Suzanne Rice

Jun 09 2021

Chicken Coop – 1979

Miller, Chicken Coop – 1979

Interested in the prequel? The War That Never Happened (https://thedaysforward.com/the-war-that-didnt-happen-1979/) explains the background for my assignment as the US exchange officer to the Mexican National War College for 1978-79.

As a US Army Foreign Area Officer in training, my mission was to learn everything possible about my country of specialty, Mexico, including its geography, political system, history, and its Army and officer culture. All this while attending the final year of their three-year War College program, six days a week during my twelve-month duty there.

My job was to travel as widely as possible in order to learn about every region of the country and every local custom and dialect of Mexican Spanish I could. When possible, I was expected to bring my family [my late wife Kay and our sons aged 13 and one] along on official orders so they could become acculturated as well. During my time there, between class field exercises, family trips and official travel, I managed to visit every part of Mexico in detail.

I traveled in and spent at least one overnight in every one of the 31 Mexican states.

In the Latin American culture, it is particularly important to be able to say, “I know [meaning I have been to or stayed in] your city [or state or country],” especially when it is a place almost nobody has ever heard of. By the end of my year in Mexico, my Spanish was near-native, although “a la Mexicana.” In my subsequent travels throughout the Caribbean, Central America and South America, I was always taken by my accent for a Mexican, never once for a North American. Although the Brazilians all guessed my Portuguese had an Argentinian accent.

In February 1979, I got the opportunity to take my family on a long weekend trip to the southern state of Guerrero, and its famed capital, Acapulco.

Our class was scheduled for classified briefings on Monday and Tuesday, from which I and the other foreign officer, my twin brother, Rene Emilio Ponce from El Salvador were excused. [Within nine years of our graduation, Ponce was the four-star Salvadoran Secretary of Defense. He and I were twin brothers in the Latin culture, having both been born on April 27, 1947; our younger sons were also twins, having been born on April 8, 1977]. So, I went through the American Embassy travel agent and paid in full in advance for reservations at a moderate Acapulco family hotel for those three nights.

As soon as I got out of class on Saturday afternoon, we finished loading into the government vehicle I had available for official travel. It was a black Ford station wagon, previously used for Embassy security duty, with armored side panels that made it very heavy handling. We had barely made it into the Mexico City suburbs when the bearing on the right rear axle gave out and began chewing through the axle itself.

I limped the walrus of a government vehicle to a small repair shop, where the mechanic on duty diagnosed the problem. He said it would be next week before he could get a replacement Ford axle [in Spanish called a “flecha,” or arrow], and that I would have to leave the vehicle until then. I left my family unloading the government car, while I caught a rattle-trap taxi back to our apartment to pick up our personal car, a VW bus.

By the time I returned with our VW and got it loaded and back on the road, it was late in the afternoon. The several-hour drive down to Guerrero State would put us in our destination well after dark, but I had no worries. I had paid in full for the three days reservation in the family hotel, so it just meant we wouldn’t get to see much of the area that first day.

Unbeknownst to me, that weekend was a national holiday in Canada, and tons of chilled Canadians were flocking to the sub-tropical resort of Acapulco for a break from their Arctic climate. Arriving at our hotel after dark, I was shocked to discover that our paid-for room had already been re-rented out to a Canadian family, and there were no other vacancies in the hotel.

Although I was indignantly outraged, I could get nothing more satisfying from the hotel manager than “Lo siento.” Too bad. Even showing him my “paid in full” receipt for three nights meant nothing. He could offer no suggestions on where I might put my family up for the night, since every other hotel was similarly booked solid all weekend long.

I parked my family in the hotel restaurant to get some supper, while I demanded that the manager find us an alternative place to stay. After merely going through polite motions for a while, he suggested I might inquire with the concierge for help.

Turns out the concierge had a brother-in-law who had a friend who drove a taxi who maybe knew of somebody with a place we could stay. So, at 9:00 PM we followed this taxi up into the foothills overlooking Acapulco Bay, where we stopped at an adobe house with two goats in the driveway. The owner came out and began a dialogue too fast for me to follow with the taxi driver, who then pulled away.

The owner led us around behind his house to a shed with a falling-down door.

Using a flashlight, he pointed out a cot inside with a straw-tick mattress. His wife brought out a couple of blankets for us and we did our best to bed down for the night. Our toddler thought it was a great adventure; our 13-year-old not so much.

