In 1970 I was the sarge in charge of a small group of Air Commandos. We were on a classified assignment working for the American Embassy in Laos. We worked out of an air force base in northern Thailand but did most of our work across the border in Laos. We used unmarked airplanes and did most of our work in civilian clothes. No Air Force base commander likes to have one of these classified operations attached to his base that he does not control so our relations with that base were sometimes rocky. When some base function challenged us on something, we could fall back on our classified status with backing from the Laoation Embassy, our real boss. An Embassy outranks a base commander.
As an example, the base air police got mad because they were not allowed to inspect our vehicles going on and off base. They retaliated by starting the rumor that we were smugeling apples off base and selling them downtown. Apples, believe it or not, was an expensive and hot item on the black market in Thialand. The base commander was heard referring to us in our civilian clothes as "that hippie organizaion working out of that mud puddle at the end of his runway."
Our ammo, vehicles, and supplies came from an official/unofficial depot that was supporting the official/unofficial war in Laos. They gave us the trucks we were supposed to have but did not have the jeep that our commander was supposed to have. Now our commander was exactly what a commander of men should be. Call him commander X. We thought he walked on water and by golly, if he was supposed to have a vehicle, we would get him one....one way or the other. Our propeller technician spotted some salvaged air force pickups at the official/unofficial depot. It was determined that we could take some parts and a fender off of one pickup, put them on another pick-up, and PRESTO...a vehicle for commander X. A little behind the scenes horsetrading with an old Sarge that ran the depot and it was discovered that the salvaged pick-ups had been misscounted and there was one to spare. Strange how that happens!! We did all repair work on the pickup on the sly so we could surprise commander X with it. We put a spit shine polish job on it and drove it to the air force base to present to him.
Commander X was pleased and there were smiles and laughter all around untill he said, "Sarge, where did you get this pick-up?" Then it got real quite. Commander X and I had been on a previous assignment before and knew each other well. He looked at me, I looked at him and then I asked, "Do you wont the damned thing or not?" He raised one eyebrow, grinned and said, "I'll take it." Now some of you with military experience knows that a good commander knows not to question his sargeants too closely, that way he has some plausible deniability in case something goes wrong later.
So Commander X was proudly seen driving his shiny pickup around the air force base and then all hell broke loose. You see, that pick-up not only had all its original bright shiny airforce blue colors but still had all its decals including its ID number. It turns out that there were quite a few high ranking officers on that base that were supposed to have been issued a vehicle but there had not been enough vehicles to go around so they were put on a waiting list. They checked and found out that our commander X had just been promoted to Lt. Colonel and most of them ranked him....ERGO....Commander X's shiny pickup are belonged to them!!!
Commander X had been accosted by numerous Lt. Colonels and one bird colonel about his shiny pickup. He hurriedly invited me over to his office. His first words to me were, "You have been up to your ususal shxt again, haven't you." It was a statement, not a question, to which I could only reply, "Yes sir." I explained how his shiny steed had been created out of whole cloth, so to speak. He sat there trying to keep a straight face as best he could but finally bused out laughing. He got up to sling open the door and call in all the other pilots and officers and explained what this zx!%$X=+ (Meaning me) had done which resulted in a lot of howling laughter and celebrating. A unanamous decision was made that we could get away with it by just hiding behind the word "Classifed". If anyone asked Commander X about how he got the shiny pick-up, he was to keep a straight face, if possible, and just say, "Im sorry, I cant tell you that because its classified."
That worked good for about 2 days and then commander X was invited up to visit the embassy in Laos.....and to bring a certain sargeant with him. It seems that it had been determined that a certain official/unoffical depot had come up missing a wrecked air force pickup that was supposed to be salvaged but instead had mysteriously gone missing. And a certain sargeant at that depot had admitted that he and I had kind of finagled around with the inventory just a little bit but only in a justified effort to make one good pick-up out of two bad ones that were supposed to be junked anyway. It was that worthy sargeants opinion that he and I should be given a medal for our efforts. I wholeheartedly seconded his opinion. A bird colonel at the embassy didnt exactly agree with us two sargeants but there was a twinkle in his eye when the last thing he said to me was, "Sarge, dont get caught doing something like this again." I assured hime that I would not, leaving Commander X and I to wonder if he meant to not do something like that again.....or just not get caught doing it.
