but was on a guilt trip about not spending enough time with Patty. Their relationship was unchanged. After his visits to her apartment, now every third or fourth night, Julie would follow him to his car and they'd talk and kiss, and she'd tell him she loved him and to please be patient.

  Benny Lewis was indeed a patient man, but he sometimes wondered if things were really going to develop beyond what they had.

  Tuesday, December 5th, 1300 Local—Seventh AF Headquarters, Tan Son Nhut AB, Saigon, South Vietnam

  Lieutenant Colonel Pearly Gates

  Wes Snider was off to U Tapao to talk with B-52 aircrews, so only Pearly had been summoned into General Moss's office to discuss the JACKPOT project. Moss handed him the latest message from General McManus.

  Paragraph one concerned McManus's latest discussion with the President and was informative:

  1. (S) MET WITH J ON 26 NOV. HE WAS IN PENSIVE MOOD. SAID HE WAS GETTING PRESSURE FM SECDEF AND OTHERS TO UNILATERALLY CEASE BOMBING AS SIGN OF GOOD FAITH TO NVN, & FM CONGRESS TO EITHER PURSUE THE WAR MORE VIGOROUSLY OR GET OUT. HE FELT IT WD BE DISGRACEFUL TO "THROW IN THE TOWEL" LIKE SOME "2 BIT COWARD." I ADVISED THAT A LARGE-SCALE COMMUNIST SPRING OFFENSIVE IS ANTICIPATED, AND IT MIGHT BE GOOD TO LAUNCH JACKPOT BEFOREHAND. I ALSO SAID, AS U SUGGESTED, THAT WEATHER WILL BE MOST APPROPRIATE DURING DEC TO APR FOR A BOMBING CAMPAIGN. J IS "VERY" CONCERNED THAT THE NVA WILL ACHIEVE A DIEN BIEN PHU–TYPE VICTORY—FEELS THE PRESS IS WAITING FOR ANY SMALL NVN SUCCESS, WHICH THEY WILL BUILD INTO SOMETHING BIGGER—HE SEEMS INCREASINGLY INTERESTED IN OUR PLAN & REEMPHASIZED IMPORTANCE OF SECRECY. HE SAID IF THE WRONG PEOPLE LEARN ABT IT, IT WILL MAKE THINGS IMPOSSIBLE. HE ALSO REVEALED THAT HE WAS HAPPY THAT SECDEF WD SHORTLY BE LEAVING CABINET, AND HE'D BE ABLE TO APPT "HIS OWN MAN." SAID IT WD BE BEST TO WAIT FOR NEW SECDEF TO COME ABOARD BEFORE MOVING ON JACKPOT.

  The underlining had been General Moss's doing. He disliked the Secretary of Defense intensely and called him the Edsel mechanic.

  2. (C) SPECULATING ABT NEW SECDEF (RUMORS ARE MANY) IS NEWEST PENTAGON GAME. WHITE HSE SOURCE SAYS J FAVORS ONE OF THE FOLLOWING: SEN. WAYLAND LINGENFELTER, CLARK CLIFFORD, ONE OF BUNDY BROTHERS, OR AVERELL HARRIMAN. IN MY JUDGMENT CLIFFORD IS TOO BUREAUCRATIC, LINGENFELTER TOO CAUTIOUS, HARRIMAN TOO POLITICAL, MCGEORGE BUNDY TOO MERCURIAL. BILL BUNDY IS SMARTEST OF THE BUNCH & MOST LIKELY TO AGGRESSIVELY PURSUE "SUCCESSFUL AND EARLY" END TO THE WAR. HOPE HE MAKES IT.

  Paragraph three concerned changes McManus wanted to make to the plan, to establish a special communications node from Saigon to the Pentagon's basement command center. He'd placed his newest JACKPOT member, Colonel MacLendon, in charge of that effort.

  Paragraph four was somewhat encouraging:

  4. (S) UNLESS/UNTIL WE GAIN APPROVAL ON LINE BACKER JACKPOT DO NOT EXPECT MAJOR CHANGES, I.E.: TO STRIKE "IMPORTANT" TARGETS. J CONTINUES TO SELECT/APPROVE TGTS WITH GREAT CAUTION AT PVT MEETINGS (STILL NO MILITARY ALLOWED). HOWEVER, I WILL SEEK A "MODEST" ESCALATION AND LIFTING OF RESTRICTIONS DURING NEXT MEETING, TO PROVE AIR POWER CAN BE EFFECTIVE IF PROPERLY USED. THE "PROOF" WILL BE AMT OF SCREAMING FROM NVN PROPAGANDA TO STOP BOMBING.

  For a while they discussed the message, as well as the fact that Pearly had now finished with the first draft of the LINE BACKER JACKPOT OPlan.

  "Go ahead and send it," Moss said, eyeing the nine pounds of paper before him.

  "Yes, sir." A weight was lifted from Pearly's shoulders.

  "Anything else?"