In Mexico, most windows are merely holes in the wall, occasionally with shutters. This shed wasn’t so fortunate. By the light of a setting quarter moon, we stretched out. Only then did we learn that the shed was actually the domain of the family chickens, who had been rousted out by the owner’s wife. The indignant rooster flapped up onto the sill of the open window and began annunciating his displeasure at being displaced from his roost.

All night long this rooster crowed in anger at us intruders. All. Night. Long. We would just begin to drift into sleep when he would decide to resume his tirade at us, three feet from our heads. By the time the sun finally arose, we were all zombies except our toddler who managed to sleep all through the night! We adults couldn’t get out of that place fast enough.

The night before while I was making vague threats involving the American Embassy and the CIA, the manager of the hotel had told me to return in the morning, when he was certain he would be able to find us a room in his place. Sure enough, by the time we staggered back to the hotel front desk, there was an apologetic note with a small package of Mexican chocolates awaiting us. Plus, a key to a modest room, but at least it did not come with an indignant rooster.

We slept most of that Sunday, occasionally interrupted by church bells. It was only into the afternoon that we were able to venture out to some of the local open-stall marketplaces and I could pursue my mission of gaining a feel for the culture and wares of Guerrero State.

Turns out the Embassy never reimbursed me the 500 pesos that night staying with the chickens cost me. Since I had a paid receipt for hotel accommodations for that date, they wouldn’t cover my out-of-pocket costs for my decision to stay somewhere else. Lo siento.

This adventure has become a permanent part of our family lore. To this day, any time I hear American tourists raving about the joys of a luxurious Acapulco vacation, I can’t help being reminded of the night I had to put my family up in a chicken coop.

Jun 06 2021

God Bless the U.S.A. – 1987

It was a pitch-black night – early morning, really, long before sunrise. 15,000 of the most patriotic, courageous soldiers in the US Army had marched to the parade ground at Ft. Lewis, WA and were at parade-rest waiting for an encouraging address from the Commanding General of the Ninth Infantry Division. As the wife of the Commander of 1-84 Field Artillery, I wanted to be a part of this special event. We lived only a few blocks away – how to get there in the dark and as quickly as possible? I really didn’t want to be out in the dark by myself. No one was stirring in the family housing area where we lived; Bill had gone to the Battalion Headquarters long before to march with his soldiers across post to the field.

I decided to ride my bike – that would be quicker than walking and the light on the bike would guide me there safely. So, I left our daughters asleep and sneaked out of the house, jumped on my bike and found my way to the field. I stayed near the street-side of the parade field but could see the stage and podium that had been erected for the Commanding General and his staff who were waiting there. Stretched out over the whole field before the General were all of his soldiers and the 9^th ID band and chorus.

Are you wondering why all those soldiers were there on the field at that hour? It was Independence Day 1987 and the entire Division standing on the field was preparing for the traditional Division “Independence Day Fun Run”. Later in the day, it would be too warm for them all to start the run, even though it was Ft. Lewis, not Ft. Polk! There would be other festivities later in the day so before dawn was the time to start the race.

**U. S. Army Soldiers Running on July 4**

MG John Shalikashvili*, Commander of the 9^th Infantry Division, took to the podium on that dark, warm morning and gave a rousing Fourth of July address to the soldiers of the Division.

He reminded them why they serve and the greatness of the USA because of people like them. Towards the end of the ceremony, he related that he had recently been in Los Angeles for an event, where the attendees were inspired by a patriotic program headlined by Lee Greenwood. Though it had been released several years before, the song that Lee Greenwood sang at the event in CA especially touched MG Shali. He asked Lee if he could have permission to bring the song to his soldiers. It must have taken some time for the copyright arrangements to be made and for the 9^th ID band and singers to learn to play and sing the music, but they were ready for this early morning presentation. For me and for most of the assembled soldiers, it was the first time we heard God Bless the U.S.A. No one there knew the words at that time; we could only listen and be inspired by the soldier that has been selected to sing this new song. Like MG Shalikashvili, we were touched, and the soldiers ran a little faster that day being motivated by Lee Greenwood’s song.