Meanwhile, back at the air force base, the phantom pickup was still making waves. The base motor pool was located just across a small canal from the classified mud hole part of the base that we occupied. A young captain and an old sargeant from the motor pool came walking over to discuss matters with me one day. They were stopped from entering our area by a Thai army guard, which seemed to irritate them as they had to stand under guard untill I could break loose to go discuss the phantom pickup with them. The young captain was the "keeper of the list" of disgruntled officers due to get vehicles. His eardrums were being damanged by complaints about Commander X, a rookie Lt Col, getting a vehicle before they did. All he really wonted was a good explanation he could pass on. All I could tell him was that the pick-up, like our whole operation, was classified. They left disgruntled.
We lost Commander X and got in a new commander. He was new to the Air Commando operation and immediately set out to change the way we operated. We were fixing airplanes during the day and flying them at night and getting a little rest just whenever possible. He was dismayed that we had changed what was supposed to be basically a training mission to a combat mission. He especially took a dislike to me it seems and sent back to the states for someone to replace me. When the Laotian embassy got wind of the changes he was planning on making, he and I were jerked up to the embassy and he was told that he couldnt replace me, that Commander X and I had the team operating just exactly like they wonted it and that he could continue it that way or terminate his assignment and they would send for his replacement. The embassy was funding our operation and he was told not to change anything without their approval. He really got reamed out and he seemed to blalme it all on me seems like. Its tough when you are in a mexican stand off with your own commander.
Our new commander inherited the phantom pick-up. We didnt keep it shined up near as pretty for him as we had for Commander X. As sometimes happens, engines wear out. When the engine started knocking, our new commander thought it only natural that he should drive it into the base motor pool and demand a new engine. He was a demanding sort of guy. The old sarge at the motor pool thought that was pretty funny. He went and got his young captain so they could both have a good laugh at our new commanders expense. They explained to him that as far as they were concerned, that damned pick-up didnt exist.
Naturally our new commander and his knocking engine came charging over to our maintaince area to demand an explanation from me. Did I mention that he was a demanding sort of guy? He said, "the motor pool officer tells me that as far as he is concerned, this pickup doesnt exist. Thats its not an official vehicle. It doesnt show up anywhere on the books. He said ask my smart a$$ed sargeant about it. What the heXX is going on."
I lost it. I just flat lost it. Just about all the maintenance guys were gathered around and when I lost it and started laughing uncontrolably, they joined in and a rollicking good laugh was had by all except our new commander who, for once, was just speechless, not to mention maddern hell and confused by everybody's reactions. I managed to pull myself together and led him over to where we could talk privately. He was the most subdued I ever saw him as I explained how the phantom pick-up came into existance. Finally, still looking puzzeled he asked me, "why did you cause all this trouble over a salvaged pickup." I thought about it for awhile and answered "Colonel X was just that sort of guy. He was supposed to have a vehicle. We got him one." If he was thinking that we would not have done the same thing for him, that was alright with me.
My new commander got up to leave. I asked him how bad the engine was knocking and he said it was on its last legs. I told him we would give him a ride back around to his office area and for him to just leave the pick-up with us at the maintenance area. He asked what I planned to do with it. I said I would try to get an engine for it. How was I going to get an engine for a non-existing pick-up he wonted to know and I told him there might possibly be a phantom engine for a phantom pickup. Unlike Commander X, who would have known better than to ask, he just persisted in knowing where I thought I might get an engine from. I was getting a little irritated. I was offering to maybe bury the hatchet with him and to get an engine for him and he was still wonting to nit-pik. Finally I said, "Sir, do you wont the damned engine or not." He hung his head, kind of shook it back and forth a few times, then looked up at me and said "Yes, Sarge, I would like to have a phantom engine for my phantom pickup if you can manage it."
It is strange how things work out. That old slant 6 engine in the phantom pick-up managed to knock its way back out to its birth place at the officia/unofficial depot and wouldn't you know it, it got itself swapped out with an engine from another vehicle. We had to do all the work ourselfs of course. When we were finished, we put a spit shine on old Phantom and delivered it to our new commander. When we told him we were renaming the rig to Phantom One, he said "Oh my god....dont tell me there is a phantom two somewhere!"
