The Red Headed Kid

When we strapped into the F-100 at Phan Rang, RVN, the crew chief usually sent his assistant up to help us.

As the young man was helping me get set up, it was my policy to engage the kids in conversation; sort of to let them know that they were important to us.

“Where you from, Chief?” He was an assistant crew chief, but I thought it did their egos a lift to call them “Chief.”

“I’m from Texas, sir, “he responded proudly. Since my mom lived in Texas I asked:

“Where in Texas?”

“Up in the northeast part sir.” My mom lived in north east Texas, so I pressed on:

“Where in northeast Texas, Chief?”

“Oh, a little town you never heard of up there in north east Texas.”

“What’s the name of the town?” I had a feeling this conversation was actually going somewhere, so I stopped buckling in to listen to him.

“Oh, it’s a little town you never heard of called Lone Star.”

“Lone Star? My mom is chief of nurses at the Hospital in the Pines in Lone Star!”

“Mrs. Frazier? He asked. His mom worked at the hospital and my assistant crew chief, 8,000 miles from home, knew my mom.