What were the other events the soldiers would enjoy throughout the day? There would be Battalion picnics/BBQs planned for the soldiers and their families along with games to play and watch. At the end of the day, the 9^th ID band would set up at the Ft. Lewis football stadium and play a wonderful concert of patriotic music for the soldiers and their guests. The culmination of the long, wonderful day would be the playing of the 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky. This inspiring music tells the story of Russia’s defeat of Napoleon’s invading army. It opens quietly with a Russian Orthodox hymn – a prayer for peace. Following this, there is a bit of the French national anthem, the Marseillaise, indicating the invasion by Napoleon. In musical tones, the Battle of Borodino erupts with the cannons firing as the French are driven from the field of battle.

(You can hear the cannons firing at 12:06 and again at 14:10.)

Have you ever wondered about those cannon volleys in the middle of a beautiful piece of music? As the Commander of the Battalion that included the salute battery for the 9^th ID, Bill and his cannoneers were tasked to be a part of the classic performance. Many days before July 4, the Battery soldiers with their 105mm howitzers had been out on the football field practicing with the Army band to “play” their cannons in the 1812 Overture. Our daughters and I would get to the stadium early, but not as early as Bill and the salute battery.

When we arrived in the stands, we would see the Battalion howitzers arrayed across the field away from the band and Bill walking around checking his walkie talkie and talking with his “musicians” and the band. He would direct his soldiers to “play” their instruments just at the right time in the Overture. When they actually began to fire, the cannon would sound every four seconds – check your watch – just as in a salute (count the seconds the next time you hear the 1812 Overture or attend a salute – it’s more complicated than you might guess.). They had practiced so often that their enormous sound would vibrate the whole stadium at just the precise moment. I always wondered how Bill knew the exact moment to give the “Go”! He would have answered, “We practiced.” To our delight, it went off without a hitch. The inspiring performance was followed by the rousing Armed Forces Medley. Fireworks would end the salute to America’s 211^th birthday. What a great way to end the day that had started so early. I was so glad that I made the bike ride before dawn that day – as for other Americans, Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A. has become very special to me and every time I hear it, I think of that assembled group of soldiers and all who have served our country in uniform who love their country more than self! God Bless the U.S.A.!

Follow-up: The next year, the girls and I rode our bikes to the stadium to avoid the difficulty of parking the car. What was I thinking? I was pregnant with our new baby due in three weeks. Having ridden a bike for much of my life, from elementary school years, I didn’t think a thing of it, though navigating after dark was a little tricky. Oddly enough, the baby didn’t wait for three weeks. Was it the startling booms of his Dad’s cannons or the late-night bike ride that caused the baby to come just two days later? Actually, I tripped and fell as I was packing the car with items I needed to lead a Battalion Wives Coffee that evening. I didn’t know it at the time, but this Coffee was to be a baby shower; instead, I was in the hospital in labor – beside me was one of our battalion wives who just happened to be a nurse on duty. She was the one who broke it to the waiting ladies – enjoy the party without the honoree – the baby is on the way!

*Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff – 1993-1997

May 07 2021

A Tribute to Two Great Pilots – 1970

Himes – A Tribute to Two Great Pilots – 1970

Those of us who graduated from West Point, but entered the US Air Force for our service, gained a different military family. The Air Force is a smaller branch of our military, so we would become close friends with a set of budding pilots. Some of us did our flight training at the same base while others were assigned to other training bases. Regardless of location, we all went through the same training program flying the three training aircraft in use at that time. The title photo of an amazing jet is the T-38 advanced jet trainer that we finished our training on. For obvious reasons we called it the White Rocket. And, yes, it flew like it looked.

On this Memorial Day, it is appropriate to remember two classmates that chose to go into the U S Air Force instead of the U S Army. Some of us Air Force guys would cross paths again after West Point; some not, but we shared a love for being airborne. Today, we salute their service and commitment to our Country.

Dave Kirby and I were both in the same cadet company (B-4) for 4 years. That meant that starting with Beast Barracks through graduation we lived with the same couple of dozen fellows…. for better or worse. Kirbs was definitely on the “better” side. To be fair, they were all in that category. My B-4 classmates were as outstanding a group of young men you could find. My only regret in going Air Force was that I’d likely never see most of them after graduation. Anyway, my academic prowess was mediocre at best; Kirbs was way up there. I don’t think he actually worked a lot harder than most of us, but he could grasp difficult math and engineering concepts on the first read. As a result, his GPA was far above mine and I think he was ranked at the top of the list for those of us going AF. A small backstory: Our required academic load left very little room for elective courses. In my case I took 4 years of Portuguese (2 years of a foreign language were required) mainly because it was one of the few classes I could get a 3.0 in. Second semester of Firstie year, Kirbs took what was for all practical measures a post-grad level engineering course… CH499, I think. Naturally, he got a 3.0 in it. Course numbers ending in “99” were never on my class schedule. FYI, at the time 3.0 was the max grade in a course; 2.0 was barely passing or “tangent”. After all, we were all engineers back then. On the off-duty side, Kirbs was a car nut. He had a Pontiac with the biggest engine GM put in the thing.

