Former Flight Surgeon, 101st Airborne Division
It was summer and my sergeant had scheduled a solid morning of flight physicals for pilots from the 101st Aviation Battalion. I wasn’t surprised when my friend Woody arrived early. He was so gung-ho!
“Annual physical?” I asked.
“Nope. Mustering out.”
I was shocked! “C’mon, Woody, the army’s your life and you’re about the best they’ve got. Leaving? No way!”
He cracked a sly smile. “Well, doc, it’s like this. Turns out there’s a private airline opening up in southeast Asia called “Air America.” Laos, Cambodia, interesting work. They want me and I can’t say no. So I’m going.”
There was something about his expression that showed he knew more than he could share and he seemed so confident in his decision there was no point in further discussion. So my friend Woody mustered out of the Army. I hated to see him go and even more hated the news that drifted in on the grapevine later: Woody’s plane was shot down. His body was never recovered.
My immediate concern was for his wife: how real was his departure from the army? Would survivor’s benefits extend to her from a sham private airline? I didn’t know how to query the bureaucracy so the question festered on the back of my mind for years until I confronted the Vietnam Wall and found satisfaction by tracing his name in the hard cold stone.
Yes! Rest in peace, my friend. Uncle Sam had your back all along. I should have known.