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Welcome to McGinnis Books where we create books set in the glamour era of flying and  the unique tales it spawned.

Excerpts - A Waterfall In A War

[458th Tactical Airlift Squadron, 1970]

"Derek looked at Tuy Hoa bay again. It was beautiful. A perfect half-circle of broad sand beach with a little rocky peak at either end. Small Navy craft and, unbelievably, ski boats skittered around colorful fishing junks. A mix you’d find no where else on earth. He wondered if there would be anything in Vietnam for him that he’d find no place else on earth. A personal upsidedownism. Already, he knew there was one thing he liked that was difficult to find in aviation. The opportunity to play free and easy with the rules. That would present wonderful opportunities in a country of postcard beaches, sultry-eyed Eurasian women, the hot and sunny weather he loved, and a black market with exotic goods at laughably low prices. And it all, rumor had it, ran on a barter system. With an airplane, one could turn oranges into lobsters and steaks, which could become stereo equipment and bargirls. Downside was – you could get hurt here. By your own hand or someone else’s hand.

 

 

"They landed, left the aircraft, leaned against a drizzle-wet fuel truck to drink cans of Coke, Vietnam’s new national drink. While finishing the refreshment, they watched the usual. Cargo off, cargo on. People off, people on. The humans were last on, first off so as to be absent for the dangerous movement of cargo. Some shipments, like two-foot high, six-inch wide, 155 mm shells were explosive. They tottered on pallets as forklifts eased them off. Some cargo, like high stacks of bagged rice from, Derek couldn’t believe the Louisiana labels, were unstable after so much shipping and handling.

"They set out for the quarters of Senior Master Sergeant Marcel "Frenchie" Deveraux. A half mile of sidewalk set into sand, right angled through a sea of Quonset huts, brought them to the enlisted barracks. There, Frenchie’s quarters had been converted into a makeshift office. He was leaning over the counter of his kingdom, writing, talking around the cigar in his teeth. "Yeah, I can get you anything you want … for a price." He looked up from his requisition papers, "Whaddya need? A refrigerator? A/C? A Jeep, a truck? … Whatever you want, it’d have to be worth my while."

Deltamike Publishing, Austin, Texas
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