Of course, he could (and did) take it apart and reassemble it like it was a Lego toy. I’m barely able to adjust the little chain in a toilet tank. Anyway, he got around the academy prohibition on car ownership by keeping the car titled in his dad’s name until Firstie year spring break. He died in a single car crash late at night shortly before Undergraduate Pilot Training graduation. In pilot training at Randolph Air Force Base the time of Dave’s accident was one of his West Point Classmates, 2LT Scott Nix (https://thedaysforward.com/scott-nix/). Scott was honored to be the officer who escorted Dave on his final journey home to his grief-stricken family – a sad assignment, but a real-life example of the camaraderie of graduates of West Point and the Long Gray Line. Dave’s untimely death left a big hole in the future of our Air Force. What if he had not been taken from us so soon. What could he have accomplished?

Kent Crenshaw and I were in different regiments as cadets, so our paths seldom crossed at West Point. After graduation we never met face to face, but our flying careers occasionally ran in parallel. Of the small group of us that went to USAF Undergraduate Pilot Training (UPT), his aviation career overall seems most impressive.

After UPT Kent was assigned to the C-7 Caribou tactical airlifter at Cam Ranh Bay and was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross and three Air Medals during his tour there. As some of you may recall, the C-7 was a light tactical cargo plane that supported Army Special Operations/Green Beret missions in what we now call USAF Special Operations Command. Tiny airfields and low altitude flying were the order of the day. Returning to the U.S. he was assigned to Westover AFB, MA as a B-52 heavy bomber pilot and later Warner Robins AFB, GA in the same aircraft. TDY deployments back to SEA were common for that aircraft.

USAF’s post graduate engineering school at Wright-Patterson AFB, OH was his next stop for a master’s degree in aeronautical engineering. The follow-on assignment was to US Air Force Academy as an academic instructor where he also was an instructor pilot in the cadet glider training program. In that capacity, he introduced a motorized glider into their system which reduced the need for routine use of tow planes.

After his teaching assignment Kent went to Edwards AFB, CA to the USAF experimental test pilot school and was the 1981 Distinguished Graduate. Another academic tour at USAFA followed. Then it was back to Edwards AFB as an instructor pilot in the test pilot school. An Outstanding Instructor of the Year award followed. I sense a trend here. Kent retired from active military service at USAF’s flight test center in 1989.

Northwest Airlines hired Kent as a DC-9 pilot but after a few months he got the proverbial “offer you can’t refuse”. Northrup Grumman offered him a job as a civilian test pilot on the still super-secret B-2 stealth bomber. A return to the California desert followed where he remained as the company chief test pilot on that aircraft until the by now well-known B-2 production ended. Are we done here? Apparently not. Gulfstream aircraft, which builds long range corporate business jets, made the next offer. Kent and Judy were off to Savannah, GA where he was involved in flight test operations for Gulfstream’s growing line of large corporate jets. In this capacity he was testing the brand new G650 on Apr. 2, 2011 at Roswell, NM. During a takeoff planned for very challenging conditions, the test aircraft crashed killing the two pilots and two test engineers. Among other things, the accident investigation determined that Kent had flown the aircraft precisely as planned.

His wife Judy and their son Cameron lost a husband and father. The world-wide aviation community lost one of its best. We lost an irreplaceable classmate. Truly Best of the Line.

**Kent and Judy before his last flight as the B-2 stealth bomber chief test pilot at Edwards AFB, CA**

Apr 22 2021

Let Me Do My Job – 1996

You’ve probably figured out by now that one thing I had to deal with as a pastor and as a chaplain were issues surrounding death and dying. So, it was not uncommon for me to receive phone calls from parishioners asking me to visit people in the hospital. The following are two such stories of that particular kind.

