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Da Nang Air Force Base, Republic of Vietnam, 1966. War brings confusion and an opportunity for pilfery. Such an opportunity presented itself in the middle years of the Vietnam War when the Air Force took over the Army’s fixed wing cargo aircraft, the Caribou. Out of the deal the Army got all rotary wing aircraft. It was a logical exchange and likely took years of haggling and planning to pull off. But when it happened, it happened suddenly, at least to outside observers. It was as if one day the Army pilots parked their planes and walked off, as if to say, “You flyboys want these missions? Then you go right ahead and take these suckers.” This happened early in my tour but for the entire time I was in Vietnam the Air Force never got around to repainting and parking the Caribou among their other aircraft.

Caribou had muscled gull wings mounted high on the fuselage, just aft of the cockpit. The large windscreen, raised high above the bulbous nose, provided good visibility—giving the Caribou a wide-eyed aware look. They were painted in dark colors, most dull green, others black and some in camouflaged earthy hues. Parked in uneven rows and unmilitary angles the Caribou looked independent, maybe even outcast. We called this place Caribou Park, though at the time there were a few Air Force C-123 cargo planes parked there too.

The Air Force pilots who flew these birds were memorable for their style and informality to the rigors of military discipline, at least the ones I knew. They’d arrive from the Air Force side of the field in a jeep with the windshield hinged down onto the hood. Terry and the Pirates strongly influenced dress code: mustached, a shoulder holstered pistol, ammunition belt, rumpled flight suit, and of course in rain or shine, Air Force issue sun glasses. Had it not been so damn tropical they would have worn leather flight jackets, I suppose, and looked right smart in them too. They acted independent and competent, leaning towards who gives a shit.

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© Copyright 2004 Keith R. Parker