Supersonic Thunder: A Novel of the Jet Age (41 page)

Just before he became unconscious, Tom thought,
I’m not going to live through this one
.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

December 24, 1969

Palos Verdes, California

J
ill ran to the door. V.R. was beaming in through the glass side panels, and outside Nancy was standing with Mae and Bob, almost collapsing under the weight of their presents.

They poured in, all incredibly happy with the news—Vance’s beaming mailman had delivered a letter from Tom. The only thing it proved was that he was alive when he wrote it, and there were dark hints of ill-treatment within the letter itself, but the relief from uncertainty was so great that they could not be less joyous.

“How is Vance taking the news?”

“He’s in the library now with Harry and Anna, poring over the letter, trying to figure out what Tom might have meant, but he is deliriously happy; he’s been a changed man since the letter came this morning.”

V.R. had already run down the hall to throw himself into “Grampaw Vance’s” arms, with Bob Junior following close behind him.

“How are you taking it, Nancy?”

“It’s unbelievable. I’d almost given up on him. Not a single word since his last letter from Thailand. And now this. It’s wonderful.”

After the tumultuous round of greetings and laughter, they passed the letter around so that each one could see it. It was obviously written to a North Vietnamese format, seven lines only, and Tom’s normally bold script was compressed into tightly spaced printed letters, so that he could jam the maximum amount of information into the space available.

Some of it was obvious North Vietnamese propaganda, but there were some sentences that had both Vance and Harry stumped. Anna, who had taken up photography as a hobby, had photographed the letter, enlarged it, and made it into a transparency. Harry set up the overhead projector he used for contract briefings and shined the letter—more difficult to read now but still legible—on the motion picture screen that dropped down from its roller above the fireplace.

Vance’s voice, a little weak and shaky in recent weeks, was strong, and his hands were trembling with excitement. He had already read the letter a half-dozen times, but there was a curious quality to it. He knew Tom was telling them something that would not be obvious to the enemy censors.

The letter was written on a single sheet of paper, with a Vietnamese phrase at the top next to the date, “October 15, 1969.” Beneath the seven lines of the letter were some instructions, in Vietnamese and English. The English lines read: “Write legibly and only on the lines” and “Notes from families should also conform to this pro forma.”

On the screen, in tiny cramped letters, they could read:

Dear Nancy and V.R.

Nancy’s trembling voice asked, “Why did he write to me but send it to Vance?”

Harry replied, “We don’t know, but it may have something to do with your security.”

I love you and miss you. Please write and tell me you are all right. I am well. I am being treated well by the North Vietnamese even though I bombed their innocent villages. The food is unusual but good like at Armenian Joe’s. I was wounded when I bailed out but I’m better now, Ollie. They have good medical treatment, just like the Revolutionary War. I hope that the war ends soon the way I know Dad will want it to end. Tell Dad and Jill and Harry and Anna I love them all. I guess V.R. is a big boy now; tell him his Daddy loves him. It’s like from Memphis to Mobile here most of the time. Vlad would be right at home. I will endure. I love you all. Tom.

Vance, his eyes filled with tears, said, “Some of the first lines are just propaganda; they must tell them that they have to say that.”

“What does he mean by ‘Armenian Joe’s’?”

“There used to be a restaurant just outside of San Diego called Joe’s Armenian Palace. It was shut down after a series of foodpoisoning incidents. The food must be really rotten.”

“Poor Tom—and the way he likes to eat.”

Harry grimaced and said, “You know how he loved Laurel and Hardy. That phrase ‘I’m better now, Ollie,’ is what Stan used to say when he had done something else dumb. It must mean that he’s not better, that he’s not getting the right treatment. And saying that the medical treatment is like the Revolutionary War is a dead giveaway.”

Bob spoke up for the first time. “I’m surprised they let that go through. They are probably thinking it means their revolutionary war, so it doesn’t sound so bad. But I hate the sound of this. He’s been injured, they are not feeding him, and his injuries have not been taken care of properly.”