Now that I have told you all this, I must warn you, its all classified. You are not allowed to breathe a word about it or to even think about it without risk of the severest penalties. If you do divulge this classified information to anyone, be aware that you may look into your rear view mirror someday and see a shiny blue phantom pick-up closing in on you.
As an example, the base air police got mad because they were not allowed to inspect our vehicles going on and off base. They retaliated by starting the rumor that we were smugeling apples off base and selling them downtown. Apples, believe it or not, was an expensive and hot item on the black market in Thialand. The base commander was heard referring to us in our civilian clothes as "that hippie organizaion working out of that mud puddle at the end of his runway."Our ammo, vehicles, and supplies came from an official/unofficial depot that was supporting the official/unofficial war in Laos. They gave us the trucks we were supposed to have but did not have the jeep that our commander was supposed to have. Now our commander was exactly what a commander of men should be. Call him commander X. We thought he walked on water and by golly, if he was supposed to have a vehicle, we would get him one....one way or the other. Our propeller technician spotted some salvaged air force pickups at the official/unofficial depot. It was determined that we could take some parts and a fender off of one pickup, put them on another pick-up, and PRESTO...a vehicle for commander X. A little behind the scenes horsetrading with an old Sarge that ran the depot and it was discovered that the salvaged pick-ups had been misscounted and there was one to spare. Strange how that happens!! We did all repair work on the pickup on the sly so we could surprise commander X with it. We put a spit shine polish job on it and drove it to the air force base to present to him.
Commander X was pleased and there were smiles and laughter all around untill he said, "Sarge, where did you get this pick-up?" Then it got real quite. Commander X and I had been on a previous assignment before and knew each other well. He looked at me, I looked at him and then I asked, "Do you wont the damned thing or not?" He raised one eyebrow, grinned and said, "I'll take it." Now some of you with military experience knows that a good commander knows not to question his sargeants too closely, that way he has some plausible deniability in case something goes wrong later.
So Commander X was proudly seen driving his shiny pickup around the air force base and then all hell broke loose. You see, that pick-up not only had all its original bright shiny airforce blue colors but still had all its decals including its ID number. It turns out that there were quite a few high ranking officers on that base that were supposed to have been issued a vehicle but there had not been enough vehicles to go around so they were put on a waiting list. They checked and found out that our commander X had just been promoted to Lt. Colonel and most of them ranked him....ERGO....Commander X's shiny pickup are belonged to them!!!
Commander X had been accosted by numerous Lt. Colonels and one bird colonel about his shiny pickup. He hurriedly invited me over to his office. His first words to me were, "You have been up to your ususal shxt again, haven't you." It was a statement, not a question, to which I could only reply, "Yes sir." I explained how his shiny steed had been created out of whole cloth, so to speak. He sat there trying to keep a straight face as best he could but finally bused out laughing. He got up to sling open the door and call in all the other pilots and officers and explained what this zx!%$X=+ (Meaning me) had done which resulted in a lot of howling laughter and celebrating. A unanamous decision was made that we could get away with it by just hiding behind the word "Classifed". If anyone asked Commander X about how he got the shiny pick-up, he was to keep a straight face, if possible, and just say, "Im sorry, I cant tell you that because its classified."
That worked good for about 2 days and then commander X was invited up to visit the embassy in Laos.....and to bring a certain sargeant with him. It seems that it had been determined that a certain official/unoffical depot had come up missing a wrecked air force pickup that was supposed to be salvaged but instead had mysteriously gone missing. And a certain sargeant at that depot had admitted that he and I had kind of finagled around with the inventory just a little bit but only in a justified effort to make one good pick-up out of two bad ones that were supposed to be junked anyway. It was that worthy sargeants opinion that he and I should be given a medal for our efforts. I wholeheartedly seconded his opinion. A bird colonel at the embassy didnt exactly agree with us two sargeants but there was a twinkle in his eye when the last thing he said to me was, "Sarge, dont get caught doing something like this again." I assured hime that I would not, leaving Commander X and I to wonder if he meant to not do something like that again.....or just not get caught doing it.