The first involved a call from an elderly lady in my congregation up in Hampden, Maine, asking me to visit her older sister who was in the hospital following a heart attack. Since such requests were not unusual, I agreed automatically. But then she went on to tell me that I needed to be careful because her sister did not believe in God and got very angry whenever anybody tried to talk to her about God. I thanked her for that information and headed out to the hospital.

**Eastern Maine Medical Center, Bangor**

After inquiring about her room number at the information desk, I headed to the room and found Edna easy enough. I introduced myself and as soon as I told her that I was her sister’s pastor she looked like she was a deer caught in the headlights. It was quite obvious that she was very uncomfortable with me being there, so after talking for a few minutes about rather innocuous things I said my good-bye and went home.

A couple of weeks later I received a call from the same church lady telling me the same sister was back in the hospital after another heart attack asking if I would visit her again. I said I would and headed back out to the hospital all the while asking God what in the world I was going to say to Edna this time around.

I found out her room number and this time as soon as she saw me, she was again the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. We talked for a couple of minutes about nothing and then out of nowhere I asked Edna if she would do me a favor. She asked what favor and I proceeded to tell her that since she was in the hospital for the second time in two weeks with a heart attack, I would consider it a great favor if she would please just let me do my job … at which point she very simply said yes.

At that point I began to explain to her about how God loved her, and He wanted her to be able to know for sure how she could go to heaven if she were to die of her next possible heart attack. I explained how Jesus died on the cross for our sins and about the promise of God the Father that whoever believed in Jesus should not perish but would have everlasting life. I then asked her if she would like to receive the forgiveness that Jesus promised and be able to have the assurance of heaven … to which she said yes. I prayed with Edna and when we were finished, she had tears running down her cheeks and she thanked me profusely for coming to see her. Following this, Edna recovered quite well and began attending church with her sister for a number of years afterwards.

**************

The second story also started with a phone call from a younger woman named Kate asking me to visit her brother who was in the hospital dying of emphysema. When I agreed to visit him, she told me he was a Vietnam veteran and suggested that perhaps if I wore my Maine National Guard chaplain uniform it might help break the ice.

Maine National Guard Patch & U. S. Army Chaplain Corps Patch

I agreed and went home to change and then headed out to the hospital.

After asking for the room number, I found the room and was surprised to walk in and find a man simply sitting on the edge of his bed looking up watching television. He had absolutely no tubes or IV’s or anything. He was just sitting there with his feet dangling down looking up at the TV. Thinking maybe I had the wrong room, I asked if he was Kate’s brother and when he said he was, I then introduced myself as her pastor.

For about a good half hour we proceeded to talk about Vietnam and where we had been assigned and we talked about all kinds of other things as well. Eventually when the conversation began to slow down, I asked if I could tell him a story. He agreed quite easily so I then began to tell him the story about the little old lady named Edna mentioned above. That story had become a favorite of mine since it became a very easy way for me to break the ice about spiritual things with someone I didn’t know well. I would simply tell the story and then ask whomever if they would please, like Edna, let me do my job. So, this is what I did with Kate’s brother dying of emphysema.

He readily agreed so I shared with him just as I had with Edna that God loved him and wanted him to know how he could be sure that if he died, he would go to heaven. In his case I asked him if it was true what Kate had said that he was dying of emphysema. He said that is what he had been told by the doctors. I asked him how could that be since he had no tubes or IV’s or anything. He said he didn’t quite know anything other than that’s what the doctors had told him. So, like with Edna, I asked him if he would like to receive the forgiveness that Jesus promised and be able to have the assurance of heaven … to which he said yes he would. I then prayed with him and when we were finished, he had a big smile on his face and he thanked me for coming to see him. It was about 4:00pm so I said my good-bye and said that I would be back the next day to check in on him and see how he was doing.

Later that evening about 8:00pm I received a phone call from Kate saying that her brother had died. Like the thief on the cross … it was simply one more reminder that it is never too late to take the time we have to get right with God.

Mar 25 2021

Off to Guam – Twice

Beale AFB, northern California

There I was going into the squadron for a night training flight in a B52 G Model. I had completed 12 months of pilot training, 3 ½ months of B52 school and sundry other USAF required schools/training. I was in month 1 of my required 4 months of local check out before full certification as a co-pilot of the B52G model. Upon arrival at the squadron for mission preflight, I was immediately approached by the squadron operations officer who said “Lt., pack your bags you are leaving for TDY Guam in 72 hours as a co-pilot for Crew R-12”. Of course, I saluted and replied, “Yes, sir”.

