By: Steve Pearce

The mission of our C-130 unit in country was to fly things around.  We flew food, ammunition, people, vehicles, etc.  We hauled “stuff”.  In the GI vernacular we were trash haulers. 

Two of the most desired commodities were mail ferried in from home and feature films which made their way from one base to the next.  Each small outpost would have its own version of a movie theater so Army and Marine troops would meet the planes with high expectations of what films and mail would be there. 

One day, in late 1971 our crew was on such a mission.  When we hit the ground all 4 of us crew members helped get the cargo off so that our turnaround time was minimal.  It cut the exposure time to both the oppressive heat and to enemies who might want to take advantage of the big slow targets but who would need precious minutes to get themselves in position for our departure.

By: Steve Pearce

In 1971 when my pilot training was complete I was one of two members of class 71-06 at Reese AFB to be assigned as copilots to the 463^rd TAW at Clark AFB.  Most of our missions were out of Cam Rahn Bay AB, Viet Nam.  When we were there  the C-130 detachment was on a side of the base sort of by itself.

The 463^rd TAW also had detachments flying out of Udorn AB, Korat AB, and Ubonn AB in Thailand.  At those bases,  the C-130 crews lived right among the fighter pilots in the detachments permanently assigned to these bases. 

Mixing fighter pilots and transport pilots did not always work.  The go-fast pilots referred to us as “trash haulers”.  It was not a term of endearment.  In fact it was intended to convey that we did not really belong in their esteemed company.  We obligingly referred to them as “fighter pukes.”

By: Steve Pearce

When I completed pilot training in January 1970, I received orders to fly C-130’s out of Clark Air Base in the Philippines.   My transition training into the C-130 Hercules was at Little Rock AFB then, I learned the tactical flying we would experience in Viet Nam at Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina.  The transition training instructor, Major Shelton, was one of the few Black pilots I encountered in the Air Force.  He was as good as any C-130 pilot I met during my Air Force service.  And because he was good, I had good training.

When we first inspected the “assault strip” at Pope AFB we were surprised.  It was very short; less than 4,000-feet of runway on which to land the big, lumbering 4 engine turbo-prop planes.  It was preparation for the short landing strips in the war zone.  

Sitting next to the runway was a mute testimony to the risks of short field landings.  During a hard landing by a recent trainee, both wings had broken off the airplane.  Just looking at the short airstrip, I wondered if there were more amputated C-130’s gathered in a junk pile somewhere, or worse – how many of them were scattered throughout Viet Nam!

 By: Vic Currier

I know several “decorated” heroes from different branches of service; Army Rangers, 5^th Special Forces, SOG groups, 82^nd Airborne, Navy SEALS and the like.  I’m not sure just how many I know - but it’s a bunch.  It is not very often that you are asked by a fellow Veteran to review his military record and make a comment or two.  My friend, and former Congressman Steve Pearce, a candidate for the 2010 U.S. House of Representatives, District 2, from New Mexico – asked me to do just that; in part because we were stationed at the same base in Vietnam “…back when…” and in part, because he wanted a second set of eyes to set the record straight about a subject he keeps to himself – the way most heroes do. 

Going to war was not my idea.  I drew a low draft number and entered ROTC in order to finish college.  I was not one of the anti-war types and never considered fleeing to Canada to avoid the draft or serving.  It was just not my first choice of careers when I finished college.  But I was called and I did my duty.

After graduating from UPT (Undergraduate Pilot Training) at Reese AFB, Texas, I received orders to fly C-130’s in Southeast Asia for 18 months.  Arriving in mid 1971, my orders would carry me thru the end of 1972 in the war zone. 

About March of 1971, the 774^thSquadron, the last squadron of C-130’s at Clark AB where I was stationed, received word that we would be deactivated and that our planes would be returned to the US.  All of us would receive orders to new assignments. Our war duty would be ended.  The news was greeted with a mixture of relief and sadness.  No one likes to be exposed to the hazards of war but the thought of being back in the states while the war and our mission was still going on left one a little empty. 

Fears, Death, And Flying

1957- My Earliest Memories of Fying

Lying on my back beside my oldest brother whom I deeply revered- I was 10 or 11 and he was 14 or 15.  The crop duster would fly right above us- he always said that he could touch the wheels of the plane as it flew over us but I was always scared to reach up.

My brother wanted to fly; he put together plastic models and shot them with his pellet gun…