In childhood, one of my favorite times of the year: Christmas. It was two-weeks out of school and the jolly-fat-man, otherwise known as Santa Claus, came to visit. And I truly liked the receiving part. Now, moving like we did, one year, it was so close to Christmas, I asked Mom: Will Santa find us? Her response: Don’t worry, he knows where you live. And I’ll be damned, he found us. So, as time went, Christmas’s passed, and I was sixteen when my parents set the record straight. Toyland at the BX (base exchange) finally made sense. Anyway, through those years, I also learned: It is better to give than to receive. So, when I posted the first Bandido: An Introduction, more than ten people actually read it. I was so overjoyed, I thought I’d have Christmas in May and post before Thursday, presenting the prologue (part 1):
In February 1966, Roland “Chico” Solis started flying CAS (close air support) missions in Vietnam. Whether he agreed with the war, or not, was not a consideration. His job and desire was to fly combat, an ingrained part of his psyche. He survived aerial combat in Korea in 1952, so he was ready to go again. Plus, during “peacetime,” he trained incessantly, perfecting the process of annihilation, knowing in combat, negative repercussions were fair game. The knife cut both ways. Except, a love of flying and combat; both being an adrenaline rush, kept him climbing back into cockpits when the commander in chief went looking for war. And understanding war’s travails, he’d always pray an errant round wouldn’t force a bailout over enemy territory, or worse.
With Vietnam, his boss chose war. His responsibility, complete the mission: dedicating his life to the eradication of an enemy defined by a political system he did not partake in. He also knew with each sortie flown; aircrews were sacrificial lambs: The fair game side of combat. In Vietnam, he was part of the 391st Tactical Fighter Squadron as operations, or “ops officer.” The country itself being part of the world very few Americans even knew existed at the time. The squadron flew out of south Vietnam at CRB (Cam Ranh Bay), located off the South China Sea. And while “in country,” along with waging war, Chico’s job was to ensure the survival of squadron pilots. Then, once sorties included North Vietnam, the squadron’s additional duties would be to stem the enemy’s flow of war materiel to the frontlines.
Being ops officer put him in charge of assigning pilots to missions. As well, to increase the odds aircrews returned from sorties, he always flew first missions. So, when flights up north began, he led the first flights to ascertain conditions and collect information. That way, being familiar with topography, targets, and enemy munitions, he could brief later flights. Additionally, most of the pilots were experiencing their first combat tours with some nuances from training. First, someone was now trying to take them out, the fair game of life and death. Who was the better warrior? Second, which commander could best lead men into hostile environments, and RTB (return to base) while the aircraft absorbed the brunt of the enemy fusillade? Pilots had to maintain composure under intense combat conditions, set up runs, deliver ordnance, keep their fighters airborne after being hit, then get the hell out to “feet wet” over the South China Sea. At times, repeating the process two or three times a day. Finally, and extremely important, they were finally going to use munitions. Throughout training, every bomb, missile, or round expended was a figment of the imagination. Combat was their first opportunity to feel the reality of war from inside the cockpit, finally earning the title “fighter pilot.”
The squadron also included a cadre of men Chico had flown with for years. From the early days flying the Thunderjet, they’d honed their skills as fighter pilots, and trusted each other, following Lead without question. They were tight-knit, willing to sacrifice their lives for each other, their country, the mission. They knew what the other was thinking and worked in a way few of us have, or can begin to understand, wreaking havoc on an enemy while covering each other’s “six.” Since arriving and becoming acclimated, sorties were increasing in intensity.
Now, the war itself was fraught with politics. From targets attacked to when aircrews could fire their guns, ROEs (rules of engagement) could cause trouble. Though the work was dangerous, there was an upside. Vietnam was the first conflict where fighter pilots fought for a time-period instead of mission counts. And if one flew twenty of the more dangerous missions north, overall commitment reduced by a month. Volunteers lined up to fly them. Only more for the danger of, and not the lessened time thereof. Well, six months after arriving, the first sortie north presented. Chico handpicked the aircrews. Weighing on his mind: Four pilots had already been KIA (killed in action) since operations commenced. His concern: Would missions North increase the death toll? Or would Chico’s management skills pay off, keeping aircrews alive to fight again, ultimately making it back to “the world!” Their first mission: destroy a munitions depot deep in territory controlled by the VC.
Looking back did I you see a point in time when he let down a little and moved on from the fighter mentality or does he still carry it with him. How did he switch from the fighter pilot to husband and father when he was home?