**Heading to Anderson Air Force Base, Guam**

Journey to Guam

72 hours later, I met Crew R-12 for the first time (pilot, radar navigator, navigator, Electronic Warfare Officer, tail gunner).

**Crew R-12 (Scott 2nd from right) in front of B52 G front landing gear, prior to mission. Anderson AFB, Guam, (note useless .38 caliber survival pistols!)**

We constituted a 3-aircraft cell assigned to ferry 3 B52Gs to Guam and remain there to conduct combat missions as directed by 8^th Air Force. Our B52 had a maintenance malfunction and was 4 hours late departing. The other 2 aircraft left on schedule and we would fly as a lone aircraft. Immediately after departure, we conducted aerial refueling from a KC135 just outside San Francisco over the Pacific. It was my first solo, co-pilot aerial refueling. Aerial refueling is generally regarded as one of the most difficult/dangerous tasks in military flying. There are two large aircraft about 75 ft from each other (B52 and KC135 – Boeing 707)) connected by a long metal tube (boom) which pumps jet fuel from the KC135 to the B52 under high-speed pressure. The danger of a midair collision is omnipresent. The pilots of both aircraft must fly by hand as autopilot flying was not an option. 17 ½ hours non-stop later, we could see Guam (about 30 miles long and 12 miles wide) on the distant horizon. Now, I understood what Naval aviators must feel like when they spot their aircraft carriers! The runway at Anderson AFB, (our destination) was a little over 2 miles of the island’s 30 miles.

Guam

After arrival in Guam, we had about 7 days before our first mission. For the first mission only were we accompanied by an experienced combat pilot. The rest of the missions only included our crew. The average mission was about 10-11 hours, non-stop, depending on what part of Viet Nam was our target. We normally flew in 3 aircraft cells. KC-135s were strategically placed along the 5000-mile round trip route in case we needed any additional fuel. Creature comforts on the aircraft were pretty much non-existent. Our seats were thin foam on top of a survival kit mounted on an ejection seat. Therefore, we had to wear helmets, oxygen masks, parachute harness, etc. Ejection seats were triggered by an explosive charge which literally blew the seat out of a hatch in the top of the aircraft (the top hatch was triggered to blow a few milliseconds before the seat ejected through it). The seat traveled at close to 30Gs (30 times gravity) therefore almost assuring some form of spine injury. When on the ground the explosive charge was protected by a safety pin. The seat safety pin was removed prior to takeoff and replaced after landing. Heaters, air conditioners and coffee pots were low maintenance priorities so almost never worked. These were the Arc Light designated missions in support of ground troops. (Operation Arc Light was the code name for the B52 participation in the Vietnam war. Operation Arc Light ran from 1965 to 1973). The missions were mostly in South Vietnam, but I think we occasionally drifted into Cambodia and North Vietnam. Not sure if we had any missions in Laos. I completed 28 Arc Light Missions.

Most South Vietnam missions were uneventful but occasionally we would pick up a MIG searching for a target or very rarely a radar ping by a SAM (surface to air missile). The EW (Electronic Warfare Officer-managed all electronic defensive systems for the aircraft) would commence radar jamming defensive measures which were effective. The SAMs and the MIGs were all Russian.

**Scott and his Radar Navigator, Pre-flight Completed, Waiting on Revetment for Scheduled Take-off – Guam.**

The most difficult B52 missions came right before war end during the Paris peace talks. Kissinger used the B52s based in Guam and U-Tapao, Thailand as serious negotiation tools/threats. I was in Guam on my 2nd TDY as an Air Staff Officer for 8^th Air Force, so was able to see the big picture from an operations view. As the Paris negotiations ebbed and flowed, we were required to launch a maximum surge (all available aircraft) to target Hanoi. These were the Linebacker II missions. (Operation Linebacker II was the code name for the massive 11 day bombing campaign conducted primarily by B52s over Hanoi in support of the Paris peace talks). A number of B52s were shot down over Hanoi by SAMs (using effective Russian radar and MIG positioning). We launched about 4 maximum surges. After peace was concluded in Paris, it took about 6 months to wind down the B52 operation in Guam and in Thailand.