  "The Channel Ninety-seven TACAN station. I'm getting requests from the Thailand wing commanders that we do something about a replacement. They all say the same thing. It's important to the pilots on their way into pack six, so they can form up properly and have a positive departure and recovery point. Not only that, General. Wes Snider and I agree that it's essential we put in a ground station called an MSQ-2, to help the B-52's bomb when they start going north on the JACKPOT missions."

  Moss nodded wearily. "Snider briefed me about the MSQ-2 thing. I guess we need it. How does that tie in with Channel Ninety-seven?"

  "The location at the mesa is optimum for both pieces of equipment. We need that mountain back, sir. I'd suggest a B-52 strike if there weren't all the friendly villages in the area."

  "The Air Force doesn't own the place, Pearly. The spooks do."

  "I know, sir, but can't we talk to them about it? Maybe encourage them?"

  "I have. The Smith Brothers aren't at all interested in hurrying back into a place that's swarming with that many North Vietnamese."

  The CIA was collectively called the Smith Brothers, because so many agents introduced themselves as either Mr. Smith or Mr. Jones.

  "We'll need it for LINE BACKER JACKPOT, sir," Pearly said stubbornly.

  Moss sighed. "I'll approach MAC-V and tell them the problem. Westy's still in the States drumming up support for more troops, but his vice is holding just as many useless meetings."

  "How about MAC-SOG, si
r?"

  Moss's brow furrowed. Surveillance and Observation Group, which reported directly to Westmoreland, contained all unconventional warfare elements. Special Forces, SEALs, Marine recon forces, and the CIA's contractor and pacification elements, were all amalgamated, however loosely, under MAC-SOG. So were the Air Force's Special Operations units, which contained C-130's, C-123's, helicopters, and other USAF aircraft and aircrews. Moss felt that he, as the senior U.S. Air Force officer in Southeast Asia, should control Air Force assets, not some grunt general wearing a French lady's cap.

  "We'll see," he finally said. He looked at his watch.

  Pearly started to rise to his feet.

  "Wait for a few minutes more," Moss said. "I've set up a meeting with an old friend. We were classmates at West Point and went to pilot school together. That was back when we were full of piss and vinegar. You may have heard of him, because somehow the ham-fist ended up with nineteen kills in the Pacific."

  Pearly was impressed. "Is he still in the service, sir?"

  "Retired two years ago as a major general. Now he's a vice president at Lockheed, building airplanes and making too much money."

  "What's his name?"

  "Wild Bill Dortmeier."

  Pearly Gates immediately realized just who Lieutenant Lucille Dortmeier's father was, whom she'd gotten the day off to see. Just one of the most famous fighter pilots alive.

  "His son Willie flew Thuds out of Takhli. Went down in pack six, fate unknown."

  "I remember, sir." Why the hell hadn't he connected it? It had been a sad day for General Moss when Lieutenant Willie Dortmeier, son of a close friend, had been shot down.

  "I just learned that his daughter's here, working for you. Is that right?"

  Pearly nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "Little Lucy's like family. Used to call me Uncle Rich. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

  "I didn't put two and two together," Pearly said sheepishly, "and she never told me."

  "Christ, Pearly, it's only one of the most famous names in the Air Force." He shook his head. "Anyway, stick around and tell her father how she's doing."

  A male voice broke in on Flo's intercom. "I hear there's a free drink around here someplace."

  Moss stalked to the door, opened it, and shouted, "It's your turn to buy, you has-been ham-fist."'

  "Bullshit, you'll always owe me, Rich."

  They were shaking hands energetically, grinning wide. Moss led his friend inside. Dortmeier, gray-haired and looking distinguished in a white linen suit, frowned at Pearly Gates. "Am I interrupting?"

  "Not at all. We were just finishing and I felt you might want to meet Lucy's boss."

  "You're Lieutenant Colonel Gates?"

  "Yes, sir," said Pearly.

  "Lucy wrote just after she got here, about you and your branch. Talked like you walked on water, and was thrilled to be put right in as OIC of a section."

  Moss shook his head. "Hell, Bill, I'd have placed her here in the command section if I'd known she was here."

  "No way for you to know. She's like her brother Willie—won't let anyone help her career. Says she's got to make it on her own. Told me to butt out, and damn near in those terms."

  "Where's Little Lucy now?"

  "Won't let me call her that anymore, so you better not either. She's waiting down by the entrance. Wants to show me Saigon. Only took the one day off, because she says she doesn't want to take more time off than that."

  Moss looked at his old friend soberly. "Why'd she come into the Air Force, Bill? Last I heard she'd finished her bachelor's degree and was doing whiz-bang work on becoming a lawyer."

  "She and Willie were close. The day we heard he'd been shot down there wasn't any more time for law school. She came into the Air Force on the proviso she'd be stationed here."

  "Hell, the Air Force needs good lawyers. I can . . ."

  "Don't even think of helping. She didn't even want me to mention her when we talked. When I tell her I talked to her boss as well, she's gonna crap."

  Pearly picked up the LINE BACKER JACKPOT OPlan off the general's desk and prepared to leave the two friends with their discussion.