Mae dug her elbow in his side and gestured to Nancy, sobbing quietly, stroking V.R.’s head. Even V.R. was affected by the charged atmosphere that combined glee at Tom’s being alive with grief at the conditions he was enduring.

Nancy spoke up. “I think ‘from Memphis to Mobile’ must mean ‘blues in the night.’ They must be torturing him at night. But who is he talking about when he says: ‘Vlad would be right at home’?”

Bob spoke again, his voice quiet, under control, but seething with anger. “He must mean Vlad the Impaler, the Transylvanian count who is the source for the Dracula legends. He was famous for his tortures.”

Mae’s elbow dug into Bob’s side again.

Vance spoke up, carefully controlling his voice. “We have to look on the bright side of this. I never thought we would ever learn what happened to him. To find that he is alive, even if he’s a prisoner, is a godsend. And look at his last line; he says: ‘I will endure.’ You can bet on that; he’s a tough cookie. I just hope we get him out of there soon.”

Harry stood up and flicked the overhead projector switch off. “They will, Dad. The country will not put up with having our people being treated like this.”

Mae was usually very quiet at family discussions, knowing that Bob was really a latecomer, an outsider in fact, and that Tom resented him in particular. But she could not resist. “Harry, I hope you are right, but I’m afraid that the anti-war movement here is going to stiffen the Vietnamese resistance. I don’t think they will ever let our prisoners go unless we pull out.”

Vance said, “If Tom were not there, if they didn’t have our other prisoners, I’d say nuke them and be damned. But we cannot.”

Harry furrowed his brow and responded, “No, we cannot nuke them, Dad, but we can put enough conventional bombs on them to make them surrender. General LeMay tried to stop us getting into the Vietnam War, but once we were in, he wanted to take out ninety-four important Vietnamese targets and win the war. We could still do that.”

Vance, angry now, “Then goddammit, let’s do it! What’s holding us back? These rotten peaceniks, parading everywhere?”

“Sadly, you are exactly right. I don’t think the government has the will to do what is necessary.”

“Well, God have mercy on us and on Tom.”

Jill had stayed in the background for the entire meeting, her eyes never leaving Vance. She stood up, saying, “God has already had mercy on Tom; he’s alive when he could so easily be dead! If he’s alive, he’ll endure, just like he says, and he’ll come back to us. Let’s be thankful for that. Now, the last thing Tom would want is for food to go to waste! We’ve got a big spread in the kitchen; come on in and help yourself.”

As they filed out, Vance grabbed Harry by the arm. “Harry, you know that ops research contract you have with SAC?”

Harry stopped, concerned that his father’s memory was acting up again. Harry had done some consulting work with the Strategic Air Command a few years before, once doing an involved operational research study on targeting in the Soviet Union. “That was some time ago, Dad.”

“I know that, dammit; do you think I’m daft? Just a few years ago, you were working with a young guy, a famous ace from World War II, what was his name?”

Harry remembered. “That was John Meyer, Dad. He’s no longer with SAC; he’s the Vice Chief of Staff of the Air Force.”

“Even better! I want you to get me an interview with him. I don’t care where it is; I’ll go see him anywhere. I’ve got to talk to him about this business with Tom.”

The intensity of Vance’s gaze frightened Harry. Was Vance slipping round the bend? Or was this the old fighter, picking up his arms for one last charge? It didn’t matter.

“I’ll do that, Dad. It might take a little time; he’s awfully busy now.”

“Tell him to get unbusy. I want to see him.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

February 18, 1970

The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.

H
arry had hoped that Vance would relinquish the idea of talking to General Meyer, particularly since he would not share what he intended to talk about. He had tried for weeks to get an appointment with General Meyer but never got past his staffers until an old friend, Colonel Harvey “Cobra” Connelly, showed up on Meyer’s staff and took Harry’s call.

“Harry, you have to understand, General Meyer is completely snowed under the pressure of the things going on in Vietnam, getting the budget ready, and testifying to Congress. The poor guy was a lot better off when the Luftwaffe was shooting at him.”

Meyer had destroyed thirty-seven and one-half enemy airplanes in the air and on the ground and was the leading American ace in the European theater. Then he had gone on to shoot down two MiG-15s in Korea.

