Wendell & Walter

Thursday was a break from the usual ho-hum here at the KD (kudzu grotto).

Time for a trip down to the Augusta VA to have some dental work done to maintain the sparking and rakish kudzu smile. It's a 2 hour drive and I have to be there at 9am. You can imagine my glee at having to set the alarm and then wake up to it at 6am.

After sitting on the porcelain throne and aftwards scrapping at the gray on my chin, I was able to leave at 6:30. I figured on stopping in Lexington and getting a biscuit and Mtn Dew to help caffeinate myself for the trip. I should have made it a double espresso, or maybe a triple.

By the time I made it to the outskirts I was having to pinch myself to stay awake. Don't you just love it when you have no time to take a nap. Well, there were no wrecks ahead of me and I didn't look back to check out the carnage behind, so assume the best.

I had a good cleaning to look forward to and then Dr. Pahjola was going to grind off my front teeth and paste on a reasonable facsimile of same.

I hate it when that try to stick the needle into my nose from under my upper lip. I don't care how long they numb it before hand it still stings. The up side was that the grinding didn't phase me, to the contrary, after about 15 minutes, in spite of the painful angle at which my neck was bent, I was able to Zen out the pain and noise and sleep through about 30 minutes of the abuse. As they handed me the mirror to admire their handiwork I asked, "did I snore any?". "Only a little", giggled the nurse, like no one else ever snored in that chair.

So now I have straight full length incisors the better to bite off bits of bacon in the morning.

But, as I walked out to the reception to pick up my next appointment, I had a most unusual meeting.........

In front of the window was a young man, about 30 years old, and over 6 ft tall....well he would have been if he hadn't been in a motorized chair. He was chatting up the receptionist, but moved back and motioned and told me to step ahead. Of course, I demurred but he insisted and said he wasn't there for dental work, only talking to the Receptionist. She took my paperwork and started filling out my appointments schedule.

Kdzu, I said, holding out my hand. "Wendell Foy", saith he, sending me off immediately to a long ago time, in a Quonset hut along the Quang Tri river, late one booze hazy night.

"Excuse me", I asked, "did you have a relative killed in Vietnam that you know of"?
"Not to my knowledge", he replied. "I knew a young Warrant Office pilot there, who died", I said, "His name was Walter Foy".

I asked where he was injured. "Iraq". "Thanks for your service". Thanks for yours". One says these things now-a-days. I questioned him about his status. 100% permanent and totally disabled. Said with a smile, but you had to wonder about the feelings behind it.

"Let me give you something", he said, handing me a little brochure.......a All Inclusive Jamaica Getaway Certificate good for a year at an really good rate if sent in within the next month. (How the hell did he know I'd been wondering where to go?)

He and his wife run a little travel agency. Groovytown travel. Give him a call if you have travel needs. 706 691 5300.

On the trip back I recalled the tragedy of young Walter. In the summer of '71. I was 3/4's of the way through my tour, looking hopefully to October when I'd rotate back to the world.

Walter was a "FNG" just out of flight school and Cobra training.

Our weapons platoon leader was a Captain, not long out of flight school himself, but, as things are done in the army sometimes, because he was senior officer in the platoon he was assigned leader and because of his rank, pulled it to get himself assigned to the pilots backseat position after only 3 weeks in country and no, repeat no combat pilot time.

There are in aviation, notices called hazards to airmen. This Captain should have had one issued on his ass. The most reckless pilot I'd ever seen. We older pilots didn't have to ride as his front seat, we were A/C's in our own right. The new guys weren't so lucky.

Walter and he were scheduled to cover a LRRP extraction the next day. We older guys, (Ha, all of maybe 21 years old) were teasing Walter and telling him not to fly with the Captain, that he was dangerous and was going to get himself and his co-pilot killed because he'd fly too close to the ground without good cause.

Walter assured us that if they went too low he'd pull back on the controls. The Cobras of that era had a 10 to 1 mechanical advantage to the back seat controls.

They were making a faux gun run at the request of the rangers for the benefit of some of their new guys. No hostiles, no enemy fire, a simple extraction along a treeline, easy peasy.

Their wingman saw the aircraft nose pull up and then immediately nose down just before they crashed into a huge dead tree that stuck up about 20 feet higher than the rest. Their remains were scattered over about a quarter mile. They found one head intact still inside the flight helmet. I never knew whose head it was.

Two more coffins sent home filled with sand and bits and pieces of bones and flesh.

I always wondered how the major explained that in his letters to the next of kin.

But this young Mr. Foy returned alive and seemed to have a positive outlook on life. At least I hope so. God Speed Wendell. You too Walter.