I retired from the Navy 28 years ago, but it doesn't seem that long. I belong to three different Associations related to my days in Naval Aviation, and serve as an officer in two of those organizations.  Each Association holds periodic reunions and I attend every one if physically able. That's what us old geezers do, we go to reunions.  We re-live those adventurous days of our younger years, we reconnect with old friends and shipmates, and we mingle with the younger men and women who have followed us into the profession of Naval Aviation and confirm that our aviation heritage and national defense are in good hands.  We share humorous stories, often embellished, and we recall the sad stories, all true.  And, occasionally, we find an unexpected gem. 

The A-7 Corsair II Association recently held a mini-reunion at the Sun-n-Fun fly-in and airshow in Lakeland, FL where about 40 of us spent a day doing all of those things.  My roommate from my first cruise, Mike Smith, and I were walking to the Association registration desk and noted that our president Bill Thomas was talking with a gentleman with great interest, and signaled us to come over when he saw Mike and I heading that way.  The man was not an A-7 pilot, but he was hoping to find some US Air Force A-7D pilots at our gathering.  We have USAF and ANG A-7 members in the Association, but none were at this specific gathering. This man, I think his name is Larry but I forgot to get his full name, was a B-52 Co-pilot who participated in Operation Linebacker II conducted 18-29 December 1972. For those unaware, Linebacker II was put in action to bring North Vietnam back to the Paris Peace Talks, which they had abandoned. It was the reopening of airstrikes north of the 20th parallel to hit major targets in and around Hanoi and Haiphong.  The Air Force flew nearly 800 B-52 sorties during the operation, supported by hundreds of support sorties flown by Navy, USMC, and other Air Force aircraft. In those eleven days of strikes the USAF lost 25 aircraft including 17 B-52s. Counting all aircraft, 55 USAF crewmen were listed as KIA, 38 as POW, and 39 as rescued. The man I call Larry was one of those rescued B-52 crewmen, and Air Force A-7D "Sandys" provided air-cover for his rescue. I had to tell Larry how awed I was each night as I watched the B-52s flying in their huge conga-line of three plane formations making their runs against Hanoi and coming under the fire of hundreds of SAM launches each night. I told him I experienced the same overwhelming sensation of awe at the courage they displayed as I experienced when I stood at the low stone wall on Cemetery Ridge visualizing Pickett’s charge, and the courage of those making that charge on that final day of the Battle of Gettysburg, and when I read accounts of the attacks made by Torpedo Squadron Eight (VT-8) against Japanese aircraft carriers during the Battle of Midway.  Larry thanked me, but modestly replied with words to the effect of "I figured it was our turn; you guys were going into the North all the time while we were bombing in the South. It was our turn."  His humility was as apparent that day as his courage was 44 years ago in the skies over North Vietnam.   

During these eleven days of Linebacker II, USN and USMC aircrew kept busy as well, flying normal daytime Alpha Strikes, and then supporting the B-52 raids each night with anti-radiation missile and combat air patrol cover. The combined USN/USMC losses while conducting these missions tallied up to eight aircraft with a total of 18 KIA, 5 POW, and 14 rescued. Our airwing lost an A-6A and an RA-5C with one listed as KIA and three as POW.

As it turned out, I was not airborne the night Larry was shot down, but I was airborne on five of the ten nights we were involved (enroute from Hong Kong on Day-1), and observed six B-52 losses.  But, the B-52 brigade continued without flinching each night until North Vietnam capitulated and returned to the Paris Peace Talks. It was their turn, and they performed with courage. For just a few minutes, Mike, Larry, and I held an ad-hoc session of the mutual-admiration society. And, for me, this was one of those occasional gems one might find at a reunion.

I shop in a local grocery store four to five days a week, and I always wear my "FLY NAVY" ball cap when I go. I check out every ball cap I see as I prowl the aisles for that day's groceries and I usually see at least one other, often more, with one military logo or another. If we pass face to face, or are in line together, I usually strike up a conversation with a sharp quip like "where'd you serve" or "hello Shipmate" and we usually part with the now familiar "thanks for your service." This term is wide-spread these days and it is always nice to hear it aimed your way. But, today was special. As I was perusing the pastries in the Bakery section, I was approaching a man about my age wearing a Vietnam Veteran ball cap with all the campaign ribbons embroidered across the front. We stopped as we approached each other, and I said "when did you serve?" and he replied "two tours from '65 to '69."  I said, "well you were there on the front end, and I was there at the end, in "72-73." As we split off to continue shopping he stuck out his hand for a good shake, and said "WELCOME HOME." It took approximately 20 years from the end of the Vietnam War for those Veterans to hear the phrase "Thank you for your service" and today was the first time since then that anyone other than family and shipmates said "Welcome Home" to me.  To all Veterans, especially those of the Vietnam era, I say now, and will continue to use the phrase, "Welcome Home."