Major Campbell

Major Campell

Scott Laughlin

The flight crew was late in arriving from Alaska. They’d been TDY, supporting an airborne alert program that was in progress in the mid-‘60s. And I’d been waiting at the Liner Diner for nearly two hours when I heard the sound of a KC-135 approaching. It was Saturday night, and I knew it had to be them. Leaving the Liner Diner, I went to base operations and and waited for the flight crew in the debriefing room. They were a long time in arriving, but when they came through the door I was elated to see that Major Campbell was included.

Campbell had been in the Air Force since it’s separated from the Army Air Corps, or so he claimed. And he had more stories to tell than anyone else I knew. The trick was to pull one out of him.

The flight crew took their places at the table, and I took my place across from the navigator, Major Campbell. He was used up. His thin, gray hair was an unruly mess. His dark eyes were encircled in red. I didn’t know the Major well, but the lines in his face were deeper. Someone had fetched coffee for the crew, and after a few sips they collectively seemed to get their second wind.

“We took a lightning strike about seven hours out,” said the aircraft commander, a young, burley Captain. “Everything went. The Major has used his sextant and charted our course with a flashlight. Without a whiskey compass, we wouldn’t be here at all. I don’t think anything electrical works. You guys will have to shake it down,” he said, his gray eyes moving along the table, making contact with each member of the debriefing team.

“Amost nothing works, but there aren’t any bullet holes,” said the copilot.

“Amen,” blurted Campbell.” He shot a glance up and down the table, as if to see if there was time for another tale. “I was flying an F-86 in Korea. The place was a shit hole, and it looked to me like the whole damn place wasn’t worth the time it would take to blow it to Hell. I finished with my assigned target and discovered I still had some fuel left. I’d never seen the 38th Parallel. The way everybody talked I thought I should go down there and have a look. Hell, I couldn’t even tell when I got there.

When I got back to the base my crew chief, and I hardly had my helmet off before the Wing Commander drove up. I could see by his face he wasn’t happy. He sent the ground crew to a hanger, and when they were out of earshot he turned his attention back to me.

“Yyou were seen at the 38th Parallel today,’ he growled. “Is that true?”

How the Hell did he find out so quick?.

“Were you under fire?”

“Well….”

“Say yes, Campbell.”

“Yes Sir.”

“I thought so,” he said.” He drew his side arm he fired two rounds through the vertical stabilizer. “Don’t ever let this happen again,” he said.


I laughed out loud. That seemed to satisfy the Major. Collectively, they scooted back their chairs and filed out.