We Left Vietnam and arrived at Tacoma, Washington the day before Thanksgiving, 1971. After a bit of out processing, we were given leave and a bus ride to the airport to head home for our leave. The airport was a mess. Being a returning Vietnam veteran and having heard multiple stories about how we were treated when we arrived back in the states, We were very nervous. And Cameras were everywhere. Politicians and other dignitaries were swarming around those cameras like a certain fellow named cooper had just donated Tacoma $200,000 rather than hijacked an aircraft and demanded two hundred thousand to keep from blowing it up.
The smiles on those politicians faces were astounding. Passengers were removed from the plane. Our aircraft, a DC8 headed for Dallas, was packed full. Bless them for giving two tired soldiers a seat. Ralph and I were headed home, and
DB Cooper was headed for immortality.
On November 24, 1971, a man calling himself Dan Cooper (later misreported as D.B. Cooper) boarded a flight from Portland to Seattle. Mid-air, he calmly handed a note to a flight attendant, claiming he had a bomb. After securing $200,000 in ransom and four parachutes, he ordered the plane to fly to Mexico—only to leap into the night over the Pacific Northwest, vanishing without a trace.
Funny thing about that night. We arrived at Love Field in Dallas around 6PM. Our flight to Monroe, LA was not going to leave until 6AM the next morning. Ralph and I could have rented a car and been home by 12AM but we sat, talked, walked around the airport and generally had a good time keeping ourselves awake all night, happy to be walking on United States Ground. It was a very, very happy time for us. I still remember that concourse in Dallas like I would be sitting in it right now.
The smiles on those politicians faces were astounding. Passengers were removed from the plane. Our aircraft, a DC8 headed for Dallas, was packed full. Bless them for giving two tired soldiers a seat. Ralph and I were headed home, and
DB Cooper was headed for immortality.
On November 24, 1971, a man calling himself Dan Cooper (later misreported as D.B. Cooper) boarded a flight from Portland to Seattle. Mid-air, he calmly handed a note to a flight attendant, claiming he had a bomb. After securing $200,000 in ransom and four parachutes, he ordered the plane to fly to Mexico—only to leap into the night over the Pacific Northwest, vanishing without a trace.
Funny thing about that night. We arrived at Love Field in Dallas around 6PM. Our flight to Monroe, LA was not going to leave until 6AM the next morning. Ralph and I could have rented a car and been home by 12AM but we sat, talked, walked around the airport and generally had a good time keeping ourselves awake all night, happy to be walking on United States Ground. It was a very, very happy time for us. I still remember that concourse in Dallas like I would be sitting in it right now.
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