“Cobra, he probably knew my brother, Tom, in Korea, or at least knew of him. And I have to tell you, my dad’s dedicated his life to aviation, and to the Air Force. He’s asking to see General Meyer about Tom, and it’s important to his health.”

As it turned out, Connelly had an easy time of it once he told Meyer that the request was from Tom Shannon’s father. “Vance Shannon? He’s a real living legend. And I knew Tom in Korea, met him several times, flew with him once, a great pilot. I’ll be happy to talk with him. I’d go out to the coast to do it if I could, but see if you can set something up here in mid-February.”

Jill had not wanted Vance to go, but once Harry had the appointment, there was no holding him back. He insisted on flying to Washington three days early, to be sure that he would be rested and to be sure weather wouldn’t keep him away from his appointment.

Now he and Harry were waiting in Meyer’s plush outer office, filled with plane and missile models. Vance had flown or worked on most of the planes.

Meyer’s secretary, Grace Northrop, was a very proper-looking middle-aged woman with her pure white hair piled in a stylish bouffant. She had come to the Pentagon as a stenographer when it was opened and worked her way up to her current position of real power, able to give appointments with the Vice Chief or deny them. She said, “Please go in now, gentlemen.”

Meyer rose to meet them, coming around his huge desk to shake their hands and direct them to a small settee next to a coffee table.

“I’ve followed your career for years, Mr. Shannon, and I’m pleased to meet you. I remember when you and Ben Kelsey were flying the old Bell Airacuda! And you know that I knew Tom, too. I’m so sorry that he was shot down, but I’m glad that he’s alive.”

“That’s why I’m here, General Meyer. I know there are many political considerations to running the war, and I know the White House has not made it easy for you, but I’m here to plead for an all-out air assault on North Vietnam.”

Meyer started to speak, but Vance said what few people did. “Hear me out, please. We’ve made a big mistake in not using airpower in the North like it should be used. If we are ever going to end this war, we have to take out Haiphong and Hanoi, flatten them. I don’t mean nuclear bombs; I mean putting the B-52s over North Vietnam instead of having them bombing the jungle in South Vietnam.”

Meyer nodded, a concerned look signaling Vance to go on. “I know it sounds crazy, with my son in a prison in Hanoi, but there’s no other way. I’ve studied this for more than a year, I’ve analyzed it from every angle, and if you knock out Haiphong and Hanoi, you will break their backs.”

Meyer saw that Vance had stopped for a moment. “That’s exactly what General LeMay and General McConnell told the administration and the Congress should be done. And they refused, probably because they didn’t want to risk China or the Soviet Union being involved.”

“They are involved, already! They are furnishing the arms, the airplanes, the food, the trucks. But you know that. They will not intervene on the behalf of North Vietnam! China hates Vietnam, and Russia won’t risk a nuclear war for the sake of a tiny country like North Vietnam. They are making fools of us.”

Meyer nodded. “Mr. Shannon, it happens that I agree with you one hundred percent. But I won’t insult you by glossing over this. There is no chance that this administration will use overwhelming force against North Vietnam unless the United States finds itself in a position where it is going to lose massive numbers of troops on the ground.”

“We’re already losing massive numbers of troops, General Meyer. You know that.”

“Yes, but I’m talking about losing perhaps twenty or thirty thousand in a single action. If that were the case, I believe the White House would authorize the Air Force to do exactly what you say. But believe me, it’s is not going to happen, not in the foreseeable future. I wish I could tell you otherwise.”

Vance slumped in his chair, defeat written over his face. In a much weaker voice, he said, “Thanks for seeing me, General Meyer. I knew all along that you would have known what to do, but I had to tell you myself. I hope you understand how a father feels.”

Meyer walked them both to the door, shook Vance’s hand, then turned to Harry. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Shannon, and thanks for the privilege of meeting your father. We are doing everything we can to get our prisoners out, and I hope that the next time we meet I’ll be able to do more than I have done today. Believe me, if we ever get the go-ahead, we will drive the North Vietnamese out of the war in a matter of days.”