"When you try to place a square block into a round hole, you've initiated the first step into changing a mundane routine operation into a predictable 'Oh, No!' situation." Mike Daciek- 1959

The C123 Provider entered service in 1955. It had two Pratt and Whitney R-2800 piston engines, carried two pilots, navigator, crew chief, load master and sixty fully equipped paratroopers, or 16,000 lbs. of cargo, or it could be converted to carry fifty litter patients, six sitting wounded and six attendants.

It was well regarded for Tactical Troop Transport for its ruggedness and reliability and ability to operate from short and unimproved airstrips. How rugged was it? Well, the most well known C-123 was called "Patches." It served in Vietnam flying low level defoliant and insecticide spray missions. During that time it received over 1,000 bullet and shrapnel hits. Its name is derived from the metal patches that cover many of its battle scars. Its other name was "Measles," because maintenance crews painted each hit red. "Patches" was awarded seven Purple Hearts and is on display at Wright-Patterson Aviation Museum. As rugged as it was, the first aircraft lost in South Vietnam was a Ranch Hand C123B-56-4370, shot down on 2 February 1962. By war's end a total of 54 C123 aircraft were lost.

From 1957 thru 1961 I flew C-123's with the 345 th TCS out of Sewart Air Force Base, Smyrna, TN. Combat Airlift was the C-123 forte so we spent a lot of time at all the army forts in the world, stretching from the Rio Hata DZ/LZ (Drop Zone/Landing Zone) in Panama to remote Dew Line sites in Alaska. In between we spent Mondays thru Fridays at exotic places like Ft. Campbell, Ft. Bragg, Ft. Benning, etc. If it had "Fort" in front of it we were there.

One morning after roll call our Operations Officer, Maj. Seagull, asked me to see him in his office. (We called him that because he squawked all day, crapped all over everyone and you had to throw rocks at him to make him fly). My additional duties were training officer and squadron parties, so it wasn't an unusual request.

As I entered his office I asked, "Sir, are we having another squadron party?"

"No, not this time. It's about Operation Indian River. Our squadron has been tasked to fly fourteen aircraft to Larson AFB, Wash. From there we will work with the 22 nd Infantry and the First Battle Group out of Ft. Lewis. Our C-123's will move them into the Selah assault zone in the Yakima valley."

This was good news. For a minute there I thought we were heading to Ft. Campbell or Ft. Bragg again. My second thought was, Why is he telling me this? Why isn't he telling everyone?

He continued. "As usual we are short experienced personnel and this is really a big deal. The CO (Commanding Officer) is ecstatic that we were assigned the mission. He has assigned Captain Fuze as mission commander and you will be his co-pilot."

Oh, wait a minute, I thought. Captain Fuze, our short little supply officer, who fly's even less than Maj. Seagull, is going to lead fourteen aircraft into a 1200 ft. assault strip.

I had flown with just about every AC (Aircraft Commander) in the squadron and not once had I seen Capt. Fuze in an airplane. So, I just spurted out, "Shouldn't he be flying with an instructor pilot."

Major Seagull leaned forward in his chair placing his folded hands on his desk, head down, as if to pray. Slowly he raised his head and stared at me.

That's a bad question, I thought . Do they teach staring at West Point?

"Captain Fuze is a qualified AC and all of our other Captains and IP's (Instructor Pilots) are on other assignments," he said. "You are our most highly qualified copilot so that's why you have been selected to fly with the Mission Commander." (Five hundred hours of total flying time was required to be an Aircraft Commander and I was short twenty hours.)

I pondered that remark. Was that a compliment?Was Captain Fuze selected because he was the most qualified or is he the only one available? Was I really the most qualified or was I the only one who would go anywhere, anytime, with anybody? I think it was the latter.

I wanted to say, "big whoopee" but that would not be prudent at this time. "Thank you, sir," I said, trying to sound sincere. I wanted to say that the Squadron Commander is qualified, Major Seagull is qualified, and the Maintenance Officer is qualified, but are they proficient? I found out early in my Strategic Air Command tour of duty that sometimes qualified only means the little boxes have X's in them. Another reason I knew this was because I was the training officer and excelled in filling squares. We can all land a C-123 on a dry, hard surface, 7000 foot runway on a calm day at high noon. Already I was praying for good weather. If you break down on an assault strip the field is closed and the entire mission is jeopardized. The other aircraft have no place to go. And we're flying the lead aircraft. Not good.

Maj. Seagull stood up. He said, "I understand your concern and I agree Capt. Fuze may be a little rusty so I'm scheduling the two of you for a local flight tomorrow. Be sure to practice several assault landings. Any questions?"

Once again I thought , are you kidding? "No questions, sir."

While flying the next day, fairly windy, Capt. Fuze lost an engine coming out of reverse on a couple of his assault landings. We discussed the proper technique to prevent that and he did okay on the remaining landings.

I knew very little of Capt. Fuze's background except that he flew gliders in WW II. His missions included D-day at Normandy and other major campaigns which followed, earning him numerous combat awards and citations.

