The 18 VMF(AW)-235 Death Angels F-8 Crusader aircraft landed and taxied to the squadron parking apron where a squadron of F-4 Phantoms were manned with engines running. They were waiting for the newcomers to shut down so they could then leave Vietnam in the ridiculous ritual required by the total force agreement. Plane Captain Keith "Swift" Caulkins climbed up the side of my aircraft and shouted "Colonel Moose wants you at his plane!" I climbed down and jogged up to the No. 1 phantom. I scrambled up the ladder of the idling jet. Moose Campo grabbed my hand in his huge fist and shouted, "Mofak, there is not a target over here worth your life! Don't take any unnecessary risks. Stay alive Mofak!" I hugged Moose around the helmet and said, "Thanks, Moose!" I tossed him a salute. Moose taxied out as leader of the fourteen phantoms. Moments later the J-79's were shrieking and squalling. We called them converters. The phantoms converted JP-5 into noise.

Following Moose's advice was extremely difficult. Pilots got caught up in the excitement of combat. We had trained all our careers for this chance and we loved every trigger pull and bomb pickle. I was my own worst enemy.  The hairiest delivery for me was low altitude, 500 knot strafing. Three times I tried to destroy my Crusader while strafing various targets. Each time I had scrambled from the Hot Pad without a wingman. The first time was south of Hoi An. An airborne FAC put me on three VC running up a road in the open. He gave me their position on the road and I strafed the location. The FAC said "50 meters at 12" I strafed the position. The FAC said, "Charlie is running hard. Your hits are short." I had just finished a burst from the guns when I spotted the 3 VC. I pushed the nose over and fired. Suddenly I was among them. I felt a thump on the right wing that was banked lower as I pulled the nose away from the road. The FAC shouted, "Three KBA! Are you OK?" I didn't say anything. I was checking gages. The FAC said, "I saw your plane merge with your shadow! I thought you were a goner!" A "head" dent was found on the leading edge of the right outer wing panel on post flight inspection.

Another close call occurred when I was strafing a footbridge across a chasm west of An Hoa. I almost took the bridge out with the nose of the crusader.

The scariest moment was in A Shau Valley. We would hit targets in Northern "I" Corps or Laos and in route to Da Nang would swing through A Shau at 500 feet and 550 knots to surprise day supply movements. April 7th I roared across A Loui airstrip, I spotted a truck moving halfway down the abandoned strip, I pulled up and made a hard 270 to the left. I flipped the gun switch to "upper" and raised the Master Arm toggle switch. Abeam of the runway, I rolled in at 5000 ft on a 30 degree dive. The airspeed was kept above 500 knots. The high speed was necessary to because of probable ground fire, but it was too fast for walking rounds into the target. I fired a burst at the truck, pulled off and watched over my shoulder during pull out as the rounds exploded at 6. I pulled around hard again and rolled in on a second run. I was determined to get the bastard or else. I started firing early as the truck bumped and rumbled toward the shelter of the jungle at the south end of the strip. Sparklers were dancing, bouncing, and exploding all over the truck as my Crusader merged with it. I yanked back on the stick as I released the trigger. Above me was a large bamboo growth. The scene looked to me like a huge green cobra with its hood rising over me. The Cobra’s mouth was open and two drooping bamboo limbs looked like fangs. Suddenly, I was in the Cobra’s mouth. The plane went "GAVOOOM!" as I entered the green leaves.  I didn't know if it was the engine "chugging" or the noise of the plane hitting the bamboo. I was thinking how mad those gooners were and I would be floating down to them. The plane abruptly punched out of the green cloud. 

The Crusader was climbing straight up. The J-57 still roared nicely. I was pinned to the right side of the cockpit and pushed hard on the right rudder to stop the skid. The Stab lights were all on. I cycled the switches. The Yaw stab had to be recycled several times. For a second, there, I thought I could smell the 10 hole MAG-11 crapper--or was it the odor of fish heads.

It was only ten minutes flight time to Da Nang. I landed the F-8, rolled out to the end of the runway and was cleared to the fuel pits. Ordnance de-armed the guns. I bypassed refueling and taxied directly to the revetment nearest our hangar. That slot was for down birds. The plane captain climbed up the left side of the cockpit.  It was Hans.  "Go get Gunny Vernime my Aircraft Maintenance Control Chief and SSgt Lara." I said.  They came out and Gunny Vernime asked, "Where did you get all the green paint?"

Juan Lara had been my Chief Metalsmith in 451 when I was the Maintenance Officer. I said, "Get the leaves and debris out of the skin, check the engine and fuselage over carefully and get the plane operational right away!" I did not want to lose my wings as a Major. I knew higher ups and REMFs would send me to the grunts or worse. Gunny Vernime put a small envelope of bamboo in my logbook with the following note on a 3x5 card, "Found on DB-7 at 1230 pm on April 7, 1967. Analyzed as Copusdenti Bamboo." I still have that reminder in my logbook.