Meanwhile, back at the air force base, the phantom pickup was still making waves. The base motor pool was located just across a small canal from the classified mud hole part of the base that we occupied. A young captain and an old sargeant from the motor pool came walking over to discuss matters with me one day. They were stopped from entering our area by a Thai army guard, which seemed to irritate them as they had to stand under guard untill I could break loose to go discuss the phantom pickup with them. The young captain was the "keeper of the list" of disgruntled officers due to get vehicles. His eardrums were being damanged by complaints about Commander X, a rookie Lt Col, getting a vehicle before they did. All he really wonted was a good explanation he could pass on. All I could tell him was that the pick-up, like our whole operation, was classified. They left disgruntled.
We lost Commander X and got in a new commander. He was new to the Air Commando operation and immediately set out to change the way we operated. We were fixing airplanes during the day and flying them at night and getting a little rest just whenever possible. He was dismayed that we had changed what was supposed to be basically a training mission to a combat mission. He especially took a dislike to me it seems and sent back to the states for someone to replace me. When the Laotian embassy got wind of the changes he was planning on making, he and I were jerked up to the embassy and he was told that he couldnt replace me, that Commander X and I had the team operating just exactly like they wonted it and that he could continue it that way or terminate his assignment and they would send for his replacement. The embassy was funding our operation and he was told not to change anything without their approval. He really got reamed out and he seemed to blalme it all on me seems like. Its tough when you are in a mexican stand off with your own commander.
Our new commander inherited the phantom pick-up. We didnt keep it shined up near as pretty for him as we had for Commander X. As sometimes happens, engines wear out. When the engine started knocking, our new commander thought it only natural that he should drive it into the base motor pool and demand a new engine. He was a demanding sort of guy. The old sarge at the motor pool thought that was pretty funny. He went and got his young captain so they could both have a good laugh at our new commanders expense. They explained to him that as far as they were concerned, that damned pick-up didnt exist.
Naturally our new commander and his knocking engine came charging over to our maintaince area to demand an explanation from me. Did I mention that he was a demanding sort of guy? He said, "the motor pool officer tells me that as far as he is concerned, this pickup doesnt exist. Thats its not an official vehicle. It doesnt show up anywhere on the books. He said ask my smart a$$ed sargeant about it. What the heXX is going on."
I lost it. I just flat lost it. Just about all the maintenance guys were gathered around and when I lost it and started laughing uncontrolably, they joined in and a rollicking good laugh was had by all except our new commander who, for once, was just speechless, not to mention maddern hell and confused by everybody's reactions. I managed to pull myself together and led him over to where we could talk privately. He was the most subdued I ever saw him as I explained how the phantom pick-up came into existance. Finally, still looking puzzeled he asked me, "why did you cause all this trouble over a salvaged pickup." I thought about it for awhile and answered "Colonel X was just that sort of guy. He was supposed to have a vehicle. We got him one." If he was thinking that we would not have done the same thing for him, that was alright with me.
My new commander got up to leave. I asked him how bad the engine was knocking and he said it was on its last legs. I told him we would give him a ride back around to his office area and for him to just leave the pick-up with us at the maintenance area. He asked what I planned to do with it. I said I would try to get an engine for it. How was I going to get an engine for a non-existing pick-up he wonted to know and I told him there might possibly be a phantom engine for a phantom pickup. Unlike Commander X, who would have known better than to ask, he just persisted in knowing where I thought I might get an engine from. I was getting a little irritated. I was offering to maybe bury the hatchet with him and to get an engine for him and he was still wonting to nit-pik. Finally I said, "Sir, do you wont the damned engine or not." He hung his head, kind of shook it back and forth a few times, then looked up at me and said "Yes, Sarge, I would like to have a phantom engine for my phantom pickup if you can manage it."
It is strange how things work out. That old slant 6 engine in the phantom pick-up managed to knock its way back out to its birth place at the officia/unofficial depot and wouldn't you know it, it got itself swapped out with an engine from another vehicle. We had to do all the work ourselfs of course. When we were finished, we put a spit shine on old Phantom and delivered it to our new commander. When we told him we were renaming the rig to Phantom One, he said "Oh my god....dont tell me there is a phantom two somewhere!"
Now that I have told you all this, I must warn you, its all classified. You are not allowed to breathe a word about it or to even think about it without risk of the severest penalties. If you do divulge this classified information to anyone, be aware that you may look into your rear view mirror someday and see a shiny blue phantom pick-up closing in on you.
