Zack Space

Chalmers P. Wylie V.A. Columbus, Ohio

WHEELS UP 1973

We were super excited to rotate back into the real world. We called overseas home for the last four years. All the fear and pain, combined with the hell we lived through would soon be behind us. It was only one last, long plane ride home.

We called that big plane"Freedom Bird." My stomach iced with anticipation of the unknown. Personnel were maneuvering, trying to get a seat, any seat, as long as it was leaving today.

Someone shouted orders: "Stow any unsecure bags,"

As we settled down, it got scary quiet. Maybe it was prayer time. It certainly was for me. Please just get me home.

I heard the massive engines rev up. The plane jolted once, then again. My heart pounded ,we were moving. It was happening : I was going home. Oh God! I was going home! Our liftoff was abrupt. We still needed to clear possible ground fire from snipers. With engines screaming we climbed high above the war below. Then as the plane leveled off for the trip, the landing gear growled, folding into the belly of the plane. I heard the ding of the overhead seatbelt light go off. We were wheels up ! It would be an uneventful trip except for the occasional air pocket turbulence.

From my seat I watched the day fade away into a darkness filled with stars: a sight left unappreciated until now. Several hours later the darkness began to slip off the floor, pulled out through the window, giving way to a pale blue sky.

We slept a lot, we just ran out of talk. Anyway , we were dreaming of home. I could almost see it. Yup...almost.

I didn't know how long we'd been flying. Although the view was wonderful, you can only look at clouds for so long. I would have been happy to watch a spider spin a web.

I was falling asleep again when the whole plane erupted in cheers.

Some of the guys were openly crying. Others-surprisingly-started singing

"Home,Home on the Range." We were so full of joy to see the coastline of our beloved homeland: America. We were happy and thankful , our hearts full of hope. Home was in sight. Seeing our families was all we could think about. That, and hamburgers, I was really hungry for a really good hamburger. I could almost remember how it smelled.

As we heard the landing wheels grind down and lock, everyone cheered again. The plane rumbled down the runway. The engines hit reverse thrust. We came to a stop, there it was: the terminal of Sea-Tac. As we prepared to off load, it was quite a nervous kind of quite. The plane was hushed. The seatbelt light went out,no one spoke.

"Single file," someone yelled from the front. The door opened and we cheered again.

"We are down," yelled another. As we exited the plane something felt wrong. There was no one to welcome us. We walked into the terminal, someone was lining us up to search our luggage. I shrugged it off thinking they must have found contraband in the past. We were hand searched then passed to the line to exit the terminal.

We were ordered," Get straight on the bus waiting outside," What we were not told was we would have to walk through a gauntlet of insults. Shouts of hate as people spat at us. I was pelted with cups of water: at least I hope it was water. I had no idea we were hated so much. What happened to the America I left? My God! Did we land in the wrong country?

Our joy was gone, I was devastated to see the America I loved so much, the land I'd just spent four years of my life defending, now hated me. It crushed my soul. I cried inside, so they couldn't see how they affected me. We brought home duffels full of emotional and physical baggage. Our tours left us scarred and broken. Now this thing we would endure.

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"No Johnny-come-marching-home,hurrah!" For me or anyone else. No, not now. Now we were vilified as horrible monsters, the killers of innocents. We were outcasts in our own homeland.

We sat on the bus, stunned, staring into space, I wished I could go back.

A voice from the back of the bus yelled ,"Let's get off and kick some ass." A young Lieutenant in the front stood up. "Stay in your seats, you are the real Americans . You served with honor, don't let them see they got to you. No matter what they say, we did our job, even for them. Look strong, look proud." Still the pain was real,how could we move on now?

It took a week to separate out,it was still too much to deal with. I knew I couldn't go home now. I went to stay with one of my guys. I drank and slept for three weeks before I could get myself up enough to go home and see what might be there for me. The family was waiting for me but I just didn't know. I did not want to face anymore of this, I couldn't face them.

I don't know about the others,but the next two years found me living with my folks, helping out on the farm keeping to myself. Eventually I went out, found a job, met a girl and restarted my life. The day of my homecoming remains a ghostly specter in my life forever. To have pure joy ripped from my heart,replaced with despair,embarrassment and isolation doesn't die easily.

Even now after so many years have passed, I still dream of the sheer joy I felt as we went,"WheeIs up."

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