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I strode over to him and I kissed him deeply on the mouth. It didn't take much coaxing on my part to get him to French kiss me right there in the airport. (We had never been big on PDA's) In the most sultry voice I could muster, without sounding like I had a bad case of laryngitis, I welcomed my husband home and kissed him again. He held me at arm's length, for a minute to look at the dress and I twirled for him hoping that he might catch a glimpse of my black garter belt and stockings. By the silly grin on his face, I guess he did. We talked about his trip, and stuff that had gone on at home, the girls and their marks for their exams that they had just finished writing. His luggage spilled out and we were soon on our way out to the car, once again, I garnered a few whistles, and I glanced sideways at my husband, who put his hand possively at the small of my back and looked like a peacock as he strutted beside me. I handed him the keys so he could drive as it was. The colonel jumped out and started picking up wounded and tossing ’em in the door. We ended up with more bodies or ‘souls’ than we were supposed to carry, but they were little and light compared to the average American soldier. Those who weren’t seriously injured tried to get on but the colonel and the crew chief pushed ’em back. We came to a hover, made a power check, decided we could fly and headed back south along the highway. We got to the Vietnamese hospital and it took them ten minutes to come out with stretchers and attend to the wounded. It looked like an episode of the Keystone Cops. I like the Vietnamese people, I’ve had several good friends from that country over the years. For the most part, however, their government, their bureaucrats and their military were all useless and incompetent. Most of their officers were corrupt and received their rank thanks to family status or politics. I trained their pilots back in the states and they were universally incapable of thinking.
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