  Wild Bill Dortmeier turned to him. "How's she doing in her job, Colonel Gates?"

  "She's very conscientious, sir."

  "Well she's certainly closemouthed about it. That first letter, all she could do was talk about her job and what a great boss you were. She hasn't mentioned her work since, and when I try to talk about it, she just says she can't and changes the subject."

  Pearly's face reddened with shame at the way he'd treated the man's daughter. He hedged. "We work with a great deal of classified material, sir."

  Moss took the heat off. "What the hell's this 'official' trip of yours about, Bill?"

  Dortmeier grinned. "I'm like Lucy. Can't talk about it."

  "Hell, I'm boss here. If it has to do with airplanes, I own 'em."

  "Not all the airplanes, you don't. I'm visiting Special Operations and agency people. If you'll remember, Lockheed builds C-130's and U-2's. I'm in charge of special-ops programs at the plant."

  Richard Moss flushed. "Dammit, I ought to—"

  Dortmeier laughed. "I thought that'd make you happy."

  "I'll leave now, if that's all, sir," said Gates.

  "One last thing, Pearly. Have we heard any more word on the status of General Dortmeier's son?"

  "Nothing new, sir. First there was intelligence that he'd been captured by the NVA, then nothing. He's not listed on any of the POW reports released by Hanoi." He left the room quickly, not wanting to answer questions about Second Lieutenant Lucille Dortmeier and the way he'd reacted when she came to him for help, or how he'd knocked her sprawling on her butt.

  If he'd only known . . ., but he realized that it made no difference who her father was. She was a young officer working for him, had come to him with a problem, and he'd brushed her off because he was busy with "other things." Sometimes it was too easy to think the Air Force consisted of hardware like airplanes, and even plans like the one he was carrying. But that wasn't true, and he knew it. It consisted of people, and the rest were just tools they used to get their jobs done. When you lost sight of that, you became just another second-rate guy who'd been promoted beyond the level he deserved.

  He decided it was time to amend matters between himself and Lucy Dortmeier.

  2100L— O' Club Stag Bar, Takhli RTAFB, Thailand

  Captain Manny DeVera

  Penny Dwight hadn't spoken more than a dozen words to him since Dusty Fields had been killed six days earlier, and Manny had been so busy recently that he'd not had a chance to press his case. Now he stared over at the table she shared with Animal Hamlin and thought he'd better get on with it, because she'd likely be snapped up again if he waited too long.

  Penny's new pageboy cut accentuated her face and features much more nicely, and she seemed to be carrying herself better, as if she was proud of what she had. She should be proud. She was wearing a fancy gabardine flight suit, which Dusty had talked her into ordering from a Bangkok tailor. Manny decided she'd sent in precise measurements, because Penny's assets were well displayed. It was candy-pink, with red valentine hearts on the shoulders instead of rank. Patches from all three fighter squadrons were sewn in place across the back. On one shoulder was an arrowhead patch with the distinctive silhouette of an F-105 in its center. On the other was a black patch, with RED RIVER VALLEY FIGHTER PILOTS ASS'N printed at the bottom in bright yellow. The River Rats had been formed the previous summer, when pilots from Takhli, Korat, Ubon, and Udorn had gotten together for a "tactics" conference, which ended up with some good cross talk between F-105 and F-4 units, as well as a lot of hell-raising. To become a member, you had to fly across the Red River into the Hanoi area. For the secretary, someone had obviously decided that the rules should be bent.

  A number of the River Rats had ordered the special "party suits" in their squadron colors, but none were nearly as spectacularly filled as Penny Dwight
's. Yep, he decided. It was definitely time to file a claim, while there was only good ol' sober-sided Animal Hamlin with her. She'd been seeing a lot of him since Dusty's death.

  Manny frowned and wondered if Hamlin might himself be moving in. He quickly pushed the idea aside. Animal was happily married and very badly wanted to change his image, as well as the nickname. Yet there was something in the way Animal looked at her from time to time, then quickly pulled his gaze away.

  He's probably just wishing, Manny decided. Dusty had told him Penny was a nice girl, that propriety was big with her. It was likely as he'd thought; she was seeing Hamlin because he was a straight arrow. Yet Manny had seen stranger things than a nice girl falling for a married guy after an innocent beginning. It was time to move before something like that happened. He paused. She was prettier now, with the haircut and new bearing, but he wondered if some of that was because she was the only act in town.

  Maybe. He collected his MiG-15 drink, his cigarettes—he was smoking a few again—and crossed the noisy room to their table. Both looked up as he approached. "Mind if I join you? Getting lonely over at the bar," he said.

  They pushed around the small table and made room as he pulled up a chair.

  "I like your party suit," Manny joked with an ogling leer.

  "Thank you," she said, almost demurely.

  "She didn't want to wear it, but I told her it would help cheer everyone up," Animal said.

  "I dunno about everyone," said Manny with a grin, "but I know one guy who appreciates it."

  She smiled half heartedly.

  "You guys look like you're running low. Buy you a drink?" Manny asked.