After our final Squadron briefing for the Indian River mission, many of our pilots gathered at the Officer's Club for coffee. Capt. Fuze's name was mentioned and a copilot referred to him as a "Nervous Nelly". Another said he had a short fuse which I found extremely appropriate for a person so short and a name like Fuze. It sounded like gossip to me so I just kept my mouth shut.

On 3 May 1958, fourteen aircraft took to the sky. It's 1730 nautical miles, or about eleven and a half hours of actual flying time, from Sewart AFB to Larson AFB, just south of Tacoma, Wash. The first leg took us to Ellsworth AFB, Rapid City, South Dakota for refueling. About halfway there I mentioned to Capt. Fuze that I hadn't been on a SAC (Strategic Air Command) base since I left Travis AFB where I flew as radar-navigator-bombardier on a B-36 bomber. SAC commanders were very particular about who landed at their bases so you needed PPO (prior permission only) to land there.

"Yes, that's true," he said. "Colonel Pan, our CO, took care of that personally."

Nine-hundred nautical miles and six hours later we landed at Ellsworth AFB, a rather enjoyable flight with clear smooth weather all the way, and fourteen in-commission airplanes parked at base flight.

We were being briefed by Captain Fuze in Base Operations for our next leg which we filed single ship, IFR (instrument flight rules) due to enroute weather, when a heavy set, crew cut, cigar smoking Major stormed into our briefing.

Zeroing in on Captain Fuze, he said, "Captain, who's in charge here?"

"I'm Captain Fuze, Mission Commander, Sir."

"What the hell do you think you're doing landing fourteen TAC (Tactical Air Command) airplanes on my airfield?"

Oh my, I thought, that's no way to talk to my flight leader.

"We landed here to refuel," Capt Fuze answered, his face turning slightly pink as he moved toward the Major.

"Don't you know this is a SAC base, Captain?"

"Yes, I do, but I don't know who you are."

"I'm Major Bowers, Operations Officer, and you've landed fourteen airplanes on my field without PPO."

"I have PPO," with Captain Fuze moving closer still. "If you check your records, you'll find that my CO, Col. Perry Pan got the approval in the customary manner."

"I don't recall any PPO from a Col. Pan." Now they were standing nose to nose.

Uh Oh, I thought. How do you spell insubordinate?

"Then maybe you should check with your dispatcher or someone who does know?" It was more of a statement than a question.

The Major glowered at Captain Fuze, puffed on his cigar, turned, and hurried away.

Minutes later he returned, cigar in hand. "You've got a problem, Captain Fuze." Now he was saying Captain with a great amount of sarcasm. "There's no PPO."

Capt. Fuze turned beet red and shook his head. "No, I don't have a problem. You have fourteen problems sitting on your ramp. What I want to know is, are you going to give us the fuel or not?"

The Major was speechless. More thoughts of disobedience ran through my head.

Capt. Fuze said, "So, is it a yes, or a no?"

The Major retreated without an answer. I wondered if he would return with a couple of Air Police to haul our fearless leader away.

After a few minutes a Staff Sergeant appeared and advised Captain Fuze that refueling was approved and please leave as soon as possible.

We had just witnessed a "short Fuze." I wondered when "Nervous Nelly" would show up. It wasn't long.

Our next leg ran 830 nautical miles across many mountain ranges, the Rockies, Wind River, Bitterroots, Cascade, with many peaks exceeding 10,000 ft. And here we were flying unpressurized below l0,000 ft. As we crossed the Rockies, Captain Fuze suddenly became awfully interested in our position. "Where are we?" he asked.

I looked at the VOR/DME and said, "We're on the 265 degree radial of the Billings VOR, 42 nm/dme."

"I know that," he said. "What's the name of that lake and town down there?"

I reached inside my brain bag and pulled out an ONC aeronautical chart, studied it, and showed Captain Fuze our position. These questions went on for about two hours. What's that river, are there any emergency airfields near us, what's the name of that mountain? Now I knew I was flying with "Nervous Nelly." I'm thinking, this guy needs a tour guide, not a copilot.

Finally I said, "Capt. Fuze, this is wearing me out, can't we just use the low altitude enroute chart and fly the airway system?"

I saw the color of his face begin to change and quickly asked myself, why did I say that?

Well, I got a lecture on the importance of knowing the aircraft position at all times and being able to locate the closest landing field in the event of an emergency.

After that, I simply said," Roger" and continued with my map reading. That's when I found that "Roger" is a great response when you don't know what else to say. We made it to Larson AFB OK.

Well, the big day came. Fourteen aircraft departed Larson at sunrise, flying one minute in trail, headed east for Ellensberg VOR, about ninety miles away. Then we turned south for twenty miles descending into the Yakima Valley for landing at Selah LZ.

Our load was two vehicles, a jeep and a ¾ ton truck, plus six infantry men. After landing, we would clear the runway, open the ramp, discharge the vehicles and troops, and taxi for takeoff as the load master closed the ramp. We would watch the second aircraft land and as he cleared the runway, we would take off. Following this scenario, all aircraft would be airborne in less than fifteen minutes.

