Coming Home
Coming home…just a few hours away from once again being a civilian. They’ve told us to fasten our seat belts for landing. We are making our final approach for San Francisco International Airport.
Looking around, not everyone looks happy. We are a mixed crowd of returnees. Some Army, some Marines, some Air Force. I see a lot of guys with blank faces. Like me, some are wondering what is in store for them in the coming months. What will they do with themselves? There are some still pondering what they’ve been through and wondering if they can adapt to all the changes in society since they entered the military. There are a couple who wish they had stayed, who are not afraid to die, but are afraid of the life ahead. It’s a pretty quiet bunch, particularly when you realize they’re going home after at least 12 months in a combat zone. Most of these passengers had been field combatants, laying it on the line almost every day and rarely knowing a moment of real relaxation….even when they slept. Some slept part of the flight and were haunted by their dreams, comforted by their buddies. It’s not as happy an occasion as I would have thought. Gave one pause to reflect, but….
Me? I’m elated. I had ordered a car from Ford while stationed in DaNang. It was a “special order”, supposedly only available at the price I paid to returning Vietnam veterans. I had ordered it in April and requested delivery at the airport. They gave me a number to call when I arrived and a sales person would bring the car to me and help me find my way around that day. The car? A 1970 ½ Falcon 2dr post sedan (no coupe available) with a 429 ci/360 hp, a “shaker: hood, a BorgWarner 4 speed, 3.25 non-slip differential. Red with red/black interior, power steering and brakes and air with an AM-FM stereo radio. It did not look like a Falcon. Rather, it looked like a sporty Fairlane. I’m told now that 70 ½ Falcons are very rare and there were only 20 or so of the 429s produced….they bring $40K to $50K for “restos”. The price I paid: $2985. Anyway, I’m ready to separate and get on my way home in my new car. This elation was about to vanish.
We can see a crowd from the windows of the plane as we taxi into the disembarkation area. They are protesters with signs. There are three signs that say “Baby Killers” and one that even says “Baby Killers Should Be Shot”. The guys are very somber now. It is a sobering sight. There’s some mumbling and grumbling. As we disembark we can hear the rude, obscene jeers of the protestors. They hate us. As we pass by them they poke at us, insult us, throw things in our faces and on our uniforms. The military police are fairly helpless. So many of the protestors spat on us and wished terrible things on us. One Marine broke down, fell to his knees and began sobbing. A protester - a typical liberal coward - broke the military police line and kicked him in the face. I looked around and knew that if just one of us had a gun, that protester would have died on the spot. Regardless of the right or wrong of it, I have prayed that protester experienced untold anguish and pain in his lifetime. Won't take it back. God understands.
We were given an opportunity to ‘clean up a bit’ before going to the Military Separation Center, a chance to get out of our now stained and dirty uniforms. I wore what I was wearing, just as it was. I got some strange looks during out-processing and one Major gruffly asked me why I had not changed when given the opportunity. “Sir…this return has been a part of my military experience that I never wish to forget…Sir.” He looked a little sad, nodded and walked away without another word.
A few hours later, I was Buzz Candler again...no longer Sgt. Candler. I still carry the wallet sized copy of my discharge. After I got my new car, I stopped in Van Nuys to see a guy I knew in Hawaii. His father offered me $6000, a ride to the airport and a plane ticket home for my car. Apparently, he recognized it for what it was…had the vision. Or maybe he just wanted the fasted car on the street. Who knows? I think the Hemis were faster.
I sold the car and flew home with the cash.
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