I Never Left Anybody Up There

By Keith Krejci

During the Viet Nam war United States Air Force air traffic controllers were faced with incredibly heavy numbers of aircraft operations.  At the time, Da Nang Air Base was often the busiest airport in the world, with a higher operations count than Chicago O'Hare, London, or Paris.  Faced with austere living conditions, enemy attacks, and challenging situations, controllers met the challenge without fail.  These are the memories of one US Air Force air traffic controller during 1969-1970 .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Keith Krejci
• Release date: May 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201979836

Keith Krejci

About the Author Keith Krejci spent over 30 years on active duty as an USAF air traffic controller.  He retired in 1997 with the rank of Chief Master Sergeant as the senior enlisted air traffic controller on active duty. In his career he was a controller at ten control towers and eight radar facilities in eleven locations.  He and his wife Brenda live in their motor home and travel the country volunteering at state parks and wildlife refuges.  

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Forward

These are my memories of being an air traffic controller at Da Nang Air Base, Republic of Vietnam, from August 1969 to July 1970.

My story starts in late spring 1969. As a young Air Force air traffic controller in the tower at Holloman AFB NM, I received a call from my chief controller telling me that I had orders to report to a mobile air traffic control unit based out of the Philippines.  Having listened raptly to my supervisor’s stories of his year at Da Nang, I asked if I could swap for an assignment there.

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My chief said Wait....you WANT to go to Da Nang?  I told him I did.  After all I was 22 years old, seven feet tall and bulletproof, and convinced that the Air Force didn’t have enough aircraft to snow me.  He called back a few hours later and told me my request had been approved.  He told me later that the assignments people said that anyone crazy enough to volunteer to go to Da Nang could go to the head of the assignment line.  I’d always thought that my supervisor’s stories were a bit exaggerated, but...as I found out, they weren’t. This is my story as I remember it, and yes, it’s all true.

A little girl once asked her father Daddy, I think I know what an air traffic controller is....but how do you know if you’ve done a good job?  The father said Sweetie, I count the number of airplanes on the ramp each morning, and when I’m done for the day, I count them again.  If the numbers match, I know I’ve done a good job because I didn’t leave anybody up there.

August 1969 – Arrival

Anyone who served in Viet Nam will never forget those first few moments after arrival.  After countless hours of sitting in a cramped DC-8 with 227 other new arrivals, the walk through the door and down the steps into the open air was a blast of sensory overload.  The heat, the humidity, the overpowering smell of burning garbage mixed with jet fuel, the rumble of distant artillery, and the whine of jet engines all combined to create an indelible memory. 

My tan 1505 uniform was quickly sweat-soaked, and after a short wait in the sun, I joined others to form an Air Force group.  We waited some more until the arrival of an old blue school bus.  We boarded and were taken to a building for in-processing.  After a check of records, we were fed and then bussed to the transient quarters, a two-story wooden building lined with bunk beds that had thin mattresses and even thinner pillows.  There was no ventilation or fans, but nothing could stop me from falling into an exhausted sleep.   

About 1 AM, we were all awakened by a Senior Non-commissioned Officer (NCO) running up and down the room yelling Red Option Two! Red Option Two!  Everybody Up!  As I quickly learned, Red Option Two was an alert that a ground attack was possible and everyone who was not mission-essential was required to respond.  So, there I was, sleep deprived, body clock skewed and very confused, handed a helmet, flack jacket, and M-16 with ammo.  Loaded onto trucks, we were quickly taken to the base perimeter where we were assigned fighting positions (a trench with sandbags acting as a barrier).  I was terrified – here I was, on my first night in Viet Nam, about to be slaughtered by the enemy.  As I lie there staring into the dark, I quickly became convinced that I was seeing thousands of enemy soldiers moving in my direction.  But I kept quiet, because we men would rather die than make an ass of ourselves.  Suddenly there was a rustling noise near the adjacent sandbags and I heard a faint voice softly say to the guy next to me Hey G.I. – you want boom-boom?  It seems that the local ladies of the night knew in advance when a Red Option would be declared and pre-positioned themselves near the fighting positions so that (for a fee) they could help us meet a satisfied, if  premature death.  After what seemed like an eternity, whistles blew and we were told to return to the trucks for a trip back to the barracks.  And that was my welcome to Da Nang.  (And no, I didn’t partake in a boom-boom – trust me, in my state of being paralyzed with fear, it simply wasn’t physically possible)  I found out later that if I had identified myself as an air traffic controller, I could have remained in my bunk.

The next morning I was met by a couple of controllers who took me to the 1972nd Communications Group for further in-processing.   And then finally, a ride to my new home for the next 364 days.

Settling into my New Home

Air traffic controllers at Da Nang lived in an area separate from the majority of the base population.  Most of the residents were aircrew members that lived in 2-man trailers.  The controller’s building, surrounded by large sand-filled barriers, was built by the French during their occupation in the 1950s and was a 2-story wooden rectangular structure with outside entrances to each of the rooms on both floors.  Dividing the building on each floor were the latrines and showers.  The rooms were very small; with two stacked bunks, two metal lockers, and a chest of drawers.  The remaining floor space was just big enough for two adult males to cling to during a rocket attack (as I found out).  An unusual feature of the rooms was the window was covered over with just enough room left for.....an air conditioner!  Because we, like pilots, were on flying status, the Flight Surgeon had determined that we needed the air conditioning so that we would be well rested before having to deal with the havoc that was Da Nang air traffic control.  Having an air conditioner was both a blessing and a curse.  The units were old and the thermostats no longer worked.  Turning the unit off caused a horrific rise in temperature and stagnant air, so the A/C ran continually.  This made the room cold - often freezing cold during the monsoon season.  As a result, we were probably the only people in Viet Nam that needed electric blankets.  I’m pretty sure my parents were confused when I wrote and asked them to send me one as soon as possible – wasn’t I in the jungle?

The next day I started the painful ritual of in-processing.  Checking in at the Flight Surgeon’s office, supply office, transportation office, and on and on.  For lunch, my fellow controllers took me to the NCO Club.  There, a server named Swan (the club manager gave the Vietnamese employees names that Americans could pronounce) awaited new troops like me with a special welcoming gift.  Swan was an attractive woman, older than the other servers, and almost elegant in her appearance.  While I was blissfully enjoying my lunch, she was quietly stalking me like a cat after a mouse, staying