However, that's in a perfect world. When I radioed the LZ, I got the bad news. We were landing to the north and the winds were out of the east at ten knots gusting to fifteen.

Um, doggies, I thought. Right at our max for cross-winds landings. That's what you get with a high wing and narrow landing gear. Oh well, at least we're not landing on wet PSP( perforated steel planking) which can be as slippery as snot on a brass doorknob.

We touched down within the first 100 feet right on air speed. Captain Fuze dropped the nose to the ground, entered reverse smartly and applied the brakes. Real good, I thought. Coming out of reverse, the aircraft drifted to the left and he shoved the left throttle forward to correct back to the center line, leaving the right throttle in the idle position. He should have pushed it slightly forward to keep it running. The engine stalled and he stopped the aircraft at the end of the runway.

He attempted to start the right engine and I suggested he let me do that while he taxied clear of the runway. He agreed and pushed up the power on left engine to get it rolling. He had to make a 100 degree turn to the right. His second big mistake was turning the nose gear full travel which was 60 degrees before moving the aircraft forward.

Meanwhile, I started the right engine. It took a helluva lot of power to turn because the nose gear was acting like a brake in the cocked position. He turned the nose gear back towards neutral and we moved off the runway. Although the runway was fairly flat, we had landed on the side of a mountain and the taxi way ran up hill very steep. We had straddled the left edge of the taxiway and the load master called for permission to open the ramp. Captain Fuze stopped the aircraft to unload.

Now we were ready to taxi again. But he did it again, cranking the nose gear full travel without moving forward. I heard a creaking noise, and I thought , he's going to break the nose gear steering cable, and then it happened! There was a loud cracking noise and the aircraft nose flopped to the left about ten degrees and we started rolling backwards down the hill.

Captain Fuze yelled, "No brakes" and added power to stop the roll.

We were in deep kimchi!

I pointed at the emergency air brake bottle to his left and yelled, "Actuate the air bottle!"

He pulled up the levers, firing the bottle and the airplane stopped rolling. The crew chief and load master stuck their heads into the cockpit and demanded to know what was going on. I saw that the hydraulic pressure and quantity gauges were zero.

I yelled, "Jump outside using the rear doors and chock the aircraft, and use rocks if you have to. Remember, we're leaving the engines running until we're chocked so don't go forward!"

By this time, the second aircraft had landed and called us on the radio. I answered, "We've lost our hydraulics. Can you clear us by leaving the taxiway and cutting across the field? If you can't do it, you'll have to advise all the other aircraft not to land."

Seconds later they called and said, "No problem, we made it fine."

I answered, "Great! Radio back to the other aircraft that there's a disabled aircraft on the field, but it's off the runway and it's possible to taxi around them."

As I said that, the aircraft began to roll backwards again! Please, Lord, I thought, don't have an aircraft behind us!

Captain Fuze had repositioned the air bottle actuating lever back to the normal position, releasing the air pressure.

I yelled again, "Fire the air bottle again and leave the levers up. We only have three applications!"

Well, we stopped again. Fortunately, the two sergeants had re-entered the plane screaming bloody murder. They thought that we were trying to kill them. We finally chocked the plane and shut down the engines. Then we used wing tie-downs to keep the plane from rocking in the wind and there we sat.

I really enjoyed sitting there on the side of the hill watching the other planes land and take-off. Especially the wonderful sign language my buddies used as they passed me by. They really loved me! I could hardly wait to go to the club that night.

We were surprised to find that the nose gear steering hydraulic actuator had popped its head off like it had been guillotined. Voila! No hydraulics.

Larson AFB flew in a chopper with an air compressor, hydraulic fluid and a new actuator. We were back at Larson AFB by 1500 which was truly amazing considering our situation.

The only evidence that anything went wrong on that flight was the write up on the form 781, which read: Lost hydraulic system due to rupture of the nose gear steering actuator. Activated emergency air bottle.

Corrective action: Replaced nose gear steering actuator. Purged hydraulic lines and re-serviced hydraulic system and emergency air bottle.

Except for that incident, the rest of the three day mission went off as scheduled.

Our squadron was commended twice by an army general and an army colonel, praising us for a flawless performance. If they only knew!

Incidentally, for some unknown reason the army engineers had covered the runway with sharp granite rocks which were cutting large deep gouges and furrows in our tires. Had it not been for a quick response from a C-130 crew bringing in new tires, we probably would not have completed the mission in time. Almost every main gear tire had to be changed before the last mission was flown. Had we blocked the entire taxiway we could have been real heroes, saving the US tax payers a lot of money.

Capt. Fuze was promoted to Major and transferred to wing headquarters.

Lt. Col. Pan was given command of a C-130 squadron.

Lt. Daciek remained in the 345 th as the training officer, filling squares. However, he was upgraded to Aircraft Commander and Instructor Pilot. (Sometimes you're the dog and sometimes you're the fire hydrant.)

And we